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the-wlw-cafe · 4 years ago

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Limerence - A Westenray Fanfic

Rated: T

Summary: Five times Mina remained blind to the true extent of Lucy’s feelings, and one time Lucy was the one unaware.

Read it on AO3!

Lucy is nine years old when she’s first told that how she feels for Mina is considered out of the ordinary.

“When I marry, I want to marry a man who’s intelligent – and kind!”, Mina happily prattles along, her voice airy with excitement, still taken by the wonder of the stories they’d read just minutes before. The legend of King Arthur, old myths of chivalry and bravery, none of those modern novels their parents fret about. It’s still more than Lucy’s governess will allow her, afraid that her young mind might get lost among the pages.

“Be sure to stay on top of your reading then, an intelligent man won’t settle for a dull girl at his side”, Mina’s governess, Mrs Sheffield, replies, not unkindly – never unkindly, Lucy thinks with a slight pang of envy. Then again, someone as bright and kind and good as Mina would not give her governess many reasons to be unkind. It makes Lucy wonder why Mina’s parents would even have a need for a governess, since their daughter is already perfect. Lucky Mrs Sheffield must be envied by all her peers, getting to spend her entire day with Mina.

“What about you, Lucy? Who do you want to marry?”, Mina asks, and Lucy can feel two pairs of eyes burrow into her. Marriage. She can barely think about it without scoffing. She can’t stand any of the boys she knows, boys like Henry, the Fairfax’ son, who likes to pull Mina’s hair and kick against her shins under the table when his parents aren’t looking. If he is what a ‘fine young gentleman’ is supposed to be, she doesn’t want any part of it. He’s rude, snotty and rough. Unlike Mina.

“I don’t think I shall marry”, Lucy says. “I just want to stay with Mina.”

Mrs Sheffield can’t quite hide the way Lucy’s reply catches her off guard. Her features twist into a frown for just a moment or two, before smoothing over again.

“Well, I remember not caring for any of the boys when I was your age, too”, the governess offers. “You’ll change your mind when you’re older. It’s simply a matter of meeting the right man.”

Lucy can barely resist the urge to stomp her feet in an entirely unladylike display of frustration. She knows she won’t change her mind, and she doesn’t care one bit for the way Mrs Sheffield talks over her!

“Don’t pay her any mind”, Mina whispers to her once the governess has turned her back to them. She takes her hand and gives it an affectionate squeeze. “We’ll always stay together, even after we marry.”

Lucy doesn’t answer, because kind as Mina is, she just doesn’t seem to understand what she means, and Lucy doesn’t know how to make her friend see reason. So instead, she uses her sleeve to wipe at the tears that have sprung from her eyes unbidden. She knows herself better than any governess will ever know her, and she knows one thing above all: Never in her life will a boy be more important to her than Mina.

ii.

Lucy is 14 years old and it is getting increasingly difficult to look at Mina. It’s something she can’t quite explain, or perhaps she doesn’t dare to entertain the notion in her mind for long enough to form a conclusion. Either way, there is a strange atmosphere between them now, at least on Lucy’s part, and she prays that Mina doesn’t perceive it as well. Things that were as natural as breathing before, things that should be as natural as breathing have suddenly taken on a new grandness. Whenever they share a bed now she can barely catch a wink of sleep, her focus consumed entirely by Mina’s warmth and every point of contact between their bodies, making her heart race and her breath stutter. Whenever Mina, sweet, unwitting Mina changes in front of her she can feel an entirely unfamiliar heat rise until it becomes too much to bear and she has to avert her eyes. Sometimes she will look at her best friend and out of the blue the brunette’s beauty will steal the breath right from her lungs. Sometimes, her eyes will catch on Mina’s lips, and she wonders what it might feel like if she were to just lean in -

Perhaps Lucy is getting ill.

She fears she might be past any chance of recovery already.

Still, she needs to nip this, whatever it is, in the bud. She has no idea how to do it, but she’s locked herself in her room. She’s been refusing meals and company, because until she’s found a way to contain this, to push it into a corner of her mind so deep it can never come up again, she can’t be trusted around Mina. What if she does something thoughtless? What if, in one lapse of control, she’d find herself acting on her most secret impulses, destroying their friendship forever, branding herself a twisted pariah?

There’s a knock on the door, without the hesitation the servants often display when they attempt to coax her into accepting a tray of rapidly cooling dinner, and gentler yet than her mother’s knock. She knows it’s her before she even has the chance to announce her presence.

“Lucy? May I come in, please?”

She’s completely aware it’s a mistake, she’s aware in her state this might very likely end in disaster, but she is also aware that she will never be able to deny her friend a single wish. She strides across the room, steadily avoiding Mina’s gaze as she lets her in, as if the simple act of meeting her eyes would set her ablaze. Lucy can’t rule out the possibility that it might.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”, Mina asks.

“I’m sorry,” is all Lucy can come up with.

“The least you could do is not avoid my question”, her friend huffs, and even now, cornered as she is, Lucy can’t help how her heart swells with affection for hard-headed, iron-willed Mina. She opens her mouth, but despite usually being so quick to come up with quips it can’t find the words to express what needs to be said.

“Are we fighting? Was it something I said?”, Mina inquires further, her voice softer now.

That Lucy can’t abide by. She can’t let Mina believe this entire wretched situation is her fault, not for a second.

“Oh, sweet Mina, no! It’s me, it’s my fault, I just – it’s just…”, she trails off, cowardly, because even though it’s the right thing to do she can’t bring herself to ruin what she still has left. Lucy can see Mina open her mouth, to question her further, probably, but she seems to think better of it. Instead, she closes the gap between them, taking Lucy in her arms, and Lucy, curse her weakness, readily lets herself melt into the embrace.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words, Lucy. Won’t you tell me what’s wrong? I worry about you.”

There was no way Lucy could hold the tears at bay now.

“I’m so, so sorry for making you worry”, she sniffles, letting herself be comforted by the familiar smell of Mina’s floral perfume. “And I can only apologize for shutting you out like this.”

“Don’t worry about all of that now. All I care about is your happiness”

“But you make me happy”, Lucy states, quietly. It is the profound truth: She’d never been so miserable in her entire life than the days she’s isolated herself, and these few minutes in her friend’s company seem to have healed her like molten gold seeping into the open cracks on her heart, filling up the empty spaces. Mina pulled back, brow furrowed, both of her hands coming up to gently cup her face, wiping away her tears with her thumbs. Lucy exhales a shuddering sigh.

“If that is true than I’m afraid you’re being very ridiculous right now”, Mina admonishes gently. “Because what you need right now is to not wallow in your own self-pity. You need a day on the town with your best friend to distract you from your murky thoughts, and maybe after you can tell me what weighs so heavily on your heart.”

It’s a wonder how Mina can’t see the adoration plainly written across her face as Lucy takes the hand that’s offered to her, already concocting a completely fabricated story about some young man breaking her heart to placate Mina’s curiosity about her disappearance.

“Nobody makes me as happy as you”, Lucy murmurs, and although the words are only meant for herself Mina picks up on them nonetheless.

“Then you can count yourself lucky that I won’t let you waste away in a sunless room, dearest Lucy. I’ll say, you really are dramatic sometimes.”

You’d understand if you knew, Lucy thinks, forgive me, but I pray you’ll never know.

iii.

She’s been confined to her bed in isolation for days now. At least she believes so, but her sense of time has been utterly shattered by drifting in and out of fevered dreams, with no way to tell the time of the day but from the light – or lack thereof – coming in through the window.

She wishes they’d just talk to her. In the beginning she was at least able to get some information from her mother when the doctor informed her of Lucy’s state in a hushed voice, like the uncertainty of what was happening to her would bring her any peace of mind. Most of the information she got was conveyed by her mother through worried glances, through the tight smiles and reassurances of “it’s nothing serious, you’re going to be up and about in no time at all” meant to bring her comfort, but only accomplished the opposite as she knew all of her mother’s tells. It was obvious Lucy was being lied to.

But it doesn’t matter now, not anymore, since the doctor has forbidden her mother from entering her room for longer than an hour a day, since he is convinced the visits cause Lucy nothing but distress. In reality, of course, nothing is more distressing than slowly watching the angry red rash of scarlet fever creep over her chest and arms in isolation.

In the initial state of Lucy’s illness, Mina did not leave her side at all, and now, after the doctor had to forcibly remove her from Lucy’s bedside more than once, she’s taken to sneaking into Lucy’s room at night. No matter how hard Lucy protests – or tries to, her throat feels too raw and tight to speak more often than not– stubborn Mina cares not for Lucy’s worries of the disease spreading to her, because apparently, the fever has made her quite contradictory: While she sends her friend away during her few hours of wakefulness, in her sleep she’s known to call out for Mina, no-one but Mina. What other secrets her feverish mind may lay bare Lucy does not dare think about, but since Mina keeps coming back to her the thing she fears most can’t have come to pass yet. How strange, she muses, that even as she is getting her throat painted with horribly painful tinctures twice a day it is this she frets over every minute of every waking hour.

She awakes to a darkened room only illuminated by the few candles that have not yet burned down, sunken into a chair by her bedside none other than Mina, sleeping. Lucy’s eyes drift downward to their hands, intertwined even in their sleep, and she can’t help but stroke the palm of Mina’s hand with her fingertips, tracing patterns over her delicate fingers, imagining herself lifting it up to her lips and kissing each one -

With a soft sigh, Mina rouses, and Lucy’s hand jerks back as if Mina’s skin had burned her. Her friend’s eyes dart around the room, disoriented, before settling on Lucy’s face. Lucy shudders inwardly as she imagines what a ghastly sight she must be, skin sickly pale with red splotches creeping up her neck, her eyes glassy from the fever. But in Mina’s gaze there’s no pity, only affection, and it alone makes Lucy want to cry.

“Lucy”, Mina breathes, her voice still thick with sleep. Despite her aching limbs Lucy lifts a hand and pushes against her friend’s thigh, weak but insistent. Keep your distance, she tries to convey. I couldn’t bear it if you were to get ill as well.

It’s a testament to their bond that Mina understands her without issue, even though all she has to say on the matter is “I won’t leave you alone, Lucy, so don’t even try to convince me otherwise.”

A hand comes to touch her forehead, and despite the fever Lucy can feel additional heat rise to her cheeks. Worry is clearly etched into Mina’s face.

“First and foremost, we need to keep your temperature down.”

Mina’s voice, calm and firm, brings her more comfort than her mother’s hushed reassurances ever have. There is a bucket of rags soaking in freezing water next to her bed, she hears it sloshing and closes her eyes, bracing herself for the icy touch.

“This is going to feel very cold”, Mina whispers, and the warning is more than the doctor has ever afforded her. In fact, it’s very likely that they’ve exchanged more words in the last minutes than the doctor ever has deigned to waste on her over the entire course of her illness. In fact, she’s not sure the doctor even knows her name – to him she might be called scarletina since he seems to regard her as nothing but her disease. Lucy gasps at the first touch of the icy rags to her heated skin as Mina carefully places them on her forehead with steady hands. Mina is knowledgeable about these things, she’s knowledgeable about a lot of things a young lady like her has no business being aware of. Her childhood passion for reading has only grown stronger the older they got, they’d soon turned to reading penny dreadfuls in secret, huddled together in bed way after nightfall, both of them trying to keep a brave face and yet almost jumping out of their skin at every benign noise of the mansion at night. Now she’s taken to sneaking into her father’s study, reading every medical journal she can get her hands on. She’d make a fine doctor, Lucy muses. Certainly better than the odious man in whose care she is now, although that might not be saying much.

Despite the burning sensation the cold rags inflict on her she feels her eyelids grow heavy and her mind grow sluggish with exhaustion.

“Mina”, she manages to croak.

“Shhh”, Mina admonishes, one wet hand cupping her cheek. “Don’t exert yourself too much.”

“Stay.”

It’s utterly selfish, but Lucy has proven to be nothing but a selfish creature. She craves the comfort Mina’s presence provides like she craves her next breath.

Lucy eyes have already closed, but she can still hear the smile curl around her best friend’s voice when she mutters: “I’ll stay for as long as you want me to.”

Always. I want you always, Lucy thinks, or maybe speaks. Everything hurts and the difference doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

“Then I’m afraid you’re stuck with me”, are the last words she hears before sleep pulls her under again.

iv.

Lucy would never have thought it possible to be so infatuated with a person that even their handwriting would seem endearing, but nonetheless she finds herself mindlessly skimming through Mina’s scientific notes, tracing the energetic curve of her gs, the elegant bow of her fs, and smiles at all the places the aspiring doctor has smudged the ink in her haste to capture every single ounce of knowledge on the page. It almost feels like she’s reading something private, like she’s intruded on her friend’s journal, but she can’t bring herself to stop. At least it distracts her from her worry.

Mina should have arrived from her studies half an hour ago. Lucy’s let herself into Mina’s room to escape the dreadful weather outside as if it were her own home. Considering the amount of time she spends there, it might as well be. Lucy glances at the clock. It hasn’t been a long time, even though it feels like hours, but Lucy can’t help the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that something might be wrong, that something is holding her up, that something has happened. With a huff, she closes the notebook. Maybe she’s just gotten used to being Mina’s first priority. Is this what she’s come to? Resenting Mina for chasing her dreams, dreams that she might have thought unattainable if it weren’t Mina who was pursuing them? She remembers the pride she felt when Mina told her through tears of joy that she’d been accepted into the medical society, as if her friend’s accomplishments were her own. No, she could never begrudge sweet Mina her ambition, as her drive is one of the most captivating things about her.

She hears footsteps rapidly approaching, a quick, decisive snap of heels that she’s come to associate with no-one but Mina. The door bursts open, and the smile that has snuck it’s way upon Lucy’s lips as it always does in Mina’s blessed presence drips from her face like the rain pelting against the windows as she sees the expression on her dear friend’s face. Jaw locked and eyes facing forward, fists clenched so tight her knuckles are whitening, she wears the expression of someone desperately trying to hold back tears of anger.

“Oh, Mina”, Lucy gasps, rushing to meet her friend, “what happened?”

“What happened?”, Mina hisses, smashing her books down on her bedside table. “I’m tired of being held to an entirely different standard than my peers and being made a fool of should I slip up even once!”

Of course. Men, Lucy thinks, they never miss an opportunity to prove my distaste for them right.

“One mistake!”, Mina rages. “One mistake, and it is grounds for having my suitability for this field of studies called into question! Explain it to me, Lucy, how a man can skip lectures to go gallivanting around town, reeking of liquor when he does deign to show himself only to fall asleep in his seat minutes later, and yet it is I to whom the professor recommends to re-evaluate their goals?” There’s fire in her eyes, and fervour in her voice, and Lucy feels equal parts pity for the men that dare challenge her not knowing the storm that they’ll reap, and equal parts a shameful longing to bear the brunt of her ardour, to be swept up completely by her force. The notion makes the blood rise to her cheeks and she knows she will guiltily revisit it later, alone in her bedchambers. For now, she pushes it aside, focusing on the Mina that is in front of her right now, in need of her support, not the fictitious version that inhabits her inverted fantasies.

“It’s because they are afraid of you. They are afraid of your intellect, your skill, your potential, and they’d rather wear you down and force you to give up on your dreams because they know you’re smarter than the lot of them combined. You threaten them, Mina, you threaten their entire view of the world with them at the top, undisputed. They see your excellence, and it terrifies them.”

Lucy is a bit breathless when she finishes, and she averts her eyes, suddenly embarrassed by her outburst and the palpability of her awe. Still, she won’t take it back, not a single word, because it is nothing but the truth and she needs Mina to know it.

Mina swallows, eyes burning with fierce determination. “I scare them? Good. I shall prove them right.”

And suddenly, Lucy feels quite dizzy. The silence between them stretches on, and, in an effort to fill it, Lucy blurts out the first thing that comes to mind:

“Before you do that, I do believe you’ve earned a little petty revenge. Remember that time I slipped ink into Henry Fairfax’ tea?”

Mina stares at her for a few moments, incredulous, before the tension breaks and she lets out the most endearing snort of laughter. To Lucy, no music could ever reach perfection such as this, and she’ll gladly make herself a jester if her reward shall be to hear this beautiful sound one more time.

“I mean it, I believe it improved his manners greatly.”

“Because he was too ashamed of his black teeth to speak!”

“From what I’ve learned, most men would be twice as amiable if they’d just keep their mouths shut.”

“Tempting”, Mina giggles, “but we’re not children anymore.”

Lucy pretends to sigh in disappointment. “You’re right, of course. It’s time we moved on from child’s play such as this. After all, as a soon-to-be doctor you of all people should know where to procure laxatives.”

“Lucy!”, Mina exclaims, playfully pushing her with just a little too much vigour, causing Lucy to stumble backwards, reaching out towards Mina as not to fall but only succeeding in knocking her off balance as well. For a few frantic moments they stay clutching at each other, swaying wildly like a pine at the mercy of a savage storm, before they find their footing again. Lucy closes her eyes, savouring each fleeting second before Mina will inevitably disentangle herself with a nervous giggle, shattering the strange intimacy of the moment. Yet her friend makes no move to do so. On the contrary, Lucy is startled to feel the weight of Mina gently resting her forehead on her shoulder. She can’t think straight. Her senses are awash with Mina’s warmth, the enticing scent of her perfume, the soothing rhythm of her breathing...she’s close enough for Lucy to feel each exhale warm against the skin of her neck. Is Mina aware how fast her heart is beating? She must be. It’s racing in Lucy’s ears like a pounding war drum. Lucy clenches her hands into fists until she can feel her fingernails painfully digging into her palms to distract herself, to keep herself from doing something as foolish as pressing her lips to Mina’s hair.

“Oh, darling Lucy, I do love you.” She’s so caught up in Mina’s bittersweet closeness that even after she feels her sweet friend’s lips form the words against her neck it takes a few moments for their meaning to sink in, and they bring with them a particularly painful ache. Not as I love you. The words are clear in Lucy’s mind, making her throat tighten and hot tears rise to her eyes.

“Sometimes it really does feel like you’re the only one in my corner as I’m opposing the rest of the world.”

Lucy doesn’t answer, can’t answer, for she fears her voice won’t obey her if she tries. So she settles on holding Mina a bit tighter, extending their embrace just a few moments longer, as to hide the tears are now flowing freely.

“I barely get to see you anymore.”

Mina’s right, of course. And it isn’t entirely owed to Mina’s medical studies, as much as Lucy would like to pretend it is the case. The truth is this: Lucy has been avoiding her. For her own sake, for her own sanity’s sake, because whenever they’re together now, he finds a way to insert himself into the situation, and the heartache is eating Lucy alive. So she’s been distancing herself, as a way of self-preservation. Best to get used to it now, she reckons, before the wedding, and the children that will follow, and the rift between them that will only grow further and further until Mina will realize that there is no more space for somebody like Lucy in her life.

“I’m sure Jonathan isn’t complaining.”

It’s a low blow and she regrets it as soon as it’s passed her lips. Not for fear of hurting Jonathan’s feelings, of course, but because now his presence is looming over them like a spectre even when he isn’t present. It’s the first sleepover Mina and her have had in weeks, a regular activity among them turned to a once-in-a-blue-moon occasion, and still she’s given him the power to worm his way into it. They’re lying right next to each other, close enough to touch, but there’s still a distance between them that was never there when they were younger. Now, they might as well be continents apart.

“Honestly, Lucy”, Mina hisses, propping herself up on her elbow and turning over to face her. “Must you paint Jonathan’s name black whenever you talk about him? What on earth could he have done to deserve such treatment from you?”

“What has he done? I find myself asking the same thing every hour of every day. What has he ever done for you, besides offering you support in name only, secretly hoping to make a docile housewife out of you yet?”

“You don’t know him like I do!”, Mina shouts, and it’s another thing that’s new between them, the shouting. They’d had fights before, of course, Lucy is convinced that two headstrong and intelligent individuals such as them can’t spend this much time in close proximity without quarrelling every so often, but their fights have become more frequent and more vicious.

“For all this time you’ve been seeing each other, I cannot think of one moment he took a stand for you!”

Not like I do, she catches herself thinking, and shudders immediately. How bitter she’s become. She can see Mina scrambling to come up with a response, but Lucy is too enraged to give her a quarter.

“Pray tell, Mina, what is one thing you admire about him? Hell, tell me one thing you like about Jonathan!”

Lucy slowly watches the anger in her friend’s eyes fade as the fight seems to leave her body and she turns away from her again, her gaze now fixed to an invisible point on the ceiling.

“He’s amiable”, Mina offers weakly.

“Oh, is that what they call a wet blanket nowadays?”, Lucy can’t help but scoff.

“He loves me”, Mina says, even quieter.

So do I, Lucy wants to say, Lucy yearns to say, but of course she can’t. She mustn’t. There are so many words inside her, emotions she’s repressed for so long, and she can feel them bubbling up, only a hair’s breadth away from spilling to the surface and ruining everything.

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

Nobody does, she wants to add, but her heart, her treacherous, foolish heart instead possesses her to say: “No man does.”

In a blink of an eye, the room is doused in an eerie quiet, as the weight of what she has just said settles in. Mina’s head whips around so fast Lucy might have feared for the muscles in her neck if she wasn’t frozen to the spot, panic gripping her insides with an icy grasp as Mina silently regards her with an expression usually reserved for the most difficult of riddles, like she’s a particularly challenging problem to solve. Lucy desperately tries to find a way to backtrack, to claim it was nothing but a silly joke, but the words die in her throat as with one fluid movement Mina leans in and -

Lucy closes her eyes, a soft gasp escaping her. This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening, there’s no way Mina is about to kiss her, and yet Lucy prepares herself for the gentle touch of soft lips on hers.

She’s proven right when Mina instead presses a kiss to her forehead.

Right. Of course.

Lucy would have laughed at herself and her inability to learn if she didn’t feel like crying. Of course Mina wouldn’t want to kiss her, why can’t she just accept it? Why must she torture herself with foolish hope?

The contact lasts for one second, maybe two, before Mina pulls back, completely wordless. Lucy, too, is stunned silent, even more so when her friend blows out the candle on the bedside table before burrowing into her side as if they were children again, sighing softly as she rested her head on Lucy’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Me neither”, Lucy croaks, leaning her cheek against soft brown hair.

She doesn’t sleep a wink that night.

vi.

She’s still holding onto the note as she enters the garden. She’s clutching onto it, balling it up and rendering it illegible. Not that it matters, she’s read and re-read it so many times by now she knows the words by heart. It’s not a great feat by any means, since the entire page is taken up by only two sentences, penned with a shaking hand in great haste:

Meet me in the gardens, urgently. Come alone.

- Mina

Lucy doesn’t want to come. She doesn’t think she can face Mina. But she also can’t stand waiting on her lonesome.

Lucy isn’t stupid, she knows the reason for Mina summoning her to meet her by herself. She’s noticed how they haven’t exchanged more than a few words ever since that night. She knows she’s pulled back the veil too far, she’s shown too much of herself and now this is the end of them. She can’t blame Mina, but it doesn’t stop her from wishing she could delay the inevitable for just one more day.

No man does, she’d said. The only way she could have been any more transparent would be to have physically thrown herself at Mina. She’s nothing but a lovesick, foolish girl, and she’s ruined everything she’s ever had because of one moment of weakness. And now, the moment to reap what she’s sown has come.

She’s so lost in thought she almost runs into Mina quite literally, who’s been rushing to meet her. Lucy takes one look at her friend and regrets it instantly: Her (former?) friend’s eyes are red-rimmed, like she’s been crying, and Lucy can feel the guilt that has been coiling in her stomach since she’s first read Mina’s note screws itself even tighter.

“Lucy”, Mina breathes, eyes wide, her fists clenching and unclenching with nervous energy she can’t seem to hold back. She doesn’t even wait for Lucy to respond to her greeting before words spring forth from her like a rushing waterfall: “I’ve been thinking about everything you told me.”

Whatever tentative flicker of hope Lucy might have had is mercilessly and wholly extinguished.

“Mina, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am -”

Mina holds up a hand and she instantly falls silent.

“Please, Lucy, let me finish. I need to get this of my chest, and I fear that if I stop now I’ll lose the courage to go on.”

Lucy nods, numbly.

“Thank you”, Mina says with a fleeting smile, before visibly steeling herself.

“I broke off my engagement to Jonathan.” The words come out in one desperate rush, and she sighs, deeply, as if a physical weight has been lifted off of her.

Lucy is sure she must have misheard. “You did what?”

Mina doesn’t acknowledge Lucy’s outcry.

“I’ve thought about everything you’ve told me, and you’re right. And I knew I couldn’t carry on like this, I knew it wouldn’t be fair, neither to me nor to Jonathan.”

This is happing. It’s indeed happening and Lucy can’t help the overwhelming elation she feels. She ought to feel sorry for Jonathan instead, or worried for Mina, but in this moment she’s wholly taken by glee. Mina is free of him, they’re both free of him. Somewhere in the back of her head an ugly voice tells her that this doesn’t mean anything, that at the end of the day Mina will always remain unattainable and she will suffer through heartbreak after heartbreak, but this one time the voice is easy to drown out.

“I knew I couldn’t carry on”, Mina repeats, her voice softer now and filled with a kind of tenderness Lucy can’t begin to fathom. Mina takes Lucy’s hands in hers – she carelessly drops the balled up note on the ground – and holds them close to her chest. Her eyes are swimming in tears once more, but her smile is all the brighter.

“Not when my heart is completely consumed by love for another.”

In one sentence Mina has broken her. It’s as if the rug has been pulled from under her feet, leaving her to stumble backwards into darkness. Why does it even surprise her? Why does the notion of Mina, sweet, intelligent, wonderful, beautiful, incredible Mina being loved and desired catch her off guard?

“Do I know the lucky gentleman?”, Lucy asks with a smile that she’s sure doesn’t reach her eyes. She can feel hot tears building up behind her eyes and knows that she won’t be able to uphold this facade for long.

“Do you know- Lucy, you say the silliest things sometimes!”, Mina giggles, too wrapped up in her own love drunk joy to notice Lucy’s pain. It’s too much altogether, and Lucy wrenches her hands from Mina’s grip.

“I hope he makes you happy”, she manages to say before turning away sharply, fleeing this conversation to preserve whatever she has left of her dignity.

“Lucy, wait!”, Mina calls after her, but she pretends not to hear it. She doesn’t slow down, not even when she can hear energetic footsteps following closely behind her on the gravel path. Then, a hand grabs her wrist in a tight grip.

“Mina, let me go-”, she hisses, but she doesn’t get any further than that as she is interrupted by the insistent press of Mina’s lips on hers.

She doesn’t react, can’t react as her entire world shifts on its axis, and she’s still in a daze when Mina pulls back, an indeterminate amount of time later.

“Y-you’re mocking me.”, Lucy croaks. It’s the only possibility that makes sense. Mina knows, she’s found out and she’s chosen to tease her for her inverted, ill-fated, desperate love for her best friend.

“Oh, sweet Lucy”, Mina breathes, looking altogether stricken by the accusation. “Do you really think me so cruel?”

“I don’t know what to think!”, Lucy cries. She’s lost, everything she thought to be true proven false and vice versa, and she doesn’t know if she can trust her senses. She’s half convinced she’ll wake up in her bed any second now, alone, chasing the last remnants of another pleasurable dream.

“Then don’t think at all”, Mina murmurs, her hands tracing a feather-light path over Lucy’s arms, shoulders, and neck, before settling in Lucy’s hair, pulling her closer, slowly, giving Lucy ample time to turn away if she needed to.

She doesn’t, she just closes her eyes and lets herself be pulled in. Their lips meet again, softer this time, and the sensation still comes as a shock to Lucy. She gasps against Mina’s lips, and the breathy sound seems to spur her on even further, she starts moving against her with more urgency. It’s too much for Lucy’s fragile self-control, she can’t hold back anymore, and with a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper she kisses back with equal ardour, arms looping around Mina’s back and clenching in the fabric of her dress, hands pulling closer, closer, impossibly closer.

Lucy can’t say how much time has elapsed when they finally break apart, breathless, resting their foreheads against each other. Lucy doesn’t dare let go, thinks she might never be able to out of fear the second she does Mina might drift away.

“Lucy”, Mina sighs. “Darling Lucy, I’m so sorry for how blind I was for all this time. You must think me so self-absorbed, to not notice your affections for me, and to string you along the way I did, Lucy, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think…”

Lucy gently brushes a strand of dark hair that must have come loose while they were kissing behind Mina’s ear. Her cheeks already hurt from smiling, she can’t remember a time she’s ever been as content as this.

“Then don’t think at all”, she parrots Mina’s earlier quip with a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“I believe we’ve both been blind", Lucy whispers, before pulling Mina into a kiss once more.

#westenray #nbc dracula #lucy westenra #mina murray #wlw fanfiction #please reblog if u liked it you have no idea how long i worked on this #also the research rabbit hole i went down while writing this is UNREAL

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soukokuwu · 5 years ago

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FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

THE GAME

》 angst (fyodor x reader)

》 trigger warning! death, toxic relationship, manipulation themes

》 word count: 2.1k

》 hi i’m glad you liked the fluff, hope you like this just as much!

“your thoughts are not your own”

A series of calculated moves. The workings of a brilliant mastermind. It was going to be checkmate very soon. The pawn is going to be making her last move, and it would be tonight.

The lights that paved the way to your house intensified his evil grin. His long black hair covered his eyes as he walked forward with his head hung low. The ushanka he donned kept his ears warm in this chilly night air. To a mere stranger, he may have looked sickly. But unbeknownst to them, he couldn’t feel more alive. Tonight would be the night he could finally be free from your shackles. Or to be clearer, the shackles he had let you put on him.

It was a chore. A part of his mission he had to carry out. This role had left him figuratively paralysed. He had to act like a caring, doting boyfriend. For the longest time, he has had to act like you were an exception. How vile. There was nothing wrong with how you treated him, no. That was not what he had a problem with. But he had grown close enough to you to peek into your past— every little minute thing you have ever done.

And he could only think of one word to describe your sins: appalling.

The more he thought about it the more it gave him a headache. But, it was a silver lining. When the time would come for him to dispose of you, he would at least have no qualms about doing it. The art of manipulation was fun to execute, but it was getting much too boring. You were much too easy to control.

Tonight would be his first night returning to your accommodation in a week. It was a mere week apart, but he knew it absolutely drove you crazy. Mind-reading was not needed for him to know what you were feeling: paranoid, anxious, self-hatred. All of which was what he had aimed to induce in you. It would make you more agreeable, inspire you into taking action to make him happy.

Oh and how simple it was— a plain argument was all it took. He had hired a man to flirt with you, and as much as you were blindly loyal to Fyodor, you also always had trouble with turning people down. It was all too easy for him to ‘catch’ the guy laying hands on you, with you all flustered and wondering how to turn him down. All Fyodor had to do was put on an angry facade, pull you away and warn you that if you let others do that again that he would break up with you. Then he left you to your devices, and made sure you got the message by not showing himself to you— until tonight.

You had been practically shaking in your knees. It was entirely not your fault, but Fyodor was aware that you were too unaware to understand that. Such spineless nature— an advantage for him, but it would be the cause of downfall for you.

Oh what a sad thing, to be human and longing.

As he approached your door, he smelt the aroma of your cooking. You cooked very well, that much he would admit. He slowly opened the door and walked toward the kitchen, and there you were— so deep in thought about your cooking that you hardly noticed anything else around you.

So unobservant. So easy to assassinate.

Keeping his sinister thoughts under wraps, he put on a fake smile and approached you, placing a quick peck on your cheek.

Such a revolting action.

You spun around to find your lover, a relieved grin taking over your face. “Fyo, I’m so glad to see you again!” you exclaimed, giving the gentleman a tight hug. It was just all over your face how happy you were to see him again. You had obviously been fretting non-stop. Fyodor had been bombarded with messages the moment he up and left you that night after the run-in with the touchy man. He had gotten bombarded until tonight, even. Not that he gave it any care in the world.

I barely even have to try. How pathetic.

If you knew what was going on inside his head, you would have run for your life. But of course you didn’t. You didn’t even think anything was amiss. All that you had going on in your head was how you were going to make it up to him— you did infuriate him that night, after all. You thought about it as you started to loosen your hold on him.

“I have an idea! Go wash up, I’ll whip up something amazing for you!”

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

The night ended with dessert and a bottle of wine. Not that Fyodor cared or appreciated any bit of it. Still, he managed to play the role of devoted boyfriend perfectly— making sure that tonight you felt complete, wholesome. He needed you in a good mood, a willing-to-please mood.

He was sat on the couch, waiting for you to finish washing the last of the silverware. Once he heard the water stop running, he turned toward you, patting his lap, “Come join me, milaya.” Fyodor gave you the most sugary smile he could manage. Fake— but it looked sweet.

To anyone other than you, it was nothing but a mirthless smirk. However, you were blinded beyond saving. It was perfect in your eyes; just what you needed to end a dreadfully long week. The fact that Fyodor effortlessly knew exactly what was going on in your head made him more excited than you could imagine. Everything would go according to plan, and it looked like he’d chosen the perfect pawn. A strong and weak pawn, ironically, all in one.

Sinfully stupid.

It had been two long months you’ve been dating. He had researched enough on you to know what you’ve been searching for emotionally— a promise of a better life. Your childhood had been riddled with problems, most of which caused by the fact that you had come from a wealthy family. So Fyodor played the part of a humble, ambitious man who came from nothing. And you fell for him hard— hook, line and sinker.

You sat yourself comfortably on his lap, your head pressed against his chest. To you, it was cosy, comfortable. You wondered why Fyodor’s heart was beating so fast, but you took it as a sign that he was delighted by your affection. Which was half-true, he was delighted, yes, but only because he was about to make the pawn deal a checkmate.

“Do you love me, milaya?” he asked, gently ruffling your soft locks.

“More than anything in the world.”

“I know this may be going a little fast, but what do you think I go meet your father?”

You looked up at him in disbelief. Did that just happen? Did he just offer to meet your father? After all the horrible things you warned him about? This was going to be such a huge step forward in your relationship. Something you could have only dreamed about. But it was going to come true.

“Are you sure, Fyo?” you asked, searching his face for any sign of doubt.

He flashed you yet another sweet smile. “Of course I am, lyubov moya. You are special to me.” Fyodor leaned in to kiss you, just to make sure he got his message across. He didn’t even have to instil fear in you— he was almost in disbelief at how easily he was getting away with all of this.

And just like that, you agreed.

The meeting was to be on the next day, at noon, in the quiet park just a ways down from your house, before heading into the heart of the city for lunch. According to you, your father was elated to meet the man who has managed to capture your heart.

And controlled your mind, Fyodor added to himself.

That night as you lay asleep next to him, he smiled genuinely for the first time since he’s known you. He looked at your sleeping face. You were a beautiful lady, with a dangerously charming smile and an appeasing personality. That was the only thing he would admire about you— looks.

“You shall serve for the sake of God’s amusement,” he mumbled to himself, eyes still glued on you.

Fyodor inched a little closer to you to get a better look at your beauty, the smile still plastered on his face.

“What a pretty little disaster you will be.”

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

The next day couldn’t come quickly enough for Fyodor. You had just texted your father, telling him that you and your new lover would be headed to the park soon. You were very excited, and Fyodor could tell. You were all jittery.

“Okay I’ve told him we’d be there soon, so we should probably head out now.”

And the moment Fyodor heard those words roll out from your tongue, he dropped all his masks and chuckled.

Stunned, you turned to look up at him, and found yourself bewildered by the evil grin he donned. Did you miss something? What was going on? Why did that laugh sound so... soulless?

“F- Fyo,” you stuttered, trying to close the distance despite how terrified you were. “You... aren’t acting like yourself.”

What was this you were feeling? It was like complete... malice.

His chuckle got a little louder, his shoulders shaking, trying to contain his content. His purple eyes had lost all light, and the way he was looking at you chilled you to your very bones. “On the contrary, milaya,” he said, leaning down so his face was directly in front of yours. “I’ve never been more myself.”

You swallowed, confused by the sudden change in his demeanour. You fought back the urge to ask him about it in fear of the response you would receive. His eyes were still boring into yours, and you realised that the man in front of you was a stranger. A complete stranger. And it was then that you knew.

“I will pretend that I don’t already see the question in your eyes, milaya.”

Your worst fears have been realised the moment you noticed the threat in his eyes. So that’s all this was to him? A game? And you were nothing but a tool, a stone for him to step on to get to his true destination. Judging by recent events, his target was your father, and you had been the perfect ace in the hole, giving him exactly what he needed.

“I’m just a pawn,” you thought out loud, “in someone else’s game.”

Fyodor’s sinister smile never left his face. He placed a hand on top of your head. “Correct. And you’ve finally made a move.” He patted your head before continuing.

“After all, a pawn that does not move upsets the entire game.”

A thousand things were running through your mind. But one emotion stood out: fear. For Fyodor to have told you to your face that you were a pawn, after two months of keeping up with his boyfriend act, could only mean one thing: this was your first and last move. A pawn that was no longer useful would have to de disposed of.

“Don’t look so upset,” Fyodor said, amused by your reaction to his every movement. Such a pity that your beauty had to be wasted on your soul. “There are times when a well-placed pawn is more powerful than any other piece in the game.”

You wanted to punch him. To run. To get as far away from this sick, manipulative freak as you could. You hated that all you could think of now is not only of his murderous intent, but also of the small moments that had transpired between the two of you— the way his thin fingers always caressed your cheeks, or the warmth you felt every night as you fell asleep next to him.

“You should be rejoicing at the power you have.”

“I have fulfilled my purpose,” you resignedly admitted.

Fyodor was pleased upon hearing that. “Exactly,” he agreed. “So I shall reward you with this.”

You felt his fingers lightly brush against your cheek one last time, before blood started pooling at your feet and everything around you started fading into black. So, this was what you got for trusting the man, huh? What a stupid, foolish way of thinking. Nobody could be that perfect and be true. What were you thinking?

“May you be released from the yoke of your sins.”

His emotionless voice was the last thing you heard as you released your last breath.

“and then an uneventful demise”

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor dostoyevsky #bsd scenarios #bsd oneshot #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #rachwrote #bsd angst #bsd imagine #bsd imagines

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linkspooky · 5 years ago

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When the Cherry Blossoms Fall

Let’s talk about Hawks in the most recent chapters, and this ominous quote from him. In japanese culture Cherry Blossoms signify many things, the fragility of life, its beauty, and a reminder that life is tragically short. The falling of cherry blossoms, and the inevitable bloom of them next year represents the cycle of death and rebirth.

His hopeful statement that they will survive and recover what the villains have planned is tinged with death. A death must first occur before a rebirrth. The entire statement itself sounds like the heroes will fail, and the next generation will take over. Let’s talk about why Hawks is such a fatalist under the cut.

There are several isntances of foreshadowing that both Hawks and Endeavor will fail in their missions. The man who manipulated glass and sat on a crystal ball called Endeavor that root of all darkness, and that the light he created, reassuring people while he was in the number one hero spot would eventually bring darkness as well.

Hawks look at Bakugo at this moment indicated that he did indeed kill Best Jeanist which will most likely not be an incident without consequence.

There are also several moments like this one where Hawks is almost found out, and when he is his immediate thought jumps to in case of failure, which idnicates that as he gets deeper and deeper into this mission Hawks himself is assuming that he is going to fail.

The number one and number two heroes are setting themselves up for a fall, at the same time as Tomura’s impending destruction. The question is why exactly is it Hawks that has this attitude? Why does it seem like Hawks almost wants to fall and sacrifice himself so someone else can take his place?

Hawks is giving everything he has to stop the villains and yet part of his statement sounds like he expects stage one will be succesful, the heros will fall and the kids will be the back up. For one of the most cheerful, and selfless characters in the manga Hawks himself adopts a fatalist attitude.

Fatalism, the idea that all events are predetermined and therefore inevitable. A submissive outlook.

Hawks might not believe in destiny, but he has accepted quite a few fatal outcomes in his life. The reason that Endeavor might fall from the number one hero is quite obvious, but in Hawks case the reasons are a little more subtle. So let’s give a more in depth look at his character.

1. Hawks Lies (To Everyone)

Attention was drawn in the most recent chapter again to just how many different faces that Hawks wears.

However, even Endeavor does not understand the full depth of Hawks. He only sees what Hawks wants him to see, which is why Hawks was able to change his attitude in such a noticable way around Endeavor to give him an opposite message.

Hawks presents himself as a carefree person who always speaks his mind, but that’s an intentional character he is playing on his part. The image of someone who always speaks exactly what he is thinking is something that sets up people to believe that Hawks is not someone who can keep secrets or tell lies.

He has carefully cultivated a genuine and authentic self to put in front of people always, so they will never suspect him. Ironically when Hawks is being true to himself and real, it’s when he’s at his fakest. We know Hawks’ interally as someone who is quite serious, and even overburdened but unlike us reader’s with our bird’s eye view, people around him can only read the face he is showing them.

Hawks is someone extremely aware of the way others perceive him, which is also why he brings up popularity polls when counting down the top ten heroes. He specifically acts to bring up Endeavor’s popularity with the people because he believes that will bring more support for the number one hero and improve the situation for heroes. Remember, that day Hawks was not supposed to bring Endeavor to the Nomu attack, it was an intentional ploy on his part to gain populiarty. Hawks and Dabi both betray each other during their first contact because Hawks deliberately brought Endeavor.

However, this does not mean that carefree Hawks is a lie and secret agent Hawks is the real one. It’s not as simple as that, Hawks is always lying about himself, he’s always cutting his personality into pieces and then presenting different parts of his personality that is most suited for the audience he is in front of.

Hawks presents himself as someone docile and ready to sacrifice himself at a word in front of the hero commission, because that is how they use him. A person indebted to them, and a person highly useful to them. The exact opposite of the way he is with Endeavor, Hawks does not argue against, or even purposefully push buttons as with Endeavor, he’s basically entirely passive and eventually agrees to what they say.

We even see Hawks’ thought process when he’s intentionally trying to manipulate Dabi. He is aware of what role he is playing, and how Dabi perceives him and then manipulates Dabi by offering up his own usefulness. Hawks knows others are going to use him, so his angecy and freedom is manipulating them in how he will be used.

Trapped within the system this is ultimately the only way for him to get what he wants with the hero commission. He believes if he lets them keep using them, and presents himself as someone useful he will eventually get what he wants. Ironically, Hawks lies to the heroes, and lies to the villains with the same face. Around all people so far, he only presents himself as someone playing the fool ready to be manipulated for all their worth, and secretly observing them while their guard is lowered down.

Hawks is the opposite of someone who speaks his mind. He has never spoken his true mind in front of everyone, he is always concealing something. It’s impossible for him to drop by on a whim because he is always thinking in the long term, and every action of his is intentional on his part. It takes a lot of effort for him to act so carefree.

A character always concealing his eyes with his feathers, and a character always watching with concealed eyes, Takami Keigo.

This is also why Hawks ultimately always works alone. He does not trust anybody other than himself. Being taken advantage of his whole life has taught him this. All of this learned behavior serves to further isolate Hawks’ and cut him off to the point where he is in the enemy’s sotmach with no allies.

Hawks is the ideal kind of person to send on this mission, because if he falls, he falls alone.

2. Hawks Lies (To Himself)

Hawks shoves his trauma into little drawers and files it away in the back of his head rather than ever dealing with it. As Endeavor has said, Hawks contradicts himself all the time. The reason why is because Hawks is such a genius at cutting his mind into little presentable pieces that basically all of these parts are filed away and compartmentalized somewhere.

Compartmentalization is a subconscious psychological defense mechanism used to avoid cognitive dissonance, or the mental discomfort and anxiety caused by a person's having conflicting values, cognitions, emotions, beliefs, etc. within themselves

Basically, in order to never have to face the contradictions present in his mindset in behavior, Hawks is really good at just never thinking about them or dealing with them. This is also because Hawks is only playing up one part of his personality at a time.

Hawks is carefree. Hawks is overburdened. Hawks is lazy. Hawks works too hard. Hawks does not want to be a hero like All Might that saves everyone. Hawks focuses 100% of his being, all the time, into saving others.

All of these things are the real Hawks, and yet at the same time these are all completely opposite contradictory ideas. This is also because the person who Hawks longs to be, a person who is free to fly and in control of his own life, far outstrips the person that Hawks is, which is a double agent who spends his entire life working for the hero system and following the orders of other people.

This is why we see Hawks never connect with his trauma in ways that he would reasonably otherwise do. It’s almost like Hawks himself is unaware of his negative emotions, because he puts so much effort into repressing them.

Hawks hismelf is unaware of why he has no interest in raising up the previous generation. He also doesn’t notice why he felt uneasy about the hero commission using all the heroes in training as a backup, instead of trying to ensure their safety because they’re still minors. And that’s because Hawks himself was raised up by the hero commission to become a useful hero as fast as possible and lost out on his childhood because of it.

Is it a good thing that the younger heroes are becoming heroes at speeds faster than himself? Even though Hawks’ entire character is how he was raised up as a hero way too fast, and now does everything too fast. How he’s not allowed to be free because he’s devoted his entire life to being a hero and has nothing outside of it?

Hawks is anxious about raising the next generation because of how he was raised. It’s even mentioned that Hawks is not even that much older than Bakugo, Midoriya and Todoroki.

All of these kids are so desperate to grow up and be like Hawks, but look what becoming a hero so fast has made Hawks into. Someone with no control over his life.

Hawks cannot even be the hero that he wants to be, because the hero commission tells him not to save people.

The reason Hawks does not relize how bad of an idea he is perpetuating is because he has internalized all of his trauma. The only way Hawks can live is believing that he is in control of his life. Which is why Hawks’ contradicts himself and plays into the wishes of the hero system, which ultimately plays him like a puppet. Because he believes that his actions are for creating his own freedom. That he believes his resolve will lead somewhere. He denies the fact that he is being used, and instead pretends like he is using them to deny his own trauma.

He believes his resolve will all lead somewhere if he lets himself be used over and over again. Yet, at the same time, letting himself be used just ensures that Hawks himself will never be free.

3. Hawks Considers Himself Expendable

Because the burden Hawks takes on is so massive, Hawks always comes out looking lesser compared to the task of saving everyone. His own individual wants and needs are always diminished. Which is why Hawks does things he does not want to do, acts like the hero he does not want to be. He lets himself be corrupted because that’s better than letting other people.

Hawks is an incredibly selfless person, to the point where that selflessness is a flaw. He always sells himself far short for the sake of others. To the point where, Hawks no longer has any more conception of himself and what he wants. Nothing he does really in the end furthers his own wants because he is always placing others first.

Hawks says that if you have wings, you should fly. That there’s no need for you to be confined to the ground, but once again we see his feathers falling in front of his face. Hawks is telling another lie because he himself is more confined to the ground than anybody dlse. Hawks is the one who put the cage of lies around his heart that prevents him from being able to fly freely.

Not only that, but Hawks puts all of his burdens on his own shoulders. If he is the only one doing all of it, he is in control of everything and things are less likely to fail in Hawks’ mind. However, if Hawks trusts someone else and lets it out of his control, if they fail, Hawks will take that responsibility on himself. It’s his fault for trusting them, if he had done it all alone he would have done it right. Hawks therefore, tends to take responsibility for absolutely everything, even prompted by the hero commission to save so. Who he saves, who he lets die, who he lets get hurt to save other people, it’s all on Hawks’ shoulders weighing him down as gravity that makes him unable to fly.

Hawks also feels a great deal of guilt towards the victims of his manipulation (the meaningful look at Bakugo). Because he takes saving others so seriously he views himself as a bad person, corrupting himself for a good cause.

At which point you can see why Hawks speaks in such incredibly fatal language. It’s because Hawks’ own sense of self has incredibly dwindled under the pressure he puts on himself, and the lies he tells himself. He claims that all of these sacrifices he’s making are for a future where heroes can be freer, but increasingly it sounds like Hawks himself does not believe he’ll be alive to see that future.

Which is why we get to the folly of self sacrifice. None of the sacrifices that Hawks is asked to make, are going to lead him to the future he wants. Ironically, by giving himself up to the hero commission again and again Hawks is made less free, not moreso.

Which is probably why Hawks is trying to reach the future where heroes are a little more free as fast as he possibly can. Because he knows he cannot keep this up forever. Yet, part of Hawks seems to accept that he may die before he ever reaches the future he wants to see, and he comforts himself by saying other people will get to enjoy it.

Hawks has in a way accepted that he might fall. Part of him might even see it as a release from his burdens.

But that’s the way Hawks has lived his whole life. He’s always lived it for other people, and never allowed himself to be selfish. If Hawks’ story ends that way, with his own sacrifice, its a tragic ending because there is nobody who sacrifices himself as much as Hawks does.

Hawks is fatalistic, because this is where a viewpoint of self-sacrifice leads. It’s better for everyone else if you’re the only one suffering. But not a single person would benefit from Hawks dying alone.

Which is why what Hawks needs the most is to make a decision for himself, to do what he wants, to take flight for the first time in his life rather than let hismelf fall.

#hawks #takami keigo #mha meta #my hero academia meta #hawks meta #meta #number two hero

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theshortwavemystery · 4 years ago

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NOTES FROM WATCHING THE FIRST EPISODE OF “RIVERDALE”

1. Riverdale is a bizarre town that seems cut off from everywhere else, temporally straddled between an eternal 1950’s—more accurately a 1950’s stuck in an endless repetitive loop. But it takes place in the late 2010’s. Even so, the decor in the town is vintage, and the characters recognize this. The activities of the kids are vintage. the internet and cell phones exists, millennials are named, but it doesn’t seem to matter. something is very weird here, as if all these people are ghosts. all the stock scenarios and characters are here, which is to be expected for a teen drama, but there’s an exactness, a literalism, that is too perfect to be unintentional. 2. what is this world? it seems to be a staging of a certain inertia in american culture, which changes in superficial ways—technology, new TV shows, music new taboos—but all if this somehow serves to reinforce, or justify a return to the “leave it to beaver” universe. 3. any reminder that these are modern kids—their frequent references to contemporary TV shows like Mad Men for instance—only serve to increase the spooky vibe. everyone in this town seems to be low key crazy, making the show feel like twin peaks but written by what’s left of your local shopping mall. 4. the show’s script is constantly making fun of itself to the point that we seem directed by it to avoid taking the drama seriously—it is perhaps a smoke screen, like the haze of the presumably northwestern woods that seem to surround the town (it is filmed in Vancouver). the gay best friend is named as the gay best friend, establishing him as a living archaism—i felt bad for him after this. 5. plot points are shown to be cliche—the fake lesbian kiss, once scandalous in the 2000’s, is brushed off as false and an erasure of real lesbians. the script fools us, indicating it means to aim for more intelligent territory. and yet, veronica’s confrontation with cheryl, her tough girl speech, where she reveals her vulnerability as a rich girl fallen from grace but also stands up for betty—this goes without an ironic comment, even thought it is also a cliche, but a more contemporary oneq—the “mic drop” moment. so we see how the naming of particular cliches, employed ironically, serves to hide others the show is earnestly employing. 6. veronica says she needs to be redeemed for her father’s crimes, how is that fair. 7. archie’s desire to make music seems like a stand-in for a recognition that he’s gay. they cover this up by making his character straight but i don’t buy it. because his music itself clearly doesn’t matter. this is similar to the dead poets society where the kid kills himself obviously because he’s gay and he’s afraid his dad will disown him. why? nobody kills themselves merely because their dad shames them for doing theater. the reason is simple: theater is already such a humiliating and abject thing to love that you have to be totally shameless to even start doing it. once you become a theater kid your dad has lost you. in the second episode, the gay friend of betty reveals that he agrees with me here. 8. archie is the decentered center of the show, not a particularly interesting character so much as a holding container for female desire/fantasy. he’s dumb, cute boy who’s kind of artistic and kind of jockish, but the complex psychology belongs to betty, veronica, cheryl so far—all plotting, calculating characters, whereas archie just wants to enjoy himself and be liked—and to be fair, these shallow needs get him in plenty of trouble, but they’re simple needs. but this is always what archie was, even as a comic book character. he’s kicked around like a football like a more jocular charlie brown. 9. archie’s problem is identiied as the problem of "all millenial men", who need to be told what they want—but this is really everyone’s problem. what makes the girls/women different is that they don’t care that they don’t know what they want—they just act on feelings, and try to make the world match up with the feelings. archie thinks he ought to know what he wants, and then do it. but the women, whose desires as women are not even encouraged from day one, are free from this tedious problem. this is why archie is the one who has to be the moral authority regarding his mutual witness to the murder with the hot teacher, while the hot teacher is only afraid people will find out she fucked a student. veronica brushes off archie’s identity crisis as a false dilemma, critiqueing the categories of “jock” and “artist” and insisting he can be both, and anyway who gives a fuck? but this whimsy and indifference toward boundaries can get devious with veronica, who is betty’s friend one second and hooking up with archie the next. 10. although women are still often denied full subjectivity in literature, in real life it’s always been the opposite—men tend to forego personality development in favor of power or the illusion of power, and end up more shallow, rigid and fragile, more prone to the whims of their entourage. they never really have to become anything in particular--masculinity functions like a hive mind. if male relationships superficially appear to have less friction, it is only because men are brutally conformist and end up with little personal to argue about, usually coalescing around some common interest and not prone to discussing their respective inner lives--except, occasionally to defensively deny their existence. so-called "sensitive" men only do this in more devious ways--it's obvious that jughead is the most devious character we've met so far. women, in contrast, are each a hive mind unto themselves, compelled to construct an array of selves, carefully deploying them to get by in a world structured by the male gaze and booby-trapped by the machinations of other women. this complexity is of course terrifying to men who either submit to it as a fetish or suppress it— and one way of accomplishing that suppression in literature is to create stories where the men are supposedly complex and the women supposedly shallow and dependent wholly on men--the typical gaslight job of the mediocre male writer. this is clearly a show that, whatever its other blindnesses, is not going to let that happen. 11. we are told through veronica that archie is more dangerous than he looks. why doesn’t the show want us to figure this out ourselves? this feels ironic on the writers' parts, another winking use of cliche. 12. everyone’s problem is a cliche—archie’s father pressures him to do sports to get into college, he wants to do something else. betty’s mom is controlling and betty is a people pleaser who already in the first episode explodes about how perfect she has to be all the time and can’t she just do something for herself for once? 13. the music is annoying and cloying but it also grounds the contemporary nature of the show, because of its peculiar sense of melodrama, which is endemic to this time period, and the neoliberal overvaluing of the self. 14. the video on this show seems filtered into oblivion, or photoshopped or otherwise conspicuously treated. just like the self-awareness of the script, it contributes to the sense of unreality. 15. more self-aware cliches: archie and betty grew up next door to each other—they’re stuck in a feedback loop of being the ____ next door. cheryl describes herself as the queen on stage at the dance. 16. classic literature is referenced oddly—betty loves toni morrison, even though by the end of the episode, we have been introduced to zero black main characters. is this self-aware critique of white fetishization of blackness? and there's also thornton wilder’s “our town”… veronica suggests that the high school is part of the lost epilogue from “our town”—wilder also presented a transparently fake and timeless town to stage his existentialist story in, one in which horrifyingly, dead people remain in a liminal space between death and life, vainly trying to communicate with the living they can still see. 17. every celebrity/media reference is bizarre. a thin veneer draped over an unchanging reality. "Riverdale" seems not so much about the dark underbelly of suburbia, but about the idea of suburbia is the dark underbelly itself. a murder has to happen because someone has to bring death here, lest everyone become paralyzed by their immortality. 18. archie’s “making a deal” with the hot teacher is way more erotic than anything he’ll do with b or v… why is this happening at the Dance lol, unless we are to read it this way? they have shared the most precious thing in this town, death... why does archie love the teacher and toy with his peers? because they can't give him death. clearly archie is blackmailing the hot teacher into continuing the relationship, but he does so seemingly unaware of his own motives. he lives in the age of youtube tutorials, he doesn't need music instruction. and here is another paradox of the modern gender binary--men think they don't know what they want, but unconsciously they know what they want--they receive their instructions from the Borg Queen of masculinity and pursue it ruthlessly, whereas women end up thinking they know exactly what they want, but unconsciously they don't, because it's fractured amongst their afformentioned hive of selves. This is why both traditonally-socialized genders are completely right in saying the other is full of shit. 19. “we have no past” goes the song josie sings—and maybe this is america’s problem—the past is empty, the past of ordinary suburbia, interrupted only occasionally by wars perhaps but untouched by cultural progress—and because we have no past we can have no present, only an empty recycling of the same void, the same problems, the same catharses—new episodes of the same show. we live forever at the cost of never changing. is riverdale a socially critical prestige drama LARPing in the ironic costume of a CW teen soap??? 20. all the characters are trapped in a carnival haunted house ride. the theme: adolescence. 21. cheryl’s party—brett kavanaugh could have been at this party 22. jughead is the narrator, and i like the idea that this is all in jughead’s head, which is why it’s so unstuck in time aesthetically, so stylized and knowing. and it's no wonder he's the most popular character, because he represents the writers themselves, and fandom is to have an illusion of a privileged relationship not so much with the characters, but with the property's creators--and to be hyperinvested and, if necessary, hypercritical of their choices. 23. the gay hookup is interrupted by the presence of a corpse—a classic trope in teen horror but it’s interesting to see it with a gay pair. it’s as if in the clash between the perpetual 1950’s aura and the contemporary references and morality, a gruesome surplus appears, the specter of homophobia. which, incidentally is a corpse of a man guilty of a sexual act that is still considered taboo—incest. a corpse symbolizes the death of innocence for a hetero couple, but for a queer couple it can’t just be that—it also must evoke the threat of actual murder. which makes this a very different moment. 24. jughead says riverdale has changed—but it has only been revealed to be what it always was—"full of shadows and secrets", as jughead puts it. he must be putting us on—this place is way creepier than Sunnydale, and that place had actual demons… but this is often what a change amounts to—not the addition of a new trait, but the acceptance of one that was already there. 25. jason blossom is a ginger like archie and he therefore seems tied to archie in a unique way. he dies on july 4th, given some fuel to my reading as a show with something to say about america’s self-image. 26. all the parents are single parents or in strained, unhappy marriages in this town. this us realistic, but that should tip us off: what in the show has been realistic so far? debuting in january 2017, "Riverdale" seems retrospectively shaped by the trump era-a teen drama not about the undead, as buffy was, but a teen drama which is itself undead, fitting for a president who also wished to raise the dead, and also what had never lived. riverdale’s preservation of the old “great” america is superficial—indoors, a very contemporary isolation and alienation reign, in contrast even to the desperation of actual 50’s suburbia. 27. is everyone dead already in this show? is riverdale purgatory? is that what explains its being unstuck in time and drenched in fog? but i’ve been to small towns in the northwest that look like riverdale—nothing has been updated since 1954. in order to seem fake, riverdale has to be even faker that real life, even more uncanny—and that’s a tall order.

#riverdale

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justlurkingintheshadows · 5 years ago

Text

@nutsandvoltsweek Sorry if this is bad I'm not a writer as much as I'm not an artist, I at least have some more experience with writing though, I know it's not perfect but oh well. I also know it's technically late for my timezone but it's still gonna be the 10th February somewhere.

This is my attempt at a role reversal Nuts and Volts for day 2

Humanity and Ferality

Word count : 2,150

Content tags : Role-reversal, Scientist!Tyrian, Feral!Watts, blood, implied cannibalism, implied self-mutilation/experimentation

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It wasn't exactly unheard of, the story of the Atlesian who went mad and lost his mind, in his unhinged rage it's said he brought down an entire lab and then disappeared, presumed dead, but now Tyrian knew the truth. Before him stood a ragged man, truly disgraced, soaked in blood that had previously resided inside the team Tyrian had gone with to an unusual site where people complained of moving shadows and nose curdling smells that kept even the Grimm at bay.

It was clear the heaving form wanted to finish off the last one and drag him too away to wherever he had stowed the other bodies, the only evidence that someone had been there being the blood splattered around after a vicious attack, Tyrian wasn't about to let him but he was curious, he supposed the poor guy had to have survived off something all this time, the thought would have made him shudder had he even cared at all. He simply watched the man carefully, neither daring to move, their foe was unpredictable yet somehow they had each other figured out - as long as they stood there like that no one was going to do anything, it was a stalemate of two men frozen purely to wonder if either was going to move first which they knew wasn't actually going to happen.

"Well, this is certainly something I never expected..." said Tyrian in a careful tone hoping his sudden speech didn't kickstart a sudden death, the figure flinched a bit, not used to his victims having any other vocal capability than a scream of terror. Though vision wasn't clear Tyrian was certain of something, it just made sense to him somehow, "Arthur Watts. The illusive one man catastrophe, thought to be dead, but of course that's only because no living soul has actually had chance to escape and tell anyone." The figure flinched again, it was more of a twitch, and Tyrian almost found it amusing, this man was more feral than a Sabyr, more animal than human, he wasn't even a faunus but simply a man who had nothing to lose. It was an ironic comparison to Tyrian's own self. Doctor Tyrian Callows, the scorpion faunus who managed to hide his feature his whole life and aid Atlas in great science feats becoming one of their most trusted with barely any challenge, he was almost more human now, it was hard not to follow their ideologies even if they involved the theory that Faunus were lesser and only useful for labour tasks which the humans were too good for, at one point Tyrian almost found himself hating his own kind because of how truly the humans believed they were in the right, they always thought they were right, and he had loved to prove them wrong. They could try to take everything from him yet he would still have the knowledge he'd come to accumulate and with that knowledge he'd almost brought their empire crumbling down as easily as a flick of a tail, that's what caught the attention of a certain goddess, she'd known he was perfect for the job and must have realised he actually barely needed her as he'd almost achieved what she intended solo, yet she still offered him a place and picked him up off cold bleak streets to give his terrifying, sly and genius mind a sturdy platform from where he could orchestrate a new wave of armageddon; His goddess had sent him on this mission with a group of, what Tyrian could only describe as, thugs (Tyrian thought very little of them and so their fates weighed insignificant in his mind), but he had to admit the ease at which this husk had dispatched them was impressive and showed really the potential danger he should find himself in.

It was perhaps not an insignificant detail to note that had Tyrian not just so happened to turn around at that exact moment the deranged creature would have been upon him hacking away at his aura with all the brutality and speed of a Beowolf, it was quite surprising that anyone could be so far gone that even the Grimm have no desire to come near, Tyrian himself had witnessed the creatures circling the area intending to prey on the mindless drones of a team Tyrian had with him, at first he'd thought they were responsible for the company gradually dwindling but he never once saw them dare to close the distance, they always stayed out there, away, and one could only wonder why. Now it made sense. One by one his lackeys disappeared and there was barely noise of a struggle, perhaps a new type of Grimm was a thought at first but there was never any evidence to back up the claim, it wasn't obvious to assume there was something or someone else lurking around picking them off one by one, leaving the best for last or perhaps just because Tyrian refused to be slowed down and so was at the lead of the group and it wasn't so easy to grab him, especially since he came most prepared for an encounter of any kind as Tyrian always calculated it was more worth it to over-prepare than to be left in a situation with no ability to get out.

He began to wonder if this new monster could even speak lest his humanity have slipped away altogether, but that was soon answered for him. The demented fellow had been watching this odd stranger in his territory, seemingly frustrated by the fact he'd been seen before it was too late, like an ambush predator once he was spotted he didn't quite know what to do, he'd been spending all these lonely crumbling years attempting to hone his skills to cause as swift an aura break and kill as possible, it hadn't been easy and he'd suffered a lot but he was sure he was better than this and it angered him that this invading doctor had simply turned around and halted his entire strike. He had to at least be thankful that the poor lighting and obscured distance still offered some veil, he was not the 'man' this pest had identified him as any longer, he left that behind long ago.

The voice that came from the sketchy silhouette wasn't clear, but it also didn't completely lack all intelligence, he was aware of that. "I intend to keep myself invisible to anyone who it matters to" came the sound, a bit scratchy and with a little wavering in tone almost to display the insanity, Tyrian had to admit it surprised him to hear sound come from such a thing but he smiled, and, perhaps acting a little too cocky for his own good, made the decision to move towards the crazed mess in an attempt to get a better look, this caused an almost growled "Back off" in response, the tone was chilling but Tyrian couldn't help being thrilled by it, messed up things was what he loved even if it was uncivil of him he couldn't ignore his true natural desire for such.

"You don't have to live like this anymore you know, I have a way to help you if you would accept it. Figures from your past don't even have to be aware of it, unless of course you wanted them to be" offered Tyrian, still keeping his tone careful, he would like to have this mission end well and not with any significant death, he wanted to please his Goddess. He was regarded by cold green eyes that clearly wished to inflict the most painful of harm on him.

"You dare to offer me anything, I have nothing valuable to you, how dare you come here and expect me to comply simply because you asked!" The voice was still broken from disuse, it still brought amusement and intrigue to the curious doctor,

"I didn't expect anything, until a few moments ago I was completely unaware of your existence-"

"And I would like to go back to that" interrupted the corrupt tone, Tyrian ignored him,

"Yet while I find it most fascinating at your sheer ability to eradicate your immediate enemy I find it hard to believe you wouldn't want to exact revenge on the very society that cast you out, what's a few 'immoral' experiments when you're clearly capable of more right? They didn't want you so you tried to destroy them, but you didn't succeed completely. You probably are aware that I think you might be-"

"Helpful to you? Easy to use? Manipulate? Control?!" This was more than a growl, this was a snarl, it caught Tyrian off guard and actually made him jump, it was becoming increasingly obvious that talking simply wasn't going to be enough,

"What would it take for you to find some way to trust me?" Asked the curious scorp almost softly, itching with anticipation of an answer. It took a while for his opponent to respond, it wasn't clear if it was because of outrage or simply no idea of how to react.

"I… to trust you?" Came an unsure sound, "Why would I want to trust you? Why would you want me to trust you? Trust requires closeness and closeness ultimately ends in parting."

Tyrian smiled again, "You're something else, something unique, if even the Grimm fear you just imagine what chaos you could cause with the proper footing to launch yourself from, we're not all that different you and I, while at the same time we're complete opposites. I know of somewhere there'd be a place for you, you'd have to leave this behind of course but you'd be rewarded in time with the exact opportunity your seething twisted soul desires" he could see this was perhaps sounding worthwhile. The reply didn't take long.

"I am not the man I was, I'm not sure if I'm much of a man at all… but you seem to believe I'm useful to you… how so?" The question was unsure almost cautious, it made Tyrian think there wasn't as little humanity left as they both thought, but he was all too happy to answer;

"I'm glad you asked, you see I work for a force this world will never be able to defeat and she only grows stronger with the aid of people like me, and perhaps even more so with you." He was always ready to jump at the chance to mention his Goddess, but took the opportunity to mention his own story, his own achievements, most particularly the ones under Salem's guidance, he exclaimed much glee at recalling events, he especially made sure to add in a little bit of how perhaps the addition of someone like the distorted disgraced ex-doctor Arthur Watts could possibly have influenced the outcome and made it so much easier, he mentioned the research he'd done on him and how he'd lamented at the belief the once great man was now apart from this world in attempt to play right into how he once thought of himself as an esteemed innovator. It seemed to work like a charm, not surprising, if Tyrian Callows knew anything it was how to use a person's own self against them for better or for worse. Eventually the newly revitalised man that was once a husk seemed to smile and said with as much attempt at contentment as his shattered voice could offer,

"Perhaps you are right" and that answer made Tyrian grin, but he continued "however I still feel like I am better off staying lost in the shadows of ruins, I would recommend you just leave" he seemed downheartned at having to say it and Tyrian simply had to ask,

"I cannot allow you to simply stay here, perhaps you could do me a favour" he had a glint in his eye which was observed by Arthur, who seemed perhaps a little uncomfortable and didn't want to ask what favour deciding it be best not to know. That didn't stop Tyrian from asking anyway. "Please step into light, so I may see you properly"

Arthur scoffed "So you can see what's become of me?"

Tyrian simply answered, gently, with a "Yes"

It appeared this was not the expected response. However unable to provide much more of an argument Arthur reluctantly, slowly, carefully, and in every way cautiously, moved closer. As soon as his body was bathed in light Tyrian caught himself being captivated, in awe.

The oddly shaped outline he'd been looking at this whole time was much more distinguished now. He was able to make out all the foreign non-human devices. The recognizable form of a man who in his own despair attempted to make himself into something else. He wasn't just less human in nature, but also in appearance. And Tyrian found it beautiful.

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vancilocs · 5 years ago

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4, 6, 10, 19, 20 22 29 30 34 36 41-45 for roxette, remy and iain?

all sortsa people

4. What type of discipline was your character subjected to at home? Strict? Lenient?

Roxie’s parents got together, married and had her far too young so they also split up when she was just a toddler and kept in pretty minimal contact. So she could pretty much do what she liked because A) her parents were trying to one-up the other by being more lenient and nicer to her so she could literally just say “but daddy lets me-” and her mom would let her do that and more, and B) the parents didn’t speak to one another so she could get both of them to take her to the zoo because the other didn’t know she had already been there with the other. Boi did she learn how to manipulate people quick

Remy’s mom wasn’t overtly strict but not overtly lenient either. She made sure to teach her kids manners, respect and all that, gave them rules, grounded if needed, but really nothing out of the ordinary.

Outwards the family was just spotless and perfect, but Iain’s parents were pretty strict and quite demanding of him (his sister too). But, as long as he pulled straight A’s from school, he could do what he liked with his spare time before curfew.

6. Did they feel rejection or affection as a child?

She grew up holding the leash of both her parents, but when they remarried and had other children when Roxie was in her teens, she was absolutely mortally insulted. So that feeling of affection turned into rejection really quick because she wasn’t the center of their world at all and this wouldn’t do.

Affection, dad wasn’t around but mom is and was very loving and nurturing, and there were aunts, uncles and grandmas and grandpas. So even if he had to share with his other two siblings there was plenty of love to go around

Mainly affection, but very conditional and like he had to be even better because he was born “imperfect”. He still loves his parents and kinda refuses to see how their demands still affect his life.

10. Is your character street-smart, book-smart, intelligent, intellectual, slow-witted?

Very street-smart and quick-witted, very manipulative. Knows how to use her looks to fool people and make them underestimate her.

Very very street-smart, always knows a chance to profit when he sees one. An expert on doing crimes without actually doing crimes and thus avoiding jail.

Book-smart and intelligent, good with people as well. Persuasive.

19. What were your character’s deepest disillusions? In life? What are they now?

Used to think she was the only thing her parents could care about until she wasn’t. These days maybe she’s a little unaware of how unhinged she actually is

He has a habit of not trusting anything or anyone outright, he’s the doubting kind who absolutely wants to dig into the very root of everything and see things out of every angle. He also sees the worst sides of a lot of things and people so he really has no disillusions about the world.

He’s just stuck on the thought that he needs to be better. Doesn’t matter what it is, he needs to be smarter, stronger, thinner, a better doctor, a better friend, a better husband, do this, do that, do everything cool, run a marathon, just constantly improve.

20. What were the most deeply impressive political or social, national or international, events that they experienced?

It’s hard to think about big events like that but maybe for Remy when Krea dang near got murdered, because to him the judge is damn near unstoppable and probably immortal, to see him die was pretty eye-opening. Impressive that someone that much smaller could do him in like that

22. Who are their friends? Lovers? ‘Type’ or 'ideal’ partner?

She has some friends she hangs out with when off work, regular people like club waitresses, dancers, bartenders and bouncers. She has a boyfriend or a girlfriend every now and then, usually it ends at least when they find out about her actual job or she just loses her cool like she does. Doesn’t care about the physical side but you gotta be a little crazy for her to like you. Wouldn’t mind a squeeze, casual or not.

Lots and lots of friends he hangs out with often, very few close friends though because he doesn’t trust like that. Lovers he really doesn’t have time for nor does he really care enough to have a type.

Befriends everyone if they allow it, a very friendly and outgoing guy happy to make new acquaintances. He’s been married three times - the first wife he left because he fell in love with the second one who was terminally ill and later passed away, years later he fell in love with Malva and married them. Really no type or preference, be cute and friendly, really the type of guy to fall in love with your heart and personality

29. What is your character’s weaknesses? Hubris? Pride? Controlling?

Addict, easily angered and prone to moodswings, unless she’s been given clear orders on what to do or not to do she can act real irrationally when she lets her feelings lead, messy

Too nosy for his own good, physically tiny, has a billion irons in the fire at the same time and without his trusted helpers would be so lost

Absolute refusal to take it easy

30. Are they holding on to something in the past? Can he or she forgive?

For no good reason thinks her parents outright betrayed her, refuses to forgive. Holds very long grudges against former partners too, none of her breakups have gone well

Made some dreadful mistakes that cost him his tail, will never forgive himself for that

He doesn’t blame his parents at all for making him such an overachiever, though he doesn’t even consider himself that nor does he think it’s anything to blame anyone for or anything to forgive

34. Does your character feel self-righteous? Revengeful? Contemptuous?

In her opinion nobody should ever be mean to her or do things she doesn’t like or she will hurt them

He’s just doing his thing, no need for big words.

He’s kinda vain but doesn’t consider himself better than anyone (just himself). Very chill and nice

36. Do they like to suffer? Like to see other people suffering?

Like, if a guy is harassing some girl at the club she absolutely hates seeing the girl in distress and very gleeful about knocking the guy’s teeth out. Depends on the situation. As for suffering herself... well, she’s never minded a bit of pain in the right circumstances

If they’re bad people then sure, he steals their money and sees them scramble and laughs about it. But he also sees a lot of little people suffering and hates it. Doesn’t want to suffer.

He’s a doctor, absolutely doesn’t want people to suffer. Will do anything to fix up something cosmetic or related to prosthetics that causes his patients pain or other kinds of anguish (though he avoids doing things like unnecessary nose jobs or facelifts, embrace your looks people). Not a fan of suffering himself yet he makes himself do that by doing triathlons

41. Is your character aware of who they are? Strengths? Weaknesses? Idiosyncrasies? Capable of self-irony?

In her eyes she’s a nice person who doesn’t deserve anything bad to be done to her and everyone who’s ever criticised her is wrong and mean. She’s great and pretty and pretty great. At times she will criticize others for doing the same bad things she does, don’t point this out to her or she will get mad

He’s self-aware, he has his little pizza hands in so many soups that he kinda has to have a good sense of self before dealing with so many others.

I guess Iain is always a little separate from the Better Iain he’s always striving to be. There will always be a Better Iain no matter how hard he works

42. What does your character want most? What do they need really badly, compulsively? What are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain?

She just wants money, alcohol, cocaine, new clothes, a soft bed to sleep in, good things to eat, all the nice things, someone to pet her hair and tell her how great she is and maybe top her. Is that so much to ask. She’s would probably toss almost everyone she knows to the wolves to get that

He always wants information and at times goes to insane lengths to get it, but avoids sacrificing or risking too much, no lives are put in danger (or, any lives he cares about at least) or outsiders harmed. Mainly he just uses a shitton of money in bribes and acts as fast as he can to get to the information first

Be the Best he can be, dammit. What is the Best he can be? He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t know to get there

43. Does your character have any secrets? If so, are they holding them back?

Well she’s not super open about her work to anyone except those who know otherwise. Just says she works at the club, doing some peacekeeping.

He knows lots of secrets of other people, but for his own he doesn’t let his mom know what he’s up to bc he knows she’d disapprove and he doesn’t want that

No, he’s an open book.

44. How badly do they want to obtain their life objectives? How do they pursue them?

Her goals are pretty short-term, think “beating this guy into a pulp so I can go back to the club and get absolutely cranked”, or “I want this guy to rail me”, she’ll do whatever’s needed to get it, be it beating someone into a pulp or being cute and batting her eyelashes

He’s careful about learning stuff and things but he does want to learn stuff and things, always working towards doing that and also using the things he’s learned to his advantage

Dude’s a vegetarian gym rat health nut, maybe his methods are very innocent-sounding but he cranks them up to 11

45. Is your character pragmatic? Think first? Responsible? All action? A visionary? Passionate? Quixotic?

Very intense and passionate, acts fast, punches first and asks second if it seems the situation needed it, gets annoyed if she needs to stay back but will listen to her boss.

The type to stand back for a long time, observe from afar and learn everything there is to learn before acting or carefully moving closer to learn more. A lot of the time he doesn’t even act, at most he’ll sell the information to someone who might find it useful.

Responsible but passionate, looks at a lot of things from many angles before going for it and encourages others to do so as well. In work absolutely not the type to just dive into cosmetic surgery to “fix” something that doesn’t need fixing, works with the patient first to see if this is what they really need (he hasn’t had absolutely no procedures himself either).

#i still haven't settled on a sexuality with remy #iain and roxette actually share half of their ancestry #both are half scottish #long oc thing #iain needs to be stopped and thankfully juno and malva both talk sense into him #before he ends up sleeping at the office and eating only raw fruit and hitting the gym as soon as he's off work #roxie: *gets thrown in a cell for the night for beating someone up behind a bar*#also roxie: *crying* 'i'm a good fucking person i don't deserve this'

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neuxue · 6 years ago

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Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 36

It’s all in the nuances

Chapter 36: The Death of Tuon

Somehow I don’t think that title means what it looks like it means.

We’re back with Mat, but Verin is here so hopefully that should make things interesting.

“My goal was to make my way to Tar Valon.” “Then how did you end up here?” Mat asked

That’s an entirely fair question, but the first thing my mind went to, when Verin said that, was that you know who else’s goal was initially to make their way to Tar Valon?

Rand.

And so far, he has yet to even set foot in the city. I just find that kind of fun to think about, because I hadn’t really given it much thought before. But that was his entire goal pretty much all through EotW.

In comparison to that, Verin getting sidetracked for half a book somewhere in the middle of…is Mat in Murandy still?...is small potatoes.

Bloody [bench] must have been designed by insane, cross-eyed Trollocs and built from the bones of the damned. That was the only reasonable explanation.

Somewhat cringing at this because it is so very not Mat, and feels like it’s trying too hard. Meh. Anyway.

“You can Travel. So if you intended to go to the White Tower, then why not just bloody Travel there and be done with it?”

“Good questions,” Verin said. “Indeed. Might I have some tea?”

What, you thought you were going to get answers?

Good luck. I’ve been trying for ten books now and still all I have are suspicions. And one of those suspicions is that Verin is just a massive troll and enjoys fucking with people.

Because of the holes in his memory, Mat’s first meeting with Verin was fuzzy to him. In fact, his memory of her at all was fuzzy.

I’m not actually sure having your memories intact would help much with that, honestly.

Studying her, her mannerisms seemed too exaggerated to him. As if she were leaning on the preconceptions about Browns, using them. Fooling people, like a street performer taking in country boys with a clever game of three-card shuffle.

She eyed him. That smile on the corner of her lips? That was the smile of a jackleg who didn’t care that you were on to her con. Now that you understood, you could both enjoy the game, and perhaps together you could dupe someone else.

One trickster to another.

I like little moments of recognition like this between characters. Neither says anything, but they both know, and each one knows that the other knows, and so the rest of the scene can proceed with this undercurrent of understanding.

Two characters who recognise something similar in each other – or who recognise each other’s talents, at any rate – and who just look at each other across the board and say ‘shall we play a game?’

And as the reader you’re invited in as well, because it’s not so much adversarial as almost-but-not-quite-competitive, a test of skill almost, a game in many ways. So it’s an open invitation to play, because as the reader you also have that little extra bit of insight…but not enough to know everything that’s going on. So, like Mat, we get to try to spot the aforementioned con.

Also, I just love that Verin and Mat are set side by side here because at first glance they’re total opposites, but by positioning them this way we see Verin as being…perhaps not quite trickster but certainly trickster-adjacent, herself. She’s not the roguish yet honourable young man with a jaunty hat and a cool spear; she’s a plump middle-aged woman with probably an inkstain or two on her clothes and an almost grandmotherly manner. And yet here she is.

I mean, not that we didn’t already kind of know that. But I love these moments where Verin is revealed again to be not entirely what she seems, yet in a way that suits her. It’s some good character development for Mat, as well. Everyone wins here, really.

Good luck getting Mat to admit outright to being ta’veren, Verin.

(Good luck getting Verin to say anything at all outright, Mat).

“But you can’t hide your light in [Rand’s] shadow, Matrim Cauthon.”

That sounds like what Melindhra used to say to him.

Also, I don’t know; Tuon described Rand as having a shadow like a mountain last chapter, and it’s all rather dark there these days, so if you’re going to try, now’s the time.

Casual mention of Verin having just been with Rand, which I think is anything but casual.

“How…did he seem?” Mat said. “Is he…you know…”

“Mad?” Verin asked.

Mat nodded.

“I’m afraid so,” Verin said, lips downturning slightly. “I think he’s still in control of himself, however.”

There’s very little…softening of the truth with Verin, either to herself or to others. Obfuscating of it to serve her purposes, sure. But denial or wishful thinking or gentle presentation of facts? Not so much. She deals with the world as she finds it, because wishing it otherwise won’t make it so (unless, perhaps, you’re the Dragon Reborn and a Fisher King analogue, in which case all bets are off). So she’s not going to soft-pedal her perceptions of Rand, even for a friend of his. Whether or not she’s completely correct is another question, but she’s not going to waste time trying to ignore what she sees.

I like Mat’s hesitant concern for Rand, here. He tried to break off their friendship as far back as TGH, but it never quite snapped completely. And I think he cares more about Rand than he might admit.

“I’m not convinced young al’Thor’s problems are completely due to the Power, Matrim. Many would like to blame his temperament on saidin, but to do that is to ignore the incredible stresses that we’ve settled on that poor boy’s shoulders.

There’s something about the way she says this, so matter-of-fact but at the same time so clearly aware and even sympathetic of something that very few characters even begin to acknowledge, much less understand, that lends a great deal of poignancy to this statement.

I think it’s maybe because it’s so matter-of-fact. It’s not sentimental, and Verin knew Rand earlier on but doesn’t have any particular attachment to him the way, say, Min or Nynaeve or even Egwene or Mat do. She’s not saying this out of sympathy or sorrow. And yet that gives it more weight, in a way; it’s a way of showing how clear that is to her, that she sees it as just a statement of fact. His humanity and youth, so easily forgotten by most, are just simple fact to her.

And that means so much, when so few in the world see the Dragon Reborn anymore as anything but a force, a power, a monster, a legend. Rand is a man who can channel. Men who can channel are driven mad by the taint on saidin. Therefore Rand must be mad. Therefore the things Rand does must be madness. The root of this must be the taint. And thus they can ignore everything else involved that might be harder to accept, everything that might cause an uncomfortable conflict of conscience.

Easier to see the Dragon Reborn as a necessary monster on the verge of madness, perhaps, than to see a tortured young man carrying far too heavy a task for a world that fears and even reviles him. Because the first option doesn’t ask you to do anything. It’s terrifying, certainly, but in a distant ‘nothing I can do’ kind of way. Or, for those who want to manipulate him, it gives them a very reasonable basis for doing so.

But Verin…Verin just looks at the situation and sees truth, apparently unclouded by sentiment or self-interest or fear or denial. And thus, perhaps ironically, ends up with a view of Rand that is far more sympathetic than almost any other character aside from those very closest to him.

He is only human. He is young. He is tired and desperate and in pain. And Verin sees that, and understands its effects. Even as she is ostensibly working to keep him alive until it is ‘time for him to die’. She does not allow herself to soften that necessity, to take the easy way out by blaming saidin or by looking at him as anything other than what he is.

Oh and by the way saidin is clean now.

Once again, Verin has this way of getting straight to the heart of things, and making these sorts of statements that are almost uncomfortable in their truth or insightfulness or just in what they force people to think about. But she does it with this mask of being just a typical Brown, lost in her own thoughts, unaware of the full effect of what she’s saying, drifting off on a tangent that just so happens to make everyone else uncomfortable. et there’s nothing vague or accidental or even truly tactless about it. She knows that this is the best way to get her thoughts heard, but in such a way as to not bring any sort of…suspicion? scrutiny? unwanted attention? upon herself.

And also in a way that doesn’t leave people a lot of room to evade the truth, even if just for a few seconds. It’s why her words often result in brief uncomfortable silences. Because she doesn’t leave an easy way out…until she decides herself to provide one, to bring things back to comfortable topics.

“I would argue that the cleansing itself is more like a pebble thrown into a pond. The ripples will take some time to reach the shore.”

“A pebble?” Mat asked. “A pebble?”

“Well, perhaps more of a boulder.”

“A bloody mountain if you ask me”

Again with the mountains. Yes, Mat, a mountain. An almost literally bloody mountain, you could say.

Flaming Aes Sedai. Did they have to be like that? It was probably another oath they took and told nobody about, something to do with acting mysterious.

Hey, that sounded almost like Mat! The ‘it was probably another oath’ part, I mean.

And now back to alien body-snatcher Mat. Ah well.

That’s okay, because it’s storytime with Verin! Who seems to have experienced the fantasy, ta’veren-induced equivalent of the classic and truly infurating ‘this flight has been delayed for approximately thirty minutes’ announcement happening every hour on the hour for eight hours while you remain stuck in the airport waiting area, unable to actually go anywhere, even though you really could have, because every time you consider going a bit further away the announcement promises that you’ll be boarding soon. (It lies).

No I’m not speaking from personal experience what are you talking about.

Except in Verin’s case it involves a truly absurd number of coincidences such as leaks and inn fires to prevent her from ever learning a place well enough to Travel from it.

“So? Mat said. “Still sounds like a coincidence.”

You’d think Matrim ‘I’m leaving now, Rand, for real this ti—oh look a battle!’ Cauthon would have a little more sympathy.

“I soon started to feel a tugging on me. Something pulling me, yanking at me. As if…”

Mat shifted again. “As if somebody’s got a bloody fishhook inside of you?”

As if the Pattern is exasperatedly trying to fix a chessboard that was set up by six-year-olds? “No, that piece goes here…oh just let me do it.”

“I was quite fatigued from my days staying up all hours because of fires, crying babies, and constant moves from one inn room to another.”

Oh the joys of business travel.

“It was then that I kenw for certain that I was being directed. Most wouldn’t have noticed it, I suspect, but I have made a study of the nature of ta’veren.”

Is there anything you haven’tmade a study of, Verin?

“I spoke with Tomas, and we determined to avoid gong where we were being pulled. […] I opened a gateway, but when we reached the end of our journey, we stepped not into Tar Valon, but a small village in northern Murandy!”

I’m laughing at how hard the Pattern has to work to get anyone to go to Murandy, I guess. Maybe it’s not actually ta’veren; it’s just a lot of money spent on a tourism campaign. Part of Roedran’s plans for economic development, no doubt.

“One thing bothers me, however,” Verin said. “Was there no other person who could have happened into your path?”

You’re just that special, Verin.

Now the question is why?

“First, we should negotiate my price for taking you to Andor.”

Okay no, apparently the question now, as far as Verin is concerned, is just the classic ‘how much?’

I can respect that.

Ah, so she wasn’t the one distributing the drawings of him, she just found one.

I’m pretty sure saidarisn’t a verb, but then, Mat used ‘Aes Sedai’ as a verb when he was still being written by Robert Jordan, so…whatever. It’s probably the least out-of-character part of the sentence, which might be saying something.

“I received this paper, Matrim, from a Darkfriend,” she said, “who told me – thinking me a servant of the Shadow – that one of the Forsaken had commanded that the men in these pictures be killed.”

Oh, so it was about that after all.

More importantly though…*squints at Verin* any particular reason he thought you were a servant of the Shadow? That’s some extremely Aes Sedai phrasing right there…

She thinks Mat should go into hiding? That’s…extreme. Though it’s kind of what he’s been doing for the last several books, in a way, if not necessarily always by design.

“I’m always careful,” Mat said.

Presented without further comment.

She slipped a small folded piece of paper out from under the picture. It was sealed with a drop of blood-red wax.

Mat took it hesitantly. “It is?”

“Instructions,” Verin said. “Which you will follow on the tenth day after I leave you in Caemlyn.”

He scratched his neck, fronwing, then moved to break the seal.

“You aren’t to open them until that day,” Verin said.

NOW WHAT DOES THIS REMIND YOU OF?

Mysterious envelopes from an Aes Sedai, that must not be opened just yet, not while she’s here watching…

This has always boded well before. As Mat has every reason to know, having read another of them and seen a third handed over.

Mat wants no part of this agreement, though. Really? You’d rather walk twenty days to Caemlyn than wait ten days there?

Then again, promising to follow mysterious instructions given to you by an Aes Sedai you recognise as being not entirely what she seems, is…well, I suppose I can’t completely fault him for being wary. So here we are, at a question of whether or not to trust an Aes Sedai.

Is this her game, here? Which choice does she actually want him to make? Could it be that she knows he distrusts Aes Sedai and the One Power and also hates being told what to do, and so is presenting this to him in such a way that she knows he won’t open it? Though in that case, why? It reminds me a little, perhaps, of her giving Egwene the dream ter’angreal but not Corianin’s notes. Yet it also seems a little too convoluted; there would have to be some reason why she had no choice but to give him whatever instructions are in that envelope, and yet also not want him to follow them. Occam’s Razor would certainly suggest the simpler answer: she does want him to read them. But…I just don’t know.

“I might not need you to go through with the contents. I hope to be able to return to you and relieve you of the letter and send you on your way. But if I cannot…”

So there is a scenario in which she doesn’t want the instructions followed. Which means it’s possible she doesn’t want them followed at all, but has to give them to him for some reason…and nothing she’s said has narrowed it down even if we trust that she is bound by the first Oath. Which at this point I wouldn’t put any money on. On either side of that bet.

What instructions could she have for him, that are so conditional? And on what? WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING, VERIN?

What might you not be able to return from?

Who are you?

“The compromise, then?” Mat said.

“You may choose not to open the letter,” Verin said. “Burn it. But if you do so, you wait fifty days in Caemlyn”

A choice between knowledge but being bound, and ignorance but freedom. How…perfect a dilemma, really, for one who so embodies Odin and the trickster archetype.

But what does Verin know? What is going to happen in Caemlyn between ten and fifty days after she leaves? She has to know something; otherwise the waiting seems too arbitrary.

“Twenty days,” he said.

“Thirty days,” she said, rising, then raised a finger to cut off his objection.

She had to have known he would try to bargain with her. So, between ten and thirty days after she leaves him…what? What instructions would be relevant after ten days, but irrelevant before ten and after thirty? What is going to happen? All I can think of is something to do with Elayne being crowned as Queen, maybe, because just about everything else from that storyline was more or less wrapped up when we left Caemlyn at the end of the last book. Or something to do with the Borderlanders?

I can’t figure it out, and I also can’t work out what angle Verin is playing here, what she even wants Mat to do, which side of the compromise she wants him to take. So I can’t figure out which one he should take.

Verin’s pretty damn good at this.

Verin eyed him, a hint of worry on her face. He couldn’t let her know how pleased he was.

But we also know, from their brief moment of mutual recognition at the start of this scene, that she might know anyway. Or that she might be letting worry show deliberately. Or…

She folded up the picture of him, then took a small leather-bound satchel from her pocket. She opened it, sliding the picture inside, and as she did, he noticed that she had a small stack of folded, sealed pieces of paper inside just like the one he was holding.

What are you up to, Verin Sedai? Because this feels very like what Moiraine did when she knew she was about to…go away.

A stack full of mysterious letters? Instructions not to open them until after she leaves? A very vaguely worded statement about hoping she’ll be able to return to collect them?

She hasn’t told him ‘you will do well’, but other than that, this sure looks like a…not a farewell so much as a final play of some kind.

Also she can’t have let him see those letters by accident. So does she want him to wonder? Why?

Why was Verin being so cryptic?

GOOD. FUCKING. QUESTION.

Though it’s hardly a remarkable occurrence; she’s been cryptic for ten damn books already.

Tuon was dead. Gone, cast aside, forgotten.

That’s a fun way to start a POV. A statement not of identity, but of nonexistence. Of the relinquishing of an identity, the death of one.

Fortuona was empress.

MY FUCKING GOD

FORTUONA.

Fortune rides like the sun on high, with the fox that makes the ravens fly…

Fortune. Fortuona. She’s Lady Luck.

I can’t decide if that’s brilliant or over the top. Maybe a little bit of both. It does give a rather excellent double meaning to that line of the Prophecies.

Either way, she’s standing in front of the forces she has assembled for, presumably, an attack on Tar Valon. So…we’re doing this.

Fifty sul’dam and damane pairs, including Dali and her sul’dam Malahavana, whom Fortuona had given to the cause. She had felt the need to sacrifice something personal to this most important of missions.

Um, Tuon? Those are people. So yes, you are sacrificing something personalin that you are sacrificing a person. Who herself has no choice in whether or not to be your own personal sacrifice so that you feel like you’re truly invested in this.

Though for some reason Rand’s thought a few chapters ago about Min, that if she died, he would add her name to the list and suffer for it comes to mind. These are people, and their lives have meaning beyond the pain their deaths would cause you.

But of course, to the Seanchan, Malahavana is simply property. So the greatest cost, if she dies, is not to her or her family, but to Tuon. Which is fucked up. Hot take: slavery is bad!

Fortuona looked down at the soldier before her, laying her fingers on his forehead, where she had kissed him. “May your death bring victory,” she said softly, speaking the ritual words. “May your knife draw blood. May your children sing your praises until the final dawn.”

That doesn’t sound like a blessing you give to someone who has any hope of returning. This soldier is one of five, so maybe it’s a special suicide mission? To do…what?

Their assault would begin in darkness

How…appropriate. It was made possible – or made certain – by the darkness surrounding Rand, and such an attack serves the Shadow far better than it serves the Light, by bringing even greater strife and division amongst those that should be united.

They really needed that treaty.

It speaks to why Rand suppressing his ability to feel, deciding there are no limits left to him, losing sight of what he’s fighting for, and pushing only for the Last Battle itself and nothing beyond that, is disastrous on more than just a metaphysical/teleological standpoint. It’s not just an issue because this is a fight between Good and Evil and so the champion of Good must embody that ideal. I do think there’s an element of that, of course – it’s where the Fisher King imagery comes in, and the notion of the land being one with the Dragon and vice versa – but there’s also the practical fact that if you’re terrifying and cold and surrounded by an aura of darkness, people aren’t going to want to make peace treaties with you. Or be motivated to fight for your cause. Or listen to you at all. Or have any hope themselves of what might come after, because the examples and expectations being set are so dark.

It all blurs together at some point, the practical and more philosophical reasons, but there’s definitely a practical aspect there. It’s hard to win a fight you no longer have any reason to want to win. And it’s hard to win a fight when you look more like the thing you’re fighting than the thing you’re fighting for, because other people will see that. People who should be on your side will see that. And they, like Tuon, will draw their own conclusions and act accordingly.

Oh hey one of these special five is a woman. At least one. I like that this is specifically shown, in addition to the more general statement that over half the Fists of Heaven here are women. General statements are a lot easier to make, and are sometimes used as a bit of an excuse, or a halfhearted ‘see, look, we gave you what you wanted’. Specifics help bolster that. Even if in this case the specific in question is a woman being sent on a suicide mission to fight for the enslavement of women who can wield Power. You can’t have everything.

(I should clarify I’m being facetious there; I don’t think the Seanchan staging an assault on the White Tower is specifically gender-coded in that way. And I do genuinely appreciate seeing women amongst the elite forces, because that’s cool, all other issues with the Seanchan aside).

Oh. Bloodknives. They’ve been mentioned before, but only in the most offhand of comments.

The pure black stone ring each one wore was a specialised ter’angrealthat would grant them strength and speed, and would shroud them in darkness

That sounds quite a lot like the benefits of the Warder bond.

The incredible abilities came at a cost, however, for the rings leeched life from their hosts, killing them in a matter of days.

That also sounds a little like the costs of the Warder bond. Of a bond that is broken, anyway.

The whole thing also smells of a secondary purpose, introduced like this so late in the game. Not sure how, precisely, but I’ll be keeping an eye on these ter’angrealthat have now been placed on the mantle.

These five would not return. They would stay behind, whatever the results of the raid, to kill as many marath’damane as they could

Oh.

Was this what Min foresaw, when she visited the Tower in TSR and saw death and blood on so many faces? And knew it would all happen within the same day? The fact that Elaida’s coup took place so soon after made it seem like that was what Min had seen, but what if it was actually a viewing of this attack? If so, that’s truly impressive use of foreshadowing and misdirection. Well played. *slow clap*

Fortuona kissed the last of the five Bloodknives, speaking the words condemning them to death, but also to heroism.

I love this sentence, because the structure of it implies that heroism is also a condemnation. They’re presented as illusory opposites, but the same verb applies to each. Condemned to heroism. It’s a concept and a way of looking at things that I love, and actually it’s not at all out of place in this series. Just look at Rand.

That whole sentence reminds me of Rand, really. Condemned to death and heroism. Destruction and salvation. Condemned to be the saviour of the world, and reaching a point where it’s hard to tell, between death and heroism, which is the cost and which is the reward.

And the soldiers are off. No turning back now. I hope you’re ready, Egwene. It might be your last and best chance to pull the Tower together. A common enemy…

As the final light of the sunset died, they struck northward.

There’s something very appropriate about that. The final death of the light, the vanishing of that last chance for reconciliation as Rand walked away; it felt like a victory for the Shadow, a fracturing of the Light.

Also, even striking northward has something of a double meaning. The Blight lies north, but still they fight each other. They should be heading there, as the Shadow stretches across the land and the last battle comes. As the sunset dies they should look north. But not like this.

It could be the beginning of a bold new tactic. Or it could lead to a disaster.

Travelling, gunpowder, aerial assaults. They’ve changed war, and that isn’t something that they can just…step back from, once the Last Battle has been fought.

“We have changed everything,” Fortuona said softly. “General Galgan is wrong; this will not give the Dragon Reborn a worse bargaining position. It will turn him against us.”

She sees. She understands what that negotiation was, and what its failure has cost them. She does not see any other decision she can make – and given what she saw of Rand, it’s hard to see how she could think otherwise, and hard even to disagree with the underlying thought there, that he is dangerous and cannot be allowed to claim more power, as he is – but Tuon is very good at what she does. She understands nuances of politics and power and strategy, and she knows what this will do. But she also does not see an alternative.

Or should I be calling her Fortuona, now? It’s hard when fictional characters change names mid-story; I like it, as a storytelling device, because it’s such a good way to convey a sense or change of identity, but I never then know how to refer to the character, especially in something like this liveblog. And I’m not at all consistent – I call Moridin by his new name but I’m still referring to Tuon as Tuon rather than Fortuona, and I’m not even sure what I do with Egeanin/Leilwin.

“And was he not against us before?” Selucia asked.

“No,” Fortuona said. “We were against him.”

This is excellent. The subtle but at the same time vast difference between those two. The fact that Tuon can so clearly understand this, and what it means. They were his enemy. Now, because of what they do today, they will make him theirs.

Tuon isn’t always the most sympathetic character, largely because she came to the story late, is from a completely foreign culture to the rest of the narrative, and holds some views that are…difficult to reconcile, for a modern reader. But it’s moments like these that make her work, I think. This ability to see beyond what most do – not to change her mind, necessarily, but to be so perceptive and to understand the way people think and work. To be able to look at and judge her own actions and decisions, and to understand the implications.

She’s not going to war against the Tower – and making an enemy of the Dragon Reborn – just for shits and giggles, or even because of a clash of ideologies. That plays into it, because she believes her view to be the right one, but it goes deeper than that. And she understands consequences and tradeoffs and costs. She can recognise that yes, they were against him. And that this will not fix that, but will instead likely exacerbate it. And also that she has no other choice.

But we can sympathise with her more, because we believe that thought process, even if ours might be different. She doesn’t simply press blindly ahead with a single agenda; she looks at the whole situation and understands what her options are and what the results will likely be of each. And because she’s so perceptive, and so strategically capable, we can then trust her more, in a sense, when she does make a decision that sets her against most of the other sympathetic characters. So instead of being a villain by default, she gains much more depth and a certain level of sympathy.

Anyway, this is of course going to end well. To make an enemy of Rand, as he is now?

Though perhaps the more interesting question is, what will Egwene do in the face of her dream coming true? It seems like she could use this to unite the Tower around her. But I also wonder if maybe, just maybe, she could do here what Rand could not. There would be a certain poetry in that, for her own arc.

Next (TGS ch 37) Previous (TGS ch 35)

#nothing is as it seems #unless it seems like disaster #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #The Gathering Storm

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jordan202 · 7 years ago

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My Boys: Beyond the Horizon - Chapter 10

hey guys, sorry for the long wait with this one.

This chapter focuses mostly on Megan and a situation that I think will ultimately serve to add a lot of personal growth to her. As a teenager, she is just uncovering the world and being challenged is a big, important part of the process of self discovery IMO.

It also has a cute Omelia moment that I just couldn't resist not adding. Cute bubbly Omelia flirting just makes my heart very happy.

As usual thank you @jia911 for proofreading and @bluebelle18 for being the JD to my Megan and always challenging me to do better.

My Boys: Beyond the Horizon – Chapter Ten

JD looked away from the music sheet. For the third time in less than five minutes, he caught blue eyes intensely staring at him. Just like it’d happened in all previous times, Megan looked away quickly, too embarrassed to be caught in the act.

For the past hour, they had been quietly sitting facing each other inside the music classroom. Every now and then, their teacher Mrs. Julian would walk by and ask if they needed any help, but Megan would quickly and politely refuse it, only to immediately go back to studying her own sheets.

But since she couldn’t seem to stop stealing a peek at him every ten minutes, JD could tell she was probably making a big effort to continuously stay in his presence without saying a word.

“You can just ask me, you know,” he decided to break the silence, instantly regaining her attention.

Megan turned her eyes up to meet his, mortified that she hadn’t held back the urge to look at the guy, especially because he’d caught her doing it every single time. Trying not to think about that, the teenage debated with herself whether or not to accept his suggestion. It would be too much of an obvious lie if she said there was nothing she wanted to ask. Megan was usually very good at reading people and she took pride in having a good intuition. Everything JD had showed so far had led her to think he was a terrible person and yet, for the past two days she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what he’d said in the school hall.

Sighing with resignation, the girl gave in, finally voicing the doubt that had been bothering her ever since.

“Were you really upset about what I said that day at Steve’s party?” she asked carefully, unaware of how adorable she looked when she frowned like that. In her mind, JD wasn’t really the kind of guy who cared about anyone or anything. So the fact that he had openly pointed out he thought she had accused him unjustly could only mean that… well… maybe he had actually been bothered by it?

JD successfully hid his surprise with the question. He lazily tapped a pencil on the sheet while thinking about an answer. He had never been one to lie and usually, the consequences of his excessive honesty didn’t bother him. But for some reason, that annoying girl looked so vulnerable and legitimately concerned with her widened blue eyes that he caught himself measuring his words not to come out too aggressive.

“I guess I was,” he replied sincerely. “You weren’t very fair to me,” the boy added, instantly noticing how she turned her chin up very proudly.

“You treated my friend like garbage!” Megan hissed, the fair skin on her face instantly flushing as made eye contact with him. “What was I supposed to think, that you-”

“Wait, what?” JD unceremoniously interrupted her, “how did I treat her like garbage?” the boy frowned heavily. “Only because I told her I didn’t want to be with her?”

At the same the boy admired Megan’s loyalty to Marianne and understood why she’d take her friend’s side in the messy situation, JD was also aware that the girl probably had been told about relationship only through her friend’s point of view.

Megan went silent for a few seconds. She knew Marianne was no saint and often idealized things too much, but it still didn’t justify JD doing things such as taking the girl’s virginity and then openly ignoring her days after.

“You were horrible to her,” Megan said, noticing a few people around had turned their heads to look because she’d just raised her voice.

“Because I treated her with honesty and truth?” JD replied unaffectedly.

Megan narrowed her eyes, suddenly not as compelled to give him a chance to talk. Did he seriously think he had actually been anything resembling nice to Marianne?

Megan had been there. She had witnessed firsthand how the guy had mostly ignored her friend. After what she’d heard about it and the alarming energy she’d felt in his presence, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

There had been so many rumors… The girl thought back about the day she’d seen him for the first time. Claire had come up with absurd tales about his past and Megan had quickly dismissed them, judging the stories too ludicrous to be true. Over time, however, she’d come to wonder if Claire wasn’t right after all. Megan had never heard or seen anything remotely positive about the boy sitting right in front of her. He was cold, uncaring and absolutely selfish, exactly the kind of person she didn’t want to be around.

And yet, the shadow sparkling in his emerald green eyes made her question whether he was really being truthful or if he was just very good at manipulating people.

Well, not her, Megan decided. There was simply no way he could possibly charm her into believing he was worthy of her time or energy. Not after everything he’d showed. People often teased her about the way she couldn’t see an outcast and not reach out. This was probably just her nature tricking her into thinking she could somehow rescue that estranged boy from his own awful manners. It really was better to stay away and simply focus on the music work she had to do.

Restlessly fighting the urge to find out more and end her agonizing doubts, Megan couldn’t help herself. He’d said she could just ask him. On an impulse, the girl fired the first question that came to mind.

“Did you really take a knife to your old school?”

Megan raised her eyes and met his, immediately regretting having touched such an alarming subject. It had been bothering her ever since the day Claire had whispered that in her ear over the summer. Megan wished she had controlled her impulsivity a little better.

“Yes.”

His direct answer sent a shiver that ran up the girl’s spine.

So, there she had it… Megan had been brave enough to ask and looking into his eyes, she realized that JD really wasn’t lying. His voice had sounded so serious, there were no traces of playfulness in it. Nothing that made her think he felt sorry for doing what he’d just admitted either.

How did JD have the nerve to do such an inconsequent, horrible thing like that and openly confess it without even trying to justify why he’d done it?

“I don’t know how you sleep at night,” the girl whispered in alarm, more to herself than to him, but the boy caught up on her remark.

“I have a clean conscience, thank you for your concern,” JD replied in an ironic, dangerously low tone.

Megan noticed on his expression that his mood had gone from bored to suddenly very irritated. She could tell by the way his jaw was clenched that something she’d said had really gotten to him. And instead of making her feel satisfied, the realization made her feel strangely… agitated?

It didn’t matter, Megan thought. He had just admitted the worst and she was the one who had the right to be angry, not him. Her curiosity about his sudden mood change wasn’t enough to make her want to speak to the boy again.

For the following hour, Megan tried to devote her attention to the music sheet, not really sure how she should work as a team with JD, since after their brief dialogue he had simply pulled out what she later realized was a football playbook and remained focused on it for sixty whole minutes, completely ignoring the subject of the class they were in.

Even though rationally Megan had already decided that the best thing to do was to simply stay away, by the time class was over, she found herself waiting for the other students to leave the room so she could finally speak to him about the subject that had been bothering her. The girl had all the facts, she knew what JD had done. But what she couldn’t figure out was his motivation… And that was consuming her.

“Okay, so…” she started hesitantly, hoping to hold his attention. JD still looked like he was angry, but at least he had stayed back to listen. “Do you really, honestly believe you treated Marianne with respect and honesty?”

Megan could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t expecting her question. She wondered if his surprise also had to do with the patient tone she was using. It occurred to her just now that this was probably the first time they were talking without shouting at each other or making accusations, but rather calmly and politely holding a conversation where both people involved could take their turn to speak.

JD stood at a distance, carefully examining her face. Megan realized he was probably trying to see if she was being serious or setting him up.

“Look, none of us happy with it, but we are music partners now… At least until Mrs. Julian changes her mind about it, what I hope happens soon,” the girl explained, looking into his eyes. “If we sit together without saying a word for two hours like we did today, it’s obvious she is not going to cave,” Megan wisely pointed out. She was well aware the teacher expected JD to make progress in music class and more than that, after the little scene they had made in their previous class, it was very likely the teacher kept them together at least until they proved that they could work as a team. “And to be honest, I think it’s a horrible prospect to sit here in silence hating each other for the entire semester,” the teenager added with a half-hearted smile. She didn’t like him and they didn’t have to be friends, but at least they should be partners to actually work their assignments or else they’d be at risk for getting a bad grade like their teacher had kindly reminded them. “You think that I judged you without hearing your side of the story,” Megan finally got to the point, seeing on his face that he was intrigued. “I will never know if you don’t tell me.”

JD’s first impulse was to tell her that it made no difference whatsoever if he explained to her his point of view. In fact, he wanted to say that he couldn’t care less what she thought. But before he could control, he heard himself taking part in the conversation.

“Does it really matter?”

Megan didn’t know why, but something in his defensive tone let her know she was being tested.

“Yes,” she responded to his doubt with security. JD had accused her of being unfair to him. Megan seriously doubted he could somehow justify his nasty behavior, especially when it concerned her friend, but since they were going to have to work together, she was kind of hoping he at least had a conscience or something that resembled a redeeming quality.

JD seemed to ponder whether or not to take that conversation forward but ultimately took a deep breath, slowly letting it out to finally answer her question.

“I never made your friend any promises,” he explained. “I was very honest with her, from the start.” On his first week in Seattle, his grandmother’s neighbor had introduced him to her granddaughter and after finding out they were going to the same school, the girl had quickly supposed they could spend time together. “We talked and hung out for a few days since I didn’t really know anyone in town yet…” Megan knew he was telling the truth because it was exactly what her friend had told her. “Marianne was the one who asked me out,” he added, looking Megan deeply in the eyes. “I told her I wasn’t looking for a relationship, I told her I didn’t want anything serious, with her or anyone else,” JD recalled, thinking about the disappointment in the girl’s eyes after he said the words, “it was obvious it wasn’t what she truly wanted but she told me it was fine. That we could just keep it casual and fun.”

“But still you…” Megan tried to think of words to express her discontentment with the situation, noticing he had stopped talking to give her the chance to speak her mind. ��How is that being nice to her? You knew she was at risk for getting hurt and still you accepted to keep it going when it was obvious she was going to have her heart broken.”

“I never lied to her,” JD raised his eyebrows as if Megan was accusing him of something that didn’t make sense. “She is nice and I enjoyed going out with her, but to me that was it, I was clear about that. When Marianne started to act like it was more than it really was,” JD added, thinking about how clingy the girl had become, calling him and showing up when he was hanging out with his friends, “that’s when I had to be firm with her. So I ended it,” JD wished he had stopped talking then, but against his will, the words kept firing from his mouth. “How is that being disrespectful, exactly?”

“But you…” Megan sighed heavily. The scenario he was exposing didn’t surprise her that much, because it’d become obvious from the start to anyone who was paying closer attention that Marianne had been more involved with their brief relationship than JD had ever seemed to be. Megan remembered seeing how excited her friend always was whenever he was around, and how his façade often gave the opposite impression. When Megan had first seen the guy, he and Marianne had already been together for a few weeks. The girl supposed it was just when things had started to progress differently for each part involved.

But that wasn’t what bothered Megan the most, though. Even though she supposed JD could have been a little nicer on his attempts to stop Marianne’s advances, what had really annoyed the teenage girl was the fact that he had slept with her friend and then treated her like the moment had had absolutely no significance.

Just like Marianne, Megan was also inexperienced when it came to sex. And she just knew that if she’d lost her virginity to the guy she was in love with and he had coldly cast her aside only days after, she would have been devastated.

And very, very angry. Which was why she could relate to her friend’s plight at the moment.

Megan didn’t want to bring up the topic to discuss with him though because she believed she had no place exposing her friend’s personal life like that. Megan had known Marianne for a while now, and they were close. The girl recalled the way her friend had naively imagined that just because she was in love with the guy, JD would treat her the way she deserved to be treated. But he had ended things with her right after her first time, breaking her heart in the process.

“But I what?” JD rolled his eyes, impatiently. Why had he been stupid enough to even consider that the little hothead proudly standing up to him could somehow be any different from everyone else? “Stop looking for reasons to hate me, Megan. You probably heard things about me, decided I am this big villain and now you are desperately trying to hold onto that concept. I get it,” he raised his hands and added before turning around to walk away, “I know you are a spoiled little princess who’s used to having your way but it’s clear on your face you know that you know I did the right thing by being honest with your friend about the way I felt. But believe what you want to believe, I don’t care.”

Megan watched as he left the room. She knew she probably shouldn’t care. The guy was a rude, selfish human being who obviously didn’t care about anyone’s feelings.

“Yeah… I know you don’t… But you just had to sleep with her first, right?”

He still had his back turned to her, but Megan could hear his impatient sigh. He stopped walking and after a while of hesitation, finally turned around to look at her.

“What?” he impatiently asked.

“Before you decided to gallantly offer her your honesty, I mean,” Megan asked with a mix sarcasm and disapproval. “You just had to take her to bed and make her feel humiliated to be ignored afterwards, right?”

Megan knew she should be furious. She knew she should hate how he’d called her spoiled. But they had exchanged so many indelicacies for the past few weeks that it didn’t even bother her nearly as much as his unfeeling attitude towards her friend did.

“I didn’t lie to her to have sex with her,” JD rolled his eyes, censoring himself for not having already walked away like he normally would. “Marianne told me herself she thought we should do it,” he added, looking at Megan with a loathing scowl. “You are so full of yourself, aren’t you?” he asked in a low tone. “So much that you think you’re doing your friend a big favor by fighting her own battles for her when you’re really just labeling her as unfit to make her own decisions,” JD fired, seeing the look of shock on Megan’s face at his accusations. “You think you’re helping Marianne but you are not. How are you respecting her, really?” he leaned over the girl, looking straight into her eyes. “How are you being respectful if you encourage Marianne to act like I somehow owe her anything just because we had sex? She wanted it, I wanted it and we did it. Then I didn’t want it anymore because she was suffocating me after. I never made her any promises, I never signed a contract… On the contrary. I said I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

“She was hoping that if she slept with you that would make you want to be with her, you stupid jerk!” Megan read the situation clearly now. “Is that really so hard to see?” she asked with a mix or irony and fury. “Couldn’t you just have gone for someone who wasn’t blindly seduced by your stupid act?”

JD took a deep breath, determined not to fight with her again.

“Marianne is a big girl, Megan. Don’t coddle her and act like she was a victim to her own decisions,” he looked into her eyes, seeing his words were infuriating her. “Of course I saw she was into me more than I was with her. But from the moment I told her I wasn’t interested in being her boyfriend and she agreed to keep it casual, why should I be blamed because she didn’t keep her word?”

“Because she didn’t know any better and you should have!” Megan furiously strode towards him, proudly standing up to the guy who annoyingly seemed to have an answer for every one of her arguments. “She was in love with you, how did you ever consider she could have had her better judgment at the time?”

JD saw the rosy color on her cheeks as she defied him, visibly worked up.

“You know… Have you ever thought that maybe you spent all this time convincing yourself and everyone else that Marianne was somehow a victim to me, but in reality, it’s you who constantly sees her as the victim?” JD raised his eyebrows suggestively. Megan had done something amazing by standing up for her friend when she was visibly in a fragile state, but up to this day the girl still seemed determined to apparently bring justice to a situation she wasn’t really directly involved. “As the poor girl who deserves your help and can’t speak for herself?” he added, taking Megan by surprise again. “Yeah, I figured you haven’t,” the boy answered his own question after seeing the look on her face, taking satisfaction in feeling like he’d won that battle against that daring hotheaded girl. “You are not helping Marianne by shielding her from things. Instead you should be helping her stand up for herself if she really thinks I screwed up.”

Megan was alarmed by her own silence. What he was saying was absolutely despicable. It wasn’t true, she knew. She indeed had stepped up for her friend the day of the party, but only because JD had put her in a horrible situation. And even though Megan was well aware she’d had all the best intentions, his accusation still got her thinking. Because it didn’t prevent the girl from drowning in guilt for the way she really felt sorry for Marianne.

Maybe she just had felt too sorry?

Could it really be? Had Megan really acted like a super protective friend, shielding Marianne at all costs and perhaps only contributing to the girl’s already low self-esteem?

No way, Megan realized, swallowing hard. Perhaps on the long run, Marianne would be able to fight her own battles, but right now, she was still too fragile. And Megan was only doing for her friend what she would have liked to have someone doing for her had she been in Marianne’s shoes.

Maybe that was why it bothered Megan so much?

Just like Marianne, she didn’t have a lot of experience. Megan didn’t like to admit it very much, but that bothered her. When it came to relationships with boys, she felt too exposed and vulnerable. And because of it, she could totally empathize with her friend at the moment. One day, Marianne might be fit to defend herself. Until that day came, Megan would make damn sure no one abused her fragility like that dumb jock had just done.

Megan had done what she’d done with the best intentions. She didn’t regret it.

“Still, you walked away and told her nothing had happened,” the girl recovered from the blow, absolutely determined not to let him walk away feeling like he was right. “You’re an asshole and nothing you say can change that. I was there. I saw it.”

JD saw the spark of fury in her eyes and he could tell she was fighting an internal battle. Instinctively, he realized that his words had deeply messed with her, enough to make her rethink her own attitude. But it was the way that her fiery, hot approach had been replaced by a broken, hurt speech that really got to him.

It felt like all of a sudden, an uncomfortable feeling made him sick to the stomach and he didn’t even understand why. JD had seen girls act much worse when faced with his honesty before. Hell, he’d even seen them cry and it still, it hardly ever bothered him. Girls cried for no reason and they had an awful tendency of taking advantage of their fragility to get what they wanted.

But now, the impulsive girl with fiery blue eyes proudly stood her ground, apparently too caught up with her own emotions to remember his presence. JD also went silent as he thought about what Megan had said. It made sense, he knew. He wasn’t a hypocrite to think everything he did was justifiable. Sometimes, for reasons he couldn’t explain, his behavior tended to really hurt people. Enough that he avoided getting close to them as much as he could.

Maybe he should have exploded at Megan like that. But at the same time, it had unexpectedly bothered him that the girl whose loyal manners he’d admired and who he had initially believed to actually be different from everyone else had obviously jumped to conclusions about him without even giving him the benefit of the doubt.

He really thought Megan might have been different... How stupid of him, JD figured. After so many years of people making assumptions about him, he had grown used to it. It didn’t bother him anymore and JD should have known better by now. Why would Megan be any different? She was in the most comfortable place, surrounded by people who really seemed to love and admire her. Why on Earth would she ever have a reason to think her opinion might have been biased, or that maybe, there might be a different version to a story than the one she wanted to believe in?

Girls like Megan were too used to having things done their way. They had the world on a string and more than enough people willing to give them absolutely everything they wanted. Like her boyfriend, for example, JD thought with a scoff. The guy pretty much worshipped the ground she walked on and if he was trying to hide that, he was doing an awful job so far.

Yes, he really shouldn’t care. Megan was too spoiled for own good. She was probably one of those girls who deemed her opinion as the absolute truth, without even bothering to fact check first. JD knew her kind. They were high maintenance and abused the effect they had on guys to manipulate them into doing what they wanted. He was better off as further away from her as possible.

But still… JD couldn’t really ignore the fact that that small brave girl had stood up to him to defend her friend in a way he’d never seen anyone do before. So even though Megan was probably self-centered and obnoxious, he had to admit she at least was a loyal friend.

People were usually intimidated by him, he had long ago noticed that. Yet Megan Hunt had been more than willing to let him have it. At first, he had been impressed and even satisfied. After watching her from a distance and seeing the way she was kind and generous to her friends, JD had to admit that had been how he expected her to be different. But then as Megan had obviously made up her mind about him based on something as despicable as rumors – and judging by her question about the knife she had heard them - JD had to confess he’d felt rather disappointed… But mostly at himself, for having high expectations of her in the first place.

Turning around after giving up making sense of the entire thing, JD hesitated one more time.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” he advised her.

Megan noticed the way he calmly stood with his hands inside his pockets. His emerald green eyes stared into her with such intensity that Megan felt like he was baring her soul.

“I still think you’re a jackass for the way you treated my friend but...” Megan bit her lower lip, taking one step in his direction. “It was wrong of me to call you out in front of everyone like that,” she admitted, letting out a heavy sigh. Even though the girl still though JD deserved the scrutiny for the way he’d treated Marianne, there had been several ways she could have handled it. Ways that didn’t involve humiliating him in front of their peers and openly making fun of him for things she didn’t even know might have personally touched a wound. Truth was, Megan didn’t know the guy. And she wasn’t interested in being friends with him. But that didn’t give her the right to treat him in a way she didn’t want anyone to be treated. “I was angry with you that you had hurt my friend and I fought fire with fire. That wasn’t very nice of me,” she belatedly realized. A mistake didn’t justify another. It didn’t matter if she thought JD owed Marianne an apology or not. She knew she was only responsible for her own actions. “I am sorry for the way I talked to you… and for the horrible things I said.”

Megan had seen him surprised a few times that afternoon, but just as she apologized, for the first time she thought the boy looked lost, as if he really didn’t know what to say. And that impacted her, because so far, JD always knew what to say.

The boy recovered from the unexpected action and held the Megan’s gaze, studying her expression to see if she really meant it, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. That went against everything he had decided she was. The way he had categorized her and made up his mind about the girl had just been unexpectedly challenged by her heartfelt apology.

“Okay,” it was the only thing he could mutter in response. She was still looking into his eyes and JD didn’t notice how hard he was trying not to break that contact.

It was the first time Megan saw him with his guard low, seemingly unsure of what to do. JD always looked confident and on top of his game, but now he looked more confused than she’d ever seen. Taking advantage of the situation to try to understand the guy a little more, Megan kept looking into his eyes, trying to break past his defenses. Her skills at figuring people out didn’t seem to work so well with him and that really bothered her.

“I have to go to practice now,” he said, finally breaking eye contact with the girl after what it felt like forever.

“Oh, right, football,” Megan reacted a little too quickly, instantly being brought back to reality as well. “Right. And I have to go to French class.”

The girl noticed as he nodded his head affirmatively, looking as if he couldn’t wait to get out of there. JD looked very uncomfortable. She was still trying to make sense of why things had gotten so awkward all of a sudden when, from across the hall, she heard his voice.

“Hey, Megan?”

The girl interrupted her thoughts to look up and once again meet his gaze.

“I didn’t know until it was too late,” JD sighed heavily, hating that he had the urge to tell her that, especially when he’d already decided he didn’t care what she thought. It was beside her point, but he still felt compelled to share the truth, unaware of how important what he was about to say was. “I didn’t know it was her first time,” he explained after seeing the confusion on the girl’s face. Instantly, Megan picked up on the fact he was speaking about Marianne and she was taken absolutely aback by the confession when JD added, “if she’d told me, I wouldn’t have gone forward with it.”

Before Megan could so much as open her mouth to reply, JD had already disappeared through the halls, leaving her only with several new doubts.

“Hey, Maggie,” Amelia asked for her best friend’s attention with a teasing voice. “Do you see that handsome man over there?” she pointed to the tall man with her eyes. “He’s into me.”

The two surgeons were standing next to the nurse station, both updating charts. Amelia had spoken loud enough so that only the two women and the guy approaching them could hear it.

Maggie chuckled with amusement at the same time Amelia received a look of pretend reprimand from her husband.

“What?” she openly flirted with him, biting her lower lip in a very tempting way, “I just called you handsome,” she pointed out. “You have no reason to look at me like that.”

“Right,” Owen tried to keep a serious face but was having a hard time containing the smile that insisted on forming on his lips.

“You’re into me,” Amelia insisted, absolutely determined to pester him.

Owen noticed she kept staring at him as if undressing him with her eyes.

“I am married to you,” he reminded her with his usual practicality.

“So?” Amelia blinked repeatedly as she approached him just enough to be able to whisper in his ear. “Have I told you that you look very hot with that tie?”

“What is it this time?” Maggie asked without taking her eyes off her chart. She and Amelia had been friends for years and she had grown used to the neurosurgeon’s playful ways. “What is she after?”

“Christmas bonus for her department,” Owen answered unaffectedly while checking lab results for the patient he was about to take to the OR. Even though they still had a few months before Christmas, he’d already notified his employees that whichever department showed the best performance during the semester would be granted a bonus check to invest in research at the end of the year.

“You know what I think,” Amelia shamelessly kept her act. She was kidding and they both knew it. As long as she didn’t resort to anything unprofessional such as speaking about their private life in front of colleagues or patients – and Amelia never did – she knew Owen enjoyed their playful banter as much as she did. “I think that Dr. Hunt is very interested in Neurosurgery.”

“I am sure he is,” Owen finally looked up to meet her flirtatious gaze and couldn’t contain his laughter. Amelia was playing games with her words. Owen decided to believe she was talking about their son and he could see her sneaky, witty bribery. Sometimes, he could tell his wife was more interested in playing and winning a challenge than in the actual reward. This was one of the cases.

“Maggie, don’t you think we owe it to the younger generations to make sure they get a good education?” Amelia asked her friend without breaking eye contact with Owen. It was now a game and whoever looked away first would lose.

“I think Tom would be much better off if he pursued a career in cardiothoracics,” Maggie affirmed with conviction.

“You know what I think?” Owen stared into his wife’s eyes, making a herculean effort to keep a straight face. She wouldn’t stop tempting him and he could see her intentions so clearly that it made him want to be alone with her, just so he could kiss away that wicked smile off her lips. “I think Dr. Shepherd here has way too much free time on her hands. Maybe she should go back to work.”

“You know what I think?” Amelia failed at her resolution not to laugh and finally stopped with the silly act, having way too much fun with the conversation, “I think you’re pretty cute.”

“Thank you, Dr. Shepherd,” Owen’s voice sounded serious but his smile and the look on his face translated just what he wanted to say to her.

Amelia saw his loving expression and watched as her husband walked away. Before the elevator doors closed, Owen looked in her direction one more time and the moment their eyes met, both surgeons exchanged a happy, genuine smile.

“You guys are so annoying,” Maggie teased with a sigh, looking from the elevator to her best friend. Owen and Amelia had one of the happiest and nicest relationships she’d ever seen and Maggie felt nothing but proud of her friend for it. “By the way, how are things with Tommy?”

“They’re better,” Amelia shared. Earlier that week, Owen had had an important conversation with their son and Thomas already seemed to be a little more comfortable in his shoes at work. “We haven’t had the chance to sit down and discuss it yet but from what little Owen has been able to tell me, I think Tom really needed that talk.”

“Good,” Maggie was glad to heart it. Thomas was her godson and even though she loved all of Amelia’s kids, she had always felt a special connection to the boy. “He’s rotating in my service next week.”

“Don’t contaminate my son with your nasty specialty, please,” Amelia smiled mischievously.

“I can’t make any promises,” Maggie laughed along. “And how is that thing with Megan and the new boyfriend?” the cardiothoracic surgeon asked with interest. Her daughter and Megan had grown up best friends all their lives and both girls were very close to their mothers. “Claire told me she is dating one of the guys in their group. Has she told Owen yet?”

“Not yet,” Amelia confessed with a lighthearted tone. “Meg is taking him to Lucas’ game on Saturday but she is going to introduce him to her dad and the boys as one of her friends,” Amelia shared. She was the only one in the house who knew about her daughter’s plan and honestly, she considered it a wise idea. If Owen and her sons met Megan’s boyfriend without the heavy weight of what the position meant, maybe they would be able to form a little less biased opinion of the guy before the Hunt boys crucified him, which would invariably happen as soon as Megan told her father and brothers about their real relationship status. “I actually have plans to pick up Megan from school tomorrow. She asked me to go the market with her to buy lobster or something like that… For some reason she is cooking dinner every night this week,” Amelia looked up and met her friend’s eyes. “I think she is really trying to soften Owen before Saturday.”

Maggie had fun with the plot.

“Are you sure she is really your kid?” the cardiothoracic surgeon asked with playful sarcasm. Amelia laughed, agreeing with head. Her daughter had the same sneaky manners as she. “Well, I guess as long as Megan is happy, neither Owen nor the boys have any right to meddle,” Maggie pointed out.

“Agreed,” Amelia replied with heartfelt contentment. “Now, who is going to help me convince them of that? Because that’s a whole different story.”

Maggie stopped what she was doing and processed the question for a moment.

“Good point…” the surgeon added, glad she wasn’t in Amelia’s shoes. “I honestly have no idea.”

next chapter finally brings the answer to the question of “what the hell happened to Lucas, Emily and Amelia five years ago?”

#omelia #owen hunt #amelia shepherd #greysanatomy #myboys #myboysfanfiction #omeliafanfics #omeliafic #amenff

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inhumansforever · 8 years ago

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Lets get to know The Tribe of Lor

Although still unconfirmed, I’ve heard rumors that a central focus of the upcoming Secret Warriors title will entail the squad going up against rogue Inhuman threats. If this is the case (and even if it isn’t the case) then it’s a very good bet the Warriors will face off against the villainous Inhumans known as The Tribe of Lor.

So let’s get to know them! All the details following the jump.

The Tribe of Lor had originally been a hidden group of Inhumans who lived in the secretive ancient city of Orollan. The founders of Orolan were a group known as the House of Lor. These Inhumans succeeded from Attilan centuries ago over a philosophical disagreement regarding the use of Terrigen.

Specifically, House Lor believed that only a select few should allowed to undergo the process of Terrigenesis, that it should be reserved only for those Inhumans who are truly worthy of the transformation. This was in contrast to the prevailing customs of Attilan which maintained that all Inhumans possessed the right and privilege to undergo Terrigenesis.

House Lor was granted their wish to leave Attilan and were offered their own cache of Terrigen Crystals. Orollan was ultimately founded in a rural area of Greenland. As time went on these Inhumans (who now referred to themselves as ‘The Tribe of Lor’ or just ‘The Lor’) became increasingly more zealous and stringent in their beliefs. They ascribed to an ardent philosophy of survival of the fittest whereby those who were perceived a strong and self-reliant enjoyed high status whereas those viewed as weak or dependent were treated with contempt.

A class of monks among the Lor determine which members of their people were worthy of undergoing Terrigenesis. Those who went through Terrigenesis and were changed in a way that made them seem stronger or more powerful were celebrated and made the esteemed guardians of Orollan. Yet, those who went through Terrigenesis and were changed in a fashion that was not viewed as fortunate or powerful were banished or outright killed.

The Inhuman known as Reader had been a denizen of Orollan and the monks selected him as worthy of going through Terrigenesis. The changed endowed Reader with the ability to manifest into reality anything that he reads. This power accidentally caused a fire that claimed the lives of Reader’s parents. Fearful of further damage Reader’s powers might cause, the monks ordered Reader’s eyes be burned shut in an effort to prevent him from ever again wielding his power. Blinded, Reader was cast out from Orollan and forced to fend for himself. He ultimately taught himself to read braille, thus regaining the use of his powers.

Lash was another citizen of Orollan choose to go through Terrigenesis. Lash was endowed with great strength and power to absorb and redirect energies. Lash was an ardent believer in ways and customs of Orollan and he rose up to become a leader of their society.

Another citizen of Orollan was Thane. Thane was actually the result of an affair between his Inhuman mother and the Titan known as Thanos. The story of how Thane’s mother had come to meet Thanos has yet to be told and she kept the fact that their union had produced a son a guarded secret. Thane grew up in Orollan unaware of the true identity of his father.

Thane was not selected by the monks to go through Terrigenesis. Instead, Thane studied the healing arts and acted as the tribe’s healer, mending twisted ankles and the various ails suffered by the fellow members of the tribe.

Meanwhile, Thanos had come to learn of a prophecy that he could only be defeated by his heir. To prevent this from happening, Thanos tracked down and murdered the various children he had sired over the years. He became aware that he had a son among The Inhumans of Earth, but did not know who it was.

Thanos sent his lieutenants to Attilan with the demands that all Inhumans of a certain age be delivered to him for execution. In exchange, Thanos would agree to spare the remained of The Inhuman peoples. King Black Bolt refused this heinous bargain and hastened work on a Terrigen Bomb.

His demands unmet, Thanos invaded Attilan and Black Bolt triggered the Terrigen Bomb. This resulted in a pair of Terrigen Clouds that spanned over the surface of earth and triggered Terrigenesis in any latent Inhumans it came into contact with.

The cloud flowed over Orollan and the entirety of the populace became encased in Terigenic cocoons. When Thane emerged from his cocoon, the powers elicited in him were so great and severe that it resulted in a massive explosion that killed the rest of his tribe while still in their cocoons.

Thane was devastated to find that his family and everyone he ever knew had been killed in the explosion. In the end, Thane fulfilled the prophecy and succeeded in defeating and destroying his father, Thanos.

Lash was away when Orollan was destroyed. He returned to find his people dead and he channeled his grief and sorrow into a new sense of purpose to reform the Tribe of Lor.

The Terrigen Cloud was creating dozens of new Inhumans all over the globe. Lash viewed this as a terrible effrontery to his beliefs; the idea that so many unworthy Inhumans were afforded Terrigenesis felt to him like abject heresy. Lash set out to track down new Inhumans created by the cloud. When these Inhumans emerged from their cocoons, Lash would judge their worthiness. He killed those whom he deemed as unworthy and offered those he viewed as worthy a place at his side as the new master race of Earth.

It is unknown how many new Inhumans Lash killed in his bloody crusade. In so doing, however, he managed to accrue a large number of dutiful followers. Each seemed to feel that owed their lives to Lash and followed his commands without question.

Notable among these followers is Mother Bones, who has the ability to greatly increase her size and strength; Kacy, who can take in enormous breaths of air and exhale it into a gale force wind; and Grove who has the ability to project rainbow colored force beams from his hands.

Sheath’s powers remain not fully explained, but appears to entail enhanced speed and proficiency with bladed weapons; Nightfall can summon and control dark force energies allowing her the ability to teleport; and Occulous whose third eye can track and detect superhuman beings over vast distances.

Fume exudes noxious gasses that he can control with his mind; Hollow had the power to make his body intangible prior to his being killed by Lash for disobeying orders; and Spark can generate and control electrical bolts of energy.

Jack Chain is able to channel plasma-based energies into a series of chains that he wields like whips; Seratta possesses twin bladed pretorians from his forearms that can vibrate at a frequency that allows them to cut the the hardest of materials; and Über Alles who possesses control over circling funnels of wind.

Lash’s endeavors to cull those Inhumans he deemed as unworthy and recruit those he view worthy ultimately brought him tot he attention of Queen Medusa of New Attilan. Medusa stood in stark opposition to Lash’s views and she intercepted him when he attempted to kill the new Inhuman, Dante Perutz (Inferno). This ultimately resulted in a brief war between The Inhumans of New Attilan and Lash’s Tribe of Lor.

A peace was eventually established between the two factions when Medusa claimed responsibility over any new Inhuman and Lash agreed to no longer murder those new Inhumans he saw as unworthy. To what extent Lash actually followed through with his end of the bargain remains unknown. He continued to recruit new Inhumans into his tribe and it is quite likely he also killed Inhumans he deemed unworthy.

The peace between Attilan and Orolan was broken when the duplicitous Inhuman known as Lineage tricked Medusa into an ambush by Lash’s forces. Medusa was able to escape, but it came at the expense of her ally, Elejea, who sacrificed herself so to buy the time needed for Medusa to escape.

Lineage was ultimately defeated and imprisoned, but Lash and his Tribe has yet to be made to pay for Elejea’s death. Following the Secret Wars event, Lash and his Tribe remained on Orolan plotting their next moves. They were soon approached by Maximus who coerced Lash into a plot to pose The Inhumans of New Attilan into a war with the human heroes.

Lash agreed to do Maximus’ bidding and led an attack on a Stark manufacturing plant in Switzerland. The attack succeeded in leading Stark to believe the Inhumans had waged war on him and he had a fleet of his Iron Man war suits lay siege to New Attilan.

Meanwhile, Medusa’s forces as well as Captain Marvel and The Ultimates arrived at Switzerland to take on Lash and his tribe. Lash attempted to make it seem as though he was in league with Medusa, causing the Ultimates to attack the Inhumans of New Attilan.

Following tremendous battles, both in Switzerland and in New Attilan, cooler heads were eventually able to prevail. Medusa was able to convince Captain Marvel and Tony Stark that the attacks were orchestrated by Maximus. Lash and many of his followers were apprehended by The Ultimates and presumedly are still incarcerated.

Still, it is only a matter of time before Lash and his villainous Tribe of Lor will return. Who knows what sort of dastardly deeds they will beep to in the future?

#Inhumans #Lash #Tribe of Lor #Orolan

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avi-stella · 8 years ago

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The Paths We Choose | V x Reader

Rating: General Genre: Angst Word Count: 1,264 Summary: V knows that this is all a game, and he understands that he has no route set out for him. Note: Contains spoilers for Secret 01.

V was aware that this was all a game. It was perhaps because he knew this that he could remain standing on the sidelines, watching everything play out. V didn't mind it though; he was able to watch over the RFA members like this from a safe distance, for both their sake and his. Yet, despite all that, the young man couldn't help but feel so alone. Seven was also vaguely self-aware similar to V, but Seven still had his own path to choose from several others. So even if the two felt a similar loneliness of being self-aware, Seven was still fortunate enough to be directly involved with you, whereas V was not.

At first, V was indifferent to his situation. He had his own role to play. His own determined set of actions and consequences. His own fate. ...And he never questioned it once. It was just how things were. Everything—all his thoughts, words, and actions—have already been planned and determined from the beginning, so V remained emotionally distant. But things change as time passes, and while it may have only felt like a mere two weeks for you and the RFA members, V knew that it's been much longer. He was too busy trying to play out his part perfectly that he couldn't exactly remember just how much time has passed, but V knows that it's already been over at least a month since you first appeared.

V watched as you fell in love with the RFA members one by one, always at a safe distance before you reached their end and then try again for a different ending, or even a different member. At first, the young man was confused as to why you would subject yourself to such a game. Didn't you get tired of having to repeat the same conversations and days over and over again? Why would you sacrifice so much of your sleep just so that you can talk with them? V eventually came to realize that you yourself were self-aware; after all, you had once asked him if you would be able to all clear this game.

"There's nothing you can't do" was V's response. It was one of his rare responses that genuinely came from him and not because that was what was scripted for him to say.

After all, V has been watching you all this time. He has witnessed your determination and strength multiple times now. He has seen just how much you've changed and healed the RFA members and helped them with their personal problems, one by one. You meant a lot to them, and they meant a lot to you. Then, before V knew it, he fell in love with you.

V cursed fate. He cursed his inability to capture your heart. No matter how much he wished and longed for it, V knew that the possibility of you and him getting together was impossible. He didn't have his own route to go to where you were. V was left all alone, stranded in his own sea of 0s and 1s that nobody can cross.

So the young man had no choice but to only watch you from afar and offer small acts and words of support whenever possible. He felt butterflies in his stomach whenever you chose to trust him. He didn't know if that was what you truly felt, but it felt nice to him, even if it was just V's own delusions. And in those times you chose to be distrustful, V would feel his heart shatter. He desperately wanted to prove himself to you, that he was someone you can rely on for anything, but you were completely blind to his intentions. ...How ironic.

You went through what V called the "Casual Routes" first. He called them as such since the dangers to you weren't that severe and that you would be left completely unaware of the whole truth. V felt relieved that you chose to go the safe route, even if you had no idea that it was the safer choice of the two. Even if it looked like you were heading towards a Bad End, you would still be safe. Safer than in the "Deep Routes", at least.

Time passed slowly and quietly. You passed through each route and ending safely. Now, all that was left was to have you find the answers to the questions left behind in each route. Soon enough, you will be approaching V's end. The young man's lips tugged themselves into a wry smile. He found it unfair that his ending was already determined to be a Bad End for him and that he would never get his chance of proving to you just how strong his feelings towards you have grown in the past days. Weeks. Months.

V has no route. He has already come to terms with this fact, but that still doesn't lessen the disappointment he feels as his breaths become more shallow. The pain of having been shot grew stronger before having it slowly start to dull to mere numbness. V utters his last words towards Rika, but he feels nothing. After all, Rika was merely another piece. Another character. Both V and Rika had to act out the roles given to them; perhaps V did feel pity towards Rika and her unfortunate fate, but that wasn't what he really cared about right now.

Despite being completely blind by this point, V can clearly see you. Perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but you're crying for him, and the young man can't help but feel confused. Why? Why were you crying for a man you barely knew? Barely talked with? A small smile makes its way onto V's face as he entertains the idea of you falling in love with him despite having all odds pitted against him. He can't find the strength to talk now, so he whispers the words he wants to say to you in his heart, hoping that they will reach you.

"It's okay. Everything will return to normal the next time you pick up this game again and reset like you always do. Then maybe one day, the ones who made me will forge a path for the both of us to meet."

Your eyes are swollen from crying so much from everything you've just witnessed. You're left all alone once more, having been forced back to the beginning where you're prompted to make your choice, but you hesitate. You've gone through all routes and endings already; there was no reason for you to play this game any longer. Yet there's a nagging feeling at the back of your mind that if you don't reset now, that ending you just saw will be the final one. You don't want to let things end this way, but now that you know the truth, you don't know if you could bring yourself to have V go through all of that pain and misery once more.

"He's already suffered enough," you think, and you falter with your decision. You can choose to replay the routes once more and have V experience the same stress and heartache all over again; or you can choose to leave the game overall, leaving V to eternally rest in peace once and for all. No matter what you choose though, wouldn't V be all alone anyways?

With a shaky breath, you make your choice.

#Mystic Messenger #V #V x Reader #F: Mystic Messenger #C: V (Mystic Messenger)#R: General #G: Angst #reader insert #avisteliterature

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shadowkage · 8 years ago

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Another Sasuke Meta AKA I just can’t leave it alone.

Yes, hello, a screeching mun here.

I did not come up with this but read an analysis and, as per usual, I was simply interested to see other people’s perspective on a particular (quite controversial) scene from the manga. Namely the instance Sasuke attacked Sakura with chidori. And my mind is blown.

This is my own take on the situation given the new input I have gained after reading said post. I will often reference it but add my own thoughts and observations.

Now, first off, I think we can all agree on the fact that Sasuke loses himself around this time. However, he converses calmly with Sakura before shit goes down and he even calls her bluff. He knows exactly that she would not betray the leaf, not given these particular circumstances.

Sasuke doesn’t know Sakura the way we, the readers, do. He knows her part 1 self, as well as what he has seen during their first reunion. Sasuke is aware that Sakura has matured greatly over the last couple of years as proven when she was willing to attack him at Orochimaru’s hideout.

Further, Sasuke says something quite interesting: “You’re a medical ninja, aren’t you?”

Now, why would he know this bit? He has never seen Sakura perform jutsus of the like. Further, he asks her if it’s true, hence he has heard about it from a different source. This can mean several things, maybe he has overheard people talking about “a pink-haired kunoichi from Konoha who is training under Tsunade” or he even went the extra mile and investigated on his own accord. While I might be a SasuSaku-shipper, I think the first option to be more probable. Sasuke has no time to look into matters that do not concern his goals.

May I also just say that him knowing about who Sakura’s master is would also explain why Sasuke isn’t shocked upon seeing Sakura’s inhuman strength during the war? In my personal opinion, he likely even expects her to have it and yet is surprised (and proud) to see how far she’s come.

But back to what I was initially trying to convey. Before the attack, Sasuke calls Sakura’s bluff. She has no reason to join him right then and there, especially not since she has already proven that she would not hesitate to attack him for the sake of her comrades, for the sake of Konoha. Sasuke believes that Sakura’s love has faded, at least to a certain extent. He knows she is lying.

So why doesn’t he attack her earlier? Why does he wait until she is in immediate range, when, clearly, he could’ve killed her (or at least severely wounded her) prior to that? We have seen that, around this time, he has no intention of playing games. He attacked the 5 kage summit, battled several kage without hesitation. And yet he plays a game with Sakura. This is a tease. He teases Sakura often during the course of the series. (With this I’m referring to “You’re annoying/You’re really annoying/You’re such a damned annoyance” but also some moments in Gaiden.)

Each of Sasuke’s words serves a purpose during this scene. “Why would you want to join me? What are you trying to pull?” He calls her out first chance he gets. Sakura lies to him. He looks through it and continues with, “Do you know what I want to do?” Sakura responds with, “I don’t care. I’ll follow whatever order you give me--” And this is where Sasuke interrupts her. Because he doesn’t need to hear anything else.

After what he’s seen of Sakura, this is completely out of character. Hence he tells her something he knows will throw her out of the loop. “To crush the leaf. That is my goal.” It is the truth, without any ifs or buts. He adds, “Would you really want to betray Konoha for me?” aka “This contradicts everything I know about you. This is not the Sakura who cut her hair in the forest of death in order to protect her comrades. This isn’t the person you’ve become.” Sakura (ironically) confirms both of these statements. And this is when Sasuke orders her to kill Karin.

This is important because Sasuke is trying to hurt Sakura, to shock her. He knows she is a medical-nin and medical-nins heal. They save people. Him asking her to kill someone she has no ties with, someone who is completely innocent in her eyes, is about the worst thing he can ask her to do. Sasuke does this intentionally.

Because he wants her to hate him.

Ever since part 2 started, he’s been acting on this idea. He wants to cut ties with his precious people, a group of people Sakura belongs to without a doubt, just as Naruto and Kakashi.

He has two possibilities at disposal. Either 1) he kills her or 2) he makes sure she doesn’t want to have anything to do with him ever again.

And he chooses the latter.

Why am I saying this? He attacks her with the intent to kill, doesn’t he? And this is where my mind was blown.

I used to believe he wanted to attack her as to prevent her from attacking him. But this is far from what I now think to be the truth. Sasuke knows Sakura is up to something but he doesn’t know what this is exactly. He surely is aware that she might want to kill him, yes, but he has no proof. Never has he truly understood Sakura without explanation from her part. He merely assumes. This is why she confuses him. Why she is annoying.

I (and the person who wrote the original post) believe that Sasuke attacked Sakura because this would make it easier for her to cut ties with him for good. And why does he do it in this particular way?

Because Kakashi is right there.

When Sasuke aims for “the kill”, Sakura has no time to react. She isn’t weak, she would be able to defend herself given there were more distance between the both of them. And yet Kakashi manages to step in. Kakashi, in that moment, is already there, charging at them, which is why he manages to intervene the second he sees what is going on.

Sakura has her back turned, her eyes closed(!). Besides, she is in conflict with herself and doesn’t pay attention to her surroundings. This explains why she might not notice him. But Sasuke does, because he can’t not suspect Sakura to just stall for time with her lies. Maybe she is merely trying to tie him down until reinforcements arrive. She is the type of person who would forsake a plan as to prevent him from killing someone, this someone being Karin.

Sasuke attacks Sakura because he knows Kakashi will save her. He has no intention of actually killing her at that point and time.

Here is Sasuke’s reaction to seeing Kakashi intervene:

Now, of course you can interpret this several ways but this is how I see it. “So you finally show up, I’ve been waiting for you. When will Naruto catch up? This is planned by the three of you, isn’t it?”

Sasuke doesn’t have the slightest idea that Sakura is acting on her own accord and that the rest of Team 7 tries to stop her from doing what she later attempts: Killing Sasuke.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves and do this chronologically.

Once Kakashi arrives, he states his personal observation: “You’ve really tried to kill her. How low you’ve fallen Sasuke.” Because that’s what it looked like. Sakura hears this, and thinks it to be what actually happened.

Sasuke remains calm until Kakashi brings up his revenge. Kakashi presses Sasuke’s buttons. This is why he snaps. And the fact that it’s Kakashi who’s saying it doesn’t help either. He has a sharingan, yet is completely unaware of Itachi’s truth. Sasuke doesn’t even know where he got that eye from. For all he knows, he might’ve killed an Uchiha and stole it. Hearing Kakashi say that he should return to Konoha, the place that has discriminated against his family and ordered it’s extinction, is more than just enraging to him. Konoha has nothing to offer him. He has no reason to return.

Now, on to Sakura trying to kill him, shall we? At this point, Sasuke is exhausted from his fights against the kage, Danzo and Kakashi. His eyes are hurting and he can hardly see anything anymore. When Sakura attacks him, he acts based on self defense. Maybe he would’ve killed her had Naruto not intervened, maybe he wouldn’t have. We simply don’t know. But to finish this off I want to say one last thing.

After this encounter, he knows that Naruto is still intent on bringing him back to Konoha. He believes that both Kakashi and Sakura have given up on him. He thinks that his failed attempt of “killing” Sakura is enough to make her hate him for good.

Sasuke does not see the need to kill Kakashi or Sakura as a consequence. As long as they stay out of his lane, he very much wants them to live.

This is why he doesn’t kill Sakura after her second confession during the war. Because he has seen that she carries potential in her. The potential to despise him, to give up. He places her under a Genjutsu and shows her what he believes will fuel her hatred, similar to what Itachi has once done to him.

But Sakura isn’t Sasuke. Her love can’t be severed that easily. Naruto isn’t the only one who refuses to give up on him.

#my meta #Sasuke Uchiha #Haruno Sakura #this long #but I have feels #headcanon

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thetickingmonolith · 5 years ago

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A Journey To The Shoreline

I sat there for some time, pondering to myself, my usual glass of whisky resting to my side and cigarette balanced between my lips. The hustle and bustle of my minds thoughts rushing around me, Jack arguing with Magnus, Grey tapping away at the massive console behind me, Atlas and Belladonna discussing the various factors of gossip that flooded the world around me, none of it intriguing me to any great degree. Azel sat atop his perch, within the moon looking down on us all, the titanic figure of Balmorhea resting just beneath the waves, nothing more than a shadow.

I stood and left them all to bicker and discuss, raising from my chair and wandering through the halls, glass haphazardly swinging in one hand, cigarette in the other. “What is this feeling we have?” I wandered up and down staircases, climbing through cogs and across walkways, not really knowing where I was going or where exact I was, merely wanting to walk and think to myself out loud. “What is the madness that we feel, this worry of anger, of not being able to control ourself. There comes this feeling of worry, of loss? No none of these.” I wandered further and further into the bowels of my creation, about half way down the tower now I stopped to look out of one of the holes in the damaged wall, peering out across the ocean, witnessing the tiny blip on the horizon that I once called home.

I looked down to see the jagged rocks at the base of the tower and the waves crashing up against them. The faint distant sound of the crash inviting me further down the tower, further into the recesses of my own mind. I wandered, stopping periodically to take a sip of my drink or a drag of my smoke, the groan of the gears around me and creak of the floorboards beneath me. “I can walk and convey it to myself, the fear of reacting badly knowing that I am merely making myself paranoid as I usually do, only this time it is more manifest, why?” I walked and walked, pondering this why…why is this anxiety more manifest, why does it only last a short while yet inflict such tangible pain.

I came to an old rusted area, where a massive hole in the wall has allowed the spray of the sea to seep in and bring this whole region to a halt. “What were you once? A part of me that thought himself something? An idea that would be proven false? Some part of my mind left to rust out of disuse…uncertainty…” The idea of not knowing the coming events, the concept of being blind in a fog, the fear of what ifs and the anxiety of mere continued existence. The simple act of existence and an odd feeling of being unwelcome…of it being implied I am unwanted part of something…

I took a sip and sat on the floor, staring up at the cogs of various shapes and sizes…trying to put together the word I was looking for, for it was not unwanted or unwelcome but a similar feeling, but more prolonged…I leaned against the remains of that section of the wall, finishing the last of my whisky, wishing I had brought the bottle with me. “Well where am I to put this then?” staring at the glass as the mental haze began to set in. I heard the faint creak of floorboards in the distance, someone had followed me down here, who? I had little idea, but they would take some time to catch up with me.

A spray of sea water came in through the hole in the wall and put out my cigarette. I sighed, putting down the glass and reached into my breast pocket, retrieving the packet of cigarettes and the lighter, standing and taking a drag. I nudged the glass with my foot and knocked it over the edge, sending it hurtling onto the jagged rocks below. “Well I’m going to need another one of those before I get back.” I turned to face the staircase where the creaking had come from before to find The Young God walk down them. Needless to say I was quite shocked, he had not made such an appearance in quite some time. “Whyte?” “Yes my dear?” “What are you doing down here? You rarely leave the higher portions of the tower” “Something has been bothering me and I’ve kind of just wandered down here as I was lost in thought” He looked me up and down, I looked a little rough all things considered. “What’s bothering you?” and so began the rambling.

“Your name comes from a few different sources, however the main item I think about when I look back on your first appearance is the song Young God, in the intro the words Forever cursed in love are the observant, forever a slave to detail.” “I don’t understand” “When we first got to know each other, when we fell asleep on that couch while everyone else had disappeared to sleep elsewhere, we innocently were asleep on a couch. I was struggling with this idea, you were there to help me and talk me through things, despite being so young you had so much knowledge and maturity you saw things people twice my age didn’t…your name is also derived from The Death Of God And The Meaning Of Life by Julian Young, Young’s portal of god fit mine, your outlook on life reflected her idea of the meaning of life, thusly Young’s God, or The Young God.” “Does this have anything to do with me?” “Not really no, however it does have something to do with what someone said to me…the opening part of Young God by Halsey talks about the Honeymoon phase of a relationship…not after an actual honeymoon but rather the opening of a relationship where it is passionate and fiery but deteriorating in a fashion, like a flame dying out.” “Whyte what are you talking about?” I took a moment to compose myself and placed my hand on his shoulder, “come with me, I was walking to the base of the tower to the shoreline.” He nodded and walked beside me as we set off wandering the halls.

There was silence between us as we walked for a few minutes, it was of course him that had appeared at this moment all things considered, who else would appear when it came to such feelings. “Your name came to me nearly two years ago and only now do I realise its importance, all this time later…my subconscious has an interesting way of foreshadowing…anyway now that I’ve gathered my thoughts” We stepped onto a staircase, the bottom obscured by a void of shadow, a distant glint marking the bottom. He stopped at the third step. “Don’t worry it will only take a minute and we will be back in the light.” I had stopped and extended a hand to him as we delved deeper into the darkness beckoning him forward. When we reached the bottom he looked much more relieved, if still a little uneasy. “See wasn’t so bad” “Why does the darkness cling to you like a membrane?” I was a little shocked at this for a moment, “It’s complicated, some people walk through the darker parts of themselves, people like me it stays with us a little longer than it should, the world reflects this…like everything in this world it is equally uncertain and meaningful, the details we do not know and we fill in the blanks for reflect ourselves, for example, did you take my hand? Or did I merely beacon you to follow?” “Well I…oh…I can’t remember” “Depending on how you filled in the gap shows a little something about you. The statement in a way contradicted itself so depending on my mood, this memory will be filled in one way or another, come now we must keep pace.”

“Should the fires fade, should the cinders dim…should the fires fade, silent sigh final hymn” “What?” “They are lyrics from Fires Fade by Miracle of Sound, it’s a song about Dark Souls 3…Dark Souls taught me about overcoming adversity, stepping back and looking at a situation and finding a more effective strategy to tackle it, despite all of the failures I have faced and the obstacles I face naturally as a person I have found myself here pondering this exact question…should the fires fade and the cinders dim…what should I do…” “Whyte is this about Jae?” “No not really, It is no my place to have a hand in that, that friendship survived the worst break up of each of our lives and either he is miserable with me or happy without me, there isn’t much of a choice in that, if that defaults to the usual bullshittery then that took me all of 5 minutes to put to bed…no this is about that feeling I have…mostly should I attend this weekend? He made it quite clear that he did not want me there, that my presence was an issue, and I would understand if it were not for the fact that before there was no mention of it…that and the reference he made to Young God being about abuse, when it is in reality about the fading flame of a relationship, the song he would have wanted was Trouble…which in many respects would confuse me even more than anything else…is that how he views me? Was it a hint? I’m aware that this is that passing feeling of paranoia and anxiety but its only left to come back harder this time…might as well talk about it with someome…”

“Whyte where is all of this coming from so quickly?” “That moment…just that one…it made me look back on everything and question if I was missing something…was him telling me to find someone else who would reciprocate those romantic feelings a hint? When in and of itself was in part a lie when he would become jealous of others by his own confession…all of this suddenly comes flooding back in a moment and makes me question so much, just the mere mention of such an implication and the ironic mistaken nature of a song…the feeling that he doesn’t want me to merely enjoy the weekend…all of this in less than 24 hours of course it is bound it send me into a self-circling spiral” He stopped and caught me by the shoulder shaking me “Whyte stop this WHYTE LISTEN TO ME…the two of you have survived hell and earth together…you have stood by his side and screwed up beyond imagining and remained his friend above all else, played ignorant to what was happening using you spicy autism burrito idiocy to make him feel less awkward, playing unaware to what you were doing when you knew full well so he felt more comfortable…don’t you get it you are spiralling into this madness now because you are worried your friendship will not survive this when you simply lack the words to talk to him about it, when in reality even if he never knows what turmoil is going on in your head your friendship will survive you idiot…” I didn’t respond and he shoved me to grab my attention, upon contact my mind flashed with a flurry of emotions and we were both consumed with a flash of blinding white fire.

We stood before a door, light flooding in through the edges, everything else was consumed by darkness, I burst into laughter. “You magnificent son of a bitch you” I slammed my right hand against the door and threw it wide, grabbing him with my left and dragging him out onto the shoreline of the tower. “The Young God lives up to his name” I let go of his hand and stepped forward, walking out along the jagged rocks, “As you once said, everything will be okay in the end, if it’s not okay its not the end.” I climbed farther out onto the rocks, with the sea spray raining down on top of me. “A SONG IS IN ORDER MY FRIEND” The crash of the waves before me spraying across me in my totality, my suit soaked in salt water.

A snap of my fingers and a flash of fire later, “Tell me, If I give a call,” a massive wave crashed behind me, a G major note beginning the song as I slowly pull the bow across the neck. I slipped slightly against the damp rocks, taking a moment to regain my composure “We’ve been caught up in such trivial things”. Tapping my heels together I step over a rock, getting closer to the water’s edge. “Will we be lovers?” Skipping closer to the shower line and feeling the waters spray wash over me again closer and more intense this time. “Guess it always depends” stepping backwards again the edged of the waves washing over my dress shoes as another crashes down just behind me. “on my on again” slipping on the damp rocks and falling backwards into the water as another wave crashed over me, my bow ripped out of my hands but my violin remaining in my hands, I quickly reached the surface with no fear with my fingers plucking away at the strings, “off again friend”…yes royal’s song is best for the now…

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baymcclellanblog-blog · 7 years ago

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The Ironic Whack of Reality

So. I can’t write. I can’t string clever descriptive words together to make you feel or see or smell what I feel or see or smell. I can’t describe the depth of despair that I have always pressed down so that I could live the day through.

I’ve been in therapy for over a year. So far I’ve quit my job and my marriage is on the rocks. I used to be okay with my abusive boss and my self-centered, emotionally mute husband. Blissfully unaware. But as therapy moved through its stages I slowly have become aware of the sadness that dwells as the basis for all in my life. Although I have accepted a label of codependent I didn’t truly understand how it had altered, buried and distorted who I really am.

The question of who I am should have been answered so many years ago. From there it would have been easier to keep up with the changes I’ve gone through as everyone does from childhood, to raising a family, to old age. But no. At 67 I’m still that little girl who doesn’t know who she is, just waking from a long sleeping beauty sleep to discover that life has passed her by. I push away the regret that flashes before me as I turn and see what could have been.

It adds to my natural sadness, the regret.

I’ve become a believer. That is I’m certain that Christ is the son of God and he died for me, to secure my future. You may not believe this but that doesn’t make it any less true. I know because I’ve personally experienced the Holy Spirit. He came to live in me one summer in Santa Barbara. I will never forget that time. The sadness was gone. In its place was a profound contentment, a certainty of my place, an acceptance that goes beyond mere love. For weeks I felt like I was a window thrown open through which all that was true and good flowed through into the world.

I soon slipped back into my insecurity and heard again the inner voice of criticism that has paralyzed me. The therapy has identified that voice as my mother’s. My relationship with my 94 year old mother is also a casualty of this new awareness. My doctor warned me that the process would be mostly painful until it was not. After nearly 18 months I can agree…pain and the dismantling of my false reality is the order of the day, each day.

I am adept at not knowing what I feel, what I want or what I need. So I’m to ask myself these questions constantly and then act on the answers. I found that I didn’t want to listen to my husband talk for hours about his handyman work. I don’t want to know the details of hanging a ceiling fan. Nor do I want to hear about how great he is at his work. I know that his skills are average at best from the work he’s done around here. Not that it matters. If he enjoys helping others and creatively solving problems I think that’s what matters. I appreciate his heart and his out of the box thinking. But I don’t want to hear about it. That probably sounds harsh. Why is it so much to ask, that your wife would be interested in your day? It’s the voluminousness of his speech compounded over years and long years. I’ve listened until my ears are so full that I can’t hear myself ask what do I feel, what do I want? I’ve lost myself in drywall repair and the electrical wiring of outlets. My small brightness is buried under when to use semi-gloss or flat paint, how to unstop a sink and the use of a pinner. I desperately need that distant brightness to return or there’s no point to living another day.

There was a time, before my mother had completely squashed all of me into her preferred shape, when I was free and utterly myself. I must have been 8 or 9 when expectations were not so high. It was the 50s and I was allowed to play for hours unsupervised in the neighborhood. Those hours are a treasure and evidence that there’s someone in here, someone I want to be.

I loved horses as all little girls in my generation did. For me they represented an unadulterated freedom that I craved. And they were strong, independent, and capable of surviving on their own. All things I wanted and my little girl intuit knew I was being increasingly deprived of.

It’s not that my mom is a bad person. It’s that her mother, a child bride, didn’t know how to love her and her father spoiled her. She started life behind our family eight ball. Down through each generation we’ve all had to cope without knowing how to love. There’s never been anyone to pass down this valuable skill. So, I don’t blame her but I don’t expect love from her either. I did, all my life, expect that I would eventually achieve her love, until recently, when I realized that she can’t love me as me. She needs me to be her little doll who looks perfectly innocent and wonderful. She had a portrait of me done when I was about 4. She sent my picture to an artist. I have the painting now. I look like an angel with perfect features, perfect peach complexion, pretty green eyes and a misty cloudy background haloing my strawberry blond hair. It’s an exact representation of my mother’s desire that I add to her admiration as the perfect mother who has the perfect little girl. She used to call me that; her perfect little girl. I knew early on that I wasn’t perfect and that my mother could never know it. She would stop loving me! But, in reality, she’s like the black ball on my therapist’s desk. A black ball absorbs the light around it and isn’t capable of loving anyone. My relationship with my mom is another casualty of coming out of codependence into this crummy reality.

I’m in mourning for all that I didn’t have as a child which reverberated down through the years in every relationship I’ve ever had leaving in its wake all kinds of hurt and destruction and ending in isolation.

What I’ve not been able to give my son, who is struggling to merely function in society, haunts me. Somewhere inside I knew I shouldn’t have a child; that I wasn’t capable of being a fit mother, but as God would have it I got pregnant. I love him. He is my burden although I should give him up to God. But that seems irresponsible since I was the one who failed him. Yet, I know I can’t fix him. He doesn’t listen to me anymore. Even if he did, I don’t know what to say or do to love him.

The guilt is enormous.

Bay

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thegooddoctorsthoughts · 7 years ago

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A Journey To The Shoreline

#storytime #essay #righting wrongs #writing prompt #autism

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