#and honestly i think it was an act of mercy on the Web’s part not to make this happen to him on a regular basis | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

its-queenofthesilence · 5 months ago

Text

I Cannot Live Without My Soul! Part 2 of ?

Notes:

I may already be *checks notes* on chapter 5 of this thing.

Chapter 2: Two Lovers Turned to Friends

It’s euphoric really, watching them on the mp4. cameras, scattered to every corner of the Principal’s Office. They were like cornered rats, trying to save themselves from the cat but they didn’t even realize just how trapped they really were. Here, in the War Room the entire Principal’s Office and system was at his fingertips. He could control every aspect of the building, shutting down every door and vent to the outside. They were stuck.

This place would be their final resting place. They would die and it would be at his hands. But first, who to choose as his first victim? He had so many choices for playmates. The Guardian of course, his Arch-Rival since he first arrived in Mainframe. The uptight and honestly, boring Ms. Matrix who he enjoyed torturing, the Boy (or rather Boys, he still wasn’t sure what to do with the copy…) who thought himself better than Megabyte, as if he wasn’t just as much of a monster as the Virus. Oh the hypocrisy. And of course Mouse, who dared to not only betray him but he found out after returning to Mainframe, to be the one to send him to the web. And finally….

He would be honest, he knows little about her, and he can barely remember her name. AndrAIa or , at least he thinks it is. He honestly didn’t care enough to remember. He had no real quarry with her, aside from her choice of friends. But he knew how much the Boy loved her, and killing her first would bring him immense satisfaction in seeing the pain on the Boy's face when he confessed to her murder. Ah love, what an inferior notion he thought, eyes narrowing on his target. There were many reasons why viruses were superior to sprites, and this was one of them. Only fools believed in such fairytales. Besides, she had aided the Boy during their last fight, throwing her trident to him just as Megabyte had been about to delete him. That made him hate her just as much as the rest of them.

“Let me go! You’re going to be sorry, once Bob and Big Bro’ get here!”

Ah yes, the other Boy. Turning around from the console and the vidwindows, he could only raise an eyebrow as he watched the smaller, copy of Enzo Matrix struggle in the grasp of his father, desperate to get free. Some how, the adult version still managed to annoy him more than this one did. Perhaps because the copy had the excuse of still being a child with how he acted versus the adult male who acted like a pouty teenager even at 2.8.

“I highly doubt that, Boy. I have the entire Principal’s Office locked down and at my mercy. Your friends and that pathetic whore you call a sister are going to die. You might want to behave, otherwise you will be joining them.” he said, face inches away from the squirming preteen. Enzo shrunk in fear, going silent as Megabyte ran a clawed finger down his cheek, leaving a welt in its place.

“You will never get away with this virus. I know my Dot and she will come up with a way to defeat you.”

Megabyte could only sigh, while he may control the suit that encased Welman Matrix, the squiggling null inside the suit was very much still of his own free will and mind, much to the thanks of his dear departed sister. Like his son, the bot had a mouth.

“Do you really believe that, Nibbles? You and I both know she has no chance. If it makes you feel better, I’ll leave her for last so you can watch me kill her in front of your very eyes. But I digress, I have a hunt to begin and I know just who to start with.”

Look right,

Turn,

Look Left,

Turn,

Look Straight

Repeat.

To AndrAIa, it was like a dance, her fingers tightly gripping her trident as if it were her only lifeline as she constantly scanned the three corridors, making sure Megabyte wasn't sneaking up on them while Mouse attempted to hack into the security system without success. It was a chaotic situation; just this morning she had been a bridesmaid in a wedding, and now she was being hunted like prey.

“Argh!” With an exasperated grunt, Mouse slammed her fist against the screen in frustration, causing AndrAIa to flinch at the loud noise. The perks of heightened hearing.

“Anything?” she called over her shoulder, eyes darting back and forth between corridors.

“Sugah, the bastard has every inch of this place locked down. I can’t get a door open, let alone open a vid-window in this place.” the hacker retorted, as she tried once again to break through the security. AndrAIa sighed with frustration, lowering her trident for a moment to peer over her friends’ shoulder.

“What about the backdoor you put in place? Can’t you use the override codes to get in? Little Sparky and Phong are still in there, we need to save them.”

"Ah wish it were that easy, sugah, but this virus is one step ahead of us. He's changed all the codes, and disabled the emergency controls as well." Mouse shook her head in frustration.

AndrAIa felt her heart sink at those words. If Megabyte had already thought to change the codes, what chance did they have of reaching the others trapped inside? She gripped her trident tighter, her knuckles turning white.

"Then we have to find another way. Maybe there's an air vent or a service hatch we can use to sneak in. We can't just abandon them to Megabyte's mercy," she said, determination steeling her voice. She couldn't bear the thought of Enzo and Phong being at the mercy of that vile virus.

Mouse shook her head grimly. "I've scanned the livefeed schematics. Every entrance and exit is sealed up tighter than a drum. That slime-ball has this whole place on lockdown. We're trapped out here, sugar, and they're trapped in there with him."

"I'm afraid my dear, the hacker is correct." A deep, sinister voice echoed from behind them. AndrAIa whirled around, her trident raised defensively, to see Megabyte standing there, his glowing red pupils piercing into her.

"Megabyte," she growled, her grip tightening on her weapon. "Let them go, this is between you and us."

The virus let out a chilling laugh. "Ah the��Fish. I’m afraid not. This is no longer just about you and your little band of friends, you see. This is about the complete and utter destruction of Mainframe." He took a step forward, his clawed hand reaching out towards her. "And you, my dear, have been chosen to be first pawn I will eliminate. Congratulations, no no. I’m afraid we don’t have time for speeches."

AndrAIa bit her tongue as she ignored the facetious comment, body tense as Megabyte lunged towards her, his claws outstretched. Without hesitation, she swung her trident up to meet his attack, the metal prongs clanging against his razor-sharp talons. The virus gave a growl as they faced off.

‘Oh, Ah don't think so Sugah” Mouse yelled, pulling out her katana and wasting no time jumping into the fray to protect her friend. The virus snarled as the hacker rushed him, swiping at him with her katana. He side stepped as the hacker swung with precision he was all too familiar with, his tendrils still aching from where she cut them mere microminutes ago.

Megabyte snarled as he parried Mouse's attacks, his claws clashing against the hacker's katana. AndrAIa took the opportunity to lunge forward, her trident aimed at the virus's midsection, eyeing the scar that had been left there by her lover. But Megabyte was too quick - with a swift motion, he grabbed the trident's shaft and twisted it, throwing AndrAIa off balance.

"Nice try, my dear," he hissed, taking note of where she was attempting to hit, "but I'm afraid your little games won't work on me."

With a powerful shove, using her own trident against her, he sent AndrAIa stumbling backwards, her trident wrenched from her grasp. With a laugh he crushed it in his hands, throwing it to the side before jumping out of the way as Mouse pressed her attack, her blade a blur as she rained blows down on Megabyte. But the virus was nimble, dodging and parrying each strike with ease. He let out a mocking laugh as he toyed with the hacker.

AndrAIa hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of her and dazed from being hit. Perfect. Right where he wanted her. With a laugh and a quick motion, he sidestepped the hacker lunging at him once more and with a quick punch, pommeled her in the stomach, sending her flying to the floor in agony.

It was a shame the Boy wasn’t around, he was going to enjoy this. As AndrAIa began to pull herself up from the floor of the Principal’s Office, that’s when he pounced, slamming her back into the ground as he pressed the full weight of his body against her, her hands pinned beneath one hand as he had his other raised, intent on driving his claws through her chest.

“And that’s when it happened, or so I’ve been told. I didn’t actually see it myself.”

Deep within her mind, a forgotten code lay dormant, waiting for this precise moment to awaken. And when that moment came, it spread through AndrAIa's body like a wildfire, igniting every inch of her data with a pulsating blue glow. The light pulsed in time with her heartbeat, filling her with a surge of power and energy. But just as quickly as it appeared, the pulsing turned into a solid radiance, radiating from every fiber of her being. A part of the light broke off, forming into a ball that traveled through her form until it reached the tips of her fingers, and exited out into the body of a bewildered Megabyte, who still held her pinned to the ground.

As Mouse pulled herself up, clutching her stomach, she couldn't help but stare in confusion as she watched the pair. What in the Net was happening? The virus seemed to recoil and pull back, trying to stop whatever was happening. But it was too late, the energy from the light surged into him, swirling through his veins until...like a beacon in the dark, he began to glow in unison with AndrAIa, their bodies pulsating in tandem.

Megabyte's snarl turned into a growl as he felt the intrusion of foreign code entering his body, slowly changing something within him. His mind raced with fear and uncertainty- What was she doing? What was this burning feeling in his chest? Why did he feel so happy?

The sudden burst of light that had engulfed them vanished just as quickly as it appeared, leaving no trace behind. In the aftermath, the room was now shrouded in a deafening silence, as Virus and Gamesprite stared at each other. AndrAIa on the floor, her eyes filled with fear and horror and Megabyte above her, hand outreached towards her with a look of… Mouse didn’t know. The look could only be equated to a sort of softness but that wasn’t right. Nothing about Megabyte screamed “soft.”

And yet, how else would Mouse describe that look?

The Virus stared down at AndrAIa, the softness giving way to confusion and uncertainty. What just happened? The burning rage he felt towards her and the want to crush her beneath his hands had melted away, leaving behind a feeling of elation and content as she looked up at him with those big eyes of hers.

This wasn’t right. This feeling wasn’t right.

He didn't understand it. As a virus, Megabyte had never experienced anything akin to this strange new sensation. He felt emotions of course; he wasn’t immune. He knew hatred, desire, greed, jealousy, amusement and elation (when he found a vintage wine or a particularly good book of course, nothing like this). This however was indiscernible and unparalleled to anything he had ever felt.. Looking at her made him feel like he was infecting a thousand binomes at once, giving a feeling of satisfaction and want he had never known he needed. It was….good. He wanted more, and that scared him.

A sob caught his attention, bringing him back from his thoughts. Tears were beginning to fall down her cheek. A new feeling filled him, even more despicable than the last. It was a feeling of regret mixed with the need to stop her crying. Watching her cry made his stomach twist and turn in ways he never knew possible. Was it his fault she was crying? He liked seeing suffering and pain, so why did this hurt?

Instinctually, he started to reach down, the need to cup her cheek and brush tears away overwhelming, but found himself doubling over as the hacker pommeled him in the stomach with the back of her katana, aggravating his old wound and causing him to pull away out of reflex. Mouse wasted no time and grabbed AndrAIa’s hand and pulled her up and away, deeper into the heart of the Principal’s Office away from Megabyte.

The Virus watched them go, choosing or perhaps unable to follow after them. Though the hacker did not look back, she did, eyes wide with unshed tears and something he couldn’t place (longing?). He was left there stunned and rooted to the spot for what felt like an eternity until his brain caught up with the rest of him.

“What the FAQ just happened?”

Next | Previous | Beginning

0 notes

thebluelemontree · 4 years ago

Note

Is it wrong to say that Sansa uses an out of sight out of mind coping mechanism? I noticed it because it's what I do a lot. I know some ppl say she rewrites traumatic memories to make the memories bearable but it doesn't make sense. If that was how she coped, wouldn't she have been telling herself lies about Joffrey still in acok? Or found a way to erase/rewrite Marillion's attempt to rape her?

Yes and no. She does that except all the times she doesn’t. ;) I think that characterization is extremely reductionist (and ignores character complexity and growth) when it’s applied that broadly to every situation Sansa has been in. You have to take these things instance by instance because they aren’t all the same. Sometimes that labeling doesn’t fit at all. In many cases, it feels more like the fandom pathologizing the act of romanticizing or trying to push aside or reframe something unpleasant or even traumatic when that’s just something most human beings do now and then. Some do it more than others, but its all within the realm of typical coping behavior and being older or more educated or more “logical” doesn’t make one immune to it. So I hope you don’t let those interpretations make you feel abnormal or more fallible for identifying with Sansa in that way. Romanticizing doesn’t even have to be about coping at all, but simply expressing desire through daydreams. People imagine being in idealized scenarios with crushes all the time.

You also hit the nail on the head. Sansa just doesn’t go around making up false narratives about every objectively awful thing that happens to her. In fact, her actual responses to those moments can be a useful basis for comparison when we’re analyzing the unkiss, for example. Misunderstanding the unkiss is usually where a lot of these assumptions stem from. That’s a whole other can of worms in itself. The unkiss is just too long of a discussion to put here, so I just recommend this post as to the reasons why it isn’t about trauma and take a browse through my unkiss tag. It does bear repeating that Sansa factually remembers every scary thing that happened during the Blackwater and why it happened, indicating she has processed it honestly and critically, before any incarnation of the unkiss happens. The unkiss is a mismemory added on to the facts, which began as her being the actor that kissed him first. It’s not a lie to deny the facts or to excuse his behavior. It’s regrettable to her that Sandor was not able to be the person she could rely on to get her out of KL at that time. Nonetheless, this repressed desire is just so strong in her that it manifested in a kiss so real she could remember how it felt after the reality of his leaving KL for good sank in.

Early AGOT Sansa tended to want to move past unpleasantness rather quickly. Just sweep those red flags under the rug so everything can go back to blissful harmony. Sansa is naturally averse to conflict and just wants her present with the royal family to be smooth sailing into a bright future. Ned had a very similar tendency when it came to concerns over Robert’s true character. He saw things that disturbed him, but he hoped and clung to his idea of Robert anyway. For Sansa, this resulted in some misplaced blame and rewriting events so she could deal with the aftermath. This is mostly seen in her processing the Mycah incident after Lady’s death and how her perception of all the characters involved shifted in varying ways. This is after she knew perfectly well what really happened, because Ned says Sansa had already told him the truth of what Joffrey did while Arya was still missing. However, it would also be unfair to completely chalk this up to Sansa’s idiosyncrasies. We have to put her flip-flopping in the context of the situation as well. She’s also experienced a gutting loss with Lady’s death and the fact that the first blow to her innocence was her father volunteering to put Lady down. She doesn’t have Catelyn to go to with her confusion and hurt, and Ned has largely been silent. She’s also still engaged to Joffrey through all this, this is still a patriarchy, there are political ramifications to speaking against a crown prince, and she doesn’t know how to deal with seeing such cruelty and vindictiveness in her future husband. Especially when he responded to her tender concern and wanting to help him with venom and hate.

I mean, jeez, she’s 11. I don’t expect an 11 year old to understand how to identify the signs of emotional manipulation or see how this situation can escalate into domestic violence. Just because Sansa can’t articulate what is happening within her relationship with Joffrey, doesn’t mean she has blocked out any notion that Joffrey can turn his anger on her. Part of the reason she misplaces blame on Arya (and rewrites what happened) is because Joffrey turns scornful of Sansa for being a witness to his emasculating shame. He punishes her with the cold shoulder because she didn’t immediately take his side and pretended not to see instead. He regains power through making Sansa feel small and fearful of his moods.

“He had not spoken a word to her since the awful thing had happened, and she had not dared to speak to him.” -- Sansa II, AGOT.

Sansa looked at him and trembled, afraid that he might ignore her or, worse, turn hateful again and send her weeping from the table. -- Sansa II, AGOT.

This is coming from someone who is supposed to love her and someone she will spend the rest of her life with. To fix things, she must be unequivocally on Joffrey’s side going forward or suffer the consequences, which we can see happening as her story completely flips over breakfast sometime later. This is not saying Sansa is fully exonerated from not supporting her sister when she needed her, but that it’s understandable how she arrived at this point. Even when things start to get really bad after Ned’s arrest, Sansa still holds out some hope that she can appeal to Joffrey’s (and Cersei’s) love for her to get him to be merciful. Is it really her fault she believed a part of Joffrey really loved her (and thus was reachable by her pleas) if he also heavily love bombed her and treated her like she was the most special girl in the world? Love bombing is a classic feature of the seduction phase leading up to abuse.

So we can see Sansa does ignore truths and rewrite events sometimes and her personality is a factor; however, the context surrounding it matters a lot. Post Ned’s execution, Sansa does a full 180 regarding Joffrey and Cersei.

Sansa stared at him, seeing him for the first time. He was wearing a padded crimson doublet patterned with lions and a cloth-of-gold cape with a high collar that framed his face. She wondered how she could ever have thought him handsome. His lips were as soft and red as the worms you found after a rain, and his eyes were vain and cruel. "I hate you," she whispered. -- Sansa VI, AGOT.

Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father's head. Sansa would never make that mistake again. -- Sansa I, ACOK.

"A monster," she whispered, so tremulously she could scarcely hear her own voice. "Joffrey is a monster. He lied about the butcher's boy and made Father kill my wolf. When I displease him, he has the Kingsguard beat me. He's evil and cruel, my lady, it's so. And the queen as well." -- Sansa I, ASOS.

There’s also her conscious efforts to push away thoughts of her dead family and Jeyne Poole, but she states why she does that. It’s traumatic, the tears start flowing uncontrollably, and she is desperately trying to avoid falling into another suicidal depression. Her survival in KL depends on her holding it together and appearing loyal and obedient to Joffrey. Mourning her loved ones would imply to Joffrey she is plotting treason. Besides, she knows that even if she did ask Cersei or LF about Jeyne, she has no reason to believe they’d do anything but lie to her face in a patronizing way. There’s no point being plagued with wondering what the truth might be when she can’t do anything about it. Still, she prayed for Jeyne wherever she might be. She genuinely thought Arya had made it to WF on the ship and was safe at least until she got word of her brothers’ deaths and her home being sacked by the Iron Born, though there was initially a touch of projection and fantasizing about Arya being free while she remains captured. As of Feast, she believes she is the last Stark left alive and she has no one but Littlefinger to help her. So while she is suppressing her grief, it’s done with good reason, and it’s not being replaced with any false narratives to cope.

We also cannot ignore that her relationship to Sandor Clegane has instilled in her an appreciation for the un-sugarcoated truth now that she has experienced betrayal and injustice first hand. In his own way, he’s encouraged her to listen to her own inner bullshit detector. The rose-tinted glasses have become a lot more clear compared to where she started. This is a newly learned skill though, and her self-confidence has been wrecked by internalized verbal abuse. She’s also been left on her own to figure out people’s intentions by herself, which runs parallel to her mounting desperation to get out of KL as Joffrey’s violence escalates. Developing a touch more of a jaded, skeptical side does sometimes clash with her enduring idealism and faith in other people (like with the Tyrells). This struggle is not a bad thing. The goal isn’t to become as cynical as the Hound, but to arrive at an earned optimism that has been tempered by wisdom and practical experience.

Her situation with Littlefinger is much more challenging than anything she faced in KL. He moves her where he wants her to go with complex web of lies, manipulation, grooming, isolation, coercion, dependence, guilt and shame. Her safety and desire to go home are tightly bound to being complicit in his lies and criminal activities. She feels indebted to him for getting her out of KL, even though his methods push her past her boundaries and force her to compromise her moral integrity. The thing is, there are things Sansa does know about LF, but she doesn’t seem to be ready to try and put the puzzle pieces together. She’s not daring to ask probing questions about Lysa’s reference to the “tears” and Jon Arryn or about the possible dangers of Maester Colemon prescribing sweetsleep for Robert’s convulsions. While the subject of Jeyne’s fate is still one she doesn’t want to revisit, somewhere in her mind she does know LF took custody of her friend. If it feels like this is somewhat of a regression back to her early AGOT self, there’s probably some truth to that; however, it’s perfectly okay for positive character arcs to be an imperfect progress. There can be relapses, regressions, setbacks, missteps, and misguided actions. All that growth isn’t lost. Everything she knows is just stored in the back of her mind, not forgotten completely. The general trend line moves her toward successfully confronting Littlefinger with the truth when GRRM is ready to pull the trigger. She’s definitely aware of Littlefinger lying to her more than she lets on and she knows his help is not out of the kindness of his heart, but motivated by what he wants her to be to him. But it’s not like she has the option to go anywhere else, does she? She’s a wanted criminal with a bounty on her head and has no other friend or ally in the Vale she can trust with the truth of her identity. Confronting LF without any means of neutralizing his power over her isn’t the smartest thing to do when he’s shown her he can literally get away with multiple murders. Again, it’s not just her personality that makes her hesitant to pull back the veil and face the horrible truth head on. The outside forces pressuring her perceptions and behavior cannot be discounted either.

#valyrianscrolls #sansa stark meta #sansa stark #joffrey baratheon #sandor clegane #littlefinger #cersei #asoiaf characterization #the unkiss #character arcs #my meta #anonymous

45 notes · View notes

arlingtonpark · 4 years ago

Text

SNK 138 Review

The moral of this chapter is that the rumbling is all Mikasa’s fault. #truth.

Mikasa loves Eren. She loves, loves, loves him.

Eren’s family brought her into their home and they became her new family. Eren wrapped a scarf around her, and she never forgot that. Mikasa wanted to live a quiet, peaceful life with Eren, and nothing would stop that from coming true.

No matter how many times that suicidal blockhead got into trouble, she’d bail him out. Bullies, titans, warriors. On the street or on the battlefield.

She’s indulged Eren’s pursuit of freedom, but she’s always kept her eyes on what was always on the horizon: a mountain cottage with just her and Eren. Basically her old life but with her new family this time.

It’s what she’s always wanted. It was her wish.

But she failed.

This time, Eren went too far. In multiple meanings of that phrase.

Eren is easily the worse thing to ever happen to humanity. Like, maybe a giant asteroid hitting the planet would be worse, but idk. We saw there were many survivors, but it’s genuinely a question if human civilization can bounce back from this.

The human death toll is only the tip of the iceberg. Food and shelter will be hard to come by. Vital infrastructure is destroyed, so shipping emergency supplies into damaged areas will be impossible. Not just food, but medicine and materials to rebuild. The rumbling also probably ruined a lot of farmland, so there won’t be any food for a long time no matter what. Now consider the environment Eren caused. Many habitats were probably crushed, which means there is a mass dying off of animal life to come. And on and on, deeper and deeper into the abyss.

The whole planet is screwed.

Oh, yeah, and he killed most of his friends.

Not even Mikasa can save Eren from all this.

Mikasa has always clung to the hope of a simple life with Eren, but what she realizes in that vision she has is that there is no hope. Her dreams are dead.

I’ve been very critical of Mikasa for being slow to realize that. She just wasn’t making any progress with accepting Eren needed to die. Every single time it was brought up that they had to kill Eren, Mikasa would react like it’s the first time she’s heard it. Every discussion of that need seemed to bounce right off her.

There was no progress, and as a reader, that was so frustrating. She couldn’t accept it right until the last second. I was so sure Isayama was setting up a scenario where Mikasa failed to let Eren go at the moment of truth, and then she would be the one to get killed.

(Dark? Yeah, but the Earth is ruined, so why the fuck not?)

How Mikasa comes to let go of Eren and her dreams was so beautifully done that I honestly think it makes up for all the thick-headedness we got from her up until now.

The takeaway from Mikasa’s vision is that it’s not real. It’s not her reality. She could have told Eren how she really felt back then, but she didn’t and it’s too late to take it back.

Arguably, it was too late even before they joined the military. Eren’s death was guaranteed when he gained the Attack Titan. Living alone with Eren was always going to last a handful of years.

I think that’s what Mikasa realizes in this sequence. This world where she essentially gets what she wants is not her world. It’s not even a memory she can cherish. It’s what she wants, but cannot have now.

It’s a long dream.

(As far as Mikasa is concerned)

I don’t actually know what this vision is supposed to be exactly. Maybe it’s an alternate reality or a previous reality (ie a timeloop). Maybe Mikasa is seeing this because of Eren or maybe it’s her ackerblood. That can be explained later, but for now, it doesn’t matter.

The point is that Mikasa’s life is cruel, and she needs to focus on what little, minor, insignificant parts of it are beautiful.

It would have been easy to kill Eren in righteous fury. He harmed and killed so many people. I for one am glad he’s dead, and I hope he burns in hell. And I don’t think anyone would’ve been surprised if Mikasa killed him with horrified tears in her eyes. But that’s not what happened.

She killed him with a smile on her face. She killed him as an act of love. I think a big part of why Eren made so many people suffer is that he himself was suffering. The way he saw it, so long as people existed outside the walls, he couldn’t be free, and so long as he wasn’t free, he would struggle endlessly until the day he died. He would never know peace.

That doesn’t make him worthy of anyone’s sympathy, but it does make Mikasa’s slaying of him an act of kindness.

In hindsight, Mikasa was always going to be the one to kill him. She was the only one who’s killing of Eren could be reasonably presented as an act of love.

At last Mikasa has returned Eren’s favor: she wrapped the scarf around him. Just as Eren ended her suffering by taking her in, Mikasa has ended Eren’s suffering by taking his life.

Instead of thinking of all the harm Eren’s caused, Mikasa chose to think of the good he did.

Eren did wrap the scarf around her. What he’s done since does not diminish that kindness. In the time they knew each other, they were in it together, against the titans, and both enemies in the walls and outside it. And they cared about each other.

Is that petty compared to all the people Eren’s killed?

Yes, it is.

If you didn’t know him personally, that is. I’m willing to grant that Mikasa’s relationship with Eren makes her justified in having a unique perspective on him and his actions.

If this vision means anything, it means Eren loved her. What’s sad is that the closest Mikasa will ever get to experiencing that love is kissing his corpse.

But Mikasa isn’t abandoning Eren either. Like in Trost, she accepts that she cannot live with him, but pledges to live on regardless. Eren tells Mikasa to forget about him because apparently he thinks that to move on from him, she has to reject him completely. She has to reject even the memories she has of him.

Mikasa refuses. She even puts the scarf on as she’s preparing to kill him. Like in Trost, she promises to remember Eren even as she moves on from him.

What makes this moment so much more powerful than the one in Trost is that this time Mikasa is the one killing Eren.

I think this chapter cements Mikasa as a person of profound emotional strength. Who among us could kill their loved one as an act of mercy and smile the whole way through?

Mikasa killed Eren out of love rather than vengefulness, and in doing so, she has broken the cycle of violence.

Hallelujah!

I guess.

Eren is dead, the rumbling is over, and most of the cast is dead too. Soooooooo…, where do we go from here?

The sequence with Mikasa was great, but taking a wider view of the story, I’m left wondering how Isayama is going to play the aftermath of this disaster.

Attack on Titan is not as hopeful a story as people think it is. “The world is cruel, but also beautiful.” I think people pay too much attention to the latter half of that quote. Yes, hope glimmers through the darkness, but that’s all it does. It glimmers. The light is still enveloped in darkness.

Just ask yourself: what are we supposed to make of all this?

The climax is over, but it’s basically a wash for everyone involved. Humanity survived, but will have to deal with famine and ruination for decades to come. Eren succeeded in crippling humanity, but failed to fully wipe them out. The Alliance saved humanity, but at the cost of not only their lives, but the lives of their loved ones, too.

There is nothing beautiful about this.

In the real world, violence and cruelty are not as common as Attack on Titan would have you believe. I think the series is smart on how it’s described people overcoming their animosity: everyone has a monster inside them and everyone needs to work hard to keep that monster in check. Unfortunately, the series vastly overestimates how powerful that monster is.

“I got the idea for Attack on Titan from a computer game. The whole universe was under attack from aliens. I thought if those monsters ate humans, that would be pretty interesting. The cruelty of man-eating titans. I think it came from my experience of growing up in a farm. As a child, I remember thinking ‘all living creatures must get nutrition from other living creatures to survive.’ We might call it cruel, but it is actually the norm.”

-Isayama, on his inspirations for Attack on Titan

Humans are not like animals. Human beings have created a complex web of sociopolitical and economic relationships called “society” which other animals do not have. Yes, humans commit violence because of a need they must have satisfied, similar to how an animal hunts for nutrition, but human needs are strongly affected by society.

What this means is that it is always possible to modify society so those needs can be met through less violent means.

Humans have a strong need for community. But nationalism isn’t the only way to express or satisfy that need. There are other outlets like sports or religion that can do the job. I’m not saying that Floch would’ve turned out alright if he’d gotten a hobby he could pal around with everyone with…well, actually, yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.

Extremism is always a choice. It is never inevitable.

Attack on Titan acknowledges that people can do better individually, but I don’t think it’s ever acknowledged that herd mentality doesn’t always hold.

And no, I’m not counting the Marleyans at Ft. Salta as an example of that. They made peace with the Eldians en masse, but then Isayama, almost as if to mock the very idea of making amends, has the Eldians turn into titans and destroy the fort.

An ending where Eren outright wins was never going to happen. The laws of good storytelling required that he get a comeuppance for resorting to the rumbling. That didn’t mean the Alliance had to win.

After reading the chapter, I was left with an overwhelming sense of emptiness. No one really got what they wanted even though they all basically lost everything. I’m glad there’ll be one final chapter to sort it all out because it can’t end like this.

Eren committed the most despicable act imaginable; the Alliance acted bravely to stop him. The story can’t end with the Alliance no better off than him.

He was going to die no matter what, so the simple fact that he’s dead and (some) of the Alliance are alive isn’t much of a consolation.

Even humanity being alive doesn’t really mean Eren failed. Paradis is self-sufficient and mostly intact. They can ride out whatever environmental blowback the rumbling causes with little trouble. Any leg up Paradis gets because of what Eren did is a victory for him.

Something more needs to happen that really sticks it to Eren. I don’t know what that could be, but next chapter will hopefully be the Eren POV we’ve been waiting for, so my fingers are crossed that Isayama will have something up his sleeve.

Remaining question marks include the worm thing, Historia’s baby, and the fallout from this possible timeloop reveal. All three of these plot points could easily be fumbled in the final chapter in a way that ruins the ending.

If Historia’s child is really born with titan powers, then they’ll die by age 13. It’s like being born with a crippling birth defect. Hooray?

As for Historia herself, what role did she play in Eren’s plan, really? Everyone’s assumed the details of her pregnancy have been obscured because it’s relevant to the main action of the story. Somehow.

It’d be really lame if she was just a passive bystander. If the pregnancy was only tenuously relevant to the rumbling.

One idea I’ve toyed with is that the final chapter will actually be Historia’s POV and we’ll learn Eren’s POV through her.

We still don’t know what else was said between Eren and Historia when they discussed his plans. That conversation was a critical juncture for Eren: he confided his plans in a friend and they came out strongly against it. Returning to that moment is a good opportunity for us to see what Eren really thinks and what’s really driving him. And that can be done through Historia’s perspective.

Everything about the worm thing is a mess and I wish Isayama had kept it out of the story. Like, yes, this thing is “the source of all organic life” as Kruger put it. It is the first complex lifeform to evolve on Earth and all living species are descended from it.

Why does it have supernatural powers?

The worm thing’s motivation has been described as being to simply propagate, which is to say it’s more a force of nature than an intelligent being acting on a cognitive thought.

Its actions are purely conative. It acts purposefully, but not out of intelligent thought, like how a hyena acts to obtain food for itself. It has a goal it strives to achieve, but not in the same way as humans do.

(The greatest tragedy in Attack on Titan is that this distinction is apparently lost on Isayama)

I don’t know how the worm thing will be dealt with; I just think it’s weird to introduce this thing as a late stage antagonist when it’s just an animal doing its thing.

Speaking of questionable, late stage additions to the story: all this timeloop business.

We’re really doing this now? In the second to last chapter???

This is like if episode ten of Madoka Magica was the last episode. What can the existence of a timeloop add to this story-that’s-already-over.

How did it start? By what means? To what end? What does this add to the characters and themes of SNK?

Everything about is just… ??????

If nothing else, I expect the final chapter to at least try and resolve these plot points.

Next chapter is the last. Ladies and gentlemen, our final moments together are upon us. It has been a privilege playing with you tonight.

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk 138 #snk chapter 138 #snk spoilers

15 notes · View notes

lilibetts · 5 years ago

Photo

for Tricks and Treats of Riverdale Theme # whichever freaking one involves spooky shit like possession or whatever.

“So, what are you going to be for Halloween, Jughead?”

It was the question Jughead dreaded the most, especially coming from Betty.

He had just gotten an afterschool job at the Twilight Drive-In and he’d been working as many hours as he possibly could on top of school and babysitting Jellybean to afford costumes for both of them. But then it turned out they were behind on the phone bill, so he spent most of his money to make sure it was paid up through the next month.

“Uh, it’s a surprise. What about you, Betty? Are you going as Nancy Drew again this year?”

She bit her lip and looked down at her shoes. “No, I decided to change things up now that we’re in high school. So I’m going as a medieval princess, kind of like Game of Thrones but not character-specific.”

Jughead was sure her choice had absolutely nothing to do with how last month Archie had announced he was going as a medieval knight. Then their indecisive friend had changed his mind and picked Spider-Man after Veronica Lodge wouldn’t stop waxing poetic about how yummy Tom Holland was.

“Cool. I guess I’ll see you later tonight?”

“You’d better!” Betty chirped, pontytail swishing violently as she skipped away. She didn’t mean that as anything more than her usual staunch commitment to kindness and friendship. And Betty was friendly with virtually everyone. Jughead sighed miserably as he watched her turn off towards her home.

Ah, the pangs of unrequited love.

He had been living with his crush on Betty Cooper for the better part of four months, which was an eternity in the timespan of a fourteen-slash-fifteen year old boy. And he’d keep living with his crush until it granted him mercy and faded. Or he died of old age.

Whichever came first.

******************************

Betty stood before her bed, staring down at the costume she’d bought when she thought she would complement Archie’s own, and felt monumentally stupid. What if Archie hadn’t changed his mind and she showed up in this medieval princess gown? She’d look obvious. Everyone would be snickering behind her back about Betty Cooper and her pathetic crush on Archie Andrews.

There was no way she could do this.

Pulling down the ladder, Betty headed up into the attic and started going through the boxes, looking for something radically different that she could pull together at the last minute. It was in an old trunk of her mom’s that she found it: a black leather jacket. It was the last thing she expected her mom to have ever owned but her curiosity was dashed by the figurative lightbulb going off above her head.

“Yes!”

Back there, on the clothes rack, there’d been...yes, Polly’s Homecoming dress from last year! It was long, just a shade off-white, and perfect.

Crushes made teenage girls do stupid things, that was true, but that only made moments of determined defiance like this all the more sweeter.

**********************************

“That...is not a medieval princess.”

Jughead took in her outfit with raised eyebrows.

“Well spotted, Jughead.” She smiled even as she rolled her eyes at him. “For your information I am Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It’s actually perfect because her name is Buffy Anne and Buffy is a variation of Elizabeth and—”

“—and your middle name is Ann.”

“I didn’t think you remembered my middle name, Juggie.”

“Well I do. Not much escapes this steel trap here.” He rapped his knuckles against his forehead. “Interesting prop you have there, Buffy Cooper.”

She held the wooden stake aloft. “I didn’t have a crossbow lying around, but I did find enough in the garage to fashion myself a stake.” Then she looked him up and down. “You do look rather dashing, Sir Juggie.”

She didn’t mention that his costume had been Archie’s first, one of the many acts of charity from the Andrews family. He was mostly grateful that Betty had changed hers, so that he didn’t seem obviously, pathetically in love with her by matching.

They were two years too young for couples costumes.

And y’know...not actually together.

************************************

Betty wasn’t entirely aware of it happening. One moment, she was laughing and crossing the street with Jughead, Archie, and Veronica, surrounded by dozens of other trick-or-treaters, the next she was holding her stake at the ready and keeping a careful eye on the four year-old vampire hissing as he ran at a shrieking fairy.

She managed to fly away and the baby vamp’s mother grabbed ahold of him. “I VANT TO SUCK YOUR BLOOD! I VANT! I VANT!” He screeched as he kicked and struggled in vain to free himself.

A woman stood in the middle of the street, hysterically crying as she cradled a giant halved avocado.

Demons, small skeletons, and ghouls of all sorts were running after confused and terrified adults, only for their attacks to be thwarted by a legion of mini superheros. A tiny Captain America with a star-spangled tutu flung her shield at a troll and knocked it out cold.

A bear wearing a blue-and-gold letterman jacket charged down the street and the strange boy crouched next to her...who was apparently Spider-Man...leaped away, slinging webs at the houses as he went. The bear continued to chase him and so Buffy shrugged and turned her attention to the zombies lumbering at a group of scared parents.

No sooner had she slammed one down into the concrete than a dashing knight with a black and gold cape and a sword came to her rescue and dispatched the second zombie. The third found himself floating in the air helplessly while a raven-haired girl with glasses, some kind of private-school uniform, and a purple/black tie pointed a wand at it.

Buffy spun her stake with her fingers and addressed the dark-haired knight wearing, of all things, a gray crown beanie. “Thanks. I’m not usually the damsel type, even if I’m frequently distressed. But if knights in shining armor look like you, then feel free to rescue me anytime.”

“You wouldn’t need to ask, my lady.” The knight bowed low. “If I may ask, what are you called?”

“Me? I’m Buffy Summers.”

“I wouldn’t dare be so familiar. I shall call you Lady Elizabeth.”

Buffy shrugged. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me a lady, but sure, let’s go with that. And what do they call you, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Delicious?”

“Prince Forsythe Pendleton Jones, the third.”

She whistled. “Sounds like a mouthful.”

He sheathed his sword and gave her a wink and a charming smile. Butterflies erupted in Buffy’s stomach, and for once, it wasn’t monster-related cramps.

********************

Prince Forsythe could hardly tear his eyes away from the strange woman who looked like a princess and yet fought the droves of warped creatures at his side like a warrior. She was clever and very forward.

“You know,” she said after sending a werewolf flying into some nearby bushes. “It’s kind of a thing around these parts for two warriors to share a kiss after emerging victorious in battle.”

Very forward.

After growing up around the palace and the constraints upon behavior between men and women, Forsythe found Buf- Lady Elizabeth refreshing. “That could be arranged, my lady.”

He tapped the pommel of his sword against the mangled gray skull of...hell, he didn’t have the faintest clue what that being was. But small as it was, it kept growling and trying to eat someone’s pet dog.

The witch with the indecent dress length stuck her finger in the air. “Merlin’s Beard, I’ve got it! I know who the Dark Lord is that’s casted a spell on all of us! You two, hold them off while I duel with Mr. Honey. You! Ginger girl with the candelabra? Keep on running across the lawns, lead the rest of them away!”

Forsythe twisted around and spotted the lady with flowing red locks and an elaborate nightrail, rushing across the green holding a three-pronged candlestick aloft.

Lady Elizabeth turned back to him. “FYI, I better be the only one you’re My Lady-ing, because I’m definitely a one-prince woman.” She executed a peculiar spinning kick that was all lethal grace and a sinister red-horned devil became entangled in an enormous spider’s web.

“Of course!” He shot back, insulted that she would think so low of him. “I’m no scoundrel!”

When Lady Elizabeth smiled at him then, it was as if the dark clouds that always followed him had parted, and there shone the sun.

They dispatched the last of the hostile creatures, with the assistance of other tiny, brightly colored warriors, and one very small princess with no qualms about using her scepter as a hammer.

The battle finished, Forsythe drove his sword into the ground and curled his arms around his Lady Buffy, dipping her backwards in a hard and exuberant kiss.

*****************************

Buffy curled her arms around her prince in gray beanie and kissed him back just as enthusiastically. Had she ever had a kiss like this before? Maybe it’d just been so long because of the pressures of being a Slayer. It was hard to have a normal dating life when you had to vanquish the forces of evil every other week, and then pass pop quizzes.

His lips were so soft against hers, and she felt the tingling all the way down to her toes. Betty gasped against Jughead’s lips, her head feeling strangely fuzzy all of the sudden.

She froze.

Jughead’s lips?

Her eyes flew open, only to see equally startled blue ones staring back at her.

They sprang apart, gaping at each other as they tried to make sense of what had just happened. Betty wasn’t sure how to feel about this development—maybe she was still half in love with Archie, but right now she didn’t exactly feel horrified that she’d kissed Jughead Jones and liked it. A lot.

Jughead didn’t look grossed out either.

They were still staring at each other when Veronica came storming out of a yellow craftsman house down the street, fuming. “Honestly, if you’re going to go around calling yourself ‘Mr. Honey’ that’s pretty much a giant advertisement that the one thing that’ll defeat you is summoning a spray of vinegar!”

Archie limped over to them, mask in hand and his costume torn in several spots. An embarrassed Moose Mason, shirtless save for his ripped jeans and letterman jacket, was a few paces behind.

**********************************

Jughead was doing his best to not be too hopeful about the shy smiles Betty was shooting his way even as they were joined by their friends. Even Cheryl, who glared at them as she stomped past.

“Oh, Bettykins,” Veronica murmured, hugging her best friend. “I’ll never make fun of you and your love of sleuthing ever again.”

“Vindication!” Betty playfully hissed out.

Archie groaned. “I don’t know about you guys, but I think I’ve had enough of tricks. Let’s go back to mine and treat ourselves to more greasy pizza and fizzy pop.”

Everyone else readily agreed and they started the trek back to the Andrewses. Jughead fished his cell phone out of his pocket and called his mom to check in on her and Jellybean. Both were fine, but his mom was exhausted from chasing ‘Jelly-cat’ all over the Southside.

One block away from Elm street, Betty dropped behind the other three and linked arms with him. Something fluttered in his chest when she grinned over at him.

“So, Prince Forsythe, any regrets about your choice of costume?”

“You know, all things considered, I have to say none at all, Lady Buffy. And you?”

“I don’t know, I have a feeling I’d still have kicked ass as Princess Elizabeth of House Cooper,” she mused.

“No question about it. Shall we, my badass lady? I’ll share a cheese pizza with you.”

“Have more romantic words ever been spoken?” Betty giggled, her arm tightening in his. “Lead on, my brave prince.”

All in all, it wasn’t that bad of a Halloween. Everyone was mad at the Daeneryses who had ordered their tiny dragons to burn a bunch of the candy (and some houses). The mayor blamed the incident on hallucinogenic drugs being leaked into the water system. Veronica did not handle the lack of recognition for her efforts well. Archie and Moose winced whenever the word ‘bear’ were so much as mentioned.

And Betty? Starting the following Monday at school, she started waiting at the corner of Dillon and Main for him, so they could walk the rest of the way together.

Maybe hope wasn’t just for fools after all, even ones named Jughead Jones.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead #riverdaleevents #avarosier writes

83 notes · View notes

beeblackburn · 4 years ago

Text

Pretender Reads A Little Hatred, Part I, Chapter Four

For those keeping score, I’m clipping through a chapter-a-day! Goes without saying spoilers ahead for the entirety of The First Law works beyond the keep reading. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Title: Keeping Score Point-of-View: Savine dan Glokta

Glokta once thought this of Valint and Balk:

So this is what true wealth looks like. This is how true power appears. The austere temple of the golden goddess. He watched the clerks working at their neat stacks of documents, at their neat desks arranged in neat rows. There the acolytes, inducted into the lowest mysteries of the church. His eyes flickered to those waiting. Merchants and moneylenders, shopkeepers and shysters, traders and tricksters in long queues, or waiting nervously on hard chairs around the hard walls. Fine clothes, perhaps, but anxious manners. The fearful congregation, ready to cower should the deity of commerce show her vengeful streak.

—Last Argument of Kings, Too Many Masters

I don’t think he ever anticipated said golden goddess to be walking in the flesh.

But she is no goddess, no. Not of the benevolent kind.

She is the Devil, kin to the devil-blood themselves.

Sparks showered into the night, the heat a constant pressure on Savine’s smiling face. Beyond the yawning doorway, straining bodies and straining machinery were rendered devilish by the glow of molten metal. Hammers clattered, chains rattled, steam hissed, labourers cursed. The music of money being made.

She is Kanedias, overseeing the workers, hot at the forges, seething with production and things that worked, just like him.

One-sixth of the Hill Street Foundry, after all, belonged to her.

Caring naught for humanity, this is another workshop set in Hell, full of Shanka, workers made to do the Master Maker’s bidding.

One of the six great sheds was her property. Two of the twelve looming chimneys. One in every six of the new machines spinning inside, of the coals in the great heaps shovelled in the yard, of the hundreds of twinkling panes of glass that faced the street. Not to mention one-sixth part of the ever-increasing profits. A flood of silver to put His Majesty’s mint to shame.

But, unlike Kanedias, this devil-blood cares more for money than weapons, the work leveraged to profit instead of done for the work itself. And, as the times go, smaller, meaner people walk beyond the shadows of greater people.

And whose shadow better than the first to commit to the power of coin?

“It was money that bought victory in King Guslav’s half-baked Gurkish war,” said Bayaz. “It was money that united the Open Council behind their bastard king. It was money that brought Duke Orso rushing to the defence of his daughter and tipped the balance in our favour. All my money.”

—Last Argument of Kings, Answers

This devil-blood walks in the shadows of the First of the Magi himself, only further committed to the High Art of making money.

And, on a voice standpoint, just read how much Savine’s POV is precise in the details of her workshop, how much numbers and calculations factors into it. How many longer, lingering sentences and more complex vocabulary there is, compared to Rikke or Leo’s chapters. This is a thinking woman, full of ambition and comfortable in the Other Side.

But, what is a Kanedias without his Jaremias? Or, better yet...

“Best not to loiter, my lady,” murmured Zuri, fires gleaming in her eyes as she glanced about the darkened street.

A Bayaz without his Yoru Sulfur?

She was right, as always. Most young ladies of Savine’s acquaintance would have come over faint at the suggestion of visiting this part of Adua without a company of soldiers in attendance. But those who wish to occupy the heights of society must be willing to dredge the depths from time to time, when they see opportunities glitter in the filth.

“On we go,” said Savine, boot heels squelching as she followed their link-boy’s bobbing light into the maze of buildings. Narrow houses with whole families wedged into every room leaned together, a spider’s web of flapping washing strung between, laden carts rumbling beneath and showering filth to the rooftops. Where whole blocks had not been cleared to make way for the new mills and manufactories, the crooked lanes reeked of coal smoke and woodsmoke, blocked drains and no drains at all. It was a borough heaving with humanity. Seething with industry. And, most importantly, boiling over with money to be made.

Quite the ambitious woman, Savine is, and with the prerequisite lack of scruples that a child of Glokta would have. Yet, Glokta never had this sort of ambition to him, even before the Gurkhul Empire got to him. After, he was just trying to keep his head above water and do his best to win. If I had to put my finger on where Savine gets her ambitions from, first trilogy-wise? I’d say it’s West more than Glokta. Savine shares quite a few characteristics with Glokta, but it’s that need to rise that I feel she shares with her uncle Collem West.

And look at this dense microcosm of the peasantry! Full of squalor, wretched stenches, spaces full of cramped families, it’s a tapestry stitched full of misery, and all Savine sees is that very humanity being put to use for making money.

Savine was by no means the only one who saw it. It was payday, and impromptu merchants swarmed about the warehouses and forges, hoping to lighten the labourers’ purses as they spilled out after work, selling small pleasures and meagre necessities. Selling themselves, if they could only find a buyer.

There were others hoping to lighten purses by more direct means. Grubby little cutpurses weaving through the crowds. Footpads lurking in the darkness of the alleys. Thugs slouching on the corners, keen to collect on behalf of the district’s many moneylenders.

I once read about how the only differences between the great and small thieves is a matter of legality and scale. And it really shows here, how we’ll take advantage of the poor conditions that the working class must endure, only to fill our own pockets. It hardly matters whether we steal with a small pleasure given or a sharp knife at the back, it’s taking advantage of those without much to line our own bottom lines.

Risks, perhaps, and dangers, but Savine had always loved the thrill of a gamble, especially when the game was rigged in her favour. She had long ago learned that at least half of everything is presentation. Seem a victim, soon become one. Seem in charge, people fall over themselves to obey.

So she walked with a swagger, dressed in the dizzy height of fashion, lowering her eyes for no one. She walked painfully erect, although Zuri’s earlier heaving on the laces of her corset gave her little choice. She walked as if it was her street—and indeed she did own five decaying houses further down, packed to their rotten rafters with Gurkish refugees paying twice the going rent.

Then it’s not really a gamble, is it, Savine. That’s stacking the deck, reaping the rewards of it, and patting yourself on the back for being a daring risk-taker, you fool. If that’s the root of your arrogance, then, boy, is this world going to topple you sooner than later because it doesn’t treat the arrogant much better than the merciful. And, boy, is Savine not lacking in arrogance. She reminds me of a pre-bridge Glokta, in terms of how much she buys into her own hype.

An intriguing nugget, though, is her predisposition with presentation. That need to perform and look a certain part. It’s definitely something Glokta, back then, never felt like he had to. I get more shades of West here and his need to perform to a certain standard, but I also think the question of gender has to be considered with how Savine feels she has to perform. It’s an interesting wrinkle in how Savine zigs where Glokta zagged in terms of their respective youths.

Also, Gurkish refugees? (arches a brow) What the hell happened to the Gurkish Empire? Or, are these just people who got tired of the cannibalistic slavery? I can’t really blame them, but is the Union really that much better, guys? Hmmm. Either way, way to take advantage of marginalized people in a racist society, Savine. You’re a class act, m’am, truly.

Zuri was a great reassurance on one side, Savine’s beautifully wrought short steel a great reassurance on the other. Many young ladies had been affecting swords since Finree dan Brock caused a sensation by wearing one to court. Savine found that nothing lent one confidence like a length of sharpened metal close to hand.

Whoa, whoa. Finree wears a sword nowadays? ... Actually, given how Hal’s dead, I can definitely see this as a way to establish authority and put herself on the same level of respect as a man in the Union. And, given how much there’s institutional sexism in that society, I can’t really blame her. Though, given the round of PTSD she got last handling a blade... I’m sure she doesn’t want to actually kill anyone with it now.

Honestly, though, good for Savine and those women of the Union. Better weigh your hopes of safety on a sword than the mercies of your men or enemies.

Savine gathered her skirts so she could squat beside him and look in his dirt-smeared face. She wondered if he sponged the muck on as artfully as her maids did her powder, to arouse just the right amount of sympathy. Clean children need no charity, after all.

Wow, Savine, has it ever occurred to you that the conditions you benefit off of aren’t as pristine as you make it out to be? Have you considered that maybe the world isn’t a projection of your own inclinations to performance?

Just no empathy here, none at all.

She was not at all above sentimental displays of generosity. The whole point of squeezing one’s partners in private was so they could do the squeezing in public. Savine, meanwhile, could smile ever so sweetly, and toss coins to an urchin or two, and appear virtuous without the slightest damage to her bottom line. When it comes to virtue, after all, appearances are everything.

The boy stared at the silver as though it was some legendary beast he had heard of but never hoped to see. “For me?”

She knew that in her button and buckle manufactory in Holsthorm, smaller and probably dirtier children were paid a fraction as much for a long day’s hard labour. The manager insisted little fingers were best suited to little tasks, and cost only little wages, too. But Holsthorm was far away, and things in the distance seem very small. Even the sufferings of children.

“For you.” She did not go as far as ruffling his hair, of course. Who knew what might be living in it?

I’m very reminded of capitalists donating to particular charities while turning a blind eye to the very real exploitation and labor abuse they perpetuate and are supported by. They can afford to look virtuous and get ass-pats for giving what’s effectively their pocket change, but god forbid they do things like get taxed heavier or give enough to put a good dent in most cases of institutional poverty. It’s all about appearances, and so long as you close your mind to the golden pillars, stained with blood, your entire enterprise is supported on, you can justify any means for profit.

And what frightens me about this is... this isn’t some relic from the past. Child labor is still a thing world-wide! And plenty of capitalists rely on them, plenty of our industries rely on them, just to squeeze out extra money to gild their bottom line. And we turn a blind eye on them and ignore the moral horrors of them out of convenience, because to look those children in the eye would make us monsters. And Savine prefers not to feel like a monster, but is more than willing to keep up the hellish circumstances that churn out her money.

“None more blessed, my scripture-teacher once declared, than those who light the way for others.”

“Was that the one who fathered a child on one of his other pupils?”

“That’s him.” Zuri’s black brows thoughtfully rose. “So much for spiritual instruction.”

Zuri’s certainly got a character, being a more cynical follower of religion, huh. I wonder if she’s been disillusioned by her faith, just like Temple was. And why she went to the atheist arms of the Union. I also wonder if this isn’t a commentary on how our religious leaders end up falling short of the actual beliefs and commit to the obscene and awful while papering it over with their high position.

Zuri whipped out a cloth and wiped down a vacant section of the counter, then, as Savine sat, she slipped out the pin and whisked away her hat without disturbing a hair. She kept it close to her chest, which was prudent. Savine’s hat was probably worth more than this entire building, including the clientele. At a brief assay, they only reduced its value.

And who’s partly responsible for that discrepancy of worth, huh, Savine?

She planted one elbow on the stretch of counter Zuri had wiped so she could lean closer and draw out both syllables. “Savine.”

“That’s a lovely name.”

“Oh, if you enjoy the tip, you’ll go mad for the whole thing.”

“That so?” he purred at her. “How does it go?”

“Savine… dan…” And she leaned even closer to deliver the punchline. “Glokta.”

If a name had been a knife and she had cut his throat with hers, the blood could not have drained more quickly from his face. He gave a strangled cough, took a step back and nearly fell over one of his own barrels.

Well, well, well! Glokta’s gotten quite the name for himself, it seems! Can’t exactly be surprised, given he’s the effective ruler of the Union and the Arch Lector of the Inquisition, but it’s a far cry from the simple Inquisitor he started off as, way back at the first trilogy’s start. He’s riding high at the top and Savine gets to use his name to put the screws on random dumbfucks.

Quite theatrical with her words, Savine is! She knows when to let her opponent in, so she can skewer him. Her fencing is such that she knows how to leverage her father’s name to a fine emotional stab to the throat once her opponent dips in and she lunges for the kill. Say one thing about Savine dan Glokta, say she knows how to fence, just like her father.

“If I spent all my time shut up with Mother, we would kill each other,” said Savine. “And I feel that business should be conducted, whenever possible, in person. Otherwise one’s partners can convince themselves that one’s eyes are not on the details. My eyes are always on the details, Majir.”

Oh, dang. Is that exaggeration or do Savine and Ardee not have a good relationship? Also, dang, is Ardee still alone in her home? That’s... actually really sad, given how lonely she was at the first trilogy’s start. She deserves better.

Also, Savine’s not wrong, but at the same time, I can’t read this as anything other than Savine not wanting her partners to fuck her over somewhere. Which, I can’t quite blame her for, but when she’s as rich as she’s implied to be...

My understanding runs thinner. Though, I suppose she wouldn’t have gotten the wealth she did by being a passive business partner that way.

“A promissory note from the banking house of Valint and Balk.”

“Really?” Valint and Balk had a dark reputation, even for a bank. Savine’s father had often warned her never to deal with them, because once you owe Valint and Balk, the debt is never done. But a promissory note was just money, and money can never be a bad thing. She tossed the pouch to Zuri, who peered inside and gave the smallest nod. “It’s coming to something when even the bandits are using the bank.”

Majir mildly raised one brow. “Honest women have the law to protect them. Bandits must take more care with their earnings.”

!!!!! WHOA, WHOA, WHOA. Is that a smart call, Majir? Glokta’s not wrong there!!! There’s half a trilogy detailing how awful that bank is!

Savine, what are you doing. For such a ruthless and to-the-point woman, that’s pretty naive to assume money is money when your father himself warned you against it! Banks have ruined better people than you, and it’s indebted your father! How can you say something like that and think it smart?

(Bangs head against desk)

“True.” Majir watched her turn away, big fists pressed into the counter. “Do pass my regards to your father.”

Savine laughed. “Let’s not demean ourselves by pretending my father gives a dry fuck for your regards.” And she blew a kiss at the terrified barman on her way out.

This, along with her pinching Majir’s cheek earlier, makes me think Savine just gets off on punching down and patronizing people lower than her. Makes for a killer ending line, but it doesn’t suggest any good things about Savine as a person at all.

Dietam dan Kort, famed architect, was a man who gave every appearance of being in control. His desk, scattered with maps, surveys and draughtsman’s drawings, was certainly a wonder of engineering. Savine had moved among the most powerful men in the realm and still doubted she had ever seen a larger. It filled his office so completely, there was only the narrowest of passages around the edges to reach his chair. He must have needed help to squeeze himself through every morning. She wondered if she should recommend her corset-maker.

“Lady Savine,” he intoned. “What an honour.”

“Isn’t it, though?” She made him lean dangerously far across the desk in order to kiss her hand. Savine studied his, meanwhile, big and broad with fingers scarred from hard work. A self-made man. His greying hair was painstakingly scraped across a pate quite obviously bald. A proud and a vain man. She noticed a slight fraying of the cuffs on his once-splendid coat. A man in straitened circumstances, intent on appearing otherwise.

In short, a man Savine will take pleasure in wringing. And I must take note of the passages here, how much Savine’s POV attends to the details of her surroundings, of the appearance and small notes that others would miss. In a lot of ways, she’s the opposite of Leo, someone who takes pains to note the presentation of another because she’s very driven to it herself and thinks to leverage that knowledge to squeeze those who can be.

Also, I kind of wonder if noble titles can be bought in this world, given this assumption of Dietam dan Kort as a self-made man. Either that or Kort’s just a son from a smaller family who managed to get a good opportunity through this new age. Either way, given the way Savine’s accumulated her wealth, despite her noble title of Glokta, I imagine he’s similar to her, if only not as successful.

Zuri placed Majir’s pouch on the desk as delicately as if it had been deposited by a summer breeze. It looked very small on that immense expanse of green leather. But that was the magic of banks. They could render the priceless tiny, the immense worthless.

I’m reminded of Daniel Abraham’s The Dagger and the Coin and how the big twist was this dawn of paper money about to circulate throughout the world. And how it’s a sort of magic in its own right... but it’s always a blessing and curse, just like magic in the Circle of the World.

“Of course!” He was unable to disguise a note of eager greed as he reached across the desk. “I believe we agreed a twentieth share—”

Savine placed one fingertip on the corner of the pouch. “You mentioned a twentieth. I remained silent.”

His hand froze. “Then…?”

“A fifth.”

There was a pause. While he decided how outraged he could afford to be, and Savine decided how little to appear to care.

Eager greed, huh? Me thinks, the raven call the crow black here. And there’s another note of projection in Savine’s POV, it’s a consistent note of Savine seeing intent where there might not be. She does it with the link-boy about how dirty he was, and now, she does it with Kort’s outrage. She just can’t seem to think that these reactions and people are genuine. Her head’s full of presentation and performance, and she just seems to internalize that there’s always a double-meaning to everything and everyone.

It’s honestly a really fascinating note about how unreliable Savine might be, how much her predilection with appearances bleeds into how much she reads into the world.

“When I confide, in strictest confidence, that you are short of investment, lacking the necessary permissions and troubled by restless workmen, it will be all over town before sunup.”

“Sure as printing it in a pamphlet,” said Zuri, sadly.

“Good luck finding an investor then, reasonable or otherwise.”

It had only taken a moment for Kort to go from bright red to deathly pale, and Savine burst out laughing. “Don’t be silly, I won’t do that!” She stopped laughing. “Because you are going to sign one-fifth of your enterprise over to me. Now. Then I can confide in Tilde that I just made the investment of a lifetime, and she won’t be able to resist investing herself. She’s not only loose-lipped, you see, but tight-fisted, too.”

Oh, very hard power here, Savine. Corporate blackmail and underhanded threats, I very well see. It must do your black heart a bundle of joy to punch down on fellow nobles. There’s barely any carrot here, mostly the stick.

“Greed is a quality the priests abhor.” Zuri sighed. “Especially the rich ones.”

“But so widespread these days,” lamented Savine. “If Lady Rucksted sees some gain in it, I daresay she can persuade her husband to make a breach in Casamir’s Wall so you can extend your canal into the Three Farms.” And Savine could sell the worthless slum buildings she had bought on the canal’s likely route back to herself at an immense profit. “The marshal’s notoriously stubborn for most of us but to his wife he’s a pussycat. You know how it is with old men and their young brides.”

In a lot of ways, this feels like a statement of the new generation, the new wave of greed that Sult disdained way back at the trilogy’s start is in full swing now. Now, Sult was a classist bigot who wanted the peasantry to knuckle down to nobility like old times, but at the same time, we see how much this attitude of greed has bled into the nobility themselves now, far beyond the realms of the merchants Sult once held in contempt. And Savine plays to get ahead of the others, already thinking reaches ahead of her competition here. Profit’s the name of the game, and she’s a natural hand at it...

“The first to do so.” Where it could service Savine’s three textile mills and the Hill Street Foundry, incidentally, and sharply raise their productivity. “I daresay—for a friend—I could even arrange a visit of His Majesty’s Inquisitors to a labour meeting. I imagine your troublesome workers will be far more pliable after a few stern examples are made.”

“Stern examples,” threw in Zuri, “are something the priests are always in favour of.”

... Though it doesn’t hurt to have father’s institutions as muscle to sweeten the pot, huh. Really, Savine, this is embarrassing if you think this is a fair game between you and Kort. You stacked the deck and have the dealer on your side and I imagine this wasn’t the first time you’ve leveraged the Inquisition in your business deals. (snorts)

Kort sagged, his chin settling into the roll of fat beneath it, his eyes fixed resentfully upon her. Clearly, he was not a man who liked to lose. But where would be the fun in beating men who did?

Savine really gets her kicks off punching down people lower than her. That’s like, an inherent part of her psychology, huh.

“A notary from the firm of Temple and Kahdia is already drawing up the papers. He will be in touch.” She turned towards the door.

Hey! Temple’s business! Sounds like he’s done well for himself since Red Country, I hope he’s doing well with Shy, Pit, and Ro! Though, dang, Temple, could your business not help out a woman like Savine?

“They warned me,” Kort grunted as he slid Valint and Balk’s note from the pouch. “That you care about nothing but money.”

“Why, what a pompous crowd they are. Beyond a point I passed long ago, I don’t even care about money.” Savine flicked the brim of her hat in farewell. “But how else is one to keep score?”

Oh, oh my. I know I’ve mentioned Kanedias, Bayaz, and West, but this part? This part? All Sand dan Glokta, down on a bone-deep level. This is the part of Glokta that just loved to lord his dominance over those who couldn’t punch back. The part that just loved to feel superior to everyone else, way back back at that bridge when he thrashed those fencers and wanted to wound West when his own blood was drawn. The part of him that can’t stand to lose, the need to win at all cost.

It’s all about the conquest with her and her father. There’s no higher-minded purpose behind it, it’s just the winning.

As a chapter, Keeping Score, is a microcosm of Savine’s character. There’s an arc in it, but not as strong as one as Where the Fight’s Hottest, nor is it quite as impactful as Blessings and Curses. But it has plenty of Abercrombie snark and some great starting fencing, though, with opponents that Savine can easily take down without much effort. But it sets up a great industrial age sweeping over Adua and how much that change’s going to affect the world going forward... and how Savine’s going to take that change by the tails.

As a character... Savine’s 100% more interesting than Leo in a lot of ways, but at the same time, wow, is she just a spectacularly scummy person in most ways Leo just isn’t (aside from him being a oblivious musclehead). A capitalist who leverages her father in power plays and corporate blackmail, just to gain even more wealth that she doesn’t need out of a need to win. There are definitely interesting aspects to how Savine differs from her father and her historical DNAs, but in a lot of ways? She feels very reminiscent of pre-bridge Glokta in a way that makes me realize that man would’ve been downright insufferable as a POV.

I can take Savine, because I definitely think she’s got a ton of potential and, you know, there’s no way Abercrombie would let her stay the same the entire book. Though, a curious thought is that Savine strikes me less a fantasy archetype than a modern archetype in a fantasy world. Hm. That’s an interesting thought, especially considering how much Temple was a modern character dropped in a fantasy western world.

PART I

Chapter One: Blessings and Curses Chapter Two: Where the Fight’s Hottest Chapter Three: Guilt Is a Luxury Chapter Four: Keeping Score Chapter Five: A Little Public Hanging Chapter Six: The Breakers Chapter Seven: The Answer to Your Tears Chapter Eight: Young Heroes Chapter Nine: The Moment

#a little hatred #a little hatred spoilers #the age of madness #the first law #joe abercrombie #savine dan glokta #a little hatred part I

3 notes · View notes

letters-from-the-three-houses · 6 years ago

Note

Y'know, something been bugging me when they release profiles like that. We know Hubert is Edelgard's retainer, and she has a rivalry going on with Ferdinand. Dimitri has Felix as childhood friend, and Dedue owned him and volunteered to be his guard. Like they all have some sorts of bond? But so far Claude has nothing like such, we don't even know whats his deal with Lorenz, Hilda or Raphael. This is why I feel its hard to grasp Golden Deer' relationships overall, they kinda lack connection.

edit: see @8bit-suffering’s reply! i also forgot to add that sylvain spars with ferdinand

good call! i didn’t realize it myself, but you’re right on the money. the other houses have relationship dynamics, but the golden deer don’t mention each other in their profiles (except lorenz to claude, and even then, it’s in the clip—not the bio itself). i think the only substantial golden deer interaction we’ve seen so far is leonie + raphael? like, they’re actually having a conversation together

to be fair, they’ve gotten the least attention so far. there’s been tiny implicit relationships within the other houses—ashe + ingrid eating together, or bernadetta + dorothea picking weeds (though let’s be honest, anyone would bond over assigned forced group work). i also just noticed this when i was writing up a reply, but the golden deer tend to introduce themselves without anyone around. hilda’s the only exception thus far, bc claude hangs in the back while she talks

that might be why the only deer relationships i have a concrete idea of are:

claude/hilda

leonie/raphael

lysithea/igna(z/ce) from that one screenshot of them together (in lorenz’s clip, i think that’s them in the background too)

lysithea/marianne (they sit close to each other in the cg scene)

edit: claude/lorenz; i forgot to list that!

in comparison, the black eagles have:

bernadetta/dorothea

caspar/linhardt

edelgard/petra

hubert/edelgard

hubert/petra

ferdinand/edelgard

ferdinand/bernadetta

ferdinand/dorothea (same logic as lys + mari; they stand close to each other in the cg)

blue lions:

ashe/ingrid

mercie/annette

dedue/felix (why would you train with someone you don’t like?)

annette/ashe (same reasoning)

dedue/dimitri

dedue/ashe

felix/dimitri

felix/ingrid

there’s even an eagle/lion thing going on with bernadetta/sylvain and a quick lion/deer with mercedes mentioning lorenz, giving off an illusion that the eagles and lions are just that much more sociable

the funnest part? all of the golden deer profiles give off ‘i do my own thing’ vibes!

claude - probably charismatic and charming but keeps others at a distance; kinda like you know them but don’t at the same time

lorenz - doesn’t like claude; “snobby”, constantly tries—and fails—to interact with women (connotation that he doesn’t have people he usually hangs out with?)

hilda - sweet talks others (connotation that she doesn’t have a sense of camaraderie with anyone?)

raphael - focused on training, like felix. but unlike felix, has no known childhood friends

the lack of chemistry might result from the fact that the alliance doesn’t have a) a strict figurehead that the territory revolves around and b) any closely knit groups. adrestia will definitely have a pecking order amongst their nobility; the emperor is a revered status, so whether the other characters act loyal (hubert) or jealous (ferdinand) still give off a sense of character dynamics. the blue lions, on the other hand, have an interconnecting web of relationships evidenced by who they’re around (the only odd man out is sylvain) edit: i lied, sylvain’s part of the happy family :’)

claude is leicester’s future leader, yeah, but he doesn’t have obvious authority over the rest of the nobles. unlike edelgard, who can probably tell others what or what not to do, the power amongst leicester seems equal. so it makes sense that they are ‘doing their own thing’. as for the blue lions, i honestly can’t tell you why they’re all so friendly to each other. they’re like one big family; it’s great

still, it would be nice to see the deer interact with each other more. whether or not this is important plot-wise or nintendo just cherry picked what to show us is anyone’s guess though

#fire emblem three houses #fe16 #fe3h #black eagles #blue lions #golden deer #asks #speculations #anon #prerelease

53 notes · View notes

dmny25 · 6 years ago

Text

Daenerys was never a well-written character

This is going stir controversy, but whatever.

I was never Daenerys’ biggest fan, the whole dragon thing never moved me, I usually wasn't taken in by her set pieces besides shock and awe. However, I never hated her (and I still don't). I was rooting for her to win the throne up until season 6.

The point of watching and investing in any character's arc is growth and development (or sometimes lack thereof as is the case with Cersei but she still evolves). Daenerys grows in seasons 1 - 5 from a meek princess to a khalessi to a conqueror to a queen. That is all good stuff. Season 5, which some people don't like, I loved at the time. It was so important for her growth, but now it's meaningless and I feel like I wasted my time. Going into season 6 and 7, so much of that character work was just thrown away and I don't understand why because it was good.

Dany was learning diplomacy, learning the intricacies of ruling, the grey areas that exist in morality, when mercy is necessary and so many other lessons that were thrown to the wayside. She regressed from a queen to a khalessi in season 6, which, fine, parallels and symmetry and coming full circle. But season 7? Their writing of her and the choices made for her storyline was atrocious.

The writers failed her and they failed her hard. Her character progression and development went so backward that it honestly makes me angry. They shafted her storyline in Westeros and her growth as queen for her stupid forced romance with Jon and has her going back on her words and her values. She's being a conqueror, not a queen despite her claims that she was going to be a queen who ruled and not a conqueror.

I feel like they've given her no endgame beyond the iron throne. She takes it, but then what? What is her tax plan? How will she harvest food for winter? What is she going to do to support infrastructure in the city? Is anyone going to fix the damn sewer system? How is she going to rid the city of corruption? Is she going to burn all the goldcloaks and replace them with Unsullied? I'm sure that'll go over well. She never actually got control of Drogon, he just came back to help her out and she never addressed the whole burning-a-three-year-old thing, what if he accidentally or purposefully kills another kid? Not hard to do in a city as densely populated as King's Landing. What about food? You can't have a dragon cutting through precious livestock in the middle of winter. People will starve and it won't matter how much money she gives them because there will be no food. What about religion? The Lord of Light doesn't have as much of a foothold in Westeros as in Essos, but if there's a fire queen, they're going to flock over. Considering how volatile and insular the Seven can be and how attached to it the smallfolk are, will that cause religious unrest or possible holy wars? What are her policies going to be? What laws will she change or enforce? These are not things she shouldn't worry about until later, they will be relevant when/if they all survive and need more allies. Westeros is not Essos, she doesn't know anything about the people, the geography, the history beyond the Rebellion, even the weather as evidenced by the fact that she thought it was a good idea to burn the harvest from the Reach right at the start of winter instead of just taking it to feed people as if they could just grow more.

If the writers had been given more time and we didn't have to shoehorn R+L=J in for reasons unknown, season 7 could've focused on Dany and what she actually claimed she wanted to do, which is break the wheel. She's done nothing towards that end. She landed on Dragonstone and immediately got wrapped up in the hoopla of highborn politics and nobility. She hasn't been going for the queen of the people angle anymore, for some reason. She should've. If the show had been more cohesive with her storyline, wanted to make a point that makes sense and ties together even further with Cersei's storyline, then Daenerys should've turned the people, the smallfolk, to her side the same as she did with the slaves in Essos. Different political landscape, but it comes down to the same principle. The people don't care who is ruling them really, they care about eating, having a roof over their heads, being safe with their families, making enough money to survive. Cersei blowing up the sept set Daenerys up to come in as the savior of the people, but she didn't take advantage of the opportunity. A part of that is Tyrion's influence. He's too caught up in the web of scheming and nobility as well but Varys, Mr. I-serve-the-realm-and-the-people, was there too. They had a whole argument about serving the people and nothing came of it.

It's just bad writing in a show that has some amazing storylines and arcs. Cersei and Sansa's writing is so complex and intricate and every story beat makes me feel what the writers intended. Jon's story is a lot more black and white, but I still feel for his character and care what happens to him. Even minor characters like Gilly and Sam or Missandei and Grey Worm, the writers got me invested in them. Every story has its inconsistencies but Dany's feel more egregious because (if this ends the way I think it will) Dany is going to be sitting on the iron throne. As a viewer, I need to feel like she earned it, just like she earned hatching the dragons and earned the Unsullied's loyalty and earned her title as queen of Meereen.

This is not anti-Dany or a knock against Emilia Clarke, who I see some people criticize for her acting and blame her for the turn in Dany's character arc. It's not Emilia's fault. I think she's doing exactly what the script called for her to do. She can convey so much with body language and little subtle expression changes. I don’t think she gets enough credit for that. And if she was supposed to be doing something different, the onus is on the writers and directors to correct her acting choices, not just leave it be. It comes down to the fact that she just could be written so much better.

Season 7 would've been more interesting if Daenerys and Jon didn't even meet. Let their storylines play out separately. Let Daenerys use diplomacy, her natural charisma and the presence (not the might) of the dragons to win the iron throne that season. She should've treated with the other noble houses in the Crownlands (especially the Velaryons) and other houses as well. They could’ve briefly introduced the Hightowers. She could’ve gotten control of Oldtown, are you kidding me? She could’ve met with whoever the hell is ruling the Stormlands nowadays. The Lannisters helped destroy House Baratheon, leaving the Stormlands in a state of unrest. You’re telling me they don’t want revenge? What about the Riverlands? Not mentioned literally at all after Arya killed the Freys, what is even happening there? She could’ve also directly addressed the people like she did in Essos. She would've gained the confidence of the realm on her own merits. She could've had the throne by the end of season 7 and Cersei would be dead, no problem.

Jon should've stayed in Winterfell. We should've seen more of what they were doing to sure up the Wall and defend the North. Let the siblings all reunite and deal with Baelish together, the four of them. Bring forth the question of the Riverlands (where the hell is Edmure? Is he still in the Frey's dungeon?), get more into the lore of the White Walkers and explore Bran vs the Night King. Let Jon deal with his paternity before meeting Dany. The Starks knowing about R+L=J makes more sense as being the cause of a rift between the siblings than Sansa and Arya being upset with each other because... reasons? They didn't get along as kids and now the writers decided, let's forget all the intuition we had our girls learn over the seasons so they can be mad because shock value when Baelish is killed? Come on man. It's so disappointing.

#daenerys targaryen #jon snow #game of thrones #asoiaf #sansa stark #arya stark #tyrion lannister #GoT

56 notes · View notes

logictwisted · 6 years ago

Note

42. — foolish

everything is perilously calculated; bricks built on a heavy foundation: if there aren’t strong walls they can’t hold his body, his mind, hide the way fear makes him feel.

he makes a mistake, he learns, but every mistake must become smaller; grains of dust, for the mistakes are now a high-stakes game where a loss could cause a debt that would cost him his life.

it starts off weightless – starts without a hold to it, a tangibility, because there are no ultimatums – there are only the markers of pain, dayak’s slight incline to smile, the proud way he holds himself even as his body heaves – it is a controlled situation. it is the learning of mistakes before they are made and turn into scars; it is learning ways to avoid the pain.

( dayak and lotor bicker late into the night on the particulars of things – details that might’ve been missed, a history lesson off-kilter – later, he finds, that being right doesn’t matter as much as the gravel of her voice and the snap to it.

“i ought to be the teacher then,” lotor says, a smirk to his lips, and it takes only seconds to recoil from the sting of pain, a throbbing but otherwise ignorable thing that makes him laugh more than it makes him grimace.

“don’t be foolish, young prince,” dayak admonishes, hard lines trying to hide the soft curve of her lips, and lotor decides that is worth more than ten lashes of pain. )

he thinks maybe if he asks for something he’ll get it – all pleasing, all polite, everything his father could want, but – there’s something that rests in his breastbone, sharp in the intake of his breath when the rejection is less physical than it is all emotional, with zarkon staying as far away from lotor as possible, as if just a minor touch could become a stain.

lesser than, as if the half of him that was all his father’s surmounted to nothing, not enough, cancelled out by simply being. “of course not,” already decided, already debated, no room for the air to find its way in – an ultimatum – just like the way disgust is spittle on zarkon’s jaw, as unforgiving as the other galra who find him ugly for a part of him he doesn’t know. “never ask me of me these things again.”

“of course, father.”

some lessons are bitterly learned without a teacher: lotor learns to expect nothing from his blood, to an emperor who keeps him because he feels he has to not because he wants to, to a father who hides the truth of his mother because it’s convenient; better to erase every part of him, blank, useless.

( there’s blood on lotor’s lip but he still stands sturdy, grip on his sword tight and pointed sharp. “a ‘dirty half-breed’,” he looks down at the way delinquent galra shield themselves against him, battered on the ground, “beat you all senseless.” he smiles as cold as the ice of his eyes, an expectation pregnant in the silence – victory or death – they all know it, know that defeat is as much a death sentence as it is the loss of one’s honor.

lotor’s lips slip, “and this same half-breed will let you live to bear with the shame of it,” he growls, watches the way the pale yellow of their eyes narrow, jaws of a beast clenched tight.

they mock him for his mercy but at the time his mercy is his only line in the sand – they always paint him as the other, so he embraces the otherness as way to brandish his fangs, shine with the lacquer of it, for the best way to hide the way his hand shakes with a sword in the cradle of his claws is if they can only see the blade of it, not the handle. )

they reject him at first, like everyone has, with time – but they are also the ones who show him that rejection can lead to acceptance. he’s got the brand of an emperor, too galra for them, not galra enough for anyone else, but to this planet he’s granted a hold of, they see him more as lotor than lilac skin, fangs, and large stature; they see him more as a creature of logic than blood at the tips of his fingers.

“i don’t want to see the destruction of this planet,” lotor says, fingering the vegetation around him, petals soft between the webbing of his fingers, “it ought to be preserved not … drained of life, destroyed beyond irrepair.” he can only see his father, expectant he be a mirror of other subordinates that rule over things with reckless abandon, who turn everything they touch to dust, so it surprises him when his company reaches out, places the pads of their fingertips to the knots of his brow (a pressure there he didn’t realize until then) and it’s an affection he does not shy away from. instead, he leans into it, adoration like a crush speckling his cheeks.

“you won’t,” they say, their confidence a trademark of them being a leader – a leader, when peeking out from underneath the shadow of zarkon, that teaches him the responsibility of taking care of others, of making hard decisions that may not have clean black and white outcomes.

“you’re right,” lotor says, gingerly taking their hand in his, “we are earnestly working on a solution. if quintessence is what emperor zarkon wants, then he should not mind if we supply him more of it.”

he’s confident in that it will work – confident as much as he is in brisk, inexperienced kisses and the quiet thunder of his heart.

( there is only one person he gets on his knees for, and it’s the image of his father’s back, a cut-out, dark against the bright colors of a place lotor had started to call home.

there’s no confident in the shake of his jaw, the way the tips of his words tremble as if they could mask the pain at the backs of his eyes. “don’t –” is a word insurmountable, but even that isn’t enough.

lotor is rendered a child once again – pain a distant reminder of lessons no longer endorsed, only remembered. take this pain, lotor reopens his eyes to the reds and golds of a place he loved engulfed in flame, and learn to not make the same mistake. )

exile is lonely and miserable, so he opens his heart twice:

once, to the alteans who look to him with suspicion then reverence, ( his promise pale in their ghosts, engraved underneath the weight of his feet ) and twice, to a feisty man with scars tight on his skin, a crooked taste to his smile. “you’re not ugly,” he had said, pulling on the last dregs of rags he called clothes, “i mean look at you, playing hero even though you’re no better than the rest of us.”

“but you like that i play hero,” lotor says, languid in the morning sun, and he figures his fight can wait a few minutes, a few hours, if this man would stay and make his thoughts spool out empty, make tension blank; melting into the long pulling of his limbs.

“me?” the man scoffs, but there’s a playfulness to the shine of his eyes, “i would never support you for that.”

it’s heated and breathless even though lotor likes to run cold, and there’s a simplicity to filling himself up with the ache of love to chase away his loneliness, ( for being loved, he realized, was all he had wanted ) but it comes short suddenly; full-stop: a reminder.

“you –” lotor touches the throbbing of his temple and pulls his fingers away to see blood, “you are that witch’s agent? why? why?”

there’s a crease at the corner of that man’s eyes, a shrug, an easy-going nature that was at once comforting as it was now infuriating, “she wanted you distracted, and, honestly, she pays well. you see, i’m very good at distractions – haven’t you noticed?”

( lotor gets burned only a handful of many times more – haggar places a pawn and she knows the way to crawl back into the curve of his forgiving heart, knows how to get him to dull his fangs, put up his sword, stop his fight just a moment because it’s easier to be an exile than a hero.

he learns the lesson reluctantly, painfully, and too slowly, but eventually – for as haggar brings him back before her, calculating and unkind, the stench of victory in the sharpness of her voice, lotor decides that there’s no such thing as freedom.

he doesn’t know why she doesn’t tell zarkon his plans, doesn’t care – but he encases his heart in resin, lets it harden over time until he’s no longer surprised that the people he wants to trust will put a knife in his back, until trust is a luxury he’s not willing to give.

“you don’t have to like me,” lotor says to a potential ally, face shuttered, unapproachable, “but i can show you my worth.” )

“did you design our armor after your cat?” axca says, and kova looks up expectantly, lotor’s palm already stroking the side of the appreciative cat’s head.

“am i so transparent?” lotor asks, an almost sheepish tone to his lips; embarrassed, he is, in this scrutiny, in this small act of honoring the years in which kova was his silver threaded life-line.

“yes,” axca says, trying not to laugh, and when lotor looks back she’s clearing her throat and trying to clean up the warmth to her face, a botched attempt at acting more professional, “but it’s not a … bad thing,” she amends, “sir.”

lotor shakes his head, but he doesn’t see the way she makes him smile.

( later, he shoots down narti and starts to feel the cracks of his relationship with his generals fracture without explanation.

if he told them the way the witch’s interference could make their dream fall apart, maybe they would have listened. if he told them the way they unintentionally placed the heat of fire under his hardened heart, let the drips of it slip, unnoticeable, until they made a home in the holes of it, maybe their trust would have remained undeniable.

but lotor stays silent – a silence that teaches him a painful lesson, as if to say: if you opened up, you wouldn’t have had to lay face down, solitary, once again, in the cut of their betrayal – but betrayal happened whether or not his heart was open, and he hoped that this time trust could be unquestionable.

he expected too much – asked for too much.

as much as it hurts he never blames them, for the witch is an overbearing presence, as much of a shadow as is his father, but while one wishes for his erasure the other tears down what little hope lotor had in the honesty of other people, makes his mind tiresome in the way in trudges on, even when drowning. )

his generals become tools, given hasty explanations to buy back their loyalty temporarily – they are a facet to something that becomes all-encompassing, as grand as his dreams of growing up in a world he knew alfor, knew altea, knew his mother as she was not what she is.

voltron. and later, with an aftertaste of bittersweet – allura.

( he remembers the first time he meets voltron he’s disappointed – an ancient weapon at their fingertips, crafted by alfor, and they are useless, powerless – he endeavors to steal it from them, to give it to hands who will use the weapon to achieve his previously unachievable dream.

she changes his mind. blue and fierce, she bests him – and he amends, amends, amends, fixes the fraying seams of his over-confidence, happy to be proven wrong, just this once. fine paladin, he thinks, you win this time, but she wins again and again, unintentional, free-willed, stubborn.

it’s his respect that begins his undoing, in the end. )

he takes a chance: in her, he sees something akin to a fantasy – for as much as he clung to the idea of altea, it was an altea he saw as a bunch of exiles, of familiarity in the rejection of the world and all of them in it, a last desperate attempt to find connection in an atlantis; the hollow bones of a civilization, forgotten.

to allura, altea was fresh, burning, still at the edges of her gaze, like a painting that could be quickly filled in once again. to her, altea was a kingdom that rises, that holds strong, that perseveres – not something to defend as lotor did, for being altean, for being a part of a destroyed, forgotten planet, was nothing to proud of.

she was proud and unabashedly, fiercely, and in his mouth he tasted the faint taste of bitterness.

( he’s proud but not as proud as she is, and soon, she bleeds into him like the lights or the stars in the sky, her love for her home his love for a home he wish he had.

he is her prisoner, and he wants to show her he’s worth something – later, he wants her to know she’s not alone.

in another life, he thinks, gaze soft on her markings, i wish i had grown up in the altea you remember, his fingers at her hand surprising her, surprising even himself.

centuries and he’s still out of practice, centuries and he should have learned his lesson, centuries and he finds there’s nothing, no one else like her, and because of this his heart unfolds, open; a paper crane unfolding to creases of paper. he’s unsure of himself, but, “stay,” is as quiet and tentative as a child, hands tucked away, and she stays, and he’s surprised again.

stronger than anyone, stronger than him – is this what a bird’s flight looks like without its wings clipped? )

it’s an alliance.

he clears his throat, sweat starting to build at the nape of his neck. princess allura is an … ally, and, deserves better – deserves more than the relic of a castle for her home and paladins who don’t see the toil and the toll on a woman who’ll sacrifice blood, flesh, limb for their safety, for their happiness.

he says thank you to her once, and she’s almost surprised, as if it is new, and he absolves to say it more, again, for meaningless, tiny things, that grow into meaningful tiny things.

she asks him how he is, he says, thank you, princess, she details the thoughts of her plan, and he says thank you again, again, when she minds the space between them, allowing room for him to breathe, again, when she takes steps to understand the particulars of the galra for their alliance, again, as if thank yous are his heartbeat, clamoring loud in his heart and his mind.

they go to oriande and it’s enough to be there – enough to see legend actualized, even in the face of his failure. “thank you, allura,” he says, and wonders when the barrier of titles didn’t seem to matter, when princess became and transitioned to the roundness of her cheeks when she smiled, the ache to hear her laughter, the familiar and worrying thought of: let’s stop the fight for a while, let time stop just for this moment.

just this moment, with her lack of confidence peeling away to show the woman who really shined; sweet.

( she was his sun, and his warmth she became. )

that is why he asks in desperation –

allura, i know i’ve done wrong, but –

( this world is so different from what you remember. i have no excuses, only ultimatums. i have only hard decisions, messy and terrible and unforgivable. i had to get energy, and they were my only source. i had to fight, because no one else was fighting.

i remember them, i remember them every day and they are my greatest shame, my greatest guilt, and as little as i tried to use, bodies build over time. a little sacrifice to save the rest of them, i would have saved them, you know altea is everything to me.

i had to do it. there was no voltron. there were no heroes.

allura, i had to.

allura, i’m sorry.

i was never worthy of you in the first place, but you saw the me i want to be, so won’t you believe in me? won’t you?

allura? )

he never meant to hurt her, never meant to twist what they had and he hopes for his redemption, as much as lessons have taught him that it is easy to cast him way, to leave him at the wayside, his punishment exile, loneliness, betrayal.

he opens his heart a last time, mind on the fringes, heart soaked in wax.

allura sets him aflame, and he hates the world that rejects even the kindest parts of him and sees only a monster, doesn’t see the lines he’s had to redraw over and over in the sand.

he didn’t need forgiveness, he just needed to be understood.

just needed to be by her side, ally, enemy, or everything she thought he could be.

this is because he didn’t learn his lesson.

( he doesn’t get to see his dream, but the fact remains: allura is strong enough to carry it out, and that’s why he loves her.

that’s enough.

that’s enough. )

it’s not enough.

he’s learned not to cry since he was a baby, because it’s weak, because it goes unanswered, because so many things build up and he’s too tired, too paranoid.

but he’s alone now, in the ruins of his body, and he cries for the second time, for the only time.

#pinkbonded #this is disgustingly long and sO MANY HOURS #of writing #so many #i feel like 'foolish' so whole-heartedly encompasses what lotor considers his life #so theres just so much to unravel #and i #never put in so many headcanons as much as this and i #made myself sad #fnhauisf f #i want to disappear #im absolute Trash #* III. : ( ASK. )#* IV. : ( HEADCANON. )

5 notes · View notes

spoopybruh · 7 years ago

Text

Taking Risks

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series) Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej Characters: Ryan Bergara, Shane Madej

Summary: Events were predictable, people are not. That’s why Shane’s fears usually center around the ever changing nature of others. The what ifs. Non-constants. He’s taken precautions in establishing a tolerance of sorts towards such kerfuffle but there will always be times he has to risk it for the biscuit. He takes a chance on one Ryan Bergara.

They were in the middle of a long drive home when Shane decides to break the comfortable silence.

“So,” His tone is light despite the severity of his admission, hand gliding against the curve of the steering wheel to steady his stream of thoughts. He sees his companion lift his attention off the screen of his phone and stop tapping on what undoubtedly was another list of haunted locations they could get visiting permissions for. “I may or may not feel things differently than most people do.”

That understandably evokes an unimpressed sound from Ryan and a brief crinkling of his nose before he replies. “Yeah no shit, Sherlock. You were the one who laughed at public executions.”

“I didn’t laugh at the public executions, Ryan. They get breakfast at execution events! It’s like going to Disneyland and getting a little restaurant seat so they can watch a parade.” Even thinking about it draws chuckles from him. “How can people not find that hilarious?” Morbid for sure. But there’s still something funny about the whole juxtaposition of how things went back then. It’s easy to just drop the subject. To let the natural flow of their bantering continue in a way that leaves the insides of his chest light with contentment. And for a few moments, he’s tempted to do just so. Yet if he does, he’ll probably never speak of this again. “No. I mean…I don’t feel things when I should be.”

“What? Like being afraid of reasonable shit instead of someone randomly running up to you and injecting you with heroin?”

“Hey! It could happen! That’s a reasonable fear.” The tight band of anticipation eases with each chuckle that’s forced out of him. Shane turns a corner. Regroups. “No, it’s not that. I meant stuff like empathy.”

He feels, more than sees, Ryan’s eyebrows rise several notches. It’s three tense heartbeats later that his companion’s furiously racing mind finally finds enough coherence to spit a reply back at Shane.

“So…you’re saying that you’re someone who doesn’t…care about anyone or anything? Sorry I know this sounds bad and I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything but what are you getting at here?” Shane could see the grimace on Ryan’s face the moment he vocalises his words and he takes comfort in the fact that this is as equally awkward for him as it is for Shane. At the very least, Ryan’s not acting all freaked out. That would have been hurtful.

The lankier of the duo takes another deep breath to brace himself. “Well it’s not like I don’t feel anything.It’s just….harder. I don’t care about most things, especially if they don’t pertain to people in my own social circle and stuff like that. I just care about some things.” His gaze darts with purpose to rest on his companion for a few brief seconds before he turns his attention to the road again. “Some people. And I pretend to care about other things to be, you know, polite.”

That draws an ‘Oh’ out of Ryan. And if Shane looks just a little bit harder to see his expression under the dim lighting of the setting sun, he swears he could make out a ruddier colour staining the cheeks of his friend. But that’s something to read into for the future. Hopefully. It’s curious how it’s easier now once he forced his way through. Not the finding the right words part. Just the being able to continue part. Then again, that’s his problem. Finding the right words to things. “The thing I have. Makes it harder for me to find the right words to say or find the right things to do. Because I don’t process things the way other people do. I don’t feel shit the same way, I guess. Like- Like say maybe an animal died or something like that. I know that it’s probably a heartbreaking thing to people because they, you know, react in a certain way. And I try to uh. It’s like shitting for the bit. I take it as a cue and just kind of lay it out there, follow their example and carry it through. Without necessarily feeling the same emotion. Do I want the animal to die? No. I’m just not bummed out over it. But not everything’s as clear cut as that so it’s difficult for me to know how I’m supposed to react.”

Ryan’s inhale is sharp but Shane doesn’t turn to look at him. He has no way of anticipating the expression on his face and maybe that’s better that way. When Ryan speaks, it’s with a quiet wonder. As if everything somehow made sense now. “You do that. You take a while to come up with shit to say sometimes, I’ve seen your face when you try to phrase things carefully.

For the first time since the entire conversation, it’s Shane’s turn to be surprised. “I make faces for that? Is it obvious that I’m doing it?”

“No no!” He’s somewhat mollified at Ryan’s scrambling to assure him. “It’s not obvious. Only when it’s this close.” A hand bumps against his shoulder lightly when Ryan gestured to their proximity. “Only when people squint really hard and you know, I’ve had to look at your ugly face for far too often.”

A good to honest laugh slips from Shane at the good-natured ribbing. “You like my ugly face. You said faces like mine are attractive with the whole Cumberbatch story.”

“Yeah but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got a strange face.” They both fell silent yet again. Three bus stops were driven past before Ryan pipes up once more with another question. “So do you…do you think it’s some kind of uh.” Shane catches him gesticulating out of his peripheral vision. “Do you think it’s some kind of mental thing? Are you..god why is this is so difficult- are you, are you a sociopath or something? Does that make you one?”

His struggling has Shane snorting with amusement. Ryan’s struggling almost always does. This time round, he takes mercy on the both of them and decides to cooperate.

“That’s not the right term and too media cliche-y but I suppose it puts me somewhere on the spectrum. We’re not sure yet. My therapist and I- we’re figuring it out.”

Ryan seems to think that as a satisfactory answer because he nods and settled down once again, though Shane doesn’t have to be a mind reader to feel the cogs in his brain practically working on overtime to process the information he’d been given. “I don’t know what to say to that, man. That’s some heavy stuff. Uh…Thank you? For telling me that. You didn’t have to say it and all but I guess, thanks.”

“Wait, just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that. What else am I supposed to say? It’s strange to me, obviously. But you’ve always been strange. You made the whole stupid Hot dog thing for god’s sake. So this is odd but I’m not gonna judge you for it anymore than I judge your hot daga story. Unless you start killing people and shit. Which you’re not, are you?” The joke’s a morbid one and Ryan’s squinting his eyes at him for comical effect. It shouldn’t make him snort but it does. Shane rolled his eyes briefly at him in return.

“No, of course not. I mean I’ve thought about it. But who honestly can’t say they’ve never thought about running people over when they cut you off in traffic. Besides, you’ve threatened to kill me multiple times. Just because I’ve thought about it doesn’t mean I wanna do it. Everyone’s capable of doing stuff like that, with or without being on the spectrum.”

“Not a particularly comforting thought to mention when you’re currently the one driving but right, that’s fair.” They broke off into bouts of snickering again. Though the next question Ryan asked hits a little too close to home. “So. Have you uh…Have you hurt anyone because of this? Unintentionally or not.” The latter part is hastily added.

"Wow loaded question there.” His fingers twitched briefly. Shane releases a heavy breath. “No? At least not that I know of. Sometimes I don’t realise- wait fuck.” Frustration mars his features. It’d be easy to get away with it if he expressed that he isn’t aware he’d hurt people because he doesn’t mean to. It’d be easy to paint himself in a better light. A more acceptable one. It’d be easier if he pretended to feel some modicum of regret. But that would also defeat the entire purpose of this whole talk he started. This is Ryan. He’s not going to use that sort of information against him- he has no definite proof anyways. Ryan’s better than that. Better in ways Shane sometimes wishes he could emulate. He’s not the type of person to be an asshole like that.

“Sorry I’m….embellishing. Let me try again.” Another deep breath. He forces himself to relax his grip on the steering wheel. Since when did he tense up? “I have. Sometimes it’s unintentional. Sometimes…I have this impulse, you see? I don’t mean for it to be there but it just is. I have this impulse to do or say things just to see how people would react to them. Just to see how far I can push them before they…respond. Not because I want to hurt them, it’s just…I wanted to know what they’re like. How they think. How they feel. How they respond to things. I was curious.” His lips twisted into a grimace. “That impulse makes me inconsiderate sometimes and I’m working on it. I’ve been working on it for years.”

It’s just like what he does. Shutting Ryan in spooky places for longer on purpose. Pretending to sleep so he could watch him get gradually more and more frightened during the rare occasions they’d stay for a sleepover at whatever haunted location. Rationalise away everything when he gets too scared and persisting until he gets annoyed but never too much. He just wants to know, wants to see how far he can push the boundary without having Ryan experience a nervous breakdown. That’s just…how he is.

“I’m generally good at controlling that impulse. And doing our show…helps in a weird way.” Because he could give in to that impulse within limits instead of suppressing it. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t do things on purpose from time to time but….I don’t want to. Not with you. I’ll mess up once in a while though.”

That’s truthfully the only thing Shane could give as an answer. “I’m not saying that you’ve got to feel like you need to accept that or something. I’m just..it’s just gonna happen. Especially when I feel like I’m in trouble or someone does something exceptionally shitty.” He feels hollowed out for some reason. A kind of exhaustion that sinks into even his bones. Ryan doesn’t have to ask him but Shane knows that he’s probably wondering why. Why now? Why tell him?

“I just wanted to let you know.” That impulse. Again, that impulse. But he’s not lying when he said he wanted Ryan to know. “If there was anyone I wanted to know about this, besides my family and therapist, it’d be you.”

Now he’s done it. Thrown everything right there out in the open. Kicked the door off it’s hinges and yelled at spooky bois that are even spookier than the non-existent spooky bois they’re searching for. The ball is now in Ryan’s court.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have long to wait.“Yeah because I’m the only one who can handle your shit and dish it back to you. I’d be old and greying and I’d still kick your ass when you’re being a dick.” He feels the heat of Ryan’s palm before it descended against his shoulder in a slap. Except it stays there for a moment longer, closing in a firm squeeze.

The breathe caught in his throat eases in shaky sputters.

“Alright, so after we’ve gotten this ‘moment’ out of the way and we’ve established that I’ll still kick your ass regardless, can we at least stop by for food? I swear if I have to sit another hour longer waiting for this stupid traffic to hurry up, I’m going to lose my shit.”

Another snort of amusement escaped Shane. Typical Ryan. Quick to irritate and and straightforward, but also refreshingly capable of wading through everything in stride even if it’s out of his depth. This…this is okay. This is better than okay.

“Yeah I can do that.”

A pause.

“Sour Puss Bergara.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

Additional Note: This is a coping fic I’ve written to get some closure for myself and I’d like to thank the writers who placed in genuine effort to thoughtfully write about Shane with AS/PD. I personally am someone who’s on the spectrum and that’s not something I would ever be able to share with anyone in my own social circle. This is as close I’ll ever be able to get to acceptance. Now for the sake of accuracy and to avoid taking too much liberties, I’ll say that in this story, Shane’s on the spectrum like myself instead.

#shyan #buzzfeed shyan #shyan fic #myfics

39 notes · View notes

hunnimaple-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Sinbad x Reader “who she is” [part 1]

Enjoy this lil’ Sinbad x Reader series I’m making <3

My eyes fell half-lidded as once more I was in the middle of an important meeting. Something about the prevention of further wars leading to my country, Almubar, in ashes and debris from the Kou Empire. I was not scared; all we had to do to prevent it was to form an alliance with Kou; from there their customs would sew its way into our country and we would be one with theirs. This very reason was why Mama and Papa were against it, but I had no complaints. Our people would be fed, and their lives would be much better. It sounded like a perfect compromise in waiting! My father constantly scolded me for such thinking, however, reminding me of my age, being only thirteen, and I held my tongue in their stead.

What vacuous thinking their majesties are showing, I thought bitterly, glaring at Mama and Papa. Their jewels jingled along while they shoved out their arms dramatically, declaring their beliefs aloud to the others in this meeting, like my older and younger sisters . The others. Pfft, the other dramatically political snobs.

I felt guilty, having to hate my line of snobbish, stuck-up royalty, but they were nothing but just that: snobbish, stuck-up royalty. As was I, myself, though I should feel very grateful.

"You must not take our riches for granted," warned my mother as she batted her beautiful eyelashes at me with a gorgeous smile, "it's very important to know your worth here, as a princess, and what that means. When the time comes, and if it does-- though with God's mercy I hope not-- your people will depend on you once your elder sisters have to leave us, unmarried at that. You must be determined, and you must have the mindset of a strong ruler."

"Like that of King Hakutoku?" I remarked.

She glared down at me and decided to ignore my reply, walking off to continue her speech with Papa. I shrugged, not caring, and looked out the sole window of the room, admiring the flowers just in bloom outside, when I suddenly remembered something that brought the widest grin upon my face. "My birthday's tomorrow!" I announced, slamming my hands on the desk as I stood up.

The room went quiet and everyone looked at me, shocked at my outburst that absolutely had nothing to do with the problems we were facing in this room right now. And I blushed harder than ever. "I-I-e-ee...." I stammered, pulling at my hair as means to comfort my nervousness, "Do... pardon me. I apologize, I suppose I was just um... dazing off.." I looked down, audibly and visibly embarrassed as my head hung low. My parents coughed, and soon the crowd began to commerce again with the serious matter at hand.

Oh, my God please slit my throat.

-〖w〗〖h〗〖o〗•〖s〗〖h〗〖e〗•〖i〗〖s〗•〖♚〗•〖s〗〖i〗〖n〗〖b〗〖a〗〖d〗-

The next morning I woke up to Leon, my adviser, poking at my cheeks quite harshly. I got up and glared at him before getting dressed for my birthday. We were to be throwing a little celebration, as we always do in royal birthdays. Because my family is full of snobby stuck-ups. I sighed, thanking them nonetheless and enjoyed the day with my people.

And here I sat: a cup of wine in hand, sneakily drinking it in the corner of the ball room. I smiled watching everyone dance and talk. It filled me with pride how kind my family was to their people, masking the troubles we hide in our family with kind smiles and actions. I nodded to myself in content, taking another sip, when someone disrupted my thoughts, saying,

"are you sure you're allowed to be drinking like that at your age, princess?"

I turned my head to face the man who spoke, only to find it was a boy, seemingly my age, smirking at me with beautiful, teasing eyes. I gaped my mouth at him, mockingly. "And who are you to talk?" I taunted, nodding toward the alcohol in his very hands.

He chuckled, puffing his chest with pride. as he spoke. "Sinbad, if you may know. And for the record, I'm sixteen." The purple-ette winked at me as he turned to search for the Queen, and my eyes followed his in curiosity. "My.. Comrade and I are here in hopes to ally you with our trading business," he spoke to me, eyes still in search until he visibly caught something. My mother was there, conversing with a smaller boy with white hair and.. Red strings on his hands. I nodded to Sinbad, though I was aware he wouldn't see it. He continued nonetheless, "We are aware of your countries successes in trades, and we ask to be able to share ideas further on in the future. You do not have to accept, as quite a few have turned us down but-"

"Do you know what this celebration is for?" I asked, turning to him with sharp, analyzing eyes. He nodded to me, smiling.

"Yes, we know. Happy birthday, by the way, any who," I scoffed, somehow maintaining to hold my smirk as he continued, raising his arms out. "Our trading is as well becoming very successful but it's only just the beginning. We hope, with allying with your country, our business becomes of something much bigger than that. Though, I don't know if that should be announced as of yet," he looked at me with a charming smile, sighing once he finished speaking.

And he grinned. His eyes shimmered with the lingering need of adventure and justice. In one look he had me caught in his web. and he was calling out to me. "Of course, forgive me princess. You look absolutely stunning. I was not aware of this kingdom's true treasures and yet here I am, standing right in front of one," he spoke, showing his teeth in a charming smile.

I see.

"How crude," I gasped, smacking him on the shoulder in shock, "I didn't think of you as the type, but I suppose all men of trade are the same." My brows furrowed and my bottom lip pushed out in a pout as I glared at him. To think I wanted to follow this boy! He looked at me in disbelief, reaching out a hand to touch me only to yelp when I smacked it away. Waving his hand to cool it off from my harsh impact, he sighed before speaking again,

"I don't quite understand, my lady, did I offend you somehow? I don't entirely know the culture of this Country so do forgive me.." he trailed, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck as he looked at me, frowning with concern. But his childish attempts to run out of trouble only fueled my anger ever more. I complied to his wishes, though.

"I know how all of you work, dear Sinbad; buttering all of us ladies up so you can woo us into agreeing with whatever you're trying to do. But I can tell you this:" I leaned forward, looping my arm around his torso to push him closer to me as I whispered into his ear, "This little scit-- doesn't work for us Almubans. We're well known for the acts and lies in the trading business."

Once I let go of him, Sinbad's eyes were widened and his face had a wide blush. He stood still for a while, probably due to shock, and I held my head high, analyzing him more as I leaned, putting a hand on my hip. Once he finally broke out of a trance he shook his head like a wet dog and blinked, looking at me with even more concern. He looked down with another shake of his head and sighed, speaking once more, "I'm not trying to do any of that.. I was just trying to be c-courteo-"

"Sinbad!" called a younger voice, and the two of us turned our heads to find the white haired boy from earlier rushing towards us with a wary look. He doesn't pay mind to me, but even then I don't care as I listen in to what he's saying.

"Queen Buvoen and King Olvad do not seem to agree with us, no matter how king I'm being. Honestly I think they're being too stuck up sitting on their thrown like that, as what we have can obviously benefit them. They said we were just a bunch of stupid, unwanted sailors though for that I would have been glad to-" he continued to ramble on while I watched as Sinbad's face paled, and he waved his hands to and fro, frantically trying to prevent his comrade to speak trash any further. I didn't mind, once more, because my God! This kid was hilarious!

"Ja'far!" he finally exclaimed. It seems he had enough, finally. "You're talking trash right in front of Princess (name)!"

Ja'far's ranting stopped right there and he said nothing, his mouth making a sound like that of an alligator eating a treat as his jaw snapped shut. He slowly peeked over Sinbad's shoulder to see me, and his eyes widened comically.

I stifled a laugh. Awe! He's no bigger than little Amlen! I thought, happily thinking of my little sister. "You are alright, Ja'far," I assured, "I'm not as fond of my parents as it is, your bickering became quite amusing. In fact, I thank you for speaking my thoughts all the time."

It was Sinbad's turn to be slack-jawed in shock and with that, I laughed even harder, snorting and covering my mouth with my small giggles. The two just sort of looked at each-other with daisy-pink dusted cheeks before looking back at me. "U-Um.." they spoke, trying their best to figure out what to say. Though they never seemed to accomplish such the deed, as my mother's chiming of her spoon against the glass made everyone look toward her, silent.

"I am afraid to say the hosts of the party are very tired, so all of the kingdom's people must leave the castle in the next five minutes. We have genuinely enjoyed your time here in out castle, and I hope you have as well. Thank you for joining us with such a special occasion as my daughter's birthday." The crowd inside the ball room cheered, raising their glasses before the room began to head out. My two hopeful friends turned to me with smug smiles, and Sinbad bent down to take my hand and kiss it, winking at me.

"I hope we get to meet again, princess. Happy birthday, and it was lovely talking with you," he spoke flirtatiously, flashing me the ole' charming smile he seems to have displayed for only ever.

I scoffed at him, politely bringing my hand back to my side and giving a curtsy as he bowed, not even registering anything as we both bid our goodbyes. The castle doors shut and Sinbad and Ja'far walked off, gloomily talking about the negotiation fail.

AND THEN WAIT IT HIT ME

"Shit!" I exclaimed, sprinting out of the castle. My dress flailed to and fro wildly and I jumped over things that stood in my way. "Sinbad!" I called, holding out my arm in desperate means to reach him further.

The sixteen year old sailor ahead of me stopped in his tracks, turning back to me and smiling widely.

Ouf, my heart.

"I- I want-!!!" I couldn't speak further as my concentration then went on to stopping, and I tripped mid-way. I could hear Sin gasp and he grabbed on to my waist to prevent me from falling, however that only made it worse, and the two of us then fell to the ground.

If it wasn't night time, anyone could see how red I was currently. Luckily though the shade brought myself less embarrassment and I got up as quickly as I could without my dress lifting. "O-Oh my goodness.. I-I am--!" I spoke, as I lifted Sinbad up. I bowed multiple times while sputtering apologies and he just chuckled, saying it was fine. I gulped, looking back up at him.

"So, you were saying?" He suddenly asked, his saffron orbs boring into my own. I snapped out of my still-embarrassed trance and cocked my head to the side, visibly confused.

"Hm?" I asked.

"You wanted to tell me something, right? What was it?" he prodded, giving this time a cheeky grin. He jutted out his hip and supported it with a hand placed on to it, cocking his head, like mine, and waiting as the anticipation only grew.

"O-Oh," I looked away, bashful. "I ah, I wanted to know if I could.." I furrowed my brows, then looking back up at him with a determined face. Wait a second-- no! I'm not shy around some playboy! I am a princess for heaven's sake, I need to act like one! I pushed my legs together, standing up straight and crossing my arms. "Sinbad. I want to come with you on your travels."

I spoke so sternly I guess that it shocked him. Ja'far and Sinbad stood close together, Sinbad shocked and Ja'far with a deadpanned expression. "With all do respect, princess-" Ja'far was quick to interrupt Sin with his own remark, "I don't see any reason why we should take you with us, your highness."

"Well, little one, I think it'd be wise if I just came with you here and now instead of having to walk back into the castle to meet my mother. Even though she'll.. most likely talk about your encounters with her, and from there ask what I was doing being seen next to you though, that would be quite an entertaining story to te-"

"Is.. she?" inquired Ja'far, turning to Sinbad. He didn't need to say anymore to the purple haired sailor as he nodded, smirking. "Yes, she is. Blackmailing."

I grinned innocently, curtsying once more. "So, either I come with you or I go with my mother." I added, extending my hand out. "What will it be, boys?"

Ja'far winced, pulling at his friend's clothes. "Sin.. it's a lose lose situation. I dunno.." he spoke softly, "if we do end up taking her with us what's the point? One, she's not going for any reason but to be a bother," I can here you, you little b- "-And two, if assuming she's making this decision by her own accord she's going to be filed as missing and/or kidnapped by us. I don't know if-"

"Such thinking won't be necessary," a familiar voice spoke, making Ja'far pop up his head. I turned around and smiled politely, nodding my head at the voice who spoke.

"Sir Leon," I greeted.

He nodded toward me, his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword. "I've already informed her majesty as to what you were planning, Princess (name), and she seems to have agreed with letting you depart."

Really now..? You thought to yourself, annoyed. Good to know the old hag wants me off her back!

"Though, if you are to be going, I am to as well. Think of us as.. Almubar's ambassadors. Powerful, however. I am a magician, so we won't hold you back much."

I see that we.. Didn't really give the two of them 'options' but I wasn't one to care at the moment. I instead looked toward Sinbad to await for his decision, and grinned to see him nodding after thinking it through.

"Well, Leon, Princess,"

"Speak to her highness fortunate, you uncultured swine," spat Leon,

Sinbad ignored him. "I guess you'll be joining us."

--- did you like it did you love it hope you did. Qotc: Who's your favorite bb of the show? Mines Baby Judal 💕💕

#sinbad sinbadxreader teensinbad readerinsert romance magilabrinthofmagic magikingdomofmagic ja'far princess oc readerxsinbad

4 notes · View notes

alizrak · 6 years ago

Text

"Also shout out to @alizrak because they have the ability to write at length, long chapters without breaking the flow of the story H O W DO U EVEN."

Quite honestly, it’s been a combination of things I guess... xP I've been writing for a living for the last 8 years as a web content developer, and even though it’s not this type of writing it allowed me to focus on how to develop a single subject. On the creative writing side... I've been making up stories since I was 10 but I either never got to finish them or never even wrote them at all. I have just a few fanfics under my arm; I left incomplete the first ones, then did a few one-shots and then I miraculously completed a small 6 part story about DBZ. Some years ago I decided I would punch procrastination in the face without mercy. I was going to finish one of my original stories no matter what. I was going to make the Hero's Journey my bitch. It took me more than a year but I finished the 100k novel...and that, I think, fundamentally changed how I write.

In any case... the only way I can explain my writing process is as if things were playing like a movie in my head, so I just jot down the dialogue and add the actions and descriptions later. Sometimes I pace around the house when I'm alone, acting the scenes and lines out loud to see if they actually work and feel right... to see if the character would actually react like that. People would think I'm crazy if they saw me rehearsing!

Last Known Trajectory is an odd case. I had stopped writing fics for 4 years, ironically coinciding with when I started watching Rebels. I would just sometimes do drabs or just small scenes here and there for my own amusement, but then with the Rebels finale... Holy Shit. I just couldn't accept that was the end. Here they left the most amazing team up they could possible create and left us with our beating hearts ripped out in our hands. what the fuck. The fic started to gestate in my head... and when I started writing, I JUST COULDN'T STOP. I have several milestone scenes of things I want to happen throughout the story and then I check what I need to do to take it from A to B. I take care on filling the gaps with relevant stuff to the plot, further explain things, or I let characters explore their feelings and thoughts about the matter at hand which adds a lot of “padding”.

LKT got so big now that sometimes I go through the dialogue but when I sit down to write I forget how it actually went in my head and I have to go back and rebuild the scene from scratch from what I remember. I've been carrying a notebook with me at all times to write down the lines I come up with to minimize the risk of forgetting, getting frustrated and then cry myself to sleep because goddammit the original line was perfect and now I can’t duplicate the feeling carajo!

It has been a while since I’ve done something for my followers and mutuals here and at @pushkins so I am taking suggestions if anyone has any!

I need to find a title for the nano project because my brain won’t let me brainstorm for it until i have a title for it…or at least a tag to use here to reblog content relating to it/inspiring it.

Before this can be done I need to finish my statement for university (yes, i’m trying again to get in and go… maybe third time is he charm?). Which I’ve started with ten different sentences as opening and can’t move past the opening because none sound right. It’s like writing the opening for a fic but MORE STRESSFUL.

I decided that I still want to keep writing fics, even if I feel discouraged. There are things I want to work on(flow, pacing, length in particular) while making sure I keep developing my own stylistic voice rather than losing it. Fics are the best way to practice, I think!

I’m (re)reading a lot of fics from @ibuzoo @atomzk @wrathofscribbles @sinningsquire @mortisbane @coldhillside @anthean (hi guys, you’re amazing, I’m just shouting out here my love don’t mind me). Reading them and thinking how the scenes transition is really interesting esp for long works like Murder’s Maze, Winterverse and Light in the Woods. I’ve been also looking carefully at @yalakid‘s fic in Spanish Si Eres Recordado Por Un Enemigo because I love how they introduce the plot twists and build up slowly.

Also shout out to @alizrak because they have the ability to write at length, long chapters without breaking the flow of the story H O W DO U EVEN.

#writing

12 notes · View notes

recentanimenews · 5 years ago

Text

THE GREAT CRUNCHYROLL NARUTO REWATCH Solves a Mystery in Episodes 197-203

Welcome back to THE GREAT CRUNCHYROLL NARUTO REWATCH! Noelle Ogawa here, and I'm your host as we run through the latest group of episodes of Naruto! We're still deep in filler territory, but this time we're in for a longer, much more concentrated story. There's a bit of a break from the "comedy" that we've gotten used to in terms of filler, and we're moving onto something that feels a lot different than usual: The threat is more along the lines of long-term espionage, something echoing the spy work of real-life ninjas.

The village is in danger from a famed ninja who's been on the Anbu watchlist for quite some time. He has a plan brewing, one that's years in the making, and he's ready to execute it. The village is on high alert, and it's up to the gang of genin to save the day. And this time, the whole group is here!

So let's see what everyone thought!

This is the first time we’ve had a major filler arc that focused more on long-term espionage VS a large military threat. Do you think they’ve handled the differences well?

Paul: Aside from some clunky writing (“Oh, look, it's the never-before-seen grandpa character that Naruto is good friends with!”) and some scenes that required everyone to act like blockheads in order to advance the plot, I enjoyed the Genno Infiltration arc. It had ninjas being sneaky, it emphasized the teamwork of all 11 of the main Genin characters, and despite it being filler, Genno's plot grew into a convincing threat that challenged three generations of Leaf Villagers.

Kevin: I’ll get more into it in my highs and lows, but in short: mostly yes. I really like the different style of enemy and flow of the arc, and especially liked how many backups Genno had planned. Then the ending happened.

Jared: I think there’s certainly some flaws in this arc, but it was fun to see how everyone handled the dual threats happening at the same time. There was enough mystery and intrigue scattered throughout with the idea of a full scale assault and/or fighting an enemy who’s already within the borders. There’s a great shot of Guy waiting for news on if they’re about to be invaded which really captures a deep feeling of dread and anxiety.

Joseph: This was one of the best filler arcs of late. The ending was just shy of Naruto farting into the camera, but the rest of it really brought everyone together, and I liked the fact that it was all set in the village.

Danni: As far as I’m concerned, it was the best filler arc in the show so far. I found the whole thing riveting. The show never quite tipped its hand as to what Genno was up to, and Genno was a great adversary for the group. His methods were some of the most ninja-like we’ve seen from anyone, and his motives were incredibly sympathetic: Old soldier trying to complete his lifelong mission despite its futility is really interesting as is. Throwing in that late twist about his son manages to make it heartbreaking as well. Really stellar group of episodes here.

Kara: I really enjoyed this arc a lot. There were a few minor issues I had with the underpinning of it all (the uncertainty of Genno’s character was essential to the story, but some of it didn’t scan as tidily even accounting for him being undercover), but overall it felt really well thought out with genuine stakes and a chance for lots of characters to do what they do best. Also I kind of love that the main flaw in Genno’s plan stemmed from taking Naruto complaining about his buddies at face value - guess he’s never seen the show before.

Carolyn: I wasn’t a super big fan of the ending, I thought that was pretty cheesy and basically undid everything that happened before it. But overall, I enjoy seeing a different sort of threat and the opportunity to break up all the fighting.

Unlike a lot of the filler, here the whole genin squad (and Shikamaru) are all working together. How do you think that was handled? Is there anyone you wanted to see more of?

Paul: My only complaint is that the older, more experienced ninja took too long to realize that certain elements of Genno's plans were straight out of the “Sneaky Dude Playbook”. Tricks such as faking one's own death or traps that are actually diversions must be commonplace in a world populated by shinobi, so characters like Tsunade should be more cautious before committing all of the village's fighting forces to a mission based on incomplete intel, although I guess the point is that the Fifth Hokage is still inexperienced and impulsive.

Kevin: The actual squad was probably the weakest part for me. People didn’t really bounce off of each other, and they were just kind of walking around for the most part, not even having especially interesting conversations or thinking about potential backup plans like Shikamaru eventually realized. I didn’t really get a sense of urgency outside of when the kids were about to accidentally blow up the entire village.

Jared: Everyone played their roles accordingly in the younger group which led to some interesting groups that had to work together. Unlike the other filler arcs that are just Naruto and 2-3 others, it gave everyone something to do and made them useful. Like Paul said, the older group was kind of left to dry in terms of somehow not seeing what was truly happening, so that could have been handled better.

Joseph: The division of capabilities was all pretty straightforward, but they handled it decently for the most part. Like Paul said, the hardest hurdle to jump was the fact that all the Genin somehow figured this out faster than the higher ups. I know it has to be that way, but it made Tsunade and the rest appear a little dimwitted.

Danni: I enjoyed seeing all of them working together. It felt like a natural culmination of all their different combinations in the filler thus far. We’ve seen them all work together in various small groups, so it made sense they’d be familiar enough with one another to be able to work together as one big group.

Kara: I liked seeing so many of them utilized. I also liked seeing Naruto’s Clone Jutsu used for something besides “literally whatever needs doing,” and the occasional reminders that our ninja kids are actually surprisingly good at what they do. It’s one thing for a random chucklehead to get knocked out by Rock Lee, but to have a master ninja genuinely impressed by Hinata’s Byakugan is pretty cool.

Carolyn: After going through almost the whole series, the Chunin exams are still my favorite arc. Anything that brings everyone back together is great in my book. I liked seeing all the characters in one place and I think everyone’s strengths were mostly catered to appropriately.

Someone you thought you were decently close to, such a neighbor or coworker, turns out to be a spy. How do you think you’d react? What would you do?

Paul: I'd dump them like a bad habit. That may sound cold, but someone I thought I knew was recently outed as a sexual predator, and I cut them out of my life and took steps to knock the pegs out of the platform that I'd unwittingly helped them build. If I found out someone I loved was plotting to destroy my entire community, I'd show them no mercy.

Kevin: Depends on if I know that they know that I know. If I think I can still act without them knowing I’m trying to stop them, I’ll probably call the authorities to get someone to act who actually has counter espionage training. If I know that I’m busted and may be putting people in danger by going through with plan A, I’ll probably just not do anything at all, since at least then I’m not making the situation worse. If the spy is about to actively harm people and I’m the only one who can do anything… honestly that’d probably be an in-the-moment decision. I’d like to think that I’d try to stop them, but I also know that my default is either of the two other plans, so jumping into action isn’t something that I’d naturally do.

Jared: I’d probably be very disappointed and sad, but at the same time, I’d have to cut them out of my life if they’re being distrustful. Although, I’d also be confused on why a spy is trying to get close to me in the first place.

Joseph: Depends on what kind of spy work they’re doing. If it seems cool, pays well, and doesn’t hurt anyone, I’d like to see what kind of cut I could get out of it. I’m kidding, of course… unless I’m not?

Danni: I’d start Googling “How to check your house for bugs. No, not that kind. The other one. The spy one.”

Kara: Like Paul, I not long ago had to drop someone hard - not a sexual predator, but a very abusive and underhanded person. It’s not entirely the same as the spy scenario, but there's a lot of similarities, with the main one being coming to terms with the fact that this person and I had never actually been friends and I was only ever a means to an end. I actually hurt for Naruto in this arc because of exactly that (although his version had a mitigating twist at the end). All you can really do is drop everything and, if at all possible, warn anyone else who might be affected.

Carolyn: Are they a good spy or a bad spy?

On the other hand, let’s say you were a ninja spy sent to infiltrate the village. How would you go about your mission? What would you do?

Paul: I'd try to take a page out of Genno's book. He was an excellent spy, and he fit in so well that he deceived an entire village of seasoned ninja not once but twice. Leaf Village only caught on to his schemes because he deliberately tipped his hand. So I'd keep my head low, perform my cover job in a slightly below average fashion, and be pleasantly mediocre in my social interactions, so as not to draw attention to myself.

Kevin: Depends on the time scale. If I have infinite time, I’d honestly probably do what Genno did: Just keep coming back to the village multiple times to set up traps and backups until I have a ridiculously convoluted web of plans that is almost impossible to counter in its entirety. If I have a limited amount of time, then it becomes more relevant to know what my exact mission is, whether I’m infiltrating to kill a target, steal a document, destroy the village, or something else.

Jared: Genno had the right ideas in that you’ve got to be sneaky, conniving, and also be able to blend in to the point that no one’s going to miss you if you suddenly leave. You want to be able to do whatever side job that you have to do at a level that’s essentially the equivalent of a C-. Passable, but you’re not excelling. After that, it’s about getting out without anyone raising a stink about it.

Joseph: I loved Genno’s ability to be lowkey. I feel like I could totally blend into the background for a bit, but I also like attention too much to keep it up for long, and I’d probably spill the beans too soon and fail.

Danni: I can’t count the number of times at work I’ve just been going about my business like normal and a coworker beside me turns around and jumps because they had no idea I was there. I seem to naturally just have no presence wherever I go, so honestly I could probably just walk in and take whatever I need without anyone noticing.

Kara: I’m gonna be real, I’d fail. I suck at lying and sneaking around. You know that bit in Into the Spider-Verse where Miles plays too dumb? That’s me. Don’t hire me as a spy; I’ll stay back at my village and do paperwork.

Carolyn: If you act fairly stand-offish and antisocial most people just leave you alone. So, I would do that and then do my spy thing.

Genno admits that the main reason why he went about his plan is because he felt he needed to fulfill his mission before he dies. Regardless of the morality of this choice, do you sympathize with his thought process?

Paul: I don't agree with his goals, but I understand where Genno is coming from, and that aspect of his motivation added a spicy bit of generational conflict to a story that was already brimming with subterfuge. They also made it clear that Genno wasn't really trying to destroy Leaf Village so much as he was re-enacting a “treasure hunt” in memory of his deceased son, although I'm not sure if that particular bit of characterization was necessary.

Kevin: I sympathize with it insofar as that’s something that makes sense for an actual ninja. Even if it’s decades later, you still have a mission to fulfill. Genno’s also one of the best ninja we’ve seen in the entire show, so it makes sense that out of everyone, he’d be the one to follow through with that ideal. As an actual action, I can’t say that I agree with it. Much like any grudge, letting it fester for decades on end is admirable from one angle, but pitiable or childish from most others.

Jared: He was a ninja to the end. I wouldn’t say I sympathize with his entire thought process, even if it was somewhat of a ruse. If he’d really been trying to harbor all of that ill will for so long, I’d consider that to be just unhealthy.

Joseph: I don’t know that I buy the fact that the charges he left behind would only deal superficial damage to the plateau, but yeah, I can sympathize with wanting to see the fruits of your labor before you pass on.

Danni: An old ninja caught in the existential crisis of dying before his now futile lifelong goal can be completed? Hell yeah! A devoted soldier having to come to terms with the reality that his nation has either changed or no longer exists feels like a conflict straight out of Metal Gear Solid. I love it.

Kara: At first I wasn’t feeling it. But then I remembered ninja in this universe give literally everything to their profession. It’s the thing that’s always kind of freaked me out the most about the whole series, that level of devotion to the point of body modification, self-harm, or destroying any chances for any other roles in your life. So in that context, in the context of Naruto, I can absolutely understand feeling that need.

Carolyn: A treasure hunt was his goal, though. Could he not have done that some other way without putting an entire village on edge? I thought the ending didn’t quite make sense, to be honest.

We get another recap episode, with the top 5 fights so far. Do you agree with the choices? If not, what would your top 5 be?

Paul: The fights between the Leaf Village Genin and Orochimaru's disciples were over-represented. I don't know if I have a Top 5 exactly, but I wish Sasuke vs. Orochimaru in the Forest of Death, Rock Lee vs. Gaara during the Chunin Exams, and the Third Hokage vs. Orochimaru had made the list.

Kevin: I find it interesting that the top 5 fights basically boil down to the Sasuke Retrieval arc minus Tayuya and Kimimaro. Personally, I think that speaks volumes to how good the arc was and why it is still remembered so fondly, although I probably would’ve swapped Kiba’s fight out for Gaara vs. Lee.

Jared: I think the top 5 were surprising to say the least, and that’s also the nicest thing I can say about it. Off the top of my head, I’d probably go with Lee vs. Gaara (how on Earth did this not make it?!), Naruto vs. Sasuke (Valley of the End), Naruto vs. Gaara, Hinata vs. Neji, and maybe Third Hokage vs. Orochimaru. I’m sure parts of that would change, but the first three would probably be a lock.

Joseph: We’ve watched four or five years of Naruto in the past eight months. I don’t even remember who fought what at this point. Most of the fight choices were fine, but I’d be lying if I said I paid full attention to this episode.

Danni: The Sasuke Retrieval arc was way too represented. I can’t say I care much for any of those fights outside of Naruto vs. Sasuke in the Final Valley. Throw in Naruto vs. Neji, Rock Lee vs. Gaara, Sasuke vs. Orochimaru, and maybe Drunken Master Rock Lee for fun.

Kara: This should have just been 23 minutes of Lee dropping his weights. I was actually a little annoyed at this episode because it felt like the writers finally throwing stacks of papers in the air and admitting they had nothing. And then tacking cross Sasuke on the end.

Carolyn: Rock Lee, Rock Lee, Rock Lee. I would have my boy Lee against Gaara no question. And Shikamaru’s Chunin exam fight has always been a huge favorite of mine, so that would be in there, too.

Lastly, what were your highs and lows this week?

Paul: My high point was seeing Leaf Village pull together to thwart Genno's schemes. That was the Patlabor 2 of filler arcs. My low point was the recap episode, which I mostly fast-forwarded through, if I'm being entirely honest. The bit with Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and Sasuke teleconferencing into the awards show struck me as especially bizarre.

Kevin: Both related to the Genno arc:

High - The basic plot of the arc. For the past few weeks, it’s mostly been comedy and our main characters being idiots. For these episodes, they got to trace the steps of a master planner, Naruto had an emotional connection to the villain, there were obvious breadcrumbs that actually paid out well, and generally the arc was pretty well written and different from what we’ve seen.

Low - Then the ending happened, and the show tried to make us feel bad for a terrorist who tried to destroy the village because he was just trying to be remembered and he lost his son in the conflict that had originally given him his mission. No, show, you cannot tell me that he’s a good person. His last actions were to literally destroy the village. And I know that a lot of the bombs were defective because he met Naruto (who looks like his son for no reason) and he wanted to go on a treasure hunt, but that’s not good character writing. That’s just really convenient and takes out all of the tension of the rest of the plot, since now the audience knows that there’s no actual danger.

Jared: High point would be the Genno arc, as I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. Given how much we’ve had to slog through with filler, it’s nice when it’s actually decent. Low point would be the recap episode because their top five is bad and also it’s just strange how they just willingly break kayfabe in it. You could probably do some interesting things by playing with the idea that these are characters being played in a show, but it doesn’t really hit that mark here.

Joseph: High - The Genno arc was surprisingly satisfying and made me forget how bad the past couple weeks have been. Low - I have a feeling the magic haunted painting arc that started after won’t be as cool as I’d like it to be. I LOVE SPOOKY PAINTINGS THAT COME TO LIFE.

Danni: It’s hard to choose a single high point from the Genno Arc so let’s just go with the whole thing: I loved it a lot. Low point goes to the recap episode, since only one of my favorite fights actually made it in there.

Kara: High point is the beginning of this Yakumo arc, both because my girl Kurenai is back and because this looks like some fun horror. Yakumo’s weird face reflected in Kurenai/Naruto’s eye actually got me. (I am sure I will regret this whole sentiment before long.) Low point was the recap. I actually yelled at the screen when the whole Orochimaru thing started, which is double bad since I’m sure the intent was to hype the audience up.

Carolyn: I have to agree with Kara, as anything horror is a plus for me, even if it falls flat. And recap episodes are never interesting to me. I might also add Naruto screaming at Genno that he will never understand as long as he lives and he’s going to “live a long time!!!” That was pretty great.

And that’s it for this week! Remember that you’re always welcome to watch along with the Rewatch, especially if you’ve never seen the original Naruto! Watch Naruto today!

Here’s our upcoming schedule:

-Next week, DANIEL DOCKERY goes through some haunts!

-On August 16th, NICOLE MEJIAS finishes up a mission!

-And finally, on August 23rd, CAYLA COATES wraps up the Rewatch in its entirety!

CATCH UP ON THE REWATCH!

Episodes 190-196: Matchmaking Gone Wrong

Episodes 183-189: No Laughter Allowed!

Episodes 176-182: Reach for the Stars!

Episodes 169-175: Anko’s Backstory At Sea

Episodes 162-168: The Tale of the Phantom Samurai

Episodes 155-161: Quickfire Curry

Episodes 148-154: The Forest is Abuzz With Ninjas

Episodes 141-147: Mizuki Strikes Back!

Episodes 134-140: The Climactic Clash

Episodes 127-133: Naruto vs Sasuke

Episodes 120-126: The Sand Siblings Return

Episodes 113-119: Operation Rescue Sasuke

Episodes 106-112: Sasuke Goes Rogue

Episodes 99-105: Trouble in the Land of Tea

Episodes 92-98: Clash of the Sannin

Episodes 85-91: A Life-Changing Decision

Episodes 78-84: The Fall of a Legend

Episodes 71-77: Sands of Sorrow

Episodes 64-70: Crashing the Chunin Exam

Episodes 57-63: Family Feud

Episodes 50-56: Rock Lee Rally

Episodes 43-49: The Gate

Episodes 36-42: Through the Woods

Episodes 29-35: Sakura Unleashed

Episodes 22-28: Chunin Exams Kickoff

Episodes 15-21: Leaving the Land of Waves

Episodes 8-14: Beginners' Battle

Episodes 1-7: I'm Gonna Be the Hokage!

Thank you for joining us for the GREAT CRUNCHYROLL NARUTO REWATCH! See you next time!

Have anything to say about this batch of episodes? Let us know in the comments! We're accepting questions and comments for next week, so ask away!

-----

Noelle Ogawa is a contributor to Bubbleblabber and Cup of Moe. She can be found on Twitter @noelleogawa.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

0 notes

sarahburness · 7 years ago

Text

What Your Self-Judgment Might Be Trying to Tell You

“Regret is a fair but tough teacher.” ~Brene Brown

A few weeks back, I found myself in the midst of a shame hangover and, like most people, when I’m in that unique internal cavern, self-judgments swoop into my consciousness like a colony of rabid bats in a four-foot tent.

I’ll paint the picture…

There are about two or three boys that have started visiting the houses on my block recently. They hold a rag and a windex bottle, come into every yard, knock on the door, and ask to wash the front doors (most of which are glass). Seems pretty harmless, huh? And, full, vulnerable disclosure here, they were also another ethnicity than I (and I consider myself a woke liberal).

The first time I saw them approaching the houses, I felt mildly perturbed. I didn’t have cash on me. I didn’t want to deal with them. I just wanted to be left alone. I didn’t want to have to tell them “no.” I had just washed that door.

They were around twelve years old, maybe younger, and I could tell they were working up the confidence to come into the yard and ask. It wasn’t easy for them. It was a little painful to watch.

I struggled with being irritated and simultaneously feeling empathy for them. Both uncomfortable. As they made their way into my yard, I told them I had just washed the door, but I noticed the edge in my voice. Something in me felt triggered and I wasn’t quite sure why. I felt a hot beat of shame flush in my cheeks.

A few days later they returned, and as I answered the door, a boy with big brown eyes tried to get the words out but before he could even finish his sentence, I could feel anger rising in my body.

I was watching it happen, confused. Maybe it was all the years living in a big city and feeling bombarded constantly by people asking for money, asking for help, asking for compassion. Some self-protective part of me was kicking in for absolutely no reason.

I told them no, that I didn’t have cash, and I could hear my voice getting sharper and sharper. I wondered what they saw in that moment—a woman with a sign in her yard professing #lovewins, with a sharp tongue and narrowed eyes, skeptical and cold. I could feel myself tearing inside.

To make up for it, I said,”Maybe next time. Come back later?”

Three days later, they came back. I could see them making their way from down the street and the stories started spinning in my head. Do their parents know their doing this? Just making their way down the block multiple times a week? This is ridiculous. How much are they even charging for this? What a rip off! They are trying to scam us.

My body responded in kind, seamlessly. I could feel my cortisol levels rising. I wondered if this was a clue that I actually might be racist on some level. I’m realizing now, yes, of course I am.

“Excuse me ma’am,” one of them asked again.

Before he could finish, I noticed I was yelling across the yard and transforming into someone I hated. In a second, I was shrill, nasty, and reactive.

“If you want to get business, you probably shouldn’t come back every day,” I heard myself hiss as I jumped up and stomped over to the fence. “Do your parents even know where you are?”

It felt like an out-of-body experience. One self was feeling for these boys watching this lumbering, angry white woman approaching them. One was observing, was sad for what they were seeing, and one part was jumping head first into blame. I have never seen love and fear so clearly demonstrated in my dual personalities I felt so much separation of self.

“Well, you said to come back,” he replied honestly, “at another time.”

Oh crap. He was right, I had told them to come back (to get them to go away), to be left alone. They took me literally.

I realized how much I was shaping in that moment. I was teaching these boys how the world worked, how skeptical people are of other’s motivations (particularly people of their ethnicity), how nasty people can become for no apparent reason.

I was professing love on my yard signs and teaching them about fear. They saw me in my yard, lovingly interacting in my toddler and then treating them like their hearts were disposable.

I watched them walk away, wondering what they were muttering, as the shame cloak washed over me. For the next hour, I sat with my toddler son watching Horton Hears a Who. I was feeling so down I couldn’t even be present except to the message.

“A person is a person no matter how small.”

The self-judgments were getting darker and darker.

You are a fraud.

You fool. You are a racist.

You are deep down a rotting mess.

You are a nasty b*tch. That is who you are really are.

And with each word, I sunk lower and lower in the cavern.

Until I took a moment to remember something important about self-judgments.

They can actually be a good thing, as long as you don’t take them literally. They are a sign of regret.

“Regret is a fair but tough teacher.” ~Brene Brown

I regretted that situation because my fear-based actions were so out of alignment with what my deeper self desired. I wanted to take care of those boys. I wanted them to feel seen and valued, but fear stepped in and I created the opposite effect.

Self-judgments can tell us where we are out of alignment with deeper self and our intuitive responses.

I think of all the times love has told me what to do, has urged me toward compassionate action, toward mercy, toward lifting others up, and how often my fear steps in and death chokes it to the ground by reasoning it away. Each time, self-judgment promptly followed. Each of those instances is teaching me more and more how to listen to that intuitive voice before listening to the screams of fear.

Our deeper self whispers, and our fear screams, so it makes sense that it wins a lot of the time. If we continue to ignore those whispers, however, our deeper self will try to get our attention through the channels of self-judgment.

Yes, I have parts of me that are certainly nasty and rotten, and I am realizing, also racist. I also know these do not define who I am capable of becoming. They are expressions of fear and, just like every other human, I am capable of using them to defend myself when I am triggered. The more I recognize that impulse, the more choice I have to act in love.

The deeper self will scream (and use your own past wounds against you) if that is the only way to get you to pay attention. The mistake I initially made was that I was taking the self-judgments literally, and as truth, instead of decoding their messages.

“If the self-judgments aren’t literal, what might my deeper self be trying to say?” I asked myself.

When I looked underneath all of the judgments, I could see that I was afraid if I kept acting that way toward people that I would be a part of everything I hated about the world right now.

Underneath that fear was a request from my deeper self to start to choose loving and compassionate responses as much as I could, to be brave, to take responsibility for what is happening in this world right now, to get better.

I am sick and tired of betraying myself all the time. I am so sick of letting fear run the game of my life, keeping me separated from other people. I am committed to love winning inside of me more and more.

I can’t promise perfection. I can’t promise I won’t be triggered by a whole bunch of past conditioning and crap, but I can promise to try to get better each time, and to create a plan for what I am going to do get better, to create the world I want to live in.

For now, I’m keeping cash in my drawer, hoping those boys come back. If they do, I’m inviting them into the yard, introducing them to my son, asking their names, and thanking them for their help. I’m going to show them that people can love them without knowing them yet.

SaveSave

About Beth Clayton

Beth Clayton is a TedX speaker, lifestyle coach and owner of Soul Body Life. She helps people cut the mind chatter to release from outdated belief systems and past pain so they can connect with their intuition and accelerate momentum in their lives. You can check her out at www.soulbodylife.com and get her free e-book, "The Secrets in Your Sabotage" at http://bit.ly/2rnJkWf.

Web | More Posts

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.

The post What Your Self-Judgment Might Be Trying to Tell You appeared first on Tiny Buddha.

from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/what-your-self-judgment-might-be-trying-to-tell-you/

0 notes