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ijustwant2write · 4 years ago

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‘I want that with you’-Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

(GIF credit to @misskatesharma)

Requested by @elennox03: ‘I’d like to request an Anthony Bridgerton x read imagine. I’m a huge sucker for husband!anthony. Can you write an imagine where Anthony and his wife are visiting the Bridgerton house and he sees his wife with his youngest sibilings and he realizes he wants to be a dad. When they leave and go back to their house he admits to her that he wants a kid and it’s really fluffy and maybe a little smutty? 🥺’

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader, Bridgerton family x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: LOTS OF FLUFF, SMUT

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Anthony sat at the table, newspaper in hand as he waited for his wife to join him for breakfast. The servants were ready to serve the food as soon as the Viscountess sat down. Anthony was engrossed in the headlines of the day, until he heard someone descending the stairs. He hoped it was his wife, smiling when he saw the doors being opened for her in his peripheral.

“Good morning darling.” he greeted.

“Good morning. Sorry to keep you waiting, last time we visited your family I promised Hyacinth I would wear this dress, it is her favourite.” she approached him, kissing him on the forehead before taking her seat, where a servant pushed it in for her.

“No bother, we shall still be there on time.” Anthony put down the newspaper as breakfast was laid out in front of them.

“I am excited to be visiting again. Especially since Daphne’s season is coming up.”

Anthony’s happy expression vanished at the thought.“Don’t remind me.”

(Y/N) giggled at her husband as they started eating.“Here he is, the protective older brother.”

“Well, I have to be. We both know men will come flocking towards her, and she will be so hypnotised by it that she won’t think about getting to know them. And to add to that, I know a majority of the men in this community, they go to my club, and there’s a lot I don’t want near her.”

“Oh darling, don’t get yourself too stressed over these matters. I’m sure you will have no trouble finding someone for her. Now let us eat, I am starving.”

Once they finished, the pair headed to the foyer, their servants already waiting with gloves, coats and capes, as well as a hat for Anthony. They put on everything, (Y/N) taking Anthony’s arm as they walked outside to the carriage. The couple didn’t need to speak to enjoy each others company, still holding hands as they looked out of the windows, the familiar streets passing by, before they both recognised the area in which their family lived in. (Y/N) loved being a Bridgerton, not only because she had fallen completely in love with Anthony, but because he had the most wonderful family. She had many friends who’s families were stuck up, or too strict, with some only just liking their husbands. (Y/N)’s whole body filled up with adoration for Anthony every time she looked at him, and her heart swelled whenever he looked back. (Y/N) knew she was extremely lucky, and she was thankful for that every single day.

When they arrived at the Bridgerton house, they were welcomed in, taken to the drawing room where the entire family was sat. Gregory and Hyacinth were the first to make a move, jumping off of their chairs and shouting out their brother and sister-in-law’s names. Anthony scooped up his younger brother as (Y/N) knelt down to capture Hyacinth in a hug. When the married couple had first started courting, Hyacinth had been in awe of (Y/N), wondering if Anthony was in love with a princess.

The rest of the Bridgerton’s also stood to welcome Anthony and (Y/N). Hyacinth took (Y/N)’s hand and pulled her towards the sofa, sitting down together. She looked over (Y/N)’s dress, thrilled that she remembered to wear that one. As Violet began a conversation with (Y/N), Anthony approached Daphne, intending to talk about her upcoming season, but she beat him to it.

“Anthony, I should like to ask you a few questions regarding my debut.” Daphne started.

“Wonderful, I was just about to bring up the matter. So, in a few weeks, you shall be presented-”

“No, I know how it all works brother. Mama has told me all about it. I wanted to ask you about, well, the more personal side of it. And I think it would benefit me to see it from a gentleman’s perspective.”

Anthony dreaded to think what she would come up with.“Ah, maybe this is a conversation for mama-”

“I was wondering what it felt like when you realised (Y/N) was the one for you. How did you choose her? Was it something that stood out? Something I should be doing?”

Anthony chuckled at his sister’s questions, and how innocent she was. He wished she would stay like this forever.“I believe it is different for everyone sister. I...I don’t know how to explain it, but,” he looked over to (Y/N), who now had Hyacinth cuddled into her side as she and Violet talked,“it felt right. Like when you know the answer to a question, and that feeling of certainty goes through you. You don’t have any ‘what ifs’ about the future, because you know that no matter what happens, they will be the person by your side.”

Daphne smiled as she glanced in the same direction, before looking back to her brother. She had seen that expression of his many times when he was with (Y/N), and she wished someone would look at her that way during her season.

“(Y/N),” Gregory caught her attention. He was sat on the floor,“will we be having a cousin soon? Some of my friends have loads of cousins to play with.”

(Y/N) wasn’t sure how to answer, and Violet sensed that. The older siblings felt a slight awkwardness in the air, knowing it was a touchy subject.

Violet smiled, trying to lighten the mood.“Why don’t we take lunch outside? It is such a beautiful day.”

The eldest siblings all quickly agreed, moving almost immediately. Gregory felt that he had said something wrong, especially wen he saw (Y/N)’s face. Anthony was about to comfort her when Gregory stood up and held her hand, Hyacinth was already holding the other one.

“I’m sorry if I upset you.” he said, pouting slightly.

(Y/N) gave him a comforting smile, kneeling down between the two.“Don’t worry, you did no such thing. Tell you what, why don’t we play outside after lunch? But you’ve got to let me win at least one game.”

The children giggled, knowing that (Y/N) had never been very good at winning whatever games they played. But both nodded, going ahead of her when she gently pushed them forwards. Standing back up, she realised Anthony had been watching her the whole time.

“What? What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing.” he replied, quickly pecking her on the lips.“Come, let us join our family.”

The rest of the afternoon went by too fast for (Y/N)’s liking. Over lunch she discussed Daphne’s debut, giving her advice on how to deduct herself and little ways to flirt when Anthony and Violet weren’t listening. Their giggles didn’t go unnoticed, Anthony scolding Collin and Benedict for not paying attention to the girls.

“(Y/N), can we go play now?” Gregory asked as soon as she was finished eating.

“Gregory, you have only just finished for food too. Wait a while, otherwise you will have a bad stomach.” Violet warned him.

“She is not a toy for you two to play with. Some of us would like to speak with (Y/N) too you know.” Daphne pointed out, only to have Gregory stick his tongue out at her.

“We will play once our food has settled, yes?” (Y/N) nodded to the children, who knew they would be waiting as the grown ups talked.

Anthony had that thought again. Hyacinth and Gregory adored (Y/N), and she had such a way with children. And it wasn’t all smooth sailing with these two, (Y/N) had told them off a few times. It was natural thing that came to her, a natural thing he had put off for so long. Of course, they wanted to enjoy their time together without children, but seeing her like this, and with children of friends started to make him think that perhaps it was time. (Y/N) had only ever expressed her wanting of children once, which lead to an argument. Anthony had always felt pressured to be the one to marry first and produce heirs, so when he found (Y/N), his mama subtly hinted to him about having a baby as soon as possible; just to spite her, Anthony convinced (Y/N) not to dive headfirst into parenthood, something she went along with because she saw how stressed Anthony became on the subject. However, (Y/N) didn’t want to be past her time before it was too late to have a child.

“Alright then,” (Y/N) said as she, the two youngest and Collin stood on the grass,“what game are we playing?”

“Hide and seek!” Hyacinth quickly shouted before Gregory could even open his mouth.

“That’s so boring!” her brother whined.

“And aren’t (Y/N) and I slightly too big to be hiding?” Collin pointed out.

(Y/N) mocked offence.

“N-no, I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it!”

(Y/N) laughed at him, much to Collin’s relief.

“Gregory, we do always play whatever you want.” (Y/N) said.“We’ll play hide and seek today.”

Hyacinth cheered, saying (Y/N) was the seeker before running off. Gregory was fast behind her, whilst Collin shrugged at (Y/N), going off to hide too. (Y/N) just rolled her eyes as she smiled, turning the other way and beginning to count. The others were still sat at the table, engrossed in a conversation, but Anthony was still watching (Y/N). She shook her head at him, still counting until she reckoned they were given enough time to hide. She announced she was coming, looking under benches and around trees and hedges, behind statues and pillars. Collin was the first to be found, unfortunately he was right about being too big to hide. They both set out to find the other two, keeping as quiet as they could.

(Y/N) heard rustling behind her, before something moved in behind the rose bushes. She held back for a moment, waking alongside it slowly to not alert the player of her presence. Once they had no where else to go, (Y/N) waited for them to make a run for it, jumping out at them. This caused them to collide as they both yelped out, but ending up laughing as (Y/N) realised it was Hyacinth that she had caught. As they sat up, with (Y/N) checking she hadn’t hurt the girl, Collin came bounding over with Gregory over his shoulder.

Anthony knew what he wanted, and in that moment he had no patience. He wanted to tell (Y/N) about his intentions now, but knew it would be better to have that conversation in private. It was going to happen tonight, he needed to say it.

On the way home, (Y/N) noticed how Anthony’s hand was on her thigh, rather than holding her hand, and he was as close to her as he could possibly be. He kept kissing her too, holding her face in his other hand. Some were gentle and long kisses, other were hungry and passionate. (Y/N) was flustered, wondering why he was acting this way. When they arrived home, Anthony took her hand in his, quickly guiding her upstairs to their room.

“Anthony, what are-”

(Y/N) was silenced as he kissed her again, his hands now holding her waist. She embraced it, gripping onto his biceps as he walked them towards the bed. He pulled away, scooping her into his arms and gently laying her down on the bed. He straddled her, leaning down to kiss her again as she pushed off his jacket, trying to take off his shirt too. He sat up, taking it off, and for a moment, he was content with just looking at his wife.

“Anthony?” she whispered.

His urges drove him forward, kissing down her neck and on top of her breasts, pulling her to sit up with him so he could undo her dress. She told him to stand, as did she, turning around so it was easier to rid of the garment. Once it was off, he pressed his body against the back of hers, taking a second to slow down. He ran his hands from her lower back, rounding her waist and cupping her breasts. She moaned at his touch, purposefully pushing against his crotch. He moved her to face him, knowing he had to tell her what was on his mind now before he completely forgot about them.

“(Y/N).” was all he managed to get out.

“Yes?” she looked back up at him with her beautiful eyes.

“I...I want us to have a family.”

“I do too.”

“No, I mean...I’m ready.”

“You are?”

“Yes. I know I am. After seeing you today with my brother and sister, well, whenever you’re around children, I realised how selfish I have been. I married you because I love you. And love comes in many forms. One way to express our love is by creating a family of our own.”

“Anthony, are you sure? Because, because you know how happy that would make me?”

He smiled.“And that’s all I want to do, make you happy.”

“You do so every day. But this means the world to me. I love you.”

“I love you, so much. We’re ready (Y/N), we know what we both want. I want that with you.”

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton imagines #anthony bridgerton one shot #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton fan fiction #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton fan fic

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dwellordream · 4 years ago

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A Six of Crows Review: Joost and Inej I

This marks the beginning of my review of Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo. Before I go any further, I want to provide context for my experience/knowledge of the book and its fandom. Six of Crows was published in 2015 when I was 16. I picked it up in a bookstore and read the first few chapters idly while shopping, before putting it back down.

At the time, my dislike of what I’d read was probably primarily fueled by the realization that it was by the same author as Shadow and Bone, which I had tried to read a few years before and disliked, and because at the time I was aging out of the YA genre in general and had very little patience for many of its familiar tropes.

In recent years, Six of Crows and its companion and predecessor series, the Grisha Trilogy, have become one of the most popular YA series online. The avid fan response and promotion of it on social media no doubt led to the Netflix series being greenlit and it is obviously trending at present due to the success of the series. With all that in mind, I’ve decided to try Six of Crows again and see for myself what all the hype is about.

Some more caveats: I am 22 years old. I am aware Six of Crows is YA literature intended for a middle and high school audience. I will not be holding it to the standards I would hold an adult grade fantasy book, in terms of prose, themes, or content. I am aware that I am not necessarily the target audience for the book and these reviews are in no way intended to shame or disparage anyone who enjoys the book.

Criticism is a healthy part of any fandom and does not necessarily constitute hate. I will likely critique elements of the book in my write up. That does not mean I have a personal vendetta against the author, publishers, or the TV show. Please do not take this as a personal attack if you’ve enjoyed the book. This is just intended to promote discussion and to gather my own thoughts.

If you follow me, I am tagging this as ‘in review’ so you know what to block if you don’t want to see my posts on your dash. I will be going through 1-2 chapters per weekend. This weekend I will be looking at the prologue, aka Joost, and the first Inej chapter.

Jumping into things, here is Joost:

The prologue is our introduction to Ketterdam, the setting of Six of Crows. It’s been a very long time since I read Shadow and Bone and so all I really know is that Ketterdam is a city in an island known as Kerch, based off the map. The major countries or kingdoms of the mainland to the east appear to be Fjerda, Ravka, and Shu Han, though it is unclear how they differ from one another at this point.

Ketterdam through Joost’s eyes is a sinister and dreary place, a city under a grimy night sky and full of dangers. Joost works as a hired guard for a very wealthy man named Hoede, who keeps grishas, powerful magic users, as indentured servants. Joost is infatuated with one of them, Anya, a healer, though he knows she is not likely to return his affections and furthermore cannot wed without the permission of her owner. We also learn that grishas are at risk for being kidnapped and sold by slavers due to their value. However, the indentured servant system of Ketterdam thus far doesn’t seem to be much better than slavery, given how little freedom the grisha have.

Overall, the prologue is supposed to give us a sense for the setting of Ketterdam and interest us in the main hook of the novel, which seems to be a mysterious substance that grisha can ingest to heighten their powers for the benefit of their masters, though it has the risks of making them uncontrollable. How well is this done?

Through Joost’s perspective we can glean several things; Ketterdam is a dirty city with rampant income inequality, full of crime and corruption. Magic is an established system within Ketterdam, but the magic users do not seem to be at the type of the hierarchy despite their powers, which suggests they are a minority to the extent of which they can still be controlled by the elite class of non magic users, if they have enough money and power.

It is also very obvious through the references in the prologue that Ketterdam is heavily based off the Netherlands during the Golden Age, which was Amsterdam’s (Ketterdam… Amsterdam… not subtle) economic and cultural boom during the 17th century, aka the 1600s. Notably the world’s first stock exchange began in Amsterdam in 1602, and it was a major port and trading hub for the Dutch East and Dutch West India Companies.

It is not clear if Ketterdam is also intended to be a 1600s-esque society, timeline wise, but we know that rifles are common place and there is a thriving merchant class who rule as opposed to old aristocracy, which seems to indicate a Renaissance style setting, as well as the urban environment in general. (That said, from the advertisements for the Netflix show, they seem to have updated it to a more Victorian-era 1800s society, in terms of fashion and general aesthetics).

Overall, the prologue does its job. It gives us a vague idea of what Ketterdam is like, how the society is structured, and who holds the power. It also ends on a suspenseful cliffhanger, leaving Joost’s fate unclear. Where it falls flat is that I think a little more time could have been spent fleshing out Joost as a narrator, even if this is his only showing in the book.

His internal monologue comes across as a bit dry and mechanical, as if the author is aware he is just a means to an end to start the book off with a bang, and he quickly turns into a walking camera (just there to report events to the reader, with no internal input from him), for the second half of the prologue, as we switch to just watching Anya and Hoede through his eyes. That said, it’s not a major problem, as Joost is clearly not intended to be a main character, and his narration still effectively conveys what is happening and sets the dark tone of the novel.

What I would have liked to see from the prologue is perhaps the POV of Anya herself, or the small child she is being forced to experiment on, as that might have been a more compelling and immerse introduction to Ketterdam and its dangers rather than the fairly bland and neutral Joost, who doesn’t really feel like a character so much as a bland stand-in for the reader. If we were put in the shoes of Anya, suddenly called upon by her power hungry employer to participate in this unethical test, or in the shoes of the small boy caught up in the middle of this, it might have been both more thrilling to read and given a more gritty sense of what it’s like to be on the lowest rungs of Ketterdam’s society, at the mercy of the most powerful.

Moving onto Inej, we run into some similar problems. After Inej’s first chapter, I couldn’t tell you a single thing about her, other than that she was an acrobat as a child, that she is part of the street gang known as the Dregs, and that she intensely values loyalty. This isn’t a problem, per say, but while that’s all good to know, it doesn’t give me any sense of Inej’s actual personality, which doesn’t exactly bode well. Like Joost, she comes across more as a walking camera and occasional tourist guide as opposed to a human character with her own worries, hopes, and fears.

I think this may become a recurring problem with Bardugo’s writing - ie all tell, no show. Inej is good at telling things. She tells us where we are as we follow her to the location of a stand-off between rival gangs, she tells us that Kaz, their leader ‘doesn’t need a reason’, though she never exactly explains what that means other than that he is widely feared, she tells us that she is very fond of her knives.

But in terms of writing, we shouldn’t have to be force fed all this information via her internal monologue, which, again, entirely cuts out once the action picks up, just like Joost’s. While I don’t need her thoughts on every threat or gunshot, it would be nice to feel as if she hadn’t just vanished from the story completely as soon as the dialogue starts.

We also meet Kaz and Jesper, though I couldn’t tell you much about them utter than that Inej clearly admires, even venerates Kaz as an accomplished intimidator and chess master, and that Jesper is clearly the joker of the group.

It also feels incredibly weird that this parley between gangs in happening in front of the city’s stock exchange. Inej tells us this is because the Exchange is one of the few remaining neutral territories, but it’s also heavily guarded, which means every time a gang wants to parley, they have to pay out the cash to bribe all the guards to very pointedly ignore a meeting between rambunctious and trigger happy street gangsters on their literal doorstep.

I understand why Bardugo chose this location, wanting to contrast the violence of the gang members with the economic injustice that the Exchange and its merchant rulers represents, but it just seems a bit silly. They couldn’t meet at the docks? In an alley way? This is like picturing the American Mafia hosting a public meeting at the New York Stock Exchange with a bunch of cops twiddling their thumbs nearby.

The foreshadowing that Bollinger is the traitor (‘I’m not going to bet on my own death’) also seems very heavy handed and a little much, but I’ll let it slide.

It’s also not really clear while Inej is present at this meeting in the first place. Kaz commands her to keep watch from above, but he has also put a contingency plan in place that doesn’t even involve her, having bought out some of Geels’ men from under him. Why put Inej looking down from above if you’re not involving her in this plan? Her only role seems to be to watch, and she doesn’t even have a gun she could play sniper with. It just seems like a hamfisted way of getting Inej out of the danger zone so the author can have her as a passive spectator to the violence that follows.

This is my main problem with this chapter. It’s supposed to introduce us to Inej, but really, it’s introducing us to Kaz. Which is fine, but as he also has a POV in this book, it seems a bit lame that her own chapter is completely overtaken by showing off A. his smarts and B. how dangerous he is, despite being dismissed as a young ‘cripple’ by the likes of Geels.

Geels is also… not a greatly done villain. I get that he’s supposed to be small fry and is just a precursor to much more threatening opponents, but his every line of dialogue feels designed to show off how cool and Machiavellian Kaz is in comparison. He doesn’t seem like an actual hardened criminal who has underestimated his opponent, but a somewhat cheesy cartoon thug who unironically says things like “How are you going to wriggle your way out of this one?” with his full chest. The effect is comical, and not in a good way.

This chapter also shows off Kaz’s sadistic side in full display, which is probably one of the only interesting things about it, though it would be nice if we got any input at all from Inej on this… instead she completely vanishes from her own narration, to the point where she might as well not be present at all. Kaz has no qualms about tracking down his enemies’ weakness, such as lovers and family, and threatening them.

But the open horror and shock Geels reacts with seems incongruent, as if Kaz were the first up and coming gangster to actually consider threatening someone’s family or girlfriend. That seems pretty par for the course for violent criminals trying to claim territory and unnerve their rivals, yet Inej and Geels himself react as if no one had ever thought of sinking to the level of ‘do what I want or I’ll kill your loved ones’ until Kaz invented it. It just feels a bit silly and on the nose.

Really, my overarching issue with this chapter is that it’s not about Inej at all, it’s just an introduction to the Kaz Brekker fan club. I don’t automatically hate Kaz as a character, but his introduction is heavyhanded and comes at the cost of any establishing character moments for Inej. The most we get out of her is her brief pangs of sympathy for Bollinger despite his treachery, and her brief reference to her childhood. Maybe future Inej chapters will totally change this, but right now, it’s not a great sign of what’s to come.

I can think of about a hundred things Inej could have done or said this chapter to develop or establish her personality at all, but all we got was her briefly holding a knife to someone, and her briefly saying a prayer for Bollinger. I think it would have worked much better had this plan to catch Geels with his pants down been Inej’s invention or at least worked out between her and Kaz, rather than her just there to play lookout and admire how cool Kaz is.

Or at the very least, we could have seen the scene referenced where she searches the crime scene of the assassination, instead of that getting two lines and an entire chapter being devoted to what boils down to a pissing contest over which gangs gets rights to a certain neighborhood.

Next week, we will look at Kaz I.

#in review #six of crows #ya lit #inej ghafa

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letusmeetagain · 4 years ago

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A place for him in this world

On my question if there is a place for the devil in paradise? Because a devil can’t play with an angel unless a miracle happens.

Narrator: “It seemed wrong for us to continue living. Whether humanity could survive another day was out of human hands. (...) But that day, one boy gripped the dagger in his heart and used it to kill a titan stomping its massive head into the ground. Who did humans that saw that sight feel? Some were filled with pride. Some were filled with hope. Some were filled with rage. But all of them screamed. (...) Can they ever believe again that there is a place for them in this world?“ (ch.73)

I wonder if there is place for rage in a new world. Or will Eren take all the rage inside him down with him?

The dagger...A rage that works as the mean to keep advancing without hesitation. The source of violence in the world, the great power among humanity that also inhabits Eren’s soul, mentioned in Lost Girls. This side of him that no one can pacify nor stop and the one he chose to prevail over his need to save all innocents and use love as a way to connect with others.

That is his kind side which is immensely great and pure. That other side of him that comforted Mikasa after her loss and gave her a new home not being asked for it. The one that made him wonder about Armin’s bravery.

And also the kind side full of compassion that responded to Ymir’s call, stopped her and gave her the impulse to refuse the meaning her environment gave to her existence. That side of him that is capable of great deeds which are always so small yet so powerful. It’s because its modesty that all of this got eclipsed by his other side.

After making the choice to start the rumbling, he became one of the monsters he wanted to vanish from the world. Since childhood, he has always had a clear ethical division between the innocents, his friends, and abusers like him, who is now the one who exceeded any violent act they’ve ever seen. From his perspective, the innocents are the ones that deserve a place on this world. When he discovered he would be able to take such a decision, he immediately lost his own right to have a place and sided with the undesirable to his own eyes. But self-harm is okay under the light of his mission and he also deserves it following his own rules. He would have wanted to live as an innocent yet his own nature is something he can’t deny, ignore nor control.

That side of him described as a reckless child that spouts out his feelings without being aware of the consequences for himself nor for his environment is something he isn’t able to drown. He can’t. He brought things to the point of challenging his environment to stop him like a child who needs that his surroundings show him where the limit is. Stop being a lonely hunter lost in the forest, being truly connected to others means for us to learn to control ourselves and give up on violence. As I said in another post, Grisha hadn’t enough time to show him the truth. Nobody could.

Yet this scene was very clever. Right after showing this panel, Ramzy appeared to point out not only the fact that both drives are part of his nature but the fact that his drive of helping others is as strong and unstoppable as his violent side. It isn’t possible to take them away from him but through his own choice to let one of them have control over the other. His kind side even turned into a justification for his choice.

It’s not the future he can’t control but his drives, he has always been the person who would make those decisions since the very beginning.

In contrast to his determination to continue the rumbling, the true nature of his feelings about his fate seems to be different. As well as Ymir was waiting for someone to come and save her, that also applies to Eren. Maybe he isn’t deliberately willing to be saved but that’s what he needs as any human cornered like him to throw everything he loves. A salvation he is fated to reach since the moment he formed bonds to his friends and loved them (Yes, that meant Krüger). After Ymir died, she kept carrying the mission of maintaining the Eldian empire… obeying for the eternity the statement of King Fritz “You were born to be a slave“ as if it were her truth.

But how is it for Eren? What’s the meaning of his life? Is it just his mission? For what goal does he want to attain freedom? Is it for him? Of course not. I think his existence was always reduced to his mission and urge of freedom what he believes is his own purpose in life. He is the chosen* one who received the power and responsibility to do something fully aware of the future. Both, Ymir and Eren, accepted a meaning given by their nature, their wishes and also forced by their environment too:

Ymir: wanted love, served as a slave thinking that it would be the mean to reach the love and was/is trapped in paths carrying the will of King Fritz.

Eren: wants freedom, let his violent side to be the mean to attain it and is now trapped in paths refusing to stop the rumbling and carrying the mission until the bitter end.

His aim is to carry the burden of 2000 years of collective wrong choices as if he were a fallen hero condemned to carry a sin for the eternity like Atlas.

*by Ymir but also by himself.

For this time, he accepted to throw away everything what’s dear to him, sever ties by planning a systematic attack on two pure bonds based on love in order to set the right conditions to keep up his mission (he and Mikasa, he and Armin and Armin and Annie, ch. 112) and avoiding to make them pay for his own choice. All explains his search for punishment for the child he still is and for being capable of choosing to become a monster.

He also sacrificed the true meaning of having a dream (but not being a slave to it) and being a soldier. All of this sacrifices that corroded his soul. Still this might have been more acceptable/less regrettable than not doing it.

What led him to choose this? There are a lot of circumstances and reasons for it:

His near death to the curse as impulse that prevented him from further dreams of staying with his friends (and also was his responsibility) and go on kamikaze mode.

That childish dream of freedom (as final state) and its delusion as selfish driving force and also coping mechanism helped him to deal with the guilt and keep moving forward. That is also that “something“ he is now drunk on after severing his bonds to his friends and facing this end alone.

And lastly his friends that were the source of strength and determination that justified selflessness of this choice when he had to make a step (ch.108) or when he hesitated to go ahead with the mission (ch.123).

Even if he is testing them and trying to be stopped* and judged by them, there isn’t an underlying feeling of irony here but hope that the choices they’ll make together as a whole will bring a positive change. I had the feeling that he trusts they will follow their own nature to make the right choice.

(*which would be one condition more he set to boycott his own plan as for ex. letting SoY know he would start the rumbling to let them escape)

Although he seems to wait for a clash, there is nothing but hope. The biggest contradiction for his friends would be to have to reach the goal of stopping him exactly through violence. Erasing the cycle of hatred by committing the biggest crime and then searching for a judgment doesn’t seem to bring a true change. In fact, there is hope considering that Ymir was also stopped by the power of empathy and human connection.

Just the modest act of forgetting about grudges and who has the right to hate and live, empathy and recognizing each other as mere humans on the same level, guilty and innocent was enough for Uri and Kenny to stop their fate of being meant to fight each other.

In brief, he was the one choosing this and it was by moving towards the fate he chose that he was being free… he had a performative freedom while renouncing freedom as a final state in the world. The price he has to pay after this is losing the right to live in the world so he won’t enjoy the freedom to stay alive with his friends. He will have//had to give up his dream for himself in order to grant freedom to the people he loves and thanks to this choice, they may be able to make their own choices to solve the conflict and attain common benefit.

At least, his friends, who witnessed his both sides, will know that his truth is to be both: cruel but also beautiful and they will bring him peace by helping him to embrace his duality, that is so human, and release him from this pain and disappointment.

As Karla wanted for him: to be free of having to be special, different from others.

#snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot #eren jäger #eren #attack on titan

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justcallmefox89 · 4 years ago

Text

Truth or Dare Part 10 - Diavolo’s Ending/Finale

Arianthi adjusts to her new life as a demon. Changes are coming to the Devildom, and the trio must decide if they will face them together.

Written from the perspective of my female OC Arianthi.

Mood List:

Adam Lambert - Feel Something Luke Evans - The First Time I Ever Saw Your Face Karl Loxley - Never Enough Lukaas Graham - Love Someone Jonathan Young - For the Dancing and the Dreaming (cover)

I hold my breath, bracing for whatever is about to happen. Then I hear a very familiar giggle.

“Asmo?” I wiggle out of Diavolo’s grip and see Mammon’s brothers standing in the doorway, gawping at us.

Barbatos pushes his way through them, breathing a little harder than usual. “Apologies, my lord. I did try to stop them.”

“No need for you to apologize Barbatos,” Diavolo says, scowling at Lucifer.

I look over at Mammon. He’s pressed himself flush against Diavolo’s back, eyeing his brothers warily.

Well then.

“Um, Barbatos? Maybe we could talk about everything that has happened over breakfast? I can come help you as soon as I’m dressed.”

“Of course, Arianthi. I’ll begin preparations.” He spares one last annoyed look for the brothers before turning and stalking out of the room.

“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you have an excellent reason for barging into our bedroom. Especially given your behavior the last time we were all together.” Diavolo’s tone is frosty.

“Our bedroom?” Asmo raises his eyebrows and giggles again. “Big brother I am positively green with envy.”

He bounds towards us, sitting at the foot of our bed. “I’ll admit when you said you were all in a relationship I didn’t imagine it being so cozy.”

“Not to distract from our original reason for being here, but when did one of you learn to throw fire?” Satan asks, examining a scorch mark on the wall next to the door.

He turns to look at Mammon and Diavolo, arching one delicate eyebrow, and they both shake their heads, shrugging.

The three of us look at each other in confusion. Then the boys look at me, light dawning in their eyes.

“No way!” I whisper, grinning. I look down at my hands. “That is so fucking cool.”

“It must have been an instinctual reaction when they barged in and you brought your hand up,” Diavolo whispers back. “We’ll look into it after breakfast.”

Asmo looks at us curiously. “So if it wasn’t Mammon, and it wasn’t Diavolo, and it couldn’t have been Arianthi........... Are you three hiding someone else under there?”

He gives us a mischievous smirk and reaches towards the blankets, making a move to pull them back.

“Asmo stop!” Unbidden, my tail snakes out and smacks his hand away from the blankets.

“Ow!” Asmo whines, pulling his hand back.

“Oh hell,” Mammon groans, laying down and pulling a pillow over his face.

Fuck.

I quickly close my eyes and relax, tail vanishing.

Satan’s eyes widen. “Is there someone else here?”

Lucifer tilts his head to the side, looking at me carefully. After a few seconds his brow furrows and his mouth forms a perfect O. “Arianthi what did you do?”

Diavolo mutters something under his breath, his irritation evident. “I believe I asked a question Lucifer. My partners are in need of some peace and quiet. And you are distinctly unwelcome here.” His eyes narrow.

Beel pushes forward hesitantly. “We had a bad feeling Lord Diavolo,” he says softly.

“A bad feeling?” Diavolo looks unimpressed.

“Like something was wrong. A feeling that Mammon is in trouble and needs us,” Belphie explains, eyeing Diavolo with distaste, his face clearly relaying that he thinks Diavolo is the reason that Mammon may be in trouble.

“We all felt it,” Levi adds. “We were worried about him.”

Mammon slowly sits up. “Really? You guys came here just because ya were worried about me?”

Lucifer takes half a step forward. “Are you alright Mammon? The feeling is very strong, even now.”

Satan points back at the scorch mark on the wall. “I’d still like an explanation for that.”

Mammon heaves a sigh, looking at me and Diavolo, asking a silent question. I shrug my shoulders. Diavolo rolls his eyes before reluctantly nodding.

“Asmo, get off the damn bed. And all of ya turn around,” Mammon demands. “Ya don’t need to be lookin’ at Diavolo and Arianthi like that. They’re mine, ya hear me?”

Diavolo and I smile at Mammon’s declaration, climbing out of bed after the brothers’ backs are turned. The boys pull on sweats and I shrug on one of Diavolo’s tank tops and a yank on a pair of Mammon’s shorts.

“Ok, you can turn around,” I say.

“What’s going on Mammon?” Beel asks worriedly.

“Did something happen to you?” Lucifer gives Diavolo a dirty look. “Did he do something to you?”

“You -” Diavolo moves towards Lucifer, but Mammon puts a hand on his arm and shakes his head.

“I’m fine Lucifer,” Mammon says. He hesitates, debating how much to tell them.

“We might as well tell them everything beloved,” Diavolo sighs, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

“Probably just easier to show them right?” I look over at them.

Diavolo nods and Mammon reaches towards my shirt, ripping open the back.

“Sorry,” he tells Diavolo, wincing.

“Don’t apologize,” Diavolo murmurs, kissing his cheek and smiling at him softly.

Asmo squeals and claps his hands. “Adorable!”

Mammon tugs down the back of my shorts a little.

“Alright, go ahead and show ‘em baby,” he says, stepping back to give me some room.

I close my eyes, concentrating. I feel a telltale pinching sensation, then the weight of my wings and tail. I spread my wings and shake them out, ruffling my feathers.

“Oh. My. Dad.” Levi looks like he’s going to hyperventilate.

The twins surge towards me eagerly, examining my new appendages.

“This is so cool,” Belphie says gleefully.

“You’re like us now?” Beel smiles.

I nod, shyly returning the smile.

Satan walks around me in a slow circle.

“May I?” He hesitantly reaches a hand towards one of my wings.

“Yeah, go for it.”

He strokes one finger delicately over the curves and dips of my wing, tracing the outlines of a few feathers.

“These are almost as beautiful as mine,” Asmo says, clearly thrilled. “Can you imagine how stunning we’d look together? I need a picture for my Devilgram. As soon as possible!”

Lucifer looks like he’s aged ten years in the past two minutes. “What did you three do?”

“Technically Solomon did it,” Mammon grumbles.

“Oooh Solomon is here too?” Asmo perks up at the mention of the sorcerer’s name.

I feel a migraine rapidly approaching from the brothers’ general vicinity.

“Ok everyone,” I say, clapping my hands. “You guys go down to the smaller dining room, I’ll help Barbatos finish breakfast, and Mammon and Dia can explain what’s going on. Asmo, you go get Solomon. He needs to be there too. I know you know where his bedroom is.”

Lucifer looks like he wants to protest, but Beel’s stomach rumbles, distracting him.

“Fine,” he mutters, turning to lead the way out of our bedroom.

“Give us a few minutes to get some real clothes on and we’ll be right down,” I shout after them. “And Levi, if I see anything about this posted online you’ll have to answer to Dia!”

“Deleting it now!” Levi calls back.

After they’ve left I shut the door and turn to Diavolo and Mammon. “Well that could have gone worse, yeah?”

“I admire your eternal optimism princess,” Diavolo mutters, heading to the closet.

Mammon pulls a shirt over his head and attempts to smooth down his hair with his hands while I shift back into my human form. I follow Diavolo into the walk-in closet and silently watch him get dressed.

“Something on your mind princess?” He asks me, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt.

“How are you feeling?” I ask him quietly.

“I’ve had better weeks.”

“Dia....” I don’t know what to say, so I reach out to rub his arm comfortingly.

“Don’t do that!” Diavolo snaps at me, shaking off my hand. “Don’t “Dia” me right now Arianthi. This isn’t something you can make better with a cute smile and kiss. I need to figure out what we’re going to do about all this. What we’re going to tell the rest of the court. How we’re going to deal with my father now.”

I nod silently, quickly changing into a pair of jeans and my own t-shirt, and going back into the bedroom.

“I’m going to go help Barbatos,” I mumble to Mammon. “Diavolo’s almost ready.”

I’m out the door before he’s able to respond.

I slip into the kitchen without drawing attention from Lucifer and the others.

Barbatos is standing at the counter, whisking eggs and manning the waffle maker. I wash my hands and move beside him, starting to peel and slice fruit.

“Why don’t you go out in the dining room with the others Barbatos? I can finish making breakfast,” I offer.

“Are you sure?” He looks startled.

“Positive. You’ve earned a break after the past 48 hours.” I sigh. “And I could use a little time alone.”

Barbatos stops whisking. “How are you handling everything Arianthi?”

I don’t look up from the peach I’m slicing. “I don’t know Barbatos. Last night we were just so happy everyone made it out alive. Today is a different story. Mammon is happy. Diavolo is ........tense.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’ll make you a deal. You go out there with the others and let me finish breakfast, and I’ll answer you after we’re done eating.”

Barbatos gives me a small smirk. “Deal accepted.”

I give him a small wave goodbye, then throw myself into making breakfast. The kitchen is silent except for the sizzle of eggs and bacon on the stove and my knife against the cutting board. I eye the eggs, trying to decide if there will be enough for everyone.

I’ve already made Beel his own private mountain of waffles but............. I should add some more eggs just to be safe.

I wander over to the fridge, searching for more eggs. I shuffle things around, irritation steadily rising.

Stupid fucking eggs. Stupid fucking breakfast. Stupid fucking Diavolo.

I fish out two cartons of eggs and slam the refrigerator door closed, using more force than strictly necessary.

Who does he think he is? Wow he’s so fancy, he’s so smart, he’s the Prince of the Devildom. What a dick. I need to figure out what we’re going to do. I. Not we need to figure it out. I.

My dark thoughts about Diavolo continue as I scramble another two dozen eggs for Beel. I start slamming platters, silverware, and plates onto serving trays. I walk back to the fridge to bring out a few pitchers of juice. I’m reaching in to grab the first pitcher when I hear a soft movement behind me.

“I’m literally one minute away from bringing out the food Beel,” I say without turning around.

When I don’t get a response I roll my eyes and take a pitcher in each hand, turning around to kick the fridge door shut behind me. As soon as I turn around I’m face to face with a demon I’ve never seen before.

In my surprise the pitchers drop from my hands, but the other demon reaches forward and catches them effortlessly.

“I’m sorry if I startled you, my dear,” he apologizes.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” I demand. My fingertips tingle and I see small sparks flickering from them.

Not the time, freaky new demon powers. Not the time.

He notices too, and grins at me. “I’m Arawn. Who might you be my lovely? Not a servant surely?”

I study him carefully. He looks to be in his mid-forties and he’s tall as Diavolo, muscular but slender. Snow white hair brushes his shoulders, and he tucks a stray lock behind his ear as I look him over. Sensual, full lips, high cheekbones, aquiline nose, perfectly tanned skin. His eyes are the shade of warm honey.

Total DILF.

I start to smile at him as our eyes meet, and bite down on my lower lip playfully. “Pleasure to meet you Arawn.”

His eyes roam appreciatively over me. “I assure you the pleasure is all mine.”

Daddy. DAD-DY.

Unconsciously I reach up to twirl a strand of hair around one finger, my eyes never leaving Arawn.

I wonder how old he really is. I bet he’s got some tricks..... No, that’s not right.

My eyes widen and I shake my head.

“What did you do to me?” I narrow my eyes at him. “How long have you been here? Were you doing this earlier when I was angry?”

He smiles at me in delight. “Most don’t even realize when I’ve been toying with their thoughts or emotions, let alone shut me out right in the middle of it. How very clever.”

I meet his eyes again. Golden eyes, like amber sparking in the sun.

So familiar, but .......

“Oh shit,” I breathe, eyes darting to the doorway that leads out to the dinning room.

“What’s that my lovely?” Arawn quirks an eyebrow at me.

“You’re Dia’s dad.”

Arawn’s face tenses slightly at the nickname.

“I am Prince Diavolo’s father.” He pauses. “How do you know my son?”

I motion at the pitchers he’s holding and the trays on the counter.

“I’m making Lord Diavolo breakfast right now. I apologize for not recognizing you, Your Highness.” I bow my head.

Don’t mess this up bitch. Play the servant. Make it out to the dining room. Get to Mammon and Diavolo.

Arawn visibly relaxes. “I’m sorry for interrupting your duties my dear.”

“Please don’t apologize Your Highness. He’s having breakfast with several demon lords this morning. I’m sure he’d be thrilled if you were to join them.”

Please say yes, please say yes.

He smiles at me. “What a delightful idea.”

“If you would like to go to the dining room I’ll be bringing breakfast out shortly.”

“Nonsense. I’ll help you bring things out. It will be a fun little surprise.”

Fuck.

“Of course your highness. That would be most appreciated.”

Arawn gives me a another charming smile.

“Here lovely.” He hands me the pitchers. “I’ll carry out the trays.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

He motions for me to walk ahead of him before taking a tray in each hand. I push the door to the dining room open and walk to the table.

Mammon is the first one to look up from the intense conversation that’s taking place.

“Hey ba-” He sees Arawn behind me and scowls. “Who are you?”

His question draws the attention of everyone else at the table, and one by one every head comes up to look at me and Arawn. I’m frozen, very aware of the heat of his body as he stands close behind me.

Diavolo’s expression hardens as he stands and looks at his father. “Arianthi get over here. Right now.”

I set the juice down on the table next to Levi and hurry to Diavolo’s side.

“Are you ok? Did he hurt you?” He quickly checks me over before moving me behind him.

Arawn chuckles. “Please, Diavolo. You should know I would never harm one of your servants. Especially one this adorable.”

“Father -”

Everyone at the table tenses as they realize who Arawn is. Asmo shifts in his chair to put himself between Solomon and Arawn.

“I did expect a warmer welcome Diavolo.” Arawn sets the trays he’s carrying down on the table.

Beel unobtrusively pulls the trays over in front of himself, keeping one eye on Arawn.

“You’ll forgive me father, but I have heard some rather troubling rumors surrounding your reasons for returning.”

Arawn’s gaze sweeps over the table, settling on Asmo and Solomon.

“And I have heard some equally troubling things about your rule over the Devildom as of late.” His tone is flinty, displeasure evident in every word. “Inviting humans and angels here? Really Diavolo?”

Diavolo curls his hand into a fist, fingernails digging into his palm. “You decided to abandon your duties as king. You left me in charge. I will not apologize for making changes to improve the Devildom.”

Arawn snorts.

“Trying to bring the realms together? Sharing meals with humans?” He waves a hand at Solomon.

“Publicly taking two lovers? Which I have no general objection to, but when one of them is a human? And you intend to make the human your queen?”

Blood is trickling from Diavolo’s palm now. I snatch a napkin from the table and start to dab at his hand, stemming the flow of blood. Mammon stands from his seat and moves to my side.

Arawn smirks. “You must be the demon my son has become so infatuated with.”

Mammon opens his mouth to retort, but I give his side a small pinch. He snaps his mouth closed, body vibrating with anger.

“So where is this human? I’m intrigued to see this girl who has managed to captivate two of the most powerful demons in the Devildom.”

Diavolo and Mammon shift almost imperceptibly, trying to shield me. The movement doesn’t escape Arawn.

“Are you that worried I’d harm your servant? Or maybe there’s more to her than meets the eye?”

There’s a bright flash of light and suddenly Arawn is behind me, gripping my arm tightly. Everyone sitting at the table is instantly on their feet.

“Oi!”

“Father!”

Diavolo and Mammon reach for me, but Arawn yanks roughly on my arm and pulls me close to his side. “Everyone is certainly protective of you my dear.”

He lowers his face to my hair and presses a soft kiss to my head. He gives a quiet inhale of surprise, and then a dark chuckle.

“How very, very clever. Who’s idea was it for you to undergo the transformation ritual?” He runs one sharp fingernail over my cheek, and I try to suppress a shiver of revulsion.

Dia’s dad may be hot but everything else about him sucks.

“Let her go.” Diavolo growls.

“Now,” Mammon snarls next to him.

Arawn gently runs his fingers down the side of my face, before slowly wrapping his large hand around my throat.

“You know, I came here with every intention of snapping your neck,” he says casually, tightening his grip.

I throttle my urge to panic, staying still, as everyone else in the room takes a step forward, converging on us.

“But you’re one of us now, so I suppose my plans have to change” he muses out loud. “Do you still have the intention of eventually making her your queen?” He arches an eyebrow at Diavolo.

“I do,” Diavolo answers tersely.

“What about that one?” Arawn waves his free hand towards Mammon, and I hear Lucifer hiss in rage at the flippant way Arawn refers to his younger brother.

“Mammon will remain our partner. We have no intention of leaving him out of our marriage.”

Oh. So now there’s a we. How very fucking convenient Dia.

I feel Arawn shrug and then he releases me, softly pushing me towards Diavolo.

“As you wish. I’ll be going to my room.” He starts to leave the room, but pauses at the doorway for a moment to look back at us with a smirk.

“Remember my son, many things can happen before an official engagement is announced. Before a marriage is consummated. Or an heir is born. And until you’re married, I am still king here.”

Everyone lets out a collective breath of relief once he’s out of sight. I automatically begin rubbing at my neck, trying to erase the feel of Arawn’s hand.

“Anyone else get the feeling he was threatening me? And literally all the changes Dia has made here?” I ask.

“Without a doubt,” Satan answers. “I guess now we know why we all had a feeling Mammon was in trouble.”

Everyone else looks concerned.

“Are you alright?” Diavolo asks.

“Did he hurt ya?” Mammon looks at me worriedly.

“No. He got into my head for a little while, but I was able to block him once I realized what he was doing,” I answer them.

“Got into your head how?” Satan asks curiously.

I feel the blush rising in my cheeks and avoid Diavolo’s eyes.

“Thoughts of lust?” Diavolo guesses.

I nod silently.

“He would do something like that,” he mutters in disgust as Mammon wraps his arms around me possessively.

“He made me angry at you. Well, more angry. Like he was fueling my negative thoughts.”

Diavolo’s gaze softens and he reaches out to stroke my cheek. “I’m so sorry princess. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

I nuzzle my face into his hand and kiss his palm. “It’s alright Dia. Let’s eat breakfast and plan our next move.”

An hour later our group splits. Barbatos goes to clean up the breakfast mess and keep an eye on Arawn. Beel offers to help Barbatos, wanting to stay close to the kitchen, and Belphie tags along.

The rest of us move to the library. I notice that Mammon’s easy manner with his brothers has returned, and I smile to myself, glad that they’ve seemingly made up.

Diavolo, Mammon, Satan, Asmo, and Solomon start combing through books, looking for information on Morrigan and Devildom monarchy laws of succession.

Lucifer and Levi approach me hesitantly.

“We wanted to offer you our assistance in learning how to master you new abilities,” Lucifer says stiffly.

“And apologize,” Levi adds. “We already apologized to Mammon, but we wanted to say we’re sorry to you too. I’m going to treat Mammon better. I promise.”

I smile at him. “Thanks Levi.”

“Leviathan is correct. I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you. Or accused you of colluding with Diavolo to seduce Mammon in an effort to spite me. I know how much you care for him, and it was a low blow to invalidate your feelings for him. And you were r-”

Lucifer pauses, looking like the word is causing him physical pain. “You were right about how we all treat Mammon. We will be making an effort to change our behavior.”

“Apology accepted.”

Two hours later I can easily summon and throw small fireballs, and Levi has taught me how control my tail.

“Mammon!” I hear Dia call out.

I turn around and see Mammon, hand outstretched towards a small gold figurine resting on one of the bookshelves.

“If you put your pretty little fingers on that statue I’m going to spank you.” Diavolo doesn’t even look up from the book he’s paging through.

Mammon flushes and hastily pulls his hand back as his brothers snicker.

“It seems Morrigan was telling the truth Arianthi,” Satan says, shoving aside a large pile of scrolls and looking at me. “She had a certain fondness for human men, and took many on as lovers. One of your ancestors impregnated her and she gave birth to a half-human son. After his birth she left the child with his father and returned to the Devildom for a time. After that there is no other written record of her.”

“And it seems the Celts didn’t only consider her their goddess of war,” Solomon calls out. He’s sitting in an armchair, Asmo sprawled in his lap. Solomon reads from the books he’s holding.

“She was their goddess of fate, birth, and death. As well as their goddess of fertility.” Solomon smirks at me as Asmo giggles, giving him a quick kiss.

Mammon sits down in another chair and pulls me into his lap. “What about you Diavolo? Did ya find anything new?”

Diavolo shakes his head and tosses away his book in frustration. “The title of king passes to me upon my marriage. An heir only solidifies my position as ruler. If my father decides to undo everything I’ve accomplished before my marriage there’s nothing to stop him. He is still king.”

“Do you think he’ll try to hurt me now that I’m not human anymore?” I ask, anxiously gnawing on my thumbnail.

He sighs. “I don’t know. He’ll probably try to toy with you, but I doubt he’d seriously try to harm you. If you were queen he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on you; he’s impulsive but he’s not stupid. He knows he’d spend his life in the dungeons if he did.”

“So why don’t ya just go ahead and get married?” Mammon asks, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, gesturing between me and Diavolo.

Diavolo flushes. “Well, I had hoped,” he stops speaking.

He clears his throat.

“I had hoped to make the proposal quite romantic. And have a long engagement, so you both have time to plan the wedding of your dreams,” he mutters, staring at the floor.

“Both?” Mammon echoes in surprise.

Lucifer takes pity on Diavolo and begins herding Levi, Satan, Asmo and Solomon out of the room.

“We’ll go check in with the others,” he says, before firmly shutting the library doors behind them.

Diavolo sighs and scrubs his hands over his face. “This is a disaster.”

Mammon and I stay frozen in our chair, unsure what to do or say.

“I understand if either of you do not wish to remain in a relationship with me,” Diavolo mumbles. “I don’t want to force you into some rushed wedding just because my father has awakened. You both deserve a proper proposal. Time to plan the wedding you really want. Mammon deserves more time to explore his feelings about me.”

Mammon looks at him impassively. “For a smart guy you’re pretty fuckin’ dumb sometimes.”

“Mammon!” I flick his ear.

“What?” He asks, swatting my hand away. “Our girl became a demon so she could stay with us. Does that sound like someone who’s gonna run from a little problem like your dad?”

Diavolo huffs out a low laugh and rolls his eyes. “No. No, it does not. And what about you?”

Mammon gives him a crooked grin. “You’re growin’ on me. I could probably be persuaded to stick around.”

“Well in that case.” Diavolo stands up from his chair and walks towards us, pulling me up to stand in front of him. He kneels down and reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a small jewelry box.

“I’ve been carrying this around for a while now, but this is not at all how I imagined proposing,” he mumbles, before speaking up.

“Arianthi, you have caused chaos since the moment you arrived here. You had no reason to be kind to us, especially me, but you were. You are intelligent and sweet and understanding to a fault. I didn’t expect to fall for you, but falling in love with you has been the greatest surprise of my extremely long life. You are the first person who saw me as just Diavolo and loved me for me, not because I’m a prince. Bringing you here was the best decision I have ever made, and loving you is as easy breathing. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

I look back over my shoulder at Mammon; he’s smirking and nodding his approval. “Yes!”

Diavolo laughs, leaping to his feet and spinning me around in a circle. He kisses me deeply, then opens the jewelry box and carefully slips the engagement ring on my finger. A large oval cut ruby in a gold setting sparks in the warm light of the library. He kisses me one more time, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out another jewelry box.

Mammon looks at me in shock as Diavolo once again gets down on one knee, taking Mammon’s hand in his.

“You have been a headache since the moment you fell from the Celestial Realm,” Diavolo begins.

I giggle quietly to myself.

“But through the years I have watched you grow and find your place here. You’re compassionate and loyal to those you love. I am thankful Arianthi brought us together, and that I now have such a smart, handsome, funny demon in my life. I care for you very much, and my feelings are only growing stronger. Will you marry us Mammon? Marry me?”

Mammon is frozen in place, blue eyes bright with tears.

“Yes,” he finally whispers, nodding. “I’ll marry ya. Both of ya.”

Diavolo tugs on his hand and Mammon stands. Diavolo gently slips Mammon’s engagement ring on his finger. Like mine, Mammon’s ring is gold, and the band is inset with small rubies running the circumference of the ring. Diavolo cups Mammon’s face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

After they break apart they both reach out to me, and I step into their waiting arms.

“This is really happening?” Mammon whispers, holding me tight.

“This is really happening,” Diavolo answers, wrapping his arms around both of us.

“So what do we do now?” I ask, cuddling into Mammon.

Diavolo drops a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“First, we tell Mammon’s brothers about our engagement. We ignore whatever objections my father may have. And then,” he smiles softly at both of us, “we start planning a wedding.”

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nona-gay-simus-main · 5 years ago

Text

How to Fix White Room Syndrome In Your Writing

Disclaimer: I do not claim to be an authority on writing, I'm simply trying to share something that has helped me.

White Room Syndrome was something I struggled a lot with, when I started out, and still do, in some scenes. In fact it was the second biggest issue with the last draft of my novel. (The first was its structure, but that's a post for another day.)

WRS is what I call it when there's a dialogue scene, but the characters feel like voices in a white room. They don't really feel grounded in the setting, you can't see the way they are standing in relation to one another, and you can't see their bodies moving.

If you've ever gotten your work critiqued, it's unlikely that anyone has called it white room syndrome. Some of the feedback I received said things like: "you need to add more details /interaction with the environment", "you need to flesh out the scenes", "" the characters are at a party, but it doesn't feel like it", "there's no setting", "the conversation feels stilted and unnatural", "the conversation has no space to breathe", "the conversation feels too fast" and so on. (One beta even said "this is not how real people talk" about a different old draft, although to be fair, to this day I have no idea if she was referring to the dialogue itself or the fact that the scene was white-roomy and I probably was still overusing dialog tags.)

So how do you fix it?

There are several things you need to pay attention to in a dialogue scene, aside from the dialogue itself: body language, vocal cues, visceral reaction, and internal monologue.

Body language is pretty obvious. 93% of communication happens non-verbally, so how characters' bodies (and faces, but be careful not to restrict descriptions to facial expressions only) move through the scene SHOWS their emotions, instead of having to spell them out for the audience.

Vocal cues are about the way characters' voices change in different situations. Do they raise their voice when they are angry? Do they start whispering, when sharing a secret? Do they get breathy when they're aroused? I wouldn't overrely on them, but when used appropriately, vocal cues can really add to the setting.

Visceral reactions are instinctive gut reaction to a stimulus. One problem with them however, is that there’s only a limited number of gut reactions, so you need to think of more creative ways to use them. The other problem is that they are strong so they may seem rather melodramatic if used too often. Personally I also avoid describing them about anyone who isn't the POV character, because they are so personal, it might read like you are switching perspectives (also called head-hopping and a big no-no).

And finally, there's internal monologurme. People don't just talk about situations, they also think about them. But be careful not to name the exact emotion the character is experiencing. Emotions should be shown, not told. Also, a character's internal monologue shouldn't repeat their dialogue with minimal, if any, changes in wording. Characters should be saying something or thinking it, but rarely both - this can feel like you're holding your audience's hand and talking down to them. Most readers are actually pretty smart, so give them the benefit of the doubt and don't overexplain your story.

(NB: sometimes you can use the same words in both the narrative and the dialog for a joke, or in order to characterize your characters, or both - but this is a trick that should be used sparingly.)

I don't know what the best process to fix this in your own writing would be, but here’s my process:

On my first draft of the scene, I write ONLY the dialogue, with no description ls of any kind, not even dialogue tags. Once in a while, I might add an action tag or two just because I see it so clearly in my head, and I might put a placeholder description like "and then they ate diner", but mostly I write pure dialogue.

There are two major benefits in drafting dialog scenes this way:

The first is that you don't have to break your flow to wonder what's the best description or thought to put here, so it doesn't slow you down or distract you.

The second is that you can more easily spot places where the dialogue becomes repetitive or you break one character's dialogue with a question when that's unnecessary. For example:

A: I went to the library today.

B: Wait, really?

A: And i found the book on secret pirate treasures.

B: What did it say?

Sometimes this structure can be used for emphasis, but more often than not, this exchange would stronger as:

A: I went to the library today and I found the book on secret pirate treasures.

B: What did it say?

After I’ve drafted the dialogue scene, I read it again to cut repetitive parts (as shown above), the occasional filler word like just or really or characters elaborating on their point when that's not really needed. And if there are more than two characters speaking, to better distribute the dialog between them.

Then after all that, I finally go back to the start and set the scene. If you know what the setting around them is, it makes it easier to know what elements can the characters interact with. The five senses are your best friend. All 5 are rarely needed, but what your character pays attention to characterizes them and shows their voice.

Then I start weaving the aforementioned four elements through the dialogue. Keep in mind that sometimes you don't need any of these elements and you can let the dialogue speak for itself for a couple of lines, that’s okay too.

Some resources to help you further:

The Emotional Thesaurus. I really cannot recommend this book hard enough. Not only does it teach you all this in-depth, but it has thesaurus of all the main emotions and all the body language, sensations, verbs and so on associated with them.

Alexa Donne’s Video on The Topic

Setting the scene for dialog

Action and Movement In Dialog

How To Create Space

The Case of Vanishing Setting

#write #writer #writing #novel writing #fiction writing #writeblr #writing tips #writing advice #how to write dialog #white room syndrome #mine #floating heads syndrome #common writing mistakes #writing mistakes

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marginalgloss · 5 years ago

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different and worse

‘…There were so many ways in which the vast army of the dead could be drilled, classified, inspected, and made to present their ghostly arms. No end to the institutions, civilian and military, busy drawing up their sombre balance sheet and recording it in wood, stone or metal. But if there was no end to the institutions there was no end to the dead men either. In truth, there were more than enough to go round several times over…’

Troubles was not the first novel by J.G. Farrell, but it was the first to achieve really significant literary success. Farrell wrote three novels set in a loosely connected trilogy set in the twilight of the British empire — I read The Singapore Grip last year, and I’ve been meaning to revisit this one, which I first read many years ago. It might be the best thing Farrell ever wrote, though I now find myself wanting to reread The Siege of Krishnapur as well.

Troubles is set in Ireland, in the immediate aftermath of the First World War. Having been freshly discharged from the army, Brendan Archer (mostly known as ‘the Major’) travels there to visit Angela Spencer; Brendan is more or less convinced that he and Angela are engaged, having met previously while he was on leave from the front lines. They have exchanged letters since, but on arriving at her home — the Majestic hotel — he finds her distant. Her father, Edward, is a model of English strength and reserve. And then there is the hotel itself: a gothic revival falling apart at the seams, overrun by potted plants and cats, populated by a skeleton crew of staff and flocks of elderly women.

The hotel is labyrinthine and seemingly fathomless, like something out of Ballard or Borges. It is an unmappable confection of turrets and towers, sewn up with catwalks, stairwells, secret corridors. The tennis courts are thick with weeds; the glass ceiling of the ballroom is on the verge of collapse; there are strange things swimming in the murky remnants of the swimming pool. Here, at the end of a lonely peninsula, the residents are cut off from the outside world. The only reminder that the Irish exist at all comes from the figures glimpsed at the roadside, sometime seen standing in the fields, or rummaging in the bins at the house. (Many of them are starving.)

We soon realise that the Major lives in a state of post-traumatic myopia. Everything around him seems to take place in a sort of dreamlike haze. Like a typical man of his class he makes a point of not seeing things about how the world is operating, but his experiences in the war place him at a further remove from the rest of society. He is typically English; he adopts an attitude of perpetual befuddlement, leaning heavily on privilege and impatience to get himself through the day. He is inflexible and uncommunicative. But he is also deeply traumatised. His memories are shot full of holes:

‘Although he was sure that he had never actually proposed to Angela during the few days of their acquaintance, it was beyond doubt that they were engaged: a certainty fostered by the fact that from the very beginning she had signed her letters ‘Your loving fiancée, Angela’. This had surprised him at first. But, with the odour of death drifting into the dug-out in which he scratched out his replies by the light of a candle, it would have been trivial and discourteous beyond words to split hairs about such purely social distinctions.’

Ireland is riven by violence. Rumours of killings are rife around the hotel. People are shot in ones and twos every day, apparently at random. Interspersed throughout the book are newspaper clippings, many of which seem absurd. It seems a bleak, purposeless cycle of assault and recrimination. But in spite of the resident paranoia, next to nothing actually happens on the grounds of the Majestic. No republican ‘shinners’ appear intent on massacring the residents in their beds. But regardless, the English are determined to make a stand — even if it is only in the bar of the local pub.

This novel was first published in 1970, at a time when Northern Ireland was seeing some of the worst violence in the latter half of the twentieth century. By comparison the level of strife depicted here seems almost parochial by comparison. But this is because the whole text of the novel is sunk within the consciousness of an observer who is too broken himself to see what’s really happening. After all, this is 1919: in historical terms we are in the thick of the Irish war of independence. The country would finally become its own nation state a few years later. But none of it feels that way to the characters in the book.

Perhaps there’s something about it that approximates the feeling of watching the news in the late sixties or early seventies— while living in England, of course. It is a constant drip-feed of appalling atrocity, delivered with the benefit of distance so that the expected response from the audience is to feel exactly as the Major does: ‘An old man is gunned down in the street and within a couple of days this senseless act is both normal and inevitable,’ reflects the Major. For him these killings might as well be happening in a vacuum. Names like De Valera float through the air, but they might as well belong to legendary beings. There’s no awareness of history or context. There is barely a line in this book which affords a glimpse of the world from an Irish perspective. We don’t know how they might feel about it because we aren’t told.

‘The Major only glanced at the newspaper these days, tired of trying to comprehend a situation which defied comprehension, a war without battles or trenches. Why should one bother with the details: the raids for arms, the shootings of policemen, the intimidations? What could one learn from the details of chaos? Every now and then, however, he would become aware with a feeling of shock that, for all its lack of pattern, the situation was different, and always a little worse.’

We are stuck in the belly of the beast, and the beast is dying. The Major is trapped in ‘the country’s vast and narcotic inertia’. The hotel is falling apart. Angela vanishes not long after the Major arrives, and then she dies. Somehow this is not a cause for much regret. From then on, he has no reason to stay in Ireland, but the place has a strange gravity that seems to draw him back. And there is Sarah, a local woman who seems to have taken an interest in him. She is fiery, direct and open — far more than he — and initially she is mostly confined to a wheelchair. There are shades of Stefan Zweig’s Beware of Pity in their relationship: the Major is a model of polite restraint, while Sarah is openly flirtatious, at times frantic with emotion:

‘One day when he had been speaking, though impersonally, about marriage and its place in the modern world, she interrupted him brutally by saying: ‘It’s not a wife you’re looking for, Brendan. It’s a mother!’ The Major was upset because he had not, in fact, been saying he was looking for either. ‘Why are you so polite the whole time?’ she would ask derisively, while the Major, appalled, wondered what was wrong with being polite. ‘Why are you always fussing around those infernal old women? Can’t you smell how awful they are?’ she would demand, making a disgusted face, and when the Major said nothing she would burst out: ‘Because you’re an old woman yourself, that’s why.’ And since the Major maintained his hurt and dignified silence: ‘And for Jesus’ sake stop looking at me like a stuffed squirrel!’’

It’s a very funny book. Farrell was a masterful stylist, and he wields irony here like a weapon. There is humour to be had at the expense of the English in a way that recalls P. G. Wodehouse. But with Jeeves and Wooster there is the pleasure of retreating inside a world which is entirely its own — for the most part, nothing really awful can happen there. Whereas here, we are never allowed to forget that something awful is perpetually happening only just outside of that friendly bubble. And it isn’t so cosy inside the bubble either.

Either way, we cannot forget that the characters of the novel are all implicated, if only through their vast unthinking ignorance. There is something very dark crouching at the heart of this book, something made all the more tragic by the Major’s essential simplicity, by his constant air of strained incomprehension. We know that he will never learn, that he will never grow. Somehow he is both entirely innocent and fully responsible for everything that goes wrong.

He is not the only pathetic creature here. The author reserves a special combination of pathos and threat for the animals that reside at the Majestic. They are vehicles for fables in this story. There are the countless stray cats, which ride the dumb-waiters, climb through the chimneys and nest inside the wrecked sofas. (The biggest cat has orange fur and bright green eyes; a noteworthy colouring, perhaps.) And there’s Edward’s old dog, Rover, who has an especially hard time of it:

‘By degrees he was going blind; his eyes had turned to milky blue and he sometimes collided with the furniture. The smells he emitted while sitting at the feet of the whist-players became steadily more redolent of putrefaction. Like the Major, Rover had always enjoyed trotting from one room to another, prowling the corridors on this floor or that. But now, whenever he ventured up the stairs to nose around the upper storeys, as likely as not he would be set upon by an implacable horde of cats and chased up and down the corridors to the brink of exhaustion. More than once the Major found him, wheezing and spent, tumbling in terror down a flight of stairs from some shadowy menace on the landing above. Soon he got into the habit of growling whenever he saw a shadow. Then, as the shadows gathered with his progressively failing sight, he would rouse himself and bark fearfully even in the broadest of daylight, gripped by remorseless nightmares. Day by day, no matter how wide he opened his eyes, the cat-filled darkness continued to creep a little closer.’

There’s another elderly dog in Farrell’s later novel The Singapore Grip — an elderly spaniel who is nicknamed ‘The Human Condition’. The irony there is a bit less subtle, but the implication is equally bleak. By the end of this novel Edward and the Major will both be reduced to growling at shadows, each in their own way. But perhaps the Major has more in common with the deserted pet rabbit who has been left to fend for himself in the grounds of the hotel:

‘…Old and fat, it had been partly tamed by the twins when they were small children. They had lost interest, of course, as they grew older, and no longer remembered to feed it. The rabbit, however, had not forgotten the halcyon days of carrots and dandelion leaves. Thinner and thinner as time went by, it had nevertheless continued to haunt the fringes of the wood like a forsaken lover…’

Of course the rabbit ends up riddled with bullets. He is shot to death by British soldiers for fun. But the twins are not as upset as the Major expects them to be. They only want to know if they can eat him.

#books #j.g. farrell #troubles

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neuxue · 6 years ago

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Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 40

In which oaths are bent, bonds are formed, and Egwene is both awesome and kind of terrifying.

Chapter 40: The Tower Shakes

Siuan awoke with a start. Something was wrong.

Oh so very many things, Siuan. Where to even begin?

Gareth Bryne is a blademaster? Did we know this before? Also he’s shirtless, for those who appreciate such things. Siuan certainly seems to.

He’d buttoned up his high collar, marked with three stars on the left breast

I thought WoT military rankings were denoted by knots, not stars?

“Scout’s report. Something is going on in the city.”

“Something is wrong.” “Something is going on in the city.” Alright, we need to have a talk about what exactly constitutes a report. And also about specificity in general.

Bryne seems to agree, and the scout gets as far as ‘bursts of light’ and ‘dark shadows’ near the Tower. That’s…helpful to those of us with the benefit of foreshadowing, but not so helpful to the in-world layperson.

Though I suppose Siuan is among those who have had the benefit of foreshadowing, as Egwene did tell her about her dream of the Seanchan attacking.

“They could be Shadowspawn, my Lord,” the soldier said, trotting after Bryne. “Stories tell of creatures of shadow that fly in such a way.”

Stories like ‘The Nine Rings’, perhaps?

Either way, Siuan and Bryne know a plot point when they see it and figure that this must be Egwene’s predicted Seanchan attack on the Tower. Bryne’s confused about the lack of a ground assault, but as someone who’s adjusted his own strategies to account for instantaneous travel it seems like he’d be a bit more openminded. And nervous; tactics that don’t seem to make sense should be something of a red flag to a skilled general, I should think.

“Well,” Gareth said, “so long as they attack Tar Valon, they are no problem of ours.”

Except Tar Valon is a problem of yours. That’s the entire point. You can’t unify the Tower if you sit on the sidelines as it’s attacked and think ‘at least it’s not us’. This isn’t a ‘their issue’ versus ‘our issue’ – it’s all your issue, and treating it as anything else only reinforces the sense of division when there needs to be unity. Their entire purpose here is the Tower, one way or another; they can’t just sit back and watch it try to defend itself without their aid.

“I’m getting her out,” Siuan said suddenly, surprising herself.

Bryne spun toward Siuan, into the light of her globe. His chin was shadowed by evening stubble. “What?”

“Egwene,” Siuan said. “We need to go in for her. This will provide a perfect distraction, Gareth! We can go in and grab her before anyone is the wiser.” He eyed her.

“What?”

“You gave your word not to rescue her, Siuan.”

Not only that, but how would it look to those in the Tower if the one who has so long claimed to be their Amyrlin and stood for Tower unity and tried to get them to see how Elaida was destroying the Tower around her just up and vanished when the Tower is attacked? How would it look if she were to disappear the moment the Tower needs all the help it can get defending itself? Surely that would undermine her efforts more than just about anything else could.

But Siuan and Bryne aren’t looking at this the way Egwene is. Their thinking is aligned with the Rebels, not with the notion of a unified Tower. They, too, are part of this division – hard not to be, given that they’ve declared war on Elaida and are camped outside the Tower and preparing for invasion and war…but it’s not division they need, right now.

“The Amyrlin is confident that she can care for herself.”

“I thought I could care for myself too,” Siuan said. “And look where it got me.” She shook her head, glancing toward the distant spire of Tar Valon.

Oh, Siuan. One can almost forget, sometimes, just how far she has fallen and how much she’s been through. Because she just keeps fighting, and doesn’t dwell on it…but then there are moments like these, where you remember alongside her.

And from that perspective, it becomes easier to see why she is so immediately determined to go get Egwene out of there.

“When Egwene speaks of the Seanchan, she always shivers. Very little upsets her—not the Forsaken, not the Dragon Reborn. Gareth, you don’t know what the Seanchan do to women who can channel.” She met his eyes. “We nee to go for her.”

Egwene is facing her worst fear right now; Siuan is right that very little upsets her, and there’s not much that can genuinely frighten her at this point. But now the Seanchan are attacking, as she’s known they would and dreaded they would and no one listened to her, and now they’re there and Egwene can’t even channel, and she’s effectively alone. Being treated as a novice and then a prisoner in the Tower, and embracing pain was one thing; there, Egwene had her sense of self and her absolute conviction that she was fighting for a necessary cause. This must be so much harder, to face the people who collared her and enslaved her and have haunted her nightmares. It’s not a pain she can just embrace; it’s a fear she struggles to even be rational about—and for good reason. But now she has to face even that, and somehow do so in a way that won’t undermine everything else she’s doing.

No pressure or anything, Egwene. Just face some of your worst fears and traumatic memories while effectively powerless and still more or less a prisoner in a hostile environment you’re trying to win to your side right after you’ve just been handed a massive shock in the form of a list of all the Black Ajah who surround you by a woman who died in your bed. That’s not too much to ask, is it?

“I will not be a party to this,” he said stubbornly. “Fine,” Siuan spat. Fool man! “Go take care of your men. I think I know someone who will help me.”

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Fine.

Egwene!

Maybe it’s because I’ve been sitting on last chapter’s cliffhanger for a few days now, but I feel even more invested than I should be in whatever is about to happen. I think it’s also because there are a few layers to this: on the individual character level, you have Egwene facing her worst fears and memories from probably the entire series so far in a very direct and immediate way. She hasn’t had any contact at all with the Seanchan since TGH but they’ve left a very clear impact on her psyche, and so there’s a lot riding on a battle with them at this point in the series, when character arcs are being wrapped up and the final stage is being set. It’s always exciting to see a character face and potentially even overcome their fears, or be confronted with and have to somehow deal with something traumatic from their past…but of course, that’s not all this is.

Because there’s also the level of not just Egwene’s own character arc, but her role as Amyrlin in the struggle for the Tower. She’s a girl facing some truly horrific memories, but she’s also trying to defend the Tower itself, and still trying to unify it from within, to win it over to her, to claim authority so that she can preserve the Tower and the Aes Sedai. And so she has to face this fight not just as herself, but with the additional pressure of having to face it as a strong Amyrlin, having to face it on the entire Tower’s behalf. To protect not just herself but all of them.

And to do so from a position of what should be no power at all.

So there’s…a lot riding on this; multiple arcs and storylines could turn on this one battle. It’s a critical point on several different levels, and they all feed into and play off of one another, so it’s this sense of hundreds of threads all being pulled into this one single point, this one climactic event around which everything will turn and on which so much depends.

I’m excited to see how this goes, is what I’m trying to say here.

“The Dark One!” Nicola wailed. “The Last Battle! It’s come!”

“Nicola!” Egwene snapped, straightening up. “Control yourself.”

Yeah, Nicola? You are really just not helping. That is absolutely the last thing Egwene needs to deal with right now.

But that’s part of what makes this so…I can’t think of a good word. It’s part of what makes it feel like the stakes are so high here, part of what drives the tension and importance up, part of what makes it feel like something that’s about to be monumental and very likely impressive. Is there a word for the anticipation of the particular brand of awesome that comes when a character comes well and truly into their own, against the greatest of obstacles? Because I think—at least, I sincerely hope—that’s what we’re about to see here. And this is the sort of thing that builds that sense of anticipation and…investment, I suppose.

It’s that sense of everything piling on top of Egwene, coupled with the belief in her that she will triumph.

Because there is so much being put on her shoulders right now.

Faced with one of the only things that has the power to upset or frighten her, she cannot afford even a moment or a semblance of weakness. It’s not fair, but there it is. She has to be strong for all of them; she has to be their strength, and reassure those who need it, and there is no one to reassure her. She has to help Nicola through her fear, and likely help others; she has to be someone they can draw strength from in order to face this…but all of that strength has to come from somewhere. And so she has to find it in herself, not just for her but for those around her; she has to not only find it but be able to give it away freely. While faced with one of her greatest fears, she cannot look to anyone else for comfort or reassurance, and on top of that she must provide it. It’s the price of the role she seeks to claim but damn.

Although…not to minimise the difficulty of the situation she’s in because it really is A Situation in every possible way, but I’ve always found it actually easier, perhaps oddly, to remain calm and in control and capable in a situation that’s difficult or frightening if others are depending on me to do so. If you’re the one who has to see everyone through something, there’s almost a kind of clarity to be found in that particular form of pressure. Not detachment, exactly, but the ability born of necessity to set aside your own sense of fear/stress/other immediate negative emotion and just…deal with the situation because someone has to. So maybe there’s something to be said for that.

Of course, this is taking that to an extreme—to put it mildly—so…there’s that.

Portions of the Tower’s wings below were alight with flames, and to her horror, Egwene saw several gaping holes directly in the sides of the Tower.

All of her efforts and holding it together and it’s like the Tower is just determined to fall apart around her in any way it can. In the way a three-year-old is absolutely dead-set on not eating their vegetables, and if that means throwing the entire plate on the floor then, well, that’s what’s going to happen.

Also I feel like this is probably not what the Aes Sedai were going for with the whole ‘flame of Tar Valon’ image. Like, WRONG METAPHOR. ABORT, ABORT.

Soldiers would soon follow. Soldiers and sul’dam. With those leashes. Egwene shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. The cool, seamless metal. The nausea, the degradation, the panic, despair, and—shamefully—guilt at not serving her mistress to the best of her abilities. She remembered the haunted look of an Aes Sedai as she was broken. Most of all, she remembered her own terror.

Oh, Egwene. It’s too much, to ask her to somehow face all of that and not be afraid. And none of those in the Tower even know; none of them have been subject to the a’dam and few seem to know or believe or understand what it means that Egwene was. There’s no one she can look to for the comfort and reassurance she could so desperately use right now, no one to draw strength from, but she has to. She has a moment to herself, now, to wrap her arms around herself and try to hold herself together, but she’s not going to get more than a moment, and she’s going to need to do so much more than simply hold herself together.

The Tower shook. Fire flashed in the distant hallways accompanied by shouts and wails of despair. She could smell smoke. Oh, Light! Could this really be? She wouldn’t go back. She wouldn’t let them leash her again. She had to run! She had to hide, flee, escape…

No!

She pushed herself upright.

No, she would not flee. She was Amyrlin.

And how much determination does that take. This is so much more than deciding to embrace pain, and succeeding at it. This goes beyond pain; it’s something that may as well have been specifically crafted to hit her at her most vulnerable point, to strike directly at her worst fears and make her feel at her most powerless—especially as, right now, she effectively is.

And to decide not to be, to decide not to give in to that, is such an incredible effort of sheer will and determination.

She is Amyrlin, even now. She is Amyrlin through pain and imprisonment and she will be Amyrlin even through this. That is not just her role; that is who she is, and she will not back down from it.

Nicola huddled beside the wall, whimpering. “They’re coming for us,” the girl whispered. “Oh Light, they’re coming!”

“Let them come!”

Egwene al’Vere is HERE and she is STANDING HER GROUND and anyone who tries to get her to do otherwise can FUCK RIGHT OFF, THIS ARC ENDS HERE.

Given just the facts of the situation, the bare bones of it, it could so easily be her own darkest hour. Her greatest fear, the ones who held her prisoner and tried to break her mind coming to destroy the Tower that’s already falling to pieces around her despite everything she tries, and her powerless to channel more than a trickle, much less stand up to them…and yet it’s as if through sheer will she decides that it won’t be her Darkest Hour, because She Says So.

Blessedly, enough time had passed to dull the forkroot slightly, and she was able to grab a faint trickle of the Power. It was tiny, perhaps the least amount of the Power she’d ever channelled. She wouldn’t be able to weave a tongue of Air to shift a piece of paper. But it would be enough. It had to be.

Like when she had to read Verin’s list by the light of a single candle, there’s a sense of contrast here with the immense power Rand used a few chapters ago that I really like. I’m not even completely sure I can articulate why. But the way it suggests that she…makes her own power, I suppose. Something about strength and where it comes from and what it really is.

“I will protect you,” Egwene said. “I promise.”

She’s facing her own worst fear but she just calmly puts herself in the role of protector, and despite her apparent lack of strength in the Power right now, there’s no sense of doubt. She has the kind of strength that can back up statements like that even when it seems impossible.

It’s a sign of how much she’s grown since she last faced the Seanchan. Then, she had raw power but little practice with it; she was just a girl still new to the world outside her village, unsure of her place in it and still stubborn and determined to fight this nightmare but what could she do against something that could break experienced Aes Sedai? And it left its mark on her…but now that it’s time to face that again, after that moment of panic and remembered pain, she finds this source of strength in who she has become—who she must be, and who she has chosen to be. She is Amyrlin in truth, and in that is a determination and a strength greater than her fear.

There’s this sense not that the fear born of those experiences and trauma has lessened, but that she has grown and found her own strength and self and so it looks diminished in comparison, when it comes time to truly face it again, because there’s so much else to her that can push against it.

Anyway, Egwene has found herself…a crowd of novices. Her first allies in the Tower…Egwene, what exactly are you planning, here?

“I’m going to teach you how to link.”

Oh. That’s…resourceful, certainly. Pragmatic. But just a little bit…not quite ruthless but something akin to it.

They’ll be stronger, linked. Perhaps more able to defend themselves. But as Egwene acknowledges to herself, it’s not something usually taught to novices; she is pushing them out of necessity…as was done to her. She promises to protect them, but she’s also aware that they will need to be able to defend themselves; she cannot realistically hope to keep them out of this completely. She went to the harbour chain herself and ended up captured because she didn’t want to send a novice unnecessarily into danger, but now she doesn’t have that option—at least, not as she sees it. And so she readies them to fight.

Hopefully, at least some of them would figure it out.

What mattered was that Egwene now had the Power. A fair measure of it, almost as much as she was accustomed to without forkroot.

She’s preparing them to defend themselves, but she is also using them. Out of necessity, and because she’s trying to defend all of them and has to somehow make that possible when she herself is all but powerless, but using them nonetheless.

To weave a gateway?

She hoped that the gateway would open in the right location; she was going on Siuan’s instructions, which had been somewhat vague, though she also had Elayne’s original description of the place.

Oh! The angreal storeroom! That’s clever. So she’s using them to make the gateway, but perhaps just for that. She doesn’t seem to be sending them straight off to fight, or bringing them with her to where the fighting is happening; she’s using them as a source of power, but maybe only to make a gateway to a different source of power…interesting.

“Are you escaping?” Her voice was edged with fear, and not a little hope, as if Egwene might take her, too.

“No,” Egwene said firmly. “I’ll return in just a moment. When I come back, I want at least five good circles formed!”

Egwene’s not going anywhere, not while the Tower is under attack, but I wonder if maybe she should think about getting the novices out, via gateway, to somewhere they can be safe. But then maybe there isn’t enough time for that. Or maybe that’s the cold pragmatism: they can’t afford to weaken the Tower further. She doesn’t approach it from the same place as Rand, and she hasn’t gone in the same direction or nearly as far, but Egwene too will do what must be done, and sometimes that means making decisions she might wish she didn’t have to. She doesn’t want to put novices in harm’s way, but harm’s way has come knocking on their door, and it’s not just them but the whole Tower at risk, and she has to work with the situation she has.

I don’t think it’s moral event horizon material, but it’s definitely one of the more morally grey decisions Egwene’s made recently. And I love it, because that’s the sort of decision I like to watch characters make, but I will certainly not deny that there’s an element of harsh pragmatism to it.

And now she has her own absurdly strong sa’angreal. Which brings us to a different potential parallel.

She looked at the three novices, smiling broadly. “Now we’re ready,” she announced.

Let the sul’dam try and shield her while she was wielding one of the most powerful sa’angreal that the Aes Sedai possessed. The White Tower would not fall while she was Amyrlin!

There is still an element of fear, there, and while I don’t think it’s her primary motivator I think it does still play a role. Her first thought is that she has enough power to protect herself – let the sul’dam try and shield her. As if she has to take that second to reassure herself that she will not be taken again, that she will not be made helpless, that she can face them. Which is, you know, understandable. To not let her have even that moment of…need to reassure herself, need to touch that vast Power to feel secure in facing some of her worst memories, would I think take something away from this scene, because it would be making her too perfect. She’s human, and that’s the point; she’s human and she’s afraid and she’s able to do this anyway.

But her next thought, and the one she focuses on, is that the Tower will not fall. She is not just Egwene al’Vere; she takes a moment of thought to reassure herself on that front, and then she moves on to the bigger task: not protecting herself, but protecting the whole of the Tower, for that is her duty as Amyrlin, and there is no place in that for Egwene al’Vere’s own fears.

Does Gawyn have to be in this chapter? Can’t we just…not?

Bryne stepped up beside her, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He eyed her with dissatisfaction. Well. She wouldn’t let him be the judge of her honour.

A bit too late for that, Siuan; how much laundry have you done in the last few months?

And now too late to decide that going to Gawyn is a terrible idea.

“Are we being attacked?”

“No,” Siuan said, glancing at Bryne. “But Tar Valon might be.” “Egwene!” Gawy cried, hurriedly doing the last loops on his belt. Light, but the boy was single-minded.

YOU DON’T SAY. And he doesn’t exactly have a track record of strong decision-making skills where Egwene is concerned. It’s single-mindedness without perspective, which is a terrible combination on every level.

I’m not sure I agree with Siuan on the necessity of a rescue operation in the first place, and I think Bryne has a point, but I also have a reasonable amount of faith in Siuan’s ability to assess a situation and make the pragmatic decision based on what she sees. Gawyn, on the other hand…getting him involved means they’re committed to this, because he is not the sort of person who can take in additional information as it becomes available and adjust his decisions accordingly. Which means he is THE LAST PERSON YOU SHOULD BE INVOLVING IN THIS, WHAT ARE YOU THINKING.

Case in point: Gawyn doesn’t even take half a second to ask specifics of what’s happening, or to think about whether or not this will work, and the logistics of it – he hears ‘Tar Valon’ and is immediately 110% committed to this fool’s errand, and doesn’t seem to worry that they’re working on almost no information whatsoever. Because since when has that stopped him from acting as if what he ‘knows’ is a certainty?

ARGH.

It was so much easier to like him when he wasn’t tangling up the plotlines of characters I like more. Watching a character make bad decisions in relative isolation, when he’s the one who will suffer for them, is fascinating. Watching a character make bad decisions when the repercussions will most likely be felt by other characters is irritating.

Also one of my greatest pet peeves in fiction is when characters make terrible decisions Because Of Love, so that’s not exactly helping.

This would all be so much easier if she could create a gateway, but she didn’t have enough strength in the Power for that.

Well, you could always borrow some novices.

“Then come with us,” Siuan said.

“I will not be party to you breaking your oath again.”

“Egwene said we could do something if it looked like she was in danger of execution,” Siuan said. “She told me she’d let us rescue her then! Well, the way she vanished from the meeting with me tonight, I’m inclined to think she’s in danger.”

“It isn’t Elaida who put her there, but the Seanchan!”

“We don’t know for certain.”

“Ignorance is not an excuse,” Bryne said sternly, stepping closer to her. “You have made oathbreaking far too convenient, Siuan, and I don’t want it to become a habit for you.”

Of course, she would argue that she’s not breaking her oath so much as bending it, which seems like something you might appreciate, Bryne, given that it’s what Brought You Together, after all. It’s a sign of true love! Or something.

“Aes Sedai or not, former Amyrlin or not, people must have rules and boundaries.”

How adorably Lawful Good of you.

“To say nothing of the fact that you’re likely to get yourself killed attempting this!”

And that’s just adorably transparent.

Then again, everything about these two has been SUBTLE AS A BRICK, and yet they still haven’t managed to actually work it out between themselves. Schoolchildren, I swear. Schoolchildren who could run rings around you politically and militarily, and then throw you a paper aeroplane note with ‘do you like me? Tick yes or no’.

“Blasted woman,” Bryne said from behind. “You’ll be the death of me.”

…I worry. That gets rather close to Min’s vision, and is second only to ‘we’ll talk when I return’ for Famous Last Words in fantasy.

“I’ll come,” he said, hand gripping the hilt of his sheathed sword.

*raises eyebrow*

“But there are two conditions.”

“Name them,” she said.

“The first is that you bond me as your Warder.”

Awww. About damn time, too. Also, I think this is the first time we’ve seen a man make this request of an Aes Sedai, rather than the other way around. Granted, we’ve mainly seen bonding situations that are more anomalous than ordinary if the narrative statements about such things are to be believed, but still, it’s kind of…sweet. It’s nice to see that it can happen this way.

And then she just bonds him right there. Alright then. No sense wasting time, I suppose.

Emotions! Concern! Romance! So much sweetness I think my teeth are rotting!

“Would that I could give this to each man in my army!”

Siuan sniffed. “I highly doubt that their wives and families would approve of that.”

Once again there’s this dissonance between what we’re told about the relationship between Aes Sedai and Warder and what we’re shown.

Maybe it’s just because I am not really a fan of romance subplots in the first place, but I sometimes feel a bit cheated that we’re presented with this form of bonding that is meaningful and important and platonic – something all too rare in the genre – only to have it turn out to JUST KIDDING actually be romantic in almost every major-character instance.

But Siuan and Bryne are not a particularly annoying couple, and they’re even relatively sweet, so okay, fine, I’ll try not to hold it against them.

“You said you had two requirements?”

“I’ll tell you the second at a later time.” Bryne still sounded a little breathless.

That’s fair; bonding is one thing but this doesn’t seem like the best time for a marriage. Wink, wink.

That would actually be a kind of hilariously ironic second condition: ‘I’ll go along with what I consider to be oathbreaking but ONLY IF we can swear a different oath entirely to each other in exchange’.

“It’s odd,” he said, smiling. “I can sense your emotions now. For instance I could tell…” He cut off, and she could sense him growing just faintly embarrassed. He can tell that I half want him to demand something indecent of me! Siuan realised, aghast.

They even flirt like schoolchildren. The former Amyrlin Seat and one of the best living generals, and they’re basically pulling each other’s pigtails and giggling over what Siuan’s blank-cheque promise could be used for.

Luckily they are in fact adults, and can set aside their hilariously incompetent efforts at flirting because there’s something just slightly more important to deal with at the moment.

“What’s happening?” Gawyn asked.

Something about that just sent me into uncontrollable laughter. Like, that one oblivious question just sums up approximately everything about Gawyn’s entire character. We have Matrim ‘battles interest me’ Cauthon and Nynaeve ‘“I won’t shout at you!’ Nynaeve shouted’ al’Meara and now Gawyn ‘what’s happening’ Trakand.

Now if only you’d pause for maybe ten seconds every now and then to try to actually find an answer to that question, Gawyn, you might not find yourself in these situations.

“We don’t have to go in alone. […] That means our chances of surviving long enough to take Egwene just improved. Which is fortunate, since after what we’re about to do, she’ll undoubtedly want the privilege of killing us personally.”

I mean, you are probably not wrong there, Siuan. Not that that’s enough to make any of them reconsider, of course. And I suppose it’s not a bad idea to at least enable an option B should one become necessary, but…yeah, I’m still very unsure about all of this.

But! On the plus side! Maybe it’ll piss Egwene off enough that she’ll finally break up with Gawyn! (Shut up and let me dream, okay?)

And now we seem to be with Adelorna. Fitting, I suppose, that we get to watch a battle for the White Tower through the eyes of the Captain General of the Green Ajah. But you know what this also most likely means? Do you?

Outsider POV of Egwene motherfucking al’Vere. Also known as: precisely the sort of thing I live for.

Anyway. Yes. Adelorna.

Who is really not having a great day as she runs through the ruined corridors of the White Tower and I’m reminded, just a little bit, of the Prologue. Ruined corridors and horror and death…

Adelorna felt ashamed. The Battle Ajah indeed! The Greens with her had stood only minutes before being defeated.

I wonder if this will serve as a kind of wake-up call. There’s a lot about the Green mission statement that’s admirable, but for all that they don’t seem to have a lot of practice, nor do they behave like an organised, trained, cohesive military unit. The fact that they don’t train to use the Power as a weapon is an obstacle, but even more than that I think they struggle because they’ve fallen prey to the same tendency as most Aes Sedai: they act as individuals and don’t know how to set that aside and function as a group.

She froze; she sensed channelling coming from her right. That could mean invaders, or it could mean sisters. She hesitated, but gritted her teeth. She was the Captain-General of the Green Ajah! She couldn’t just run and hide.

This, though, is the admirable part. She’s watched friends and sisters die, and one of her Warders seems to have been killed, and the Tower is in chaos and under attack, but she’s not going to back down. She’ll face this and she’ll go down fighting.

It’s a similar determination to what Egwene herself showed: this is her role, and she cannot allow her own personal fear to hold her back. She won’t give up, even in the face of horror.

She rounded another corner and nearly stumbled out of a rift in the side of the Tower. She teetered on the exposed ledge, looking out upon a sky filled with terrible monsters and lines of fire.

Think there’s a metaphor in there, perhaps? Just a bit? Holes torn in the Tower, leaving it riddled with unexpected and sudden dangers that an Aes Sedai can find herself teetering on the edge of, looking out into vastness and danger because the Tower cannot hold against that as it is, and they are all at risk of falling.

And Adelorna’s reward for her determination to continue fighting is to be shielded and collared.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

This is the White Tower, aloof and untouchable. Except it’s not; it’s vulnerable and cracked and unable to unite itself enough to stand against these threats. This can’t be happening, because the Tower is meant to be invulnerable and all-powerful…but it isn’t. And for some of them, I think this is the first time where that realisation actually hits.

Then, shockingly, the collar unclipped from Adelorna’s neck and fell to the floor. Gregana looked stunned for a moment before she was consumed in a blast of fire.

Does being collared count as a life-threatening situation? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t exactly disagree with the actions here. But it seems to me that Siuan’s promise is not the only oath being strained to the breaking point in this chapter.

Especially as two more sul’dam are killed by lightning and fire here, not just the one who actually put the a’dam on Adelorna. It’s interesting that Adelorna doesn’t immediately wonder how that’s possible.

A woman in white stood atop the rubble a short distance away, a massive halo of power surrounding her, her arms outstretched toward the fleeing soldiers, her eyes intense. The woman stood like vengeance itself, the power of saidar like a storm around her. The very air seemed alight, and her brown hair blew from the wind of the open gap in the wall beside them. Egwene al’Vere.

HELL. YES. This is very much a Sanderson-style image but it’s also EXACTLY WHAT I’M HERE FOR . Egwene’s own I am the storm moment, standing surrounded by power like a…force of light.

And yes, there are absolutely some darker edges to this. She is killing with this power despite the oaths she has promised herself to live by, and she’s still surrounded by a group of novices. There’s definitely more of a parallel to Rand here than when she was reading a list of names by the light of a single candle, unable to summon enough of the Power to do more than that but also not needing to.

It’s a harsh image…but she is the Amyrlin in the midst of a battle for the Tower’s survival, against those who would kill or enslave them all, and it’s also an incredibly powerful image. She who should be a prisoner frees Aes Sedai from collars, she who is dressed and treated as a novice commands immense Power and has true novices achieving what the Aes Sedai seem incapable of: organised fighting, and unity, and success against this force that seeks to destroy them. She who has been beaten and disdained by the Tower stands to defend it when no one else seems able.

The Amyrlin Seat is not nice, and at this moment she’s certainly not gentle, but she is what the Tower needs right now. A source of strength and power and determination, someone who can stand against those who seek to bring the Tower down, someone who can hold it together and fight for it. Because she is fighting for something here, not just against something (though there is definitely an element of that, I think).

Blasts of lightning flew from Egwene’s open hand, flashing through the opening in the wall, and something screeched and fell outside. Adelorna stepped up to Egwene, embracing the Source, feeling a fool for having been captured. Egwene struck again, and another of those flying monsters fell.

“What if they’re carrying captives?” Adelorna asked, watching one of the beasts fall amid Egwene’s flames.

“Then those captives are better dead,” Egwene said, turning to her. “Trust me. I know this.”

Um…yikes. It’s not quite on the level of ‘forgive me for calling this mercy as well’ because for one thing this is in the middle of a battle and the Seanchan attacked first and while Egwene might be on the offensive in this particular instance, the whole thing is being done in self-defence and defence of the Tower. Also, harsh as it is, it would probably be…unrealistically idealistic to assume that they could rescue those captives and defeat the Seanchan without some collateral damage.

Some collateral damage is, perhaps, inevitable; both for the Amyrlin Seat and the Dragon Reborn. Natrin’s Barrow wasn’t horrifying because people died—that’s happened before, at Cairhien and outside Ebou Dar and at Dumai’s Wells, to varying degrees of horror—but because it was balefire and it was so calmly and coldly planned and because it wasn’t even a battle and perhaps above all because Rand didn’t care.

And that’s where Egwene gets a little dark here; she lets herself go a little bit into that colder place where those losses can be dismissed as better dead. It’s still not to the same extent or on the same scale, but it does feel a little bit like hardening herself to that fact in the moment so that she can keep fighting.

I think part of it is that, for all that she absolutely has grown since she last faced the Seanchan, and for all that she is fighting for something here, that fear does still exist, and she’s still not entirely capable of perfectly rational thinking where the Seanchan are concerned. Which is entirely understandable, but it does give her this colder, harsher edge here, because of that part of her that is reacting out of fear and vengeance.

But for all that, she has not lost sight of what she is fighting for; above all, she is standing in defence of the Tower, in a sense standing as the Tower, to protect it as much as she can. And I’ll be curious to see how she deals with all of this after the battle is done and it’s not a case of immediate necessity; as last chapter showed, she’s very capable of putting emotion aside for a time, and processing it later, which is a little different from shutting it off completely. I feel like that’s a little bit of what’s going on here; she does have to prioritise, and she has to be able to focus on defending as much of the Tower as she can, and so for the moment—combined with the fact that there’s a fair amount of trauma associated with the Seanchan even if she’s mostly handling it—that results in a somewhat harsh pragmatism. But I don’t think she’s treating that as a permanent state, and again, she is fighting for something here. It’s more a ‘that is an acceptable level of loss’ and she just can’t dwell on it right now, more than ‘I no longer care because I am completely dead inside and will do anything it takes to get to the end at any cost’. We’re still quite a ways distant from that, methinks.

Egwene marched down the hallway behind them, like a general at the battle lines. “Well,” [Adelorna] said. “You have done nicely to organise, Egwene, though it’s good that an Aes—”

Adelorna? Shut up. How can you think she looks like a general and in the next breath address her like a child? Also she is apparently the only one organising an effective defence right now, so maybe cut the bullshit.

Seems like Egwene is on the same page.

“I am in command until this threat passes. You will call me Mother. Give me penance later if you must, but for now my authority must be unquestioned. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mother,” Adelorna found herself saying, shocked.

Yeah. Right now is not the time to be fighting about who’s in charge, or trying to claim authority over the one person who’s actually getting shit done.

Egwene’s not trying to seize power here for herself; she’s establishing the chain of command in the middle of a battle because all around her is chaos, and there isn’t time for anything else. Someone has to take charge, and so she did, and for that to work it has to be recognised. Yes, she wants to be Amyrlin, but she wants it because she believes that is what the Tower needs…and right now, it certainly doesn’t seem like she’s wrong. Her first priority is the Tower; her own interests are secondary. First, they need to survive this.

“Where are your Warders?”

“One wounded,” Adelorna said. “One safe, with the other. One dead.”

“Light, woman, and you’re still standing?”

Adelorna straightened her back. “What other choice do I have?”

Egwene nodded. Why did her look of respect make Adelorna swell with pride?

It’s such an honest respect, and earned. Adelorna’s pretty damn impressive herself, all things considered. Her first reaction may have been to treat Egwene like a child, but she was also quick to understand the importance of a clear chain of command, and she’s still fighting despite the fact that one of her Warders was just killed and she was just collared. So yes, of course Egwene respects that, and doesn’t try to hide it. And Adelorna deserves it. It’s a nice exchange between them, I think because it’s so simple and honest.

“Well, I’m glad to have you,” Egwene said, resuming her walk.

It’s honest, and also very matter-of-fact. There’s no jockeying for power here; neither of them is trying to assert her authority excessively or argue about how to continue. It’s just…this is the situation, I’ve got it under control so right now I need you to work with me, but you’re also badass and I’m glad to have you here, now let’s get back to work. Simple, honest, respectful, effective.

“I’ll have one of the novices show you how to unlock the bracelets, but don’t take any risks. Generally, it’s easier—and much safer—to kill the damane.”

Again…yikes. Necessary, perhaps, but once again there’s a harsh edge to that. I’m also still very curious about the fact that Adelorna hasn’t at any point questioned—aloud or even to herself—how this squares with the three oaths.

Though of course there is the not irrelevant fact that the damane, horrible as it is, are either enemy combatants or weapons in the hands of enemy combatants, and they’re currently in the middle of a battle, and that means the options are a little…limited. Self-defence is a pretty key factor here.

But it comes back to the same thing: they shouldn’t be fighting the Seanchan. They don’t have much choice, because the Seanchan are trying to kill and capture them, but this entire battle should not be happening. They should be working together, not killing each other; they should be preparing to face the Last Battle. But…events have made that all but impossible, and there are some pretty enormous differences of opinion and worldview and methods between Seanchan and Aes Sedai, and so here they are. Forces of the Light, fighting against one another.

I had hoped that maybe this battle could somehow lead to Egwene establishing the treaty Rand could not, but that’s…not looking particularly likely right about now.

Egwene’s openly using Travelling in front of Aes Sedai now; it seems like the days of that being kept secret are…limited. I’m honestly amazed it’s been kept this secret for this long.

“We need to stop them and destroy any to’raken we see, with captives or not. If there’s any chance of stopping them from returning to Ebou Dar with someone who can Travel, we must take it.”

I…get where you’re coming from, because Travelling is absolutely a game-changer, and in the hands of the Seanchan without a peace between them it’s a pretty terrifying concept, but…I also think it’s way too late for that. Too many know it, now.

It does create a very zero-sum approach on both sides here: the Seanchan have been told to capture as many Aes Sedai—marath’damane—as possible but kill the rest. Meanwhile because of this last attempt to keep Travelling from the Seanchan, Egwene and the Aes Sedai are now approaching this not just with the aim of repelling the Seanchan but killing or capturing all of them. So that can only end well…

“You could have run,” [Adelorna] said. “You could have fled at any time.”

Yeah. Take a minute to think about that. And what it means that she hasn’t. That she’s here, facing this same nightmare you are, when she doesn’t have to be. Fighting for all of you, who have treated her like a child at best and an enemy at worst.

Egwene turned back to her, looking through the portal. “Fled?” she asked. “If I left, it wouldn’t have been fleeing you, Adelorna, it would have been abandoning you. I am the Amyrlin Seat. My place is here. I’m certain you’ve heard that I dreamed this very attack.”

She is the Amyrlin Seat, and now Adelorna and anyone else who sees her here can see that she truly believes it, and is committed to it. It’s not just something she says; she’s not just in it for power. Here, when she could so easily have fled, she instead chooses to stand and defend the Tower, because to do otherwise would mean abandoning them. Because she is the Amyrlin, and that means fulfilling the Amyrlin’s duties, no matter how difficult or dangerous they may be. She is the Amyrlin, and she is fighting for the Tower, because that is what she has chosen.

Next (TGS ch 41) Previous (TGS ch 39)

#one does not simply fuck with Egwene #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #The Gathering Storm

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aviculor · 6 years ago

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Part 5 is a story of trying to doxx someone problematic

The mystery of Diavolo’s identity is built as the driving force of the entire saga, but it’s ultimately inconsequential. He’s not someone who we (both in the sense of the protagonists and in the sense of the viewers) know or have met before; he’s an entirely original character who was never seen before that moment. Even after we are made aware of who he is, there’s no major shock or real payoff to this knowledge. It did not lead anywhere. Doppio himself was introduced late in the game directly before the reveal, so it’s not like there was any emotional impact to learning he was secretly the boss’ alter ego. Doppio showed up and was immediately outed as the boss who has Dissociative Identity Disorder. It’s simply a thing that happens, rather than being a big reveal. From a storytelling perspective, Doppio might as well have not existed at all and the boss simply had a public persona like Tobi in Naruto. The only noticeable benefit Diavolo gained from his obsessive desire for anonymity was being able to pretend he was a muggle who’s in the wrong place at the wrong time...since Doppio for all intents and purposes was. But in truth, all this subterfuge worked against Diavolo in the end since Giorno was able to steal Passione by simply saying he was the boss when no one could actually dispute it.

But why did Diavolo care so much? What exactly did he stand to lose? It’s not as if hearing the words “You are a split personality of Vinnegar Doppio!” would cause him to vanish like a demon being exorcised. It had no bearing in his defeat whatsoever. The logical conclusion would be that he wanted to keep Doppio safe since sharing a body with a silly manchild who anyone could get the jump on is kind of a liability. Although since Doppio managed to hold his own against Risotto, the strongest assassin in Passione, and the fact that Doppio is a Passione member to start with, I’m actually not sure if that’s the correct answer. Plus, covering up his birthplace and daughter is several steps beyond not wanting people to recognize “him” on the street when he can’t defend himself. Diavolo just wanted to be a complete ghost. So why? Was there any actual purpose to be found at all, or was it nothing more than a personality quirk akin to Kira’s hand fetish?

It’s worth wondering who actually came first. It’s easy to read Doppio as a glorified secret identity, a disguise, a mental shield, a B-grade Diavolo, especially when ”Doppio” means “double”. But that’s not “double” as in “substitute/decoy”, but as in “set of two”. Plus, Doppio is the one with a full name. Which is an honor typically reserved for important characters. “Diavolo” is simply Italian for “devil”, and while everyone’s name is like that, it gives the impression of an assumed alias a lot more than the other way around. The person in Diavolo’s backstory is certainly closer to Doppio in personality...aside from the whole “kidnapping and torturing his mother and razing his village to cinders” thing, but it was suggested meeting his mom was what triggered him into developing DID. Chapter titles “My Name Is Doppio” and “His Name Is Diavolo” present Doppio as someone who introduces himself and Diavolo as someone who needs to be introduced, which wouldn’t make much sense if Diavolo was the “real” one. Additionally, Polnareff’s (imaginative, fantasy-anime) description of DID includes that one personality will vie for control over the other one. Many people have speculated that Doppio was the original and Diavolo was the splinter, and if you accept this theory, it starts to put some of these loose pieces together.

Diavolo wasn’t erasing his past, he was erasing Doppio’s. He wanted to eliminate any evidence that Doppio was the original person, in a bid to delegitimize him. No birthplace, no age, no records, no memories, no friends, no family, no one who knows his face, etc. Diavolo’s master plan involved reinventing himself from the ground up, leaving no evidence of his life before Passione which would unveil that Doppio was a person and he wasn’t. Diavolo restricts access to Doppio’s memories and feeds him only selective information, causing him to be in the dark about their true nature even as he died. When the fortune teller begins to pry into Doppio’s personal life, telling him he’s actually an adult who has a daughter, what happens? Diavolo steps in to silence the man and keep Doppio completely clueless. You see, if Doppio knew the truth, Doppio could fight back and overtake Diavolo instead of the other way around. Diavolo’s end game was to be the sole occupant of their body, the 'real' one. That was the 'everlasting climax' he didn’t want interrupted. Whether this would involve Doppio’s death or just keeping him disenfranchised like what King Candy did to Vanelope in Wreck It Ralph...we have no concrete answer because we have no way of knowing exactly how far Araki would have taken his ‘artistic license’ regarding DID.

Diavolo founded Passione at roughly the same time he discovered the stand arrows and awakened King Crimson. It was all in 1986, directly before the events of Stardust Crusaders, shortly after he torched his hometown. Which in turn was shortly after Trish was conceived. You know, it seems odd that Diavolo would allow for that kind of glaring, hull-breaching oversight in his bid for having no past or connections, and it’s also wildly out-of-character for him to love someone. But it’s not for Doppio. Trish was Doppio’s daughter, not Diavolo’s. After all, that thing with the scent of their souls was just shameless bullshit. I’m actually starting to picture Diavolo's deception towards Donatella Una as being him interfering in Doppio’s relationship to throw her off ‘knowing’ him, since murdering her would be opening a can of worms he did not yet have the ability to avoid.

But discussing the timeline brings me to one other point: King Crimson. It’s ostensibly Diavolo's stand, but Doppio has access to Epitaph when Diavolo permits it...almost like how Diavolo controls Doppio’s access to his own memories. And it’s repeatedly rendered that Diavolo speaks through KC, as if KC is a shorthand for Diavolo himself when he’s not active. What if, staring us right in the face, King Crimson is Diavolo? Or in other words, being exposed to the arrow in Egypt allowed Diavolo to assume his own quasi-physical body by way of controlling the stand, and this is what inspired him towards establishing his own personhood and scheming to usurp Doppio. What if, in an alternate timeline were Doppio were to learn what Diavolo’s been doing to him and fought back, he took control of King Crimson since by all accounts it’s just as much his stand as it is Diavolo’s?

If I’m right about all this, then it’s really a shame Araki never fleshed any of it out because that would have made the final arc far more interesting and easier to follow.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #vento auero spoilers #discourse #wmg #long post

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kfs1001 · 6 years ago

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Oh, the burning question: marriage or no marriage. Inquiring minds want to know?

There are a number of people wondering about this from several points of view. Some are waiting to point the finger and snicker . . . I told you so. Others are going to say congratulations and wish D luck. Regardless of what side of the fence you stand on, it is D’ s life and D’s decision. He may very well marry for his career. There are many closeted men and women who have. The question still stands, legal wedding or faked nuptials complete with a new bread contract as binding as a legal wedding. The second option leaves it open for both parties to have a real marriage with someone they really love, even though that love will need to remain behind closed doors. Here is the choice?

(Humm . . . my preference would be to walk down the street holding my husband’s hand, but I am not in the same boat as D.)

It is an interesting dilemma which I would not want to be in. Just think of it as an arranged marriage which have nothing to do with love―a contract pertaining to power, status, land, money, fame and the list can go on. Life behind closed doors will go on, with the bearded couple coming home and then going their separate ways. The PR and public face vanishes as they roll their eyes and step away.

Beard weddings can work it both parties are friends and have a good relationship knowing all too well what is expected of them. There are fake marriages where the couple get home to their respective real partners. Their respective, real loves, might themselves be part of a breaded marriage. All you need is to have a system to travel back and forth between the real homes unseen. There are lots of ways to make a fake marriage work, and again, it will only work if all parties get along.

In my belief D is in fact in the closet and does not like his beard . . . well, how can it work if the parties do not get along?

If, from the other perspective of D is straight and in love with M, I have to wish them all the best. The problem is, when you look at video and pictures, he does not look like a man who is in love and who is going to get married. D looks trapped. Mind you, the other side posts tons of video and pictures which shows D and M smiling, laughing and having fun. Who is telling the truth? I do not know and may never know. I have a gut feeling, but that will not hold up in the court of public opinion nor the court of legal opinion

Only the principals in this affair know for certain what is happening. Mind you, even if D whispered in my ear his dislike for his beard, I would never state it because one; D need to give me permission to do so, two; I would need undisputable proof No, the words need to come from D’s mouth and in a public forum where there can be no denial afterword. Until then, I am relatively blind to his reality and filled with hope.

From the perspective of D being in the closet and in a long-term relationship with C (my believe), I continue to believe this is all part of a lesson, D’s, M’s, C’s and even our souls need to learn. Tibetan Buddhism speak of two ways that someone can be reborn after death. The first is involuntary rebirth under the sway of ‘karma’. The soul is drawn back to life by destructive emotions and desires the soul has not mastered. This is the fate of most of us. A few, select others, through the power of compassion and prayer to benefit others, are believed to be able to choose their place and time of birth as well as their parents. Thus, the soul chooses the circumstances of their rebirth for the benefit of mankind.

The Dalia Lama has said: As human beings we all want to be happy and free from misery. We have learned that he keys to happiness is inner peace. The greatest obstacles to inner peace are disturbing emotions such as anger, attachment, fear, and suspicion, while love and compassion and a sense of universal responsibility are the sources of peace and happiness.

In this regard, the kamacitic cycle brings us back in order to learn compassion, but in doing do, negative karma may become the catalyst of our learning. In this regard, M, RR and others have a role to play because the learning is not just D’s.

In such, sides have been drawn, and lines scribbled in the sand. All sides continue to speculate about the things we hear and see. If we look beyond this life into our past lives and relationships, we carry baggage with us from one to the other. Now, I do not expect you to understand my Buddhist/spiritualist point of view, but I believe in these lessons. I think D is coming to the apex of his lesson with a decision to be made. For all I know, it may already have been made and it is now working through the final chapters of a long book toward a happy ending for all.

D is a carrying person who I believe has a karma anchored by compassion. Now, we look at what D is going through from the view of what D is going through. Ask yourself; what is M or RR learning? Is D the catalyst for their learning as they are for his. What is C learning? When we look at the whole affair from a spiritual point of view, karma has a hold on all of us, principals and spectators alike. As spectators, what are we learning? I have fairly good idea what this is teaching me, though I know I am not at the end of the path yet.

You can see it in how D acts around those he respects, loves and his fans. He is truly happy and smiling and his compassion shines. I believe D wants a happy ending for all. In such I think there will be cooling off period during which M will move into the next phase of her life keeping as much face (in the Japanese meaning) as possible. If played right, they could split with the minimum disruption to their lives.

Being gay is not always easy in a world where many people look at you with distain or worse. Being gay and famous can be a double edge sword. Being gay, in the closet and a celebrity only adds to the problems. We only need to read articles from actors like C/hris C/olfer, M/att D/allas, E/llen D/egeneres, C/olton H/aynes, C R/icky M/artin and N/eil P/atrick H/arris we can see what can happen when you come out and survive.

We can speculate, but, from the perspective of being gay/lesbian and breaded, is marriage (legal or contract) the right way to go? I am not in a position to say yea or nay because I am not in D’s situation. I can only speculate based on my own life experiences.

From the perspective of the soul and compassion, each of us must look at events and respect decisions that have and will be made..

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tangent101 · 3 years ago

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Okay. But consider this: What if Chloe is so possessive of Max partly because of Rachel vanishing, and Chloe is terrified of losing Max as well? I mean, let's look at the Kate situation from Chloe's perspective.

Her "friend" Max has been back in Arcadia Bay for a month. She's not called, texted, or anything. The only reason they're back together talking is because Max saved her in the bathroom and then she saved Max from Nathan Prescott in the parking lot. But during this month she's befriended Kate Marsh (who Chloe stated she knew, if only casually). So when Kate calls, Chloe is afraid Max is going to ditch her for Kate. You know, Kate, the nice girl who is a lot like Max and who Max obviously has become friends with. It just makes sense (to Chloe at least) that Max would ditch her loser dropout ex-friend for Kate "the Saint" Marsh.

Let's assume that some elements of BtS are real. Steph and Mikey are still in Arcadia Bay (seeing that in a Storm ending, Steph and Mikey were both in AB when the Storm hits and survived it). Steph has run games for Chloe and Rachel, though they obviously distract each other from the game and Steph feels like a third wheel. So Chloe has "friends" but Chloe likely feels like these friends are due to Rachel's presence. And when Rachel vanishes? Chloe is so frantic trying to find Rachel that she lets Steph and Mikey drop out of sight. In Chloe's eyes... Rachel is her friend. Rachel is her social center and without Rachel... she's adrift without friends.

In many ways I'm a Chloe. I have trouble making friends. My current circle of friends are a result of my wife. I've not talked to my old friends from before being married in weeks - two are in poor health and I honestly don't entirely know if they're still alive or not. And seeing I'm not on Facebook, I'd not learn of their deaths unless someone in their family chose to let me know.

Should my wife vanish? I could very well end up like Chloe, not staying in touch with my new friends and just spinning my wheels while hoping my wife returned on her own. (Though honestly, I'm at the point in my life where I'd try to remain in contact with my new friends as my mental health is slowly improving thanks to anti-anxiety meds.) So it makes perfect sense for Chloe to vanish from Steph and Mikey's lives.

As for Rachel? She loved Chloe. But she wasn't in love with Chloe. And there is a difference. She likely was "friends with benefits" and Chloe probably was hurt but accepted that. Even if Chloe and Rachel had left Arcadia Bay together... things would have fallen apart. Maybe they could salvage their friendship but... they are not "soulmates" no matter what some folk think.

Rachel was Chloe's first time she realized she was in love with someone. Sure, she loved Max but... I don't think she'd fallen in love with Max at that time. Max leaving hurt. And that time apart? It was vital for those feelings to ferment. When Max returned, saving Chloe's life? For the first time in a long time someone was putting Chloe ahead of everyone else. Remember what Max said: You are my number one priority.

Think of how that must have felt for Chloe... to know that Max is willing to let everyone else die because Chloe is who Max wants to save. Chloe is who Max wants to be with. Chloe is who Max loves. So Chloe gives Max a choice. She tells Max that if Max goes back in time to save everyone else? She'll accept it without protest! She insists Max do this (for Max's sake, not for her mother or anyone else in Arcadia Bay, this is for Max). But if Max chooses to choose her instead of Arcadia Bay? She will stand by Max's side forever. And she means that.

Rachel was someone Chloe fell in love with and crushed on and put on a pedestal while ignoring the evidence of Rachel's straying. And you can't say that the balled-up note had never been read by Chloe. She knew. She may have read it when doped up or somesuch but she had read that note at some point in time. And Rachel? Rachel did love Chloe... as a friend. Chloe just saw Rachel through rose-coloured glasses... as did everyone in Arcadia Bay.

Here are some thoughts I have on Chloe and Rachel’s relationship:

Chloe and Rachel slowly drift apart over the last two years before LiS. Not enough that they aren’t friends, obviously, but Rachel doesn’t confide in Chloe anymore. She doesn’t make time to be with her alone if Chloe doesn’t ask. Part of it is that Chloe started to put her on pedestal more and more as her home life got worse.

I’m part of the fandom that thinks Chloe and Rachel weren’t dating before she disappeared. But I do think they very much did the past and then Rachel slowly broke them up into a friends with benefits thing and then slowed even that down a lot too. Chloe was important to Rachel, no doubt in my mind, but if Rachel wanted to leave town? Well Chloe wasn’t the ticket but there was no way Rachel would just let her go, not when Chloe was such a big supporter of her.

I think Chloe, with all of her abandonment issues and hero worship, would have done anything Rachel said as long as Chloe got to keep even a piece of her. Rachel doesn’t want to date anymore but still wants to be friends? Well Chloe is heart broken but at least she has Rachel. Rachel still wants to fool around sometimes? That makes this confusing and hurts but at least she has Rachel. Rachel wants to flirt with other people in front of Chloe? That’s painful but it’s fine because they are just friends and at least she has Rachel.

Like I think they actually fought a few times before Rachel disappeared. If Chloe is that possessive of Max after a few days? You can’t tell me that she wasn’t just as bad with Rachel or at least wanted to be. Even if she pushed it down, which I do think she tried too, it’s still Chloe. She’s going to lash out even if it’s not at Rachel directly. (I think this is why Chloe is pretty distant with the other kids at Blackwell now, she got mad at Rachel for ‘choosing’ them to hang out with a lot but she can’t be mad at Rachel sooo lashing out at dumb shit happens instead)

I don’t know, I just don’t think Chloe’s relationship with Rachel was ever going to be healthy or happy past that first tiny bit. Chloe refused to see that Rachel was just a girl who might have cared for her but was using her like she used a lot of people. In a world with no Jefferson I think Rachel would have left her behind just like she would Frank.

#rachel amber #chloe price #max caulfield #life is strange

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arcadenemesis · 7 years ago

Text

So I guess I managed to update this monster...

Laws of The Universe

[ao3 link] words: 6k, ch: 2/6

Chapter 2: Matter

“What do you think happens to us when we die?”

Shiro stilled, looking up from his entrance essay. After a moment, he placed his pen down and leaned forward. At the desk across from him, Keith kept his gaze unflinchingly on his physics textbook, reading in the lamp light.

“Where's this coming from?”

He knew. It had been years since Shiro had found him alone, just a small boy crying for the loss of his father. But he knew just as well that spectres of the past never truly vanished. They would always linger, itching at the edge of his existence with little relief. Sometimes it was best to ignore it and allow the sensation to fade on its own. But other times, like now, it seemed that leaving it unaddressed only aggravated it more.

“... It's nothing.”

Shiro's bracelet tightened around his wrist immediately. He resisted the urge to rub at it when he saw Keith’s eyes dart to his hand briefly. The younger boy knew he was caught and his lips drew a tight grimace. Shiro saw no point in voicing the fact out loud.

Keith’s shoulders hunched up to his ears when Shiro’s chair dragged across the cheap linoleum as he stood. But he didn't push the older boy away when he leaned his forearms on the table next to him. Shiro glanced over the complicated notes spread out on its surface, mountains of equations and strangely artistic diagrams of trajectories. Keith had never been short on motivation, but as the launch of the HAT-1 rocket loomed, his work rate had increased to frightening levels. He was well on his way to chasing his dream of joining the space program at the Garrison Centre, and was determined to join Kolivan on his next mission whenever it would come.

On the notebook in front of Shiro, a calculation had been written, rewritten, crossed out and messily scrubbed at in frustration. The paper had been crumpled and re-smoothed, and under the mess in Keith’s neat cursive, he had written a short phrase before continuing the workings again.

Patience yields focus.

The little happy face drawn next to the final, correct answer - complete with undercut - was hopelessly endearing.

“When does the meteor shower start?”

Keith glanced at his watch.

“About 35 minutes. But it won't peak for another 90 at least— hey!”

Shiro ignored his protest as he plucked the textbook from his hands, carefully bookmarking the page before setting it down on his other notebooks.

“Let's get a head start then. I don't know about you, but there's only so much I can write about ethics in lawmaking before my eyes want to fall out. Besides, gotta make sure we get the best spot.”

Keith rolled his eyes sourly. “No one ever comes to our spot.”

“And wouldn't it be such a shame if tonight was the first night they did,” Shiro replied with a grin.

He leaned down into Keith’s line of vision, tilting his head so it almost rested on the table in front of him.

“Come on,” he goaded, flashing what he hoped was a good attempt at puppy dog eyes. He was determined to fish Keith out of whatever mental dip he had found himself in. And nothing cheered him up more than stargazing, pointing out planets and constellations as Shiro listened on beside him. He watched Keith stare him down, ears turning pink before his expression relaxed in resignation.

“Fine,” he huffed. “But if you fall asleep out there, I'm not waking you up this time.”

Shiro looked wounded.

“That was just once! You try staying awake past midnight after three exams on completely unrelated areas of law in one day.”

Keith finally laughed and Shiro felt his chest grow warm.

“Good thing you're going to be the attorney and not me then,” he teased as he stood, swiping up his jacket.

The walk to the little abandoned shack overlooking the Garrison Space Centre was punctuated by Shiro talking about his worries about being accepted for his Juris Doctor next year. Keith listened dutifully, breaking his silence only to offer words of support and encouragement when needed. This was what their friendship had always been, helping each other chase their wildly different dreams and sharing in each other's trials and jubilations along the way. They kept each other focused and on track, and so despite the lack of specialist schools and private tutors, both had made significant headway into reaching their goals while they were still quite young. Shiro could hardly believe he was looking at fast tracking his path to becoming a defence attorney by the time he would turn 23. At 18, the end was still far away, but in sight nonetheless.

“And I mean, I guess writing about how sociology and the law are intrinsically linked isn't as exciting as working out how to fly a rocket, but I'm actually really enjoying it.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Keith grinned, throwing himself unceremoniously onto the grass. “I find the idea of having my own attorney an incredibly thrilling concept.”

“Just what are you planning that involves having your own attorney?” Shiro eyed him with mock-suspicion, lowering himself a little more carefully to lay on his back. “Besides, who said I was going defend your shady dealings in court?”

Keith smiled, pulling his knee up to his chest.

“You'd never abandon me.”

The words came out surprisingly serious, his voice soft but confident. Shiro blinked at the sudden shift, struggling to form a reply, and Keith’s watch blipped quietly before his brain could catch up.

“It's about to start,” the younger boy said, casting his eyes up.

Shiro tucked his palm under his head, the very first of the lights streaking across the atmosphere above them. Watching the meteor showers was much more for Keith’s benefit than his. But the time spent together was precious to Shiro in a way he couldn't put into words. And it didn't matter if he didn't want to chase his dreams into space like Keith. Away from the light pollution, the night sky was objectively magnificent. He didn't have to be a budding astronaut to appreciate that. And the time away from his books helped refresh his perspective too. A thought came to him as he recalled Keith’s question earlier that evening.

“The stars sure look beautiful tonight,” he mused as nonchalantly as possible. Keith just hummed his agreement unsuspectingly.

“You know what else is beautiful?”

He felt Keith flinch beside him slightly, but focused on staring right ahead and trying not to crack a grin. He missed the dusting of pink that spread across the other boy's cheeks in the dark.

“L. A. Hart’s concept of legal positivism and his philosophy of social influence on authority.”

There was a pause, then suddenly a fist thumped against his shoulder.

“Idiot,” Keith muttered as Shiro laughed, turning his face away.

Shiro sat up to fling his arms around the other boy’s hunched shoulders, scruffing his hair. Keith yelped his protest but didn't shove him off, and when Shiro settled one arm around him, he leaned ever so slightly into the hold.

“You asked me what I think happens after we’re gone?” Shiro asked, turning his face back up to the sky, where their personal light show was ramping up. "Maybe we turn into stars. And maybe some of us can't stay away. Which is why this happens.”

“Corny, even for you,” Keith scoffed. “How can we turn into stars when our bodies are stuck on the earth?”

Shiro laughed, squeezing him to his side. "Good question. I guess don't know the answer... But I don't think it's the end. We’ll see them again, I'm sure.”

Shiro pretended not to hear Keith sniff, his response coming at a delay.

“Promise?”

Shiro rested his head on Keith's with a smile.

“Promise.”

Pidge was the first to look up when Shiro arrived late in the afternoon, round glasses exaggerating the surprise in her eyes.

“Shiro?!”

Allura’s head shot up, and immediately she abandoned the evidence list on her desk. She stood, smoothing the material of her pink pencil skirt. “What do you think you're doing here, Shiro?” she admonished, unable to conceal her concern. “You should be in a hospital bed.”

Shiro pulled the jacket draped over his shoulders a little closer. “No… I couldn't stay there, doing nothing. Not while…” He grit his teeth, looking down.

“You need to rest!” Pidge cut in. “Leave Kolivan’s case to us. We’ll take it from here.”

Shiro's eyes hardened, still staring at the ground. “Thanks… but that's not an option. Not for me.”

Allura looked troubled, pausing as she moved around her desk, placing a hand on the tabletop. “Shiro… your injuries.” Her voice was gentle and even, but it still grated against Shiro's raw nerve endings nonetheless. "You're putting your health in danger by being here.”

“I'm fine. The hospital provided me with everything I needed. I was just wasting a bed there.” He avoided the disbelieving looks from his colleagues. “Now that Shay has been cleared, the court has let Kolivan’s trial recommence, right? Tell me how the case is going. What progress have you made?”

Allura exchanged a glance with Pidge, but his junior partner seemed to decide keeping him informed was best, no matter what Allura was trying to silently communicate.

“We have a witness that claims a suspicious figure was spotted in the lounge just after the explosion at the launch pad. But the description doesn't match Kolivan. It has to be the real killer!”

Despite her enthusiasm, Shiro remained thoughtfully quiet.

“I thought you'd be happy to hear that,” Allura interjected gently after a moment, sitting on the corner of her desk.

“Mm?” Shiro snapped out of his reverie. “I… I am. And I'm going to make sure Keith's murderer is brought to justice.” His voice went cold. “Nothing in this universe will get in the way of that.”

Allura was solemn as she spoke. “Keith meant a lot to you…”

“He meant…” Shiro tried desperately to unfurl his phantom fist, the throb of pain starting to work its way up his arm. “He meant everything.”

“What was he like?” Pidge asked, chewing on her lip.

Shiro’s smile was bittersweet, because how did anyone begin to describe the enigma that was Keith Kogane: orphan, dreamer, astronaut, friend... much more. “He was focused. Passionate. If he set his mind to something, he would achieve it in the end. But never at the expense of anyone else. On the outside he could seem distant to those who didn't know him well enough, but his heart was always open just below the surface. Nothing was worth the pain of a loved one to Keith. He would sooner…” Shiro stopped, swallowing hard.

“And now he's gone.”

Allura’s shoulders tensed and Shiro knew she was fighting between her professionalism as his boss and her desire to comfort him as a friend.

“Shiro, about that jacket…”

“... It's Keith’s. It was given to him after he was selected for the HAT-2 mission. I remember how happy he was when he came home wearing it for the first time. He'd finally achieved his dream… and then…” he started to crack, “then…”

His fist connected to the wall behind him with a crack, making Pidge jump.

“It's not fair!”

Allura took a step forward as he drew a shaky breath, but stopped short when he squared his shoulders a schooled his expression back into something more neutral.

“I'll never forgive the person who took his dream from him.”

“I know,” Allura said softly. “Shiro, the way you feel… it's natural. You've been through a lot. Just… don't forget that as attorneys, our first and foremost task is to save our client, not avenge the victim.

Conflict constricted Shiro’s ribs tightly. “I-I understand that,” he said, trying not to let desperation bleed into his voice. “That's why—"

His voice failed him completely. Allura finally abandoned professionalism to close the distance, reaching up to touch his face. Shiro caught her hand though, gently redirecting it away. Up close, he could see his tired face mirrored in concerned blue eyes.

“Sorry Allura, but I'll be taking a leave of absence.”

Beside them, Pidge looked stricken. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Shiro, I could understand if you were taking the time to heal,” Allura said softly, “but clearly that's not the case here. I can see the files in your bag and I know you don't want to give up this investigation. Can you at give me a reason why you don't want to work with the Voltron Offices?”

Shiro turned his face away, unable to look Allura in the eye. There was no way he could tell her. That his reason was borne of the seed of doubt in his mind. That the roots of distrust and suspicion had spread and grounded themselves deep into his stomach. He had always trusted his intuition. And it told him now that he needed to do this alone.

“When I put on Keith's jacket, it was my promise to him. I'm going to catch his killer myself.”

“But that's our goal too!” Pidge insisted.

Allura glanced to the junior attorney, trying to offer her split-second reassurance. “Pidge is right. We should find the truth together.”

Shiro knew she was trying to watch out for him. It had always been this way since she had first recruited him, fresh from law school after the bar. She had given him his start and he would always be grateful for that. But right now…

“The truth…” He released her wrist, stepping away. “What if the truths we seek turn out to be different though?”

“What could you possibly mean, Shiro?” Allura sounded exasperated and horrified all at once.

“I'm going to find the monster who took Keith's life, my own way.” His tone was finite, turning away. He paused when he opened the office door, his hand on the handle. “Take good care of Kolivan. It's what Keith would have wanted.”

“Goodbye.”

"That's time, Keith. Pens down.”

Keith let out a long sigh as he sat back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair where it had been getting a little longer at the back. He turned a tired smile up to his companion.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on the clock. I know you have better things to be doing than watch me take another practice exam.”

Shiro waved him off. “I got a pretty big chunk of my torts essay done, so I'm not complaining. That's the last one, right?”

Keith nodded, fishing for a red pen and an answer key. “Then it's the real deal tomorrow,” he said, looking a little green.

Shiro tsked disapprovingly. “You’re fine, Keith. Say it.”

Keith sighed again, but replied obediently. “Keith Kogane is fine.”

Shiro attempted to channel all of his encouragement into a warm smile. “You've done the hard work and it's just one last hurdle. And what's your average score right now? Ninety-five?”

“Ninety-six,” Keith corrected, trying - and failing - not to look smug.

Shiro laughed. “Why the hell am I being your cheerleader then? You don't need me.”

“Not true,” he rebutted immediately, eyes focused on his paper as he started marking his answers. After all this time, his determination still shone through as strong as ever, undeterred even in the face of the news of HAT-1’s disastrous launch a year ago.

Shiro watched as his brow creased in concentration, and the way he chewed on the end of his pen as he read. His boots tapped out an anxious rhythm on the floor, but Shiro found himself unbothered by the distraction. If anything, it was a little charming, watching his nervous habits on display all at once.

“You don't have to wait,” Keith said suddenly, without looking up.

Shiro felt strangely startled, as if caught out. Just how long had he been sitting there, staring, essay abandoned at his elbow? He cleared his throat.

“I was thinking we could go to the Space Centre after you finish marking. One last time for good luck before your exam. My treat.”

Keith’s eyes shot up, violet and eager and Shiro felt his heart give an odd thump.

“Yeah?”

Shiro swallowed and nodded, suddenly not trusting himself to speak. The smile that spread across Keith’s lips at the gesture sent him into a spin. Shiro had to stop himself from reaching up to hold his head as he finally looked back down to his essay again. He tried to focus intently, but the words refused to sink in. Paragraphs sat idle on the pages in front of him and letters threatened to blur out of comprehension. Was he sick? Had he not had enough to eat before he agreed to join Keith as his adjudicator this morning?

He risked a glance up to the boy in question again, where he was marking his test with renewed vigor. Between questions, he twirled his pen between his fingers in an absent flourish. His mouth quirked at the corners with every answer he got right and he alternated between chewing his bottom lip raw and soothing it with a quick flick of his tongue. When he paused to blow his fringe out of his eyes, Shiro felt his insides flip over.

Okay, so he wasn't ill. It was far worse.

Takashi Shirogane had inexplicably fallen in love with his best friend.

#sheith #fanfic #vld #ace attorney au #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #i still hate this #still writing tho so ????#lotu

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justcallmefox89 · 4 years ago

Text

Day Date

Jax has been in the Devildom for three months now. They’re getting closer to their crush and thriving at R.A.D., but there’s something strange happening at House of Lamentation. Jax enlists the help of their crush to get to the bottom of the mystery.

Written from the perspective of my non-binary OC Jax.

NSFW: mild make out/groping

My usual PSA - Always check in with your partner to make sure you’re on the same page sexually and emotionally. Respect each other’s boundaries and nos. Listening and communicating openly is one of the sexiest things you can do. PSA over. :)

Finally a day off from R.A.D. Maybe Arianthi can take me someplace new so I can sketch today.

I pause and reconsider.

Maybe not. She’s been a little off lately. Sad.

I haven’t said anything to her yet, but I’m getting worried.

I wander through the House of Lamentation, looking for the girl who has become my de facto big sister. I stop by the library first, but Satan is the only one there.

“Oh, hi Jax.” Satan looks up from his book and smiles at me.

“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I smile back at him, happy to find him in an unusually good mood. “I was just wondering if you’d seen Arianthi anywhere? I can’t find her.”

Satan’s smile vanishes and his shakes his head.

“Maybe she’s with Mammon?” I try hopefully.

Satan scowls. “He didn’t come home last night. He’s on another gambling streak.”

It’s been like this for the past four weeks. What is going on with those two?

Arianthi and Mammon have gone from being inseparable to barely speaking to each together. He’s been spending more time away from home, drinking and gambling, while Arianthi has thrown herself into her work at R.A.D., spending more time with Diavolo and Lucifer.

“Again?” I start chewing on the inside of my cheek, upset. “I know it’s not really my business but I’m starting to get -”

“Worried?”

I nod.

“I am too,” Satan admits. “Even Levi has noticed something isn’t right.”

Shit.

When the ever oblivious otaku who barely leaves his room notices something is off, the situation is really fucking bad.

“She hasn’t been sleeping in their room either.” Satan drops another knowledge bomb on me.

“What?” I feel my eyebrows raise.

“Beel said he’s been finding her sleeping on the couch in the living room. And last week Lucifer found her sleeping in that room she and Mammon were renovating.” Satan frowns.

I feel my face scrunching up in confusion. “But there’s no furniture in there right now.”

A month ago Mammon and Arianthi had moved her private office into another vacant room in the house and started renovating the empty room. I had helped her paint it and refinish the woodwork.

He just raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “She was sleeping on the floor.”

“Well fuck,” I mumble.

Satan nods. “Exactly.”

“She hasn’t said anything to me about what’s going on. Has Mammon said anything to you?”

“Not a word.” He shakes his head.

“I’m going to try to find her, maybe drag her out of the house today. If she’s not working. On her day off. Again.” I let out a deep sigh.

He smiles at me wanly. “I hope it works. I think she’ll listen to you more than us at this point.”

“Message me if you see her?”

“Absolutely.”

I continue searching, poking my head in Levi’s room, checking the kitchen, even going so far as to pester Lucifer while he’s in his bedroom.

“Have you checked their bedroom?” He suggests.

“I-” Damned if I’ll admit I’m a little afraid to.

“Would you like me to accompany you?” Lucifer offers begrudgingly.

“Yes please!”

A few minutes later Lucifer pushes open the door to Arianthi and Mammon’s bedroom. We stand in the doorway silently, craning our necks to examine the space.

“It appears neither one is here,” Lucifer finally states the obvious.

“Satan said Mammon didn’t come home last night.”

Lucifer makes a tch sound of disapproval low in his throat.

“Arianthi didn’t go into work today did she?” I try not to get my hopes up.

Lucifer shakes his head. “I already messaged Diavolo. He hasn’t seen her.”

We both eye the door to the next bedroom then look at each other, playing a telepathic game of rock, paper, scissors. By benefit of being frightening as hell, Lucifer wins.

Damn.

I take the few steps to the next room over and rap on the door softly. When there’s no response I quietly ease the door open. Arianthi is sitting on the floor, her back pressed against the far wall, looking off into space.

She gives me a soft smile when she finally notices me. “Hey you. I haven’t seen much of you lately.”

“You’ve been working a lot with Diavolo and Lucifer on the exchange program,” I respond.

A pink blush dusts her cheeks and she looks at me guiltily for a moment.

“How are your classes going?” She finally asks.

“Good.” I amble over to her and sit down.

We stay silent for awhile, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I look around the room that just a month ago we had lovingly re-painted. The walls were now a soft mint green, the woodwork at bright, pure white.

Finally Arianthi turns to me with a mischievous smile, looking like her old self. “Sooooo............ how are things with Beel?”

I can feel the heat in my cheeks from my blush. “Fine. Good. Ok. Things are ok.”

She arches one eyebrow at me. “Just ok?”

“W-w-well, I mean, we’ve been hanging out a lot. We’re good friends.”

“Just friends?” She grins at me knowingly.

“For now,” I mumbled. “Maybe. Hopefully.” I heave a sigh. “I like him. A lot. But he’s also become one of my really good friends since I’ve been here and I don’t want to take a chance on messing that up, you know?”

“I get it,” she says, nodding. “What happens if you do take a chance and he wants the same thing you do?”

I stare at her like a deer in the headlights.

“Oh come on!” Arianthi knocks her should into mine. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what it would be like to date Beel.”

I open and close my mouth a few times.

Of course I have. I also have realistic expectations.

She rolls her eyes and looks at me in disbelief. “You are one of the most confident people I’ve ever met. Why does that completely disappear when you’re around him?”

“I don’t know,” I mutter, closely examining the carpet.

“Maybe because he’s different? Maybe because you think there’s a possibility of there being something real there? Like a real deal, shoot for the stars kind of love?”

“I hate it when you’re right,” I say sullenly. “I won’t say love, I can’t say that yet. I know he’s special though.”

She knocks her shoulder into mine again, raising her eyebrows at me.

I swat at her, laughing. “Cut it out.”

“I’m just saying maybe it’s time to jump in the pool. Get your feet wet. Splash around a little bit.”

I roll my eyes and huff out a low laugh. “I’ll think about it.”

Arianthi raises her hands and smiles. “That’s all I ask.”

“Speaking of asking things......” I trail off and give her my best puppy dog eyes. “Could you maybe, possibly, venture out into nature with me today? Help me scout out some new places to sketch? Pretty please?”

Her smile instantly disappears, replaced by the stoic mask I’ve come to know all too well over the past few weeks.

“Um, I’m not feeling that great today hun. I think I’ve been working too much.” She gives me a sad smile. “Maybe another time?”

“Oh. Alright then.” I try hard to mask my disappointment. “Another time.”

I start to push myself off the floor, but she grabs my arm.

“Wait! I’ve got a great idea. Why don’t you ask Beel to take you? There’s a really pretty lake in the forest I think you’ll like. He’s knows the way and I bet he wouldn’t mind.”

“I-I wouldn’t want to bother him,” I stammer.

“You wouldn’t,” Arianthi says, smiling. “I’m sure he’d be happy to have a hiking buddy. And I know he likes spending time with you.”

“You think so?” I ask hopefully, blushing a little.

“I know so.” She pauses. “There’s even a picnic all packed up in the kitchen you guys can take with you.”

“Is this all an elaborate set up to bring me and your future brother-in-law together?” I eye her suspiciously, then grin. “Because if it is I accept.”

“Kind of,” she admits sheepishly. “Mammon and I were supposed to go out to the lake today, to get some time alone together. He, um, he didn’t come home last night though.”

Her smile wobbles a bit. “I don’t want to waste the food or anything, so I’d like you and Beel have it. You guys can have some time to yourselves, and you’ll be able to sketch something new.”

“Oh man,” I sigh and give her a small squeeze.

“Oh god, I’m getting a pity hug.” Arianthi gives a shaky laugh.

“I can stay here if you want,” I offer, worried about her.

“No!” She gives me a small push. “Go. Be free. Chase your tall, muscular, ginger dream.”

“I hate you,” I say, laughing, and stand up.

“I love you too.” She smirks at me.

I start to leave the room, then pause in the doorway. “You sure you don’t want me to stay? Or you can come with us?”

Arianthi makes a shooing motion at me. “I’m sure. Now go, get your man.”

I narrow my eyes her.

“Really!” She insists. “I’m fine. Go get Beel and enjoy yourself today. I’ll see if Asmo wants to have a spa day or something.”

“Ok.” I grin at her. “Thanks for this Arianthi.”

“I told you on day one that I had your back.” She returns my grin.

“I appreciate you!” I say as I leave the room.

“You better!” She calls out.

I walk down the hall towards the room Beel and Belphie share. I knock twice and wait until I hear a sleepily mumbled, “Come in.”

I slip inside and scan the room for Beel.

“He’s in the bathroom,” Belphie mutters out from under his pile of blankets.

“Oh. Sorry, I can go.” I turn to leave.

“Nah, hang on a second,” Belphie says. “Hey Beel! Your Jax is here!”

Your Jax? Sounds good. Very into it.

Beel comes out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of low slung shorts, toweling his hair dry. He flashes me his signature adorable grin. “Hey Jax.”

“H-h-hey,” I stutter, flustered by his abs and wide expanse of muscular chest.

“What’s up?”

“Uh, um....” I blank.

Belphie bails me out. “Usually when someone comes looking for another someone that first someone has a question for the second someone.”

He gives me a sardonic smirk while Beel looks on in confusion.

“Y-yeah. Right.” I shake myself a little. “Um, Beel would you wanna go to the lake with me? For a picnic? I was wanting to sketch a little, and I thought it might be nice if we maybe went together......” I trail off.

“That sounds like fun,” Beel says happily. “Give me a minute to get dressed?”

I nod, smiling. “Wanna just meet me in the kitchen? I’ll get the food ready to go.”

“Sounds good.”

I quickly leave the room and head to the kitchen, feeling grateful when Levi is the only one who catches me skipping with joy down the hallway.

There are two large, insulated picnic baskets sitting on the kitchen island, just like Arianthi said there would be. I double check my backpack, making sure I have everything I may need. Suddenly a large hand comes down on my shoulder and I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Beel says, sounding apologetic.

His breath is warm against my ear and a shiver races down my spine.

“It’s ok,” I tell him, leaning into the warmth of his hand.

He hums happily and drops a kiss on the top of my head. “Ready to go?”

My brain short circuits at the feel of his lips. “Uh-huh.”

“Ok.” He grabs the picnic baskets in one hand and holds the other out to me.

I stare at his hand.

Really? Does he really want me to? Ohmygod ohmygod. Get a fucking grip Jax. You’ve held a guy’s hand before.

Beel blushes and drops his hand. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he mumbles.

“I want to!” I reach out and grab his hand, smiling up at him. “I want to,” I repeat.

He looks down at me and grins shyly. “Let’s go.”

He tugs gently on my hand and we leave the House of Lamentation.

After 45 minutes of trudging through the woods Beel leads me to a gorgeous lake, surrounded by trees and wildflowers I’ve never seen before. He finds a large, clear patch of grass close to the lakeside and we kneel down, opening the picnic baskets.

We find a big, soft blanket and he spreads it out while I pull out plates, silverware, and cups.

“Wow, she went all out.” I murmur, pulling a bottle of champagne out of the basket.

“Mmm?” Beel turns towards me.

I show him bottle. “Arianthi went all out.”

“She did all this?” Beel looks at me in bewilderment.

Oops. Beans spilled.

I sigh. “Arianthi put all this together because Mammon said they would come here together today but-”

“He’s not home.” He finishes my sentence.

“She didn’t want it to go to waste so she thought we might like it,” I mumble, my shyness suddenly returning.

“I’m glad,” Beel says softly. “I’m not glad Mammon didn’t come home for their date,” he quickly amends. “But I’m glad I get to spend time alone with you.”

“Me too,” I say, grinning at him. “I’m just going to have water. Do you want any of this?”

I offer him the bottle of champagne.

He shakes his head, pulling out a container of sliced fruit. “Just water is good.”

He pulls out another container.

“Oh she made peanut butter cookies! I hope she made turkey sandwiches with the spicy mustard and that one special type of cheese she brings back from the human realm.....those are Mammon’s favorite. I bet she did......”

I chuckle as he eagerly roots through the baskets, excitedly commenting on each new container of food he pulls out. I discreetly pull out my sketchbook and pencil. His face, his smile, his pure unadulterated joy; I want to always be able to remember that.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been around someone who gets genuine happiness from such simple things. It’s nice.

I hum to myself, sneaking looks at Beel as he sprawls out on the blanket, sandwich in hand.

I sketch for a few minutes in silence. Suddenly, crumbs fall onto my sketchbook and I flick them away in irritation before snapping my head up to look directly into Beel’s eyes.

“Hi,” I breathe.

He studies my sketch. “Are you drawing me?”

He smiles in delight before he takes another bite of his sandwich.

“It’s not done yet.” I hastily flip the page and shove the sketchbook back into my backpack.

“Will you show me when it’s done?”

No. Of course not. Absolutely no. Never.

“For sure.”

Beel reaches into a picnic basket and hands me a sandwich. “Um, you should eat something before it’s all gone,” he says shyly.

He quickly puts some chips, fruit, and a cookie onto a plate and shoves it towards me. “I don’t want to eat all of it before you get a chance to have anything.”

Oh. My. God. My. Heart. It can’t take this. He’s too pure. Too cute.

We eat in silence for a while, enjoying the sunshine and the cool breeze blowing in from the lake, before I work up my courage.

“Hey Beel?”

“Mmm? What’s up?” He mumbles around a mouthful of chips.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nods, cramming the last part of his fifth sandwich into his mouth.

“Do you know what’s going on with Mammon and Arianthi? Did they get into a fight or something?” I hold my breath, hoping he doesn’t thinking I’m prying too far into his family’s business.

Beel slowly takes a sip of his water, thinking. “I don’t know what happened,” he finally admits. “But one night last week Mammon came home so drunk he could barely get in the front door. I was in the kitchen and I heard him. I carried him to their room so he wouldn’t wake everybody else up.”

Come on cutie pie. You’ve gotta give me more than that. We all know he’s been drinking way too much lately.

“Arianthi wasn’t in their room so I put him in bed. He started crying when he figured out she wasn’t there.” He pauses, looking uncertain. “Jax you have to promise you won’t tell anyone else this.”

“Of course. Not a word.”

“He told me Arianthi called off the wedding.”

“What?!”

Beel winces.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. She hasn’t said anything to me about it. Are you sure that’s what he said?” I ask.

He nods sadly. “I don’t know what happened, but they’re both miserable. That’s why Mammon has been going out so much.”

I eat a chip, thinking. “Is it always like this when they fight?”

Beel looks scandalized that I’d even suggest something like that. “They don’t fight. Ever.”

I snort in disbelief. “Every couple fights Beel.”

“They don’t.” He pouts. “They have only had one fight, and that was before they started dating. And it led to them getting together.”

I fight the urge to kiss that cute little pout off his face.

“Ok, maybe it wasn’t a fight then. What else would make them upset with each other?” I’m stabbing in the dark now, anxious to nail down the problem.

Beel shrugs and takes a bite of an apple, chewing thoughtfully.

“Well,” he says after he swallows, “this all started about a month ago right? So what was happening then?”

I shake my head and eat another chip. “Nothing. Just classes. Arianthi’s work schedule was still normal. She didn’t start working so much until after........”

The light bulb clicks on and my stomach drops a little.

“After what?”

“Remember when Mammon and Lucifer went to the human realm for a week to run some errands for Diavolo?”

“Yeah,” Beel says. “Mammon whined until Lucifer gave in and let him tag along. So?”

“They quit talking and started acting weird right after Mammon and Lucifer got back,” I say slowly, hoping he realizes what I’m hinting at so I don’t have to come out and say it.

That would be a surefire way to torpedo this perfectly nice afternoon.

Beel looks at me blankly, waiting for me to connect the dots.

Shit.

“Do you think that there could be a chance that maybe Mammon did something on that trip that was a deal breaker for Arianthi? Something bad enough for her to want to call off the wedding?”

He scowls at me. “What? Like cheating?”

Afternoon torpedoed.

“I don’t know Beel,” I sigh. “That’s the only thing I can think of that would be bad enough that she wouldn’t want to marry him anymore.”

Beel opens his mouth to protest but I interject.

“Come on Beel. You know I’m right. She puts up with the witches’ pacts, and the get rich quick schemes, and the gambling, and the debts, and even the stealing to a certain extent. She’s been ride or die for him the entire time I’ve been here. Why would that change all of the sudden?”

He deflates a little. “He loves her so much. I really don’t think he would do that.”

My next question causes my chest to tighten. “Do you think Arianthi would....?”

Beel’s eyes widen in shock.

“I’m just asking!” I hold up my hands to placate him. “I really don’t think she would either, but I know she has history with Diavolo. Do you think maybe Mammon just misinterpreted something? Heard a rumor and ran with it?”

He shoves a cookie into his mouth and looks at me as he chews, considering.

“She wouldn’t cheat on him. He wouldn’t cheat on her. I know it.” He gobbles down another cookie. “I really think if Mammon heard a rumor or saw something he didn’t like they would have talked it out. At the very least we would have known about the fight. Mammon’s not exactly quiet.”

He smirks at me.

“True,” I agree with him. “If they had a fight at the House of Lamentation we definitely would have heard it.” I sigh in defeat.

Beel reaches over wraps an arm around my shoulders, cuddling me against his chest. “What’s bothering you? Beside them not talking to each other?”

I open up to him, soothed by his warmth and the feeling of his body next to mine.

“I don’t know. They were just so happy. And now they’re not even talking. Arianthi is working herself into the ground and Mammon’s partying it up. I know something bad happened. I know it. But they’re just avoiding it and it’s not making anything better. They were too happy and too good together to just give everything up like that. When you have something that great you don’t just throw it away over something stupid. You hang on to it as tight as you can. There’s too much bad stuff in this world to just give up something that makes you genuinely happy.”

His arms tighten around me and he presses a kiss to my temple. “Ok.”

“Ok? That’s it?” I’m flabbergasted.

I feel him shrug. “You’re right. I’ll help you figure out what going on, and then we can try to get them to talk to each other.”

“Really?” I twist in his arms so I can look at him.

He smiles down at me.

“They’re my family and them being happy makes me happy.” He pauses. “Plus, it would make you happy too. And I really, really like it when you’re happy,” he whispers.

I tilt my head back a little and look up into his big violet eyes. Beel reaches out and cups my jaw with one large hand. He leans towards me slowly, lips slightly parted.

I let out an involuntary sigh when he tenderly presses his mouth against mine. Warm, full lips part mine and he gently strokes my tongue with his. He eventually pulls away with a slight giggle.

“That tickles,” he murmurs, running his thumb softly over my lip ring.

“That’s not the only piercing I have that will tickle,” I whisper, shocked at my own confidence.

Beel’s eyes widen in surprise, then roam over my body hungrily. He surges forward, kissing me again with increased urgency, hands running up and down my sides.

I moan softly when my tongue touches his and he grips my sides tighter. His fingers grab onto the belt loops of my jeans, and he tugs me onto his lap.

I panic a little and scramble back slightly so that I’m awkwardly straddling his knees.

Oh fuck. We haven’t had this conversation yet. What if he’s not in to it anymore once we do?

“Are you ok? Did I do something wrong?” Beel asks, looking concerned.

I shake my head. “No. It was......awesome actually.

He smirks and reaches for me. “Then come back here.”

I lean out of his reach.

“Um. Ok. Well, here’s the thing. We haven’t really talked about ........certain stuff.” I blush and gesture at myself.

Fuck.

I look down at the ground, mortified.

The timing of this fucking blows.

Beel puts one hand on my hip, and uses his other to tip my chin up so I’m looking at him.

“It’s ok,” he says quietly.

I look at him stupidly, not quite understanding.

“It’s ok if you want to stop,” he says, then pauses for a moment. “But everything else is ok too. I’m ok with all of it. With whatever.”

He gives me a pointed look.

“Yeah?” I whisper, feeling extremely shy.

He nods.

“I like you because you’re Jax, not because of your body.” He flushes scarlet. “I-I-I mean, I do like your body. And I think you’re really cute. B-but it’s not all I like. I like who you are more. That’s what matters to me most,” he says, stammering a little.

Bolstered by his confession I scoot up until I’m straddling his lap, looping my arms over his shoulders.

“Is this ok?” I ask, a little unsure.

“Very ok.” He wraps his arms around me and leans forward, giving me the gentlest of kisses.

“Mmmm.” I deepen the kiss. He tastes like peanut butter cookies and something uniquely Beel, and I can’t get enough.

I nip lightly at his lower lip, gratified by the way he gasps into my mouth and the way his hips jerk up to meet mine.

One large hand slips under my shirt, his blunt nails tracing the lines of the muscles of my chest and stomach. I whimper his name, my thighs tightening around his hips. He huffs out a low laugh and presses a kiss to my neck.

Beel kisses and licks a trail up to my ear, nibbling on my earlobe. “You taste amazing,” he whispers into my ear.

I shiver at the feel of his breath and the sound of his deep voice.

“I wanna make you do that again.” He mouths at the sensitive point below my ear and slips one hand between us.

“Holy fuck,” I whimper when he cups me through my jeans and palms my erection.

“That is such a pretty sound Jax,” he mutters, before claiming my mouth again.

I arch against his hand as he continues to tease me through the thick fabric of my jeans. I finally break the kiss, panting a little. Beel’s mouth moves to my neck, dropping kisses down to my collarbone.

I manage to get my brain back online long enough to squeak out a request. “Beel? Can we slow down a little bit? Please?”

His hand automatically stills and he moves his head up to look directly into my eyes. “Whatever you want,” he says, nodding.

I sigh and lean forward, resting my forehead against his. “Thanks.”

Beel starts to say something, then hesitates. “Did it.....did it not feel good? Did I do too much? I just want to do what you like Jax. And for you to be comfortable.”

“It felt amazing,” I murmur. “I just, I like you a lot and I don’t want to rush anything. You’re really special to me. I wanna take things slow and keep getting to know you. Is that ok?”

He smiles at me sweetly. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s ok. You’re special to me too.” He suddenly frowns. “Can I still kiss you sometimes though? Because I really, really like kissing you.”

I laugh and kiss his forehead. “Yeah. Kissing is good. Let’s just chill on the other stuff for now though, alright?”

He hums happily and kisses my cheek before falling backwards, pulling me with him. We tumble onto the blanket, laughing.

Beel pulls me close and tucks me securely against his side, resting his cheek on top of my head. “Is this ok?”

“This is perfect,” I say, snuggling closer to him.

We spend the rest of the afternoon talking and cuddling, occasionally trading soft kisses. We head back to the House of Lamentation as the sun starts to set. We part ways at the kitchen; Beel goes off to find a snack and I go back to my room.

I flop onto my bed and pull out my D.D.D., quickly composing a message to Arianthi.

The picnic was AMAZING! I owe you so big. How was the spa day? Come to my room if you want to talk later.

I toss my D.D.D. onto my pillow, then reach for one of my textbooks. I spend about twenty minutes muddling through the finer points of ward magic before I message Arianthi again.

Ward magic is haaaaarrrrddddd. Come help me please?

I would ask Satan, but he sort of scares me.

Another twenty minutes passes and Arianthi still doesn’t respond. Which is weird, because she’s the type of person who responds to texts immediately.

I stand up and toss my book onto my bed, deciding to just go see if she’s in her bedroom.

And if she’s not there I’ll check Asmo’s room.

I open my door and jump a little when I see Beel standing there, hand poised to knock.

“Hey. Miss me already?” I tease him and smile.

“Asmo just called me,” he says, looking unusually serious.

“Is he ok?” I ask, worried.

“He’s out on a date with Solomon and he said Mammon just walked into The Fall.”

I can feel my eyebrows draw together. “I thought Arianthi was with Asmo. She said something about a spa day when I talked to her before we left this afternoon. And she’s not answering her D.D.D.”

Beel shakes his head, getting more agitated by the second. “I don’t know. I just know what Asmo told me. He said Mammon’s really drunk and starting to cause problems. Asmo and Solomon can’t get him to calm down. I need to go get him before he causes more trouble and Lucifer finds out.”

“What can I do?” I ask without stopping to think.

He hesitates, biting his lower lip anxiously. “Would you come with me? I don’t want to do this by myself.”

I reach out and grab his hand, lacing his fingers with mine. “Let’s go.”

He smiles at me in relief and tugs on my hand, starting to walk to the front door.

Ok Mammon, time to figure out what’s going on with you.

25 notes · View notes

sasgujarat · 5 years ago

Text

Insurance Law - An Indian Perspective

"Protection ought to be purchased to secure you against a cataclysm that would somehow or another be monetarily pulverizing."

In basic terms, protection permits somebody who endures a misfortune or mishap to be made up for the impacts of their setback. It lets you secure yourself against regular dangers to your wellbeing, home and monetary circumstance.

Protection in India began with no guideline in the Nineteenth Century. It was an average story of a pilgrim age: scarcely any English insurance agencies commanding the market serving for the most part huge urban focuses. After the autonomy, it took a dramatic turn. Protection was nationalized. To begin with, the life coverage organizations were nationalized in 1956, and afterward the general protection business was nationalized in 1972. It was distinctly in 1999 that the private insurance agencies have been permitted once again into the matter of protection with a limit of 26% of outside holding.

"The protection business is colossal and can be very scary. Protection is being sold for nearly everything without exception you can envision. Figuring out what's directly for you can be an overwhelming assignment."

Ideas of protection have been stretched out past the inclusion of unmistakable resource. Presently the danger of misfortunes because of abrupt changes in cash trade rates, political unsettling influence, carelessness and obligation for the harms can likewise be secured. visit here sas gujarat

However, on the off chance that an individual attentively puts resources into protection for his property before any sudden possibility then he will be appropriately made up for his misfortune when the degree of harm is determined.

The passage of the State Bank of India with its proposition of bank confirmation acquires another elements the game. The aggregate understanding of different nations in Asia has just deregulated their business sectors and has permitted remote organizations to take an interest. In the event that the experience of different nations is any guide, the predominance of the Disaster protection Enterprise and the General Protection Partnership won't vanish at any point in the near future.

The point of all protection is to repay the proprietor against misfortune emerging from an assortment of dangers, which he envisions, to his life, property and business. Protection is for the most part of two sorts: extra security and general protection. General protection implies Fire, Marine and Different protection which incorporates protection against robbery or burglary, constancy ensure, protection for manager's risk, and protection of engine vehicles, domesticated animals and harvests.

Disaster protection IN INDIA

"Disaster protection is the ardent love letter at any point composed.

It quiets down the crying of an eager child around evening time. It diminishes the core of a dispossessed widow.

It is the encouraging murmur in obscurity quiet hours of the night."

Life coverage made its presentation in India well more than 100 years prior. Its striking highlights are not as broadly comprehended in our nation as they should be. There is no legal meaning of disaster protection, however it has been characterized as an agreement of protection whereby the guaranteed consents to pay certain entireties called premiums, at determined time, and in thought thereof the safety net provider consented to pay certain aggregates of cash on certain condition sand in indicated route after occurring of a specific occasion dependent upon the span of human life.

Extra security is better than different types of reserve funds!

"There is no passing. Life coverage lifts up life and thrashings passing.

It is the exceptional we pay for the opportunity of living in the afterlife."

Investment funds through extra security ensure full assurance against danger of death of the saver. In life coverage, on death, the full entirety guaranteed is payable (with rewards any place pertinent) though in different reserve funds plans, just the sum spared (with intrigue) is payable.

The fundamental highlights of life coverage are an) it is an agreement identifying with human life, which b) accommodates installment of singular amount sum, and c) the sum is paid after the expiry of certain period or on the demise of the guaranteed. The very reason and object of the guaranteed in taking strategies from disaster protection organizations is to defend the enthusiasm of his wards viz., spouse and kids all things considered, in the even of sudden passing of the guaranteed because of the event in any possibility. A life coverage arrangement is likewise commonly acknowledged as security for even a business credit.

NON-Life coverage

"Each advantage has a worth and the matter of general protection is identified with the assurance of monetary estimation of benefits."

Non-life coverage implies protection other than disaster protection, for example, fire, marine, mishap, clinical, engine vehicle and family protection. Resources would have been made through the endeavors of proprietor, which can be through structure, vehicles, apparatus and other substantial properties. Since substantial property has a physical shape and consistency, it is dependent upon numerous dangers extending from fire, partnered hazards to burglary and theft.

Not many of the General Protection arrangements are:

Property Protection: The house is most esteemed belonging. The arrangement is intended to cover the different dangers under a solitary strategy. It gives assurance to property and enthusiasm of the safeguarded and family.

Medical coverage: It gives spread, which deals with clinical costs following hospitalization from abrupt disease or mishap.

Individual Mishap Protection: This protection arrangement gives pay to death toll or injury (halfway or lasting) brought about by a mishap. This incorporates repayment of cost of treatment and the utilization of medical clinic offices for the treatment.

Travel Protection: The arrangement covers the guaranteed against different outcomes while voyaging abroad. It covers the guaranteed against individual mishap, clinical costs and repatriation, loss of checked things, identification and so forth.

Obligation Protection: This approach repays the Executives or Officials or different experts against misfortune emerging from claims made against them by reason of any improper Demonstration in their Official limit.

Engine Protection: Engine Vehicles Act expresses that each engine vehicle utilizing out and about must be guaranteed, with in any event Obligation just arrangement. There are two sorts of approach one covering the demonstration of obligation, while different spreads safety net providers all risk and harm caused to one's vehicles.

Excursion FROM A Baby TO Youth!

Verifiable Point of view

The historical backdrop of extra security in India goes back to 1818 when it was imagined as a way to accommodate English Widows. Strikingly in those days a higher premium was charged for Indian lives than the non-Indian lives as Indian lives were viewed as progressively hazardous for inclusion.

The Bombay Shared Life coverage Society began its business in 1870. It was the main organization to charge same premium for both Indian and non-Indian lives. The Oriental Confirmation Organization was set up in 1880. The General protection business in India, then again, can follow its underlying foundations to the Triton (Tital) Insurance agency Constrained, the main general insurance agency built up in the year 1850 in Calcutta by the English. Till the finish of nineteenth century protection business was as a rule in the hands of abroad organizations.

Protection guideline officially started in India with the death of the Disaster protection Organizations Demonstration of 1912 and the Fortunate Reserve Demonstration of 1912. A few cheats during 20's and 30's profaned protection business in India. By 1938 there were 176 insurance agencies. The main thorough enactment was presented with the Protection Demonstration of 1938 that gave severe State Authority over protection business. The protection business developed at a quicker pace after freedom. Indian organizations fortified their hang on this business yet in spite of the development that was seen, protection stayed a urban marvel.

The Administration of India in 1956, united more than 240 private life back up plans and opportune social orders under one nationalized imposing business model partnership and Extra security Enterprise (LIC) was conceived. Nationalization was legitimized in light of the fact that it would make genuinely necessary assets for quick industrialization. This was in congruity with the Administration's picked way of State lead arranging and improvement.

The (non-life coverage) business kept on succeeding with the private area till 1972. Their activities were limited to sorted out exchange and industry in enormous urban areas. The general protection industry was nationalized in 1972. With this, about 107 safety net providers were amalgamated and gathered into four organizations - National Insurance agency, New India Affirmation Organization, Oriental Insurance agency and Joined India Insurance agency. These were auxiliaries of the General Insurance agency (GIC).

The disaster protection industry was nationalized under the Life coverage Partnership (LIC) Demonstration of India. Somehow or another, the LIC has gotten thriving. Notwithstanding being an imposing business model, it has some 60-70 million policyholders. Given that the Indian white collar class is around 250-300 million, the LIC has figured out how to catch somewhere in the range of 30 odd percent of it. Around 48% of the clients of the LIC are from rustic and semi-urban regions. This presumably would not have happened had the sanction of the LIC not explicitly set out the objective of serving the country territories. A high sparing rate in India is one of the exogenous elements that have helped the LIC to develop quickly lately. In spite of the sparing rate being high in India (contrasted and different nations with a comparable degree of advancement), Indians show high level of hazard avoidance. Accordingly, about portion of the speculations are in physical resources (like property and gold). Around twenty three percent are in (low yielding yet protected) bank stores. What's more, some 1.3 percent of the Gross domestic product are in disaster protection related investment funds vehicles. This figure has multiplied somewhere in the range of 1985 and 1995.

A World perspective - Life coverage in India

In numerous nations, protection has been a type of investment funds. In many created nations, a critical portion of residential s

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