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thecleverqueer · 2 years ago

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With this new comphet revelation that I’ve had about the Filoni/ Favreau Mandoverse, another character I worry about is Ahsoka Tano.

I head-cannoned her as gay (or bi-favoring women, even slightly or perhaps asexual), though I always knew that nothing would come of this canonically, despite a pretty significant amount of queer-coding that is/was clearly just bait.

My hope was that Filoni would leave the romantic aspect of her up to interpretation, and would just leave romance out of her story entirely as it’s honestly not important (until it is smeared into your face one way or another). But, at this point… I can’t see that happening. Ahsoka is going to get a boyfriend. But who?

On the one hand, I hate that Filoni axed Nyx Okami in The Clone Wars. Would I have hated the character? Probably. No…. Absolutely. He was kind of an asshole to Ahsoka in his prototype episodes, but Nyx could have turned around, and ended up being a lovable scoundrel like Han Solo. He’s someone that I probably still would have hated with Ahsoka, but I could have grown to appreciate him as a character sorta. I’m also not going to lie… the Martez sisters arc made me question Ahsoka’s sexuality even more so (especially after all that weird shit with Barriss), and I think that Nyx would have tempered my head-canon. I am realistic. The likelihood of any character that I like actually being gay is virtually zero (sometimes sub-zero), and so I generally view all of them as heteronormative until something very obvious challenges that view.

I hate Nyx’s axe more so because now all we have is Lux Bonteri who kinda stayed an asshole throughout The Clone Wars series in his appearances, and Lux is now likely the front-runner for an Ahsoka series romantic interest (that is inevitable). And, when I say this, lemme give you a list of the bullshit Lux pulled:

-Was a general prick to Ahsoka upon meeting her (which the Separatists / Republic thing, I get)

-Gawked at Ahsoka disrespectfully upon meeting (which, granted, Ahsoka invited, but then, acted as if she was off-put by it).

And, maybe, I could have gotten over their first interaction to like him more… But, goddamn, Filoni made the motherfucker so much worse as Lux:

-Pointed a gun at Ahsoka, threatening to hijack her ship, ultimately, stunning her unconscious after she took the gun away from him.

-Kidnapped her while she was unconscious.

-Stole said ship to meet with terrorists with known anti-Jedi sentiments and a history of attacking Jedi.

-Also stole and hid her lightsabers, leaving her defenseless against said terrorists.

-Tried to mansplain why he was right about seeking the terrorists’ assistance in taking out Dooku while Ahsoka attempted to reason with him.

-Kissed her against her consent (which Ahsoka clearly didn’t like or appreciate, and this is, technically, sexual assault).

-Disrespected women in general with the Death Watch clan (who were harboring what appeared to be sex slaves from a local village) while treating Ahsoka like a broodmare (even as a front, gross).

-Nearly got them both killed.

-Stole an escape pod, leaving Ahsoka and showing no real interest in her romantically, still leading her on a bit.

-Led Ahsoka on while clearly dating Steela. He was clearly more into Steela for sure, but he sort of strung Ahsoka along by vaguely flirting with her and toying with her emotions

-Ultimately got Steela killed as he went to “save” her, knowing damned well he was incompetent and sort of just ended up being in Ahsoka’s way. Then, instead of covering Ahsoka’s flank as she tried to save Steela from the ledge, he just sort of stood there and stared in a panic.

So, yeah. Lux is not good enough for Ahsoka.

Ultimately, from a story telling perspective, there’s no tangible evidence that Ahsoka and Lux have even seen each other or been in contact since the Onderon arc (it would seem implausible based on what happened) which would make this pairing insufferably lazy at this point. In fact, canon would indicate that for the past 25-30 years, they’ve been in completely separate spaces doing separate things. Ahsoka was nearly killed, hid for a bit, then ran a spy network for the rebellion. Lux married an imperial woman, and ultimately worked for Saw’s partisans after his passing. So… why!? Why pair them now? Is Ahsoka really lame enough to simp over that half-witted dumbass for nearly three fucking decades!? Lazy. It’s abysmally lazy, and weak.

On the other hand, maybe we’ll see her with someone else entirely. It’s not as if Filoni can’t write great characters. He has written dozens of incredibly likable characters.

For me (and I can’t believe I’m about to say this), the least offensive character he could ship her with that already exists is Rex. I’d be a little uncomfortable with it, just based on the Clone Wars optics… you know, the ones where Ahsoka is clearly a child and Rex is a grown-ass man (never mind the Clone’s accelerated aging.. that’s not relevant, I’m talking optics alone). Honestly though, the Ahsoka/ Rex in Rebels situation isn’t THAT bad. And, to me, Rex is just a great guy and a great character. He’s always treated Ahsoka with the utmost amount of love and respect, and if we must pair her with someone for heteronormativity’s sake… Rex would get my vote. Rex would be a good boyfriend/ husband for Ahsoka. And honestly, I think this is technically the most popular fan-ship (outside of Anakin and Ahsoka which is REALLY gross). Filoni would never do this, I’m afraid, but Rexsoka would make way more sense than bringing Lux back from nowhere to fill this role.

Luke Skywalker is another popular option, but honestly to me, it’d be too much like pairing her with Anakin (if not slightly more gross) because Luke should be more like a nephew to her than a love interest. I know Star Wars likes the incestuous sexual tension, but honestly, this isn’t Game of Thrones.

Din would be okay, but I’m pretty sure they’re going to put him with Bo-Katan Kryze (which is a whole other can of worms I will not get into).

Maybe Filoni could just create her another original, new boyfriend character. It would take a lot of build up, obviously. I don’t think pairing two characters together for sake of doing it is good storytelling. There would need to be good reason, and the character would have to be hella-likable for me to accept it without completely writing it off as bullshit. But, I’d be okay with Jude Law if he’s actually going to be the OC school teacher that he’s rumored to be, and not Lux who, like, four or five mediocre white men have theorized that Jude Law is playing… just because Lux, at best, is a fucking idiot and at worst, is an abusive player.

That’s my take.

#star wars #ahsoka #rex and ahsoka #the mandoverse #just give us rexsoka and be done with it #if you bring back bonteri i will riot #your lazy writing circle would be complete #and i could no longer ignore the fact that you’re presenting me with absolute garbage #ahsoka tano #star wars ships #luke skywalker #captain rex #i know the return of lux will piss off the lesbians but I hope it also pisses off the rexsoka shippers equally #because goddamn at least the gays and rexsoka shippers aren’t shit writers for the most part

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thatrandombystander · 2 years ago

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Okay so I’m kind of curious! I know nothing about Dragon Age other than a bit of what I’ve seen from you, but it looks like Inquisition is on sale on steam right now. Is it a game you’d recommend playing yourself vs watching the cutscenes? And is it like part of a continuity or mostly standalone? :D

Dang all THREE Dragon Ages (Origins, DA2, Inquisition) are on sale on Steam right now. 10AUD each. Those are good prices. Wish I only paid that much for them.

Disclaimer that I have not played any Dragon age since 2015 and may misremember some stuff or my opinions may not hold up once I get around to replaying them.

I'm incapable of being brief sorry. This is almost 1000 words. 😔 TL;DR you can play the games stand alone, and I personally would recommend playing yourself.

Are they stand alone?

So each Dragon Age game's core plots and major characters are generally independent of each other. The protagonist is also a completely different person in each of the three game. You don't need to play any of the other games but they are all in the same world occurring sequentially one after, so you do get more out of it from playing previous games.

Characters from previous games will appear (or be referenced) in subsequent games, but usually it's major characters getting a cameo, or minor characters playing a larger role. There's a few exceptions - e.g. Varric is a party member in both DA2 and Inquisition - but it shouldn't leave you too confused. Events from previous games also build into newer ones, but anything important should be covered within the game you're playing. They're designed for both returning and new fans to enjoy.

Even if you start with the first game (Origins) you're gonna feel a bit lost with the world at first, because they did a fair amount of worldbuilding during development so even in Origins they'll reference characters and events as if your character already knows about them. Ya sort of just figure it out, although I think Origins does the best job of introducing the various factions and groups in the world and how they interact with each other.

That being said, I've only ever played the games in order so I can't really comment on how well they work for new players. But at the same time I never played the DLC for Origins and DA2 either, which I later found out had relevance in later games. (I believe current Steam versions of the games come with all DLC)

Watch cutscenes or play yourself?

Each of the Dragon Age games has some gameplay problems. Origins and Inquisition are both pretty long games with some slow or annoying bits, especially if you're doing sidequests and such. Fandom jokes include complaining about pretty much every main quest in Origins (there's a even a mod to skip one section) and especially complaining about The Hinterlands in Inquisition. DA2 is shorter but also... that game was very clearly rushed out and needed more development time. Lot's of location repetition.

Personally, since I'm a character-driven person and I like fantasy, I'm happy to push through the boring bits since I like a lot of the characters in the game and I want to romance people uwu. Frankly I don't even remember that much of the gameplay or actual plot details. I remember characters and vibes.

Speaking of romance; Dragon Age is a franchise that gives you choices that effect the world and characters around you. Choices vary in the significance of their consequences, but some of those choices can carry over and effect the worldstates into the next games.

This is why I personally would not watch a playthrough of the games. I have some strong feeling about the choices I make and would be annoyed to watch a playthrough that does things differently. (Tabris is best HoF option I shall not be swayed. King Alistair players DNI, this is a Queen Anora household. Templar supporters also DNI.) It's also why I'd need to replay the other two games before I get to Inquisition, because I don't like the default worldstate.

As a new player you wouldn't have that same issue, but you do lose out being able to make those choices as a playthrough watcher. If you don't want to play the previous games and want to go straight to Inquisition I don't think it would bother you either, since you wouldn't know which choices the game has defaulted for you. But again, they're decently long games so if you're rather just watch a playthrough, that's an fair option.

Side note + conclusion

If you're interested in the Dragon Age posts I reblog, warning that they're proportionally most likely to be from DA2, although I do like and share posts about all the games. It's a love or hate game for pretty good reason (some people will just recommend skipping it) but I fall into the love camp, I think because I like the characters and the plot is on a smaller scale.

Choosing to start with Origins and play all three is valid, only playing Inquisition is valid, playing Inquisition and then maybe feeling like playing the previous games is also valid. I only wouldn't recommend starting with DA2.

Ah, also the games have mature ratings. You can look up/ask about the details on that. From memory the most distressing would be implications/suggestion/aftermath of sexual assault (I think mostly in the first two games?) and slavery being a sort of thriving institute in parts of the Dragon Age universe.

If you have any other questions or confusions about the games/characters/world at any point, you're welcome to ask me. Even if I don't quite remember the details I can check the wiki to help block you from any unwanted spoilers. ✌

#ramblings of a bystander #dragon age #ask #answer #lotus-mirage

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kinetic-elaboration · 1 year ago

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July 28: The Power of the Dog Pt. 2

More Power of the Dog thoughts. Being an English major warped my brain but in a good way I think.

I also wrote some quick, fragmented handwritten notes about the book while I was reading, and I’m going to try to make sense of them now.

The notes are: “power of the dog - looking at self, loneliness/solitude, conversation/quiet, self-knowledge.”

I wrote this down at about the point where George sides with Rose about the Native father and son, and Phil tells George to look in a mirror and consider why Rose decided to marry him. The image of George looking at himself in a mirror reminded me of the reference early on to Johnny finding Peter often examining his reflection, and then all of a sudden I was thinking of all of these different ways the motifs of looking and talking come up, and play into the theme of self-knowledge.

It’s interesting in retrospect that the moment where Phil tells George to look at himself, and he does, and Rose sees him doing so, stuck out to me, because in fact it’s a pretty important, if subtle, moment for George in the book. It’s the moment he steps out of the narrative. I noticed it in the movie, too, that he and Rose have their romance and are foregrounded a decent amount in the beginning, and then George sort of fades back into the background and does very little for the rest of the movie. I thought it was just that there was not a lot else to say about him. But in the book, it feels more deliberate. It feels more like a tipping point in the action.

George and Rose are getting along well, working on the yard and the trees and so on; Rose’s drinking is not yet serious or consistent enough to be noticed (even by the reader); George is sticking up to Phil on issues like letting the father and son stay on their land. It seems to be nearing a turning point, Phil’s power at its lowest. Then Phil, who knows what to say to get under people’s skin, tells George to look in the mirror. And after George does, he has no further impact on the story, really at all. We do see him, distantly, through a window, and he is referenced, for example discovering Rose passed out or picking out Phil’s casket. But in another sense, he drives off after this mirror moment, without Rose, and never comes back. I’m not even sure he has any more dialogue after this. It’s his absence that means most: that he’s not there at the terrible dinner with Rose, Phil, and Peter; that he doesn’t talk to Rose (why, she asks, doesn’t he talk to her?) even after her drinking becomes severe and noticeable. That he’s not there to stick up for her or to counter Phil. That his absence in certain roles leaves a power vacuum: who will sit at his place and carve the meat, Phil or Peter? Even at the end, when signs point to a reconciliation between him and Rose, we don’t have any access to his thoughts, which is even more jarring than in the movie, because we spend so much time in different characters’ heads.

Had it not been for Peter’s intervention, and even without Phil’s plot to accelerate the marriage’s demise, this moment with the mirror might have been the turning point. When George emotionally abandons Rose, her downward spiral quickens. Even if George didn’t divorce her, and we have no idea at all if that was on his mind but I actually feel like there’s no reason to think it was, just as there was no reason to think gold digging was on Roses’s–even if George didn’t end the marriage, Rose could have easily overdosed and died. As she says, there’s no end to the torment in sight. Phil didn’t really need to intervene with Peter. His impatience (or desire?) was his demise.

So, why is the mirror moment so significant for George? Why do we specifically learn that one of Peter’s quirks is the exact same thing: a habit of examining himself, and in such a way that his thoughts while doing so are completely unreadable to others?

I think it’s because self-knowledge, the power of it and the pain of its absence, is a major theme of the book.

A big part of Rose’s internal crisis is that, at the Burbank ranch, she doesn’t know who she is. Phil’s small torments completely destabilize her, and they come mostly in the form of treating her like she’s not there: why does he ignore her, why does he laugh behind her back, why does he mock her piano playing without saying a word? What is wrong with her, that he can’t see her? And at the same time, she’s uncomfortable with the concept of being Mrs. Burbank: being treated like someone special at the shops, for example. And she is bored! With servants to do the work that used to keep her busy, she has nothing to do! No purpose in life, no structure to her days. She returns again and again to her memories to find a sense of self, a place at least in the past where she had things that were hers and defined her. In the present, she’s more costume than person, and she uses the fancy clothes and so on as a costume not to hide the person she is but the nothing she is. Her descent into madness is a descent into non-being. Without self-knowledge, she has nothing to hold on to.

Phil and Peter on the other hand… what they might know about themselves, individually, could be a whole other topic, for Phil in particular a knot I might never undo…

Peter, I think, knows himself very well. It’s his superpower: his utter confidence in himself, on particularly full display in the scene where Phil first decides to involve him in the grand plan. We see it early on in Peter: the scenes where he looks in the mirror, his comfort in his solitude, the strong contrasts, even, between him and Johnny, who I would say does not have a solid sense of self either. The one sort of kink I see in this reading of Peter is that he does have very romanticized views of his parents, to the point where he probably doesn’t really see them. Ironically, he is the gold digger, not Rose, and the twist in the ‘happy ending’ is that we never see enough of Rose’s point of view at the end to really determine if she will be happy as Mrs. Burbank even without Phil. I think there are reasons to say yes, for sure, but it’s not as clean cut as Peter would probably believe it is, because Peter always equated material wealth to happiness and doesn’t seem to understand that for Rose, that has little importance, and is certainly less central than having a contented, steady purpose in life and caring for others.

So certainly Peter has his blind spots and his biases. But he reads Phil perfectly, and I think he’s quite aware of his own sexuality. He is hurt by the taunts, that's definitely true. And maybe I don’t have enough evidence of this, but it’s my personal reading, and not just in keeping with my sense of this theme, that he remains so outwardly impervious to them because he knows who he is and can never be shaken in that. What he fears from the word ‘sissy’ is the violence he associates with it. There’s no indication that he fears its truth. The reaction is thus to guard himself and keep himself separated from others both physically and emotionally, which he definitely does, but in the solitude of just himself, looking in the mirror, reading his books, exploring the property, he is, if not happy, at least even, peaceful, unruffled.

And Phil. Phil’s whole thing is his comfort in himself, right? He is acutely perceptive of others, he hates when they hide things about themselves, and he knows exactly how and when to reveal these secret and shameful truths to cause the most emotional damage: the incident with Mr. Green at the barbershop, the kid and his marbles, the members of the fraternity. Telling George to look in the mirror–to see himself, and to see the worst in himself, and to doubt that Rose could love him for that self.

Phil is able to do all of this in part because he lives his own life with apparent complete authenticity: he doesn’t dress to impress others, he doesn’t make himself look nice for others, he doesn’t have manners because even those are a sort of polite lie. He does exactly what he wants, when he wants. He is comfortable with himself, never bored or unstimulated, as Rose is: he’s cultivated many hobbies and skills and is well and widely read. He has no need to look to others for validation because, being so comfortable in his own company, he doesn’t, with one exception, need to rely on others for anything.

Phil is an immediately interesting and unusual character, right from chapter one, and I felt both drawn to him and surprised by him, because he came off so differently in the book versus the movie, especially the beginning of the movie. The line about aristocracy meaning the power to live as he wanted was really powerful to me and I thought about it often throughout the book. That is Phil. There is no contradiction, in this sense, between his ‘common’ appearance and his great wealth. His wealth is power is control is ability to say ‘no one forces me to do anything, ever, and no rules apply to me, because who could ever enforce them?’

His wealth, and, too, that he is confident and unflappable in himself. What could anyone ever say about him (with one exception) that he wouldn’t accept and own? You’re rude, you’re dirty. So? I know I am. It’s called being honest. Not putting on airs.

The arrogance is obnoxious and selfish, of course. Because what are politeness, manners, social codes? Why are we nice when we don’t want to be? To ease social interaction, to make others comfortable. And Phil isn’t even ignorant of this: he’s known as a great conversationalist, and even though he lets George take the lead on talking business, he tends to babysit him, to make sure he doesn’t screw up (whether or not this is actually necessary is, I would say, greatly debateable.) He just doesn’t place a value on other people’s comfort for its own sake. He doesn’t have to like his sister-in-law but most people would expect he’d at least treat her as a human being, out of respect for his brother, and because they all live in the same house and it’s just easier. But to assume Phil would so much as light a fire to make the house comfortable for them on their first arrival is to assume he would ever place anything above his own feelings. All of that is a lie, right? A lie, a lie, a lie, and he has no patience for people who hide aspects of themselves out of what he would call social nicety.

And yet. There is a whole layer beneath that. Phil knows that he is gay, but he hides this from everyone, even, as much as he can, from himself. He thinks about Bronco Henry often, but he only says his name in contexts he could speak out loud. Otherwise, he is “and one other.” His death is never thought of or remembered in so many words; it is only “and Phil also knows what it is to grieve.” He hides this part of himself behind these arm’s-length phrases and he hides it behind a protective wall of hatred for that same quality in others, and he hides it through a hyper-masculine image that is a costume just as Rose’s fancy Mrs. Burbank dresses are. The very aspects of himself that read as insistent and obnoxious honesty are part of the lie: no one would ever question the masculinity or sexuality of a rancher so tough he doesn’t even wear gloves. The hands are the gloves, so scarred and red and weather-beaten that no one would ever think about the pale skin up above the wrists, beneath the shirt cuffs.

Phil is aware that he’s hiding. This is why he doesn’t drink, because he does not want to reveal his sexuality accidentally. He doesn’t want to lose control–which implies, then, that all of his selfish and careless attitude, that he does what he wants and exactly what he wants at all times, without regard to others, is in fact an attitude, an act. He has great regard for others and their opinions of him.

The same attitude that has been posited throughout the book, often by Phil himself, as a radical honesty engaged in from a place of privilege, is itself a form of self-protection, just as his sobriety is. He loathes the world before it can loathe him, as narration in his own POV section finally admits. He understands very well that social niceties allow people to interact more easily with each other and then to become closer to each other–and that’s precisely what he does not want. He does not want anyone close enough to see him.

I don’t think there’s no truth at all to the initial and more surface reading. I do think he acts from a place of privilege and I do think he has contempt for people who put on airs or hide their truth. I just think another aspect of that is self-hatred. He’s the biggest offender of them all.

He’s also extremely jealous of his privacy and private spaces. The place where he bathes is not only a private space (true for most people…) but a sacred space, a space so personal that no one can even know it exists. No one can even know he bathes. It’s almost holy: when he talks about George and Rose and their “ablutions” in the main bathroom, it’s mocking; when he talks about his own, in the river, it’s a true reflection of what the act of bathing is. Even as a kid, he was fascinated by the reflection of his own body in the water. Is this the only place he’s ‘really himself’?

It’s Phil’s purposeful blind spots about himself that are his undoing. He can’t see Peter clearly because he’s not being honest with himself about all the reasons he wants to get closer to this kid. I think on some level he knows. But he talks around this, too: tells himself a story about how this plays into his revenge, doesn’t acknowledge the true reason for the tensions between them.

Much of Phil’s narration feels to me like a man talking around the truth rather than of it, and not just in relation to his sexuality. This is also true in his relationship with George, and relates back to my other scribbled notes about solitude and loneliness, conversation and quiet. I think Phil absolutely and honestly does love George and his company. He loves George as a person. He’s not sufficiently aware of George, for sure, he definitely uses him; it’s a selfish love. But I don’t think it’s false. Phil is content in his solitude in many ways, and I actually do believe that’s true, but like all people he does want connection and company. We see that some in his relationships with the hired men, who do perceive him as someone sort of craving conversation even to a point where it’s a little weird and awkward (don’t have the book with me but I’m thinking of the scene in the first chapter where he’s described going into the bunk house regularly to regale them with stories), and we see it in how he cultivated being a conversationalist as one of his skills, and we see it in that moment of loneliness, which he doesn’t truly know how to deal with or how to face head on, in the early chapter at the bar in Beech. But more than anywhere else we see it with George.

In a sense, and I don’t mean this in an incestuous way at all, George is Phil’s life partner. They own and run the ranch together, live together, eat together, go hunting together, keep each other company, and they have done these things literally their whole lives. Without George, Phil would be excruciatingly lonely. He’s put that entire burden of being his person, his savior from loneliness, on George. I was surprised by how slowly the early chapters of the book moved, not because I didn’t enjoy them, but because I knew from the movie how much more plot there was to go through, and the book itself is not long. And so much of that time is spent with Phil, feeling his discomfort and confusion as George pulls away. Even before Rose, George is becoming different, less interested in life, less good at conversation. Filled with ennui. This break between the brothers is the real driving catalyst of the book. Although we don’t know exactly how long it’s been going on or why, because we don’t hear George’s thoughts at this point in the narrative, we might assume it’s tied to the anniversary of their ranch life, or maybe the realization that he’s nearing 40, or maybe the retirement of their parents’, which happened at some unknown point (perhaps fairly recently?) in the past. Regardless, George is becoming a less present companion for Phil.

And Phil can’t process this. He doesn’t look at this head on either, and he never (consciously) hypothesizes any reasons pertaining to himself for this change. He just thinks George is bored. Understimulated. In a mood. Inexplicably weird. Phil is untethered without him, completely adrift. It’s not subtle at all, but he also never acknowledges it, never says it straightforwardly or faces it head on. He can’t acknowledge how much he needs George or why Rose is such a threat to him. She upsets the status quo, but, specifically, she also takes George away.

Of course, the relationship between George and Phil was never reciprocal or equal. The dichotomy of conversation and silence in the novel really centers around George, in my view. He’s a silent presence in the early and later parts of the book, and the only time he really comes alive for the reader, when we get to see his own self-perception and not others’ (predominantly Phil’s) (skewed?) perceptions of him, is in his romance with Rose. What he loves about her is the conversation, or specifically, that with her he can speak and speak honestly. We see George opening up, in other words, not just because we have a window into his thoughts now, but because he’s in a context where he can literally speak aloud.

Phil’s perception is probably that their own friendship does include plenty of talking, so what’s the problem? From Phil’s perspective, George is just a quiet guy, and so Phil has to carry the conversation. He loves telling stories, so it’s fine. He loves reminiscing. And he’s eager for talk–pulling teeth to get it, as far as he’s concerned, in those early chapters. Ah, here’s a chance to remember this or talk about that. Is George going to talk about the anniversary? No, well, he’ll have to bring it up. George is so silent these days! How annoying!

When we’ve only gotten Phil’s take, and there’s little reason to think George is anything but just a quiet guy, it’s almost surprising to hear him tell Rose, you know, I’ve never gotten to talk before. But then, is it so shocking? Phil is very overbearing. He has certain topics that he likes (the past), and if he doesn’t like something, he won’t just talk over it or refuse to engage, he’ll outright insult it. George can’t talk about his interest in cars or his desire for a particular type of new car because Phil thinks cars are new-fangled and annoying, and the new car George likes is particularly bad. As we see in the scene with Rose’s weed bouquet (possibly my favorite scene), George is primed at all times for Phil’s insults and derision. He can never relax in anything because Phil is going to take it apart. Phil likes the weed bouquet, actually! But how could George ever predict that, when Phil doesn’t like anything except what he makes himself?

With Rose, then, George can speak, and she perceives that he’s a little awkward at it, that he’s trained himself to always think of pleasing others. He’s out of practice. But he feels and shows real excitement for her: he wants to try dinner parties, he loves the idea of picnicking in the car, he can say things to her he’s never said to anyone! There’s such a joy and wonder in a lot of George’s narrative sections. He’s a man long imprisoned who has now become free.

So the silence and conversation relate back to knowing oneself and being one’s fullest self, as well as to the process of self-creation through narrative. George thrives when he can speak. He is his truest self then, unhidden. Phil’s outward silence is an internal silence as well, that which he hides from others is what he hides from himself too. Phil takes comfort in discussions of the past, the good old days; he seems to use this topic as a sort of crutch or distraction in his second-most-fraught moment with Peter (fitting that, in the movie, stories of the past are a form of intimacy between them). His control of conversation is a power he has over people, but it's also a form of self-narration and self-creation, particularly in the way he mythologizes the past. We see this with Rose, too. When she loses track of herself, she tries to find it again in memories, memories drawn into the form of stories, and shared out loud with Peter. Maybe if she does it enough, he’ll know her, and she’ll know herself. Conversation in the form of small talk also comes up often, where polite placeholders prop relationships up awkwardly and, as Phil perceives, hide the truth. And no one is better at talking about everything but the real things than the Old Gent and the Old Lady, experts in social rules and rituals, holding everything at arm’s length.

Thus, conversation and speech can be a form of intimacy and connection, a way to hide or obscure painful truth, or a mask or costume. Many of the characters’ internal thoughts follow the same patterns: the truth is hidden between what they will say and acknowledge and what they won’t, what they focus on instead. The outlines of self-awareness are not always clear. The moments when people realize in so many words who they are or what they have become are the moments of highest emotion, the climaxes of the story, like Rose realizing that she has become her worst self at the Burbank ranch. The most striking of these moments is when Phil names not only his interest in Peter but his love for Bronco Henry and his own knowledge of his sexuality, if not entirely explicitly, in more words than he ever has before. With such power, with such emotion. His death happens off-page, his last moments a sort of trailing off, as he becomes ever more distant and unreachable to those around him. All of that, even (quite differently from the movie), the actual moment of the infection, just an afterthought, because the moment of greatest action and consequence is this one: his moment of greatest honesty about himself.

#the year 2023 #2023: reading

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greywoe · 6 months ago

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part THREE

idk if i’ll do this for all the episodes but i think it’s fun to look back at my first impressions lol

- i like how this show tends to focus on internal and interpersonal conflict and i thought it was a good choice to have the battle of the burning mill happen off screen (i mean they’ve got bigger battles to focus on in the future, don’t they). it was quite effective cutting directly to the aftermath showcasing the toll of it all

- slightly unrelated but the blackwood fits were 🤌🤌🤌 (that cape!)

- they’re making mysaria a much more prominent character than i expected and i am curious to see where they’re taking her relationship to rhaenyra and the blacks (<- modern au band name…..)

- i like short haired criston cole. i like when he’s more proactive. maybe it took introducing gwayne hightower’s sufficiently annoying ass for this to happen, but i’ll take it. at first i thought “oh nooo is this going to some buddy cop b-plot” but then baela showed up and things got interesting. i ended up liking that scene with them in the field with criston taking charge and setting things right

- sometimes they go a bit heavy with the foreshadowing but that scene with corlys and rhaenys was genuinely sad

- actually, sometimes they go more than a bit heavy with the foreshadowing. daemon’s spooky harrenhal vision was pretty cool until it faded away and alys (presumably) appeared. and. well. literally *spooky graveyard ambient sounds* *witchy lady appears* “you will die in this place” *walks away*. is that what you’re giving me? is this what counts for foreshadowing nowadays? just a plain statement of what’s literally to come in the tritest way possible?

- i’m in two minds about the closing rhaenyra+alicent scene. i like how the show is sort of framed around them and it makes sense to add scenes where their relationship is in focus. i was certainly excited to see them interact again after so long. at the same time i was confused - what exactly is the plan here, as in, concretely what does rhaenyra expect alicent to do? i like how she (rightfully) has some amount of faith in her wanting a humane solution, but at the same time how are they supposed to reach a compromise when rhaenyra’s dead set on taking the throne and alicent’s never going to let her son be defeated? and with everything else underway at this point? at first i thought it a pointless endeavour, but i suppose the point of the scene was not the negotiations but rather the fact that they both end up realising the Big Misunderstanding… i don’t know how big of an impact that will have since it’s far too late to do anything about it, but at least the two of them now have the knowledge of what really happened that night (my mum - who i watch these with, which is why i always end up seeing them pretty late since we need to make time to watch them together - pointed out that now alicent has to live with the fact that she misinterpreted viserys’s words… which i reckon might end up being significant, for her as a character if nothing else)(though in the end i don’t know how much it would have changed either way, with otto’s plans already in action)

- also i think it’s funny that the big dramatic moments of each episode so far have all been about someone from one side sneaking into the other. as i said earlier i like how they focus more on internal conflict and i guess that means they opt for this kind of solution (at least this early in the season), but it’s almost getting a bit repetitive. at some point security has to be called into question

some thoughts on that first episode bc i might as well

- that first scene in the north did not make me very happy… maybe it’s just me who likes negotiations but i was looking forward to Jace’s World Tour of North/Eastern Westeros and his talks and bargains with the different houses (especially lady jeyne! i guess i can understand why they cut it out but i think when it comes to her there’s material to build an interesting character from, but whatever. another arryn L i guess :(), but what did we get but one (1) scene at the wall for some reason. i mean i like the night’s watch as much as the next person but this just felt like straight up GoT fanservice… like what does the threat beyond the wall have to do with this conflict? they could at least have given us some parley but there was barely anything of that either. cregan stark’s going to be important later so i thought they’d do more to establish him as a character now. but literally the next scene we see jace in he’s back at dragonstone….. ok (tho i guess they could return to the north later? idk we’ll see) (also, i care less for the sara snow subplot but i was sure they would do something with it since they love to go with the juicy stuff like forbidden love and whatnot)

- on that note i expect they’re going the singers’ route with erryk and arryk which i don’t really care for (they need to make me care more for those characters first) but it makes sense

- i’m ashamed of the fact that the alyn reveal made me go “ahh” aloud and my mum (who hasn’t read f&b) went “what???” and i just vaguely waved it off because it’s so annoying when people do that and i try not to but… i was surprised they introduced him so early

- aegon ii keeps being the most entertaining character on the show and he was the highlight to me. thank you for bringing a tinge of comedy. i’d say keep it up, but… well

- this is old discourse but i don’t have much of a problem with them showing alicent being groomed and manipulated in the show which probably makes her seem more sympathetic to viewers (and i can’t help but fall for every instance the lingering and complex feelings between her and rhaenyra that still clearly affect her come up) but now i’d like to see her being more active. i liked her confronting otto but (so far) for the most part she seemed a bit uninvolved and inactive (except for the sex scenes with criston… -_- which i guess are intended to bite them in the ass later which is why it’s continuously brought up, but so far i do not care for it). i just want to see her contributing more of her own i guess. but there’s plenty of time for that in the upcoming episodes, especially now after the death of another child 😔

- i sure hope we get to see more of baela and rhaena. this was only the first episode, i will have hope in my heart

- helaena’s line about being scared of the rats felt like clever foreshadowing when i heard it, except that the blood & cheese thing happened just a few scenes later……. suddenly it didn’t feel so clever anymore, nobody will have forgotten it at that point (the best foreshadowing imo is stuff that you maybe don’t notice at first and only catch on your rewatch)

- and about that, as relieved as i am about the violence being toned down, reading the book the whole “damning one child to die but the other one is slain, so now you and your child have to live with the fact that you named him to be killed” business was very impactful so i’m a bit disappointed nonetheless. for a show that so clearly opts for emotional impact, i mean… though i suppose cutting a kid or two out is understandable. but the way they made a whole deal about not knowing the sex of the twins (and the assassins being surprisingly gentlemanly about it lol) made me wonder if they mean to do a big plot twist where helaena was lying about it and actually rescued jaehaerys, but also that (unnecessarily) changes some things and what would be the point of that. 🤔 i did really like helaena’s acting during the scene though, opting for pure shock and dissociation rather than making it a dramatic tearfest. i like helaena as a character too, from what little we have seen of her anyway, and i wish she’d had more moments previously in the show so that we as viewers would be even more emotionally connected to her, but she gets pretty sidelined in comparison to her brothers. we don’t get to know much about her in the book so i feel like that’s what the show is for! expanding upon the book!

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write-it-motherfuckers · 2 years ago

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Alright, this is kind of an update, but since I’m still waiting to be updated myself, there’s not much I can actually update you on.

As you all already know, I’ve landed in some pretty serious financial trouble due to a whole bunch of things that I really don’t want to go into, and it’s really only gone from bad to worse as time went on, which is why I got so overwhelmed and had to back off from this account for a while. However, as I mentioned in the tags yesterday, there’s a chance that some of that might be getting sorted soon.

It wont fix everything, because like I said, a lot went wrong, but it will take off a significant amount of stress. While that doesn’t mean that I’ll be able to get back to posting properly immediately, it does mean that I’ll be able to start slowly working myself out of the horrible panicked spiral that I’ve been in since it all started. And honestly, that’s all I can really ask for right now, as I’ve been directing all of my mental strength on trying to find a solution, and haven’t actually been taking care of myself as a result.

I’m so grateful for the patience and support, and I’m sorry that I’ve been such a downer with all of this. I’ll try to get semi productive again soon, I promise.

I love you all dearly, and hope you’re all doing well Darling ones 🖤

#mod speaks #also big thanks again to those who sent me donations when I originally posted about all this #while it might not have seemed like much to some of you. Those few $ meant that I was able to afford some food #since the rest of my money is currently going towards dealing with the fallout of all this nonsense #I really can't thank you enough

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five-rivers · 2 years ago

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Ancestral 9

“So. Aconite?” asked Danny during a lull in the stream of treatments and tests. “Isn’t that wolfsbane?”

"Yes," said the doctor, looking rather nervously at Matthew.

At least, Danny thought she was looking at Matthew. His vision was still kind of blurry, a reasonable side-effect of having poison splashed into them. She could have been looking at the family in general, all of whom were squeezed into the room. Apparently, as long as they stayed out of the way of the doctors, it was best for security purposes to have them all together.

“Both the tests on what was recovered from you and what was recovered from the cup indicate that the wine was dosed with massive amounts of aconite, and your symptoms match. It’s a very, hm, traditional poison, so treatment is well known. We’re monitoring both your blood pressure and your heart rate, and you’ve been given an activated charcoal treatment and atropine.” She paused. “You seem to be recovering, although your heart rate is still much lower than we’d like. I’m actually surprised you’re still conscious…”

“That’s normal for Danny, now,” said Jack. “Well, maybe not this low, but his heartbeat is pretty slow all the time, now.”

“It isn’t in his medical records,” said the doctor.

“Had him checked back in the US. I guess it never made it here.”

“We had other concerns at the time, Jack,” said Maddie from where she was sitting in a chair next to Danny’s bed.

Oh, yeah, Danny had the impression he was missing a metric ton of significant looks.

“Well,” said Danny, “I feel… not great, but okay? Like, my skin is still pretty numb, kind of like when you get an anesthetic from the dentist.”

There were, however, significant looks that Danny wasn’t missing. Apparently, he wasn’t seeing the ghosts with his physical eyes, but with something else, because they stood out sharply from their blurry surroundings. Right now, they were looking at him like Jazz did, when he said he wasn’t hurt after a fight.

Really, he was fine. Spooked, but fine.

(In some ways, it was sort of a relief to know that he was human enough to be affected by poison. Being half dead had a tendency to make you hyper aware of your own mortality and dubious of it at the same time.)

“But, back to it being wolfsbane. Why wolfsbane? You’d have found that if that was why everyone else… I mean, they don’t think you’re a werewolf or something, do they? Is that a thing?”

Matthew sighed. “No, I’m not a werewolf.” Another sigh. “Unfortunately. I’d love to only have to worry about wolfsbane and silver”

“No, that’s not what’s going on,” said Maddie.

“So what is going on? I think I deserve to know, having been almost killed and all. Are you going to try again with the coronation? And- And has anyone found Vivian yet?” He tried to send an apologetic expression Vivian’s way, for using her as a conversation pivot.

“Doctor Hys,” said Matthew. “This discussion is about to touch on both family matters and those of state, so if you can continue your monitoring else where…?”

“Of course, your highness. May God and the ancestors bless you.” Danny saw the door, briefly, as a rectangle of slightly dimmer light, and then the doctor closed it behind herself, and the family was alone.

“The Assembly is discussing regency,” said Joanna.

“Which they really should have since the beginning,” added Eugene.

Danny wasn’t so sure of that. He wasn’t clear on all the details, but regents had fewer powers than a sitting monarch. They couldn’t change throne policies - like the one about approval of foreign businesses, Danny realized - or appoint new Secretaries - which would leave the Speaker hearing spy reports. Great-Grandma Rose had been Alfred’s King’s Secretary.

Other countries would probably have a conniption about the conflict of interest.

“It makes more sense than declaring one of us king or queen without the trials,” agreed Joanna. “They were set on it, but now they think the poisoning is a… bad omen.” There was a guilty sort of satisfaction in her tone.

Maddie scoffed. “Can you not?” she asked. “Here, with my son seriously injured, can we discuss this like rational human beings who live in this century?”

“If we were dealing with rational human beings,” said Irene, “we would. But a person willing to commit so many murders isn’t rational. Nor are… humans in general.”

“Mom,” said George.

“I want to know about Vivian as well,” said Jazz. “There has to be something about where she went.”

“The investigation there is ongoing,” said Matthew. “For the rest of Danny’s questions… To start at the beginning, you wouldn’t know this, but in the very distant past, there was a legend that members of the royal family with the favor of the spirits and the ancestors were immune to wolfsbane poisoning. So, of course, any member of the royal family who was successfully poisoned didn’t have their favor.” His blurry form made a shrugging motion. “It’s been discredited nearly that long - there were herbalists back then who were occasionally able to use belladona to counter some of the effects of aconite poisoning - but that particular method of assassination has become traditional for signaling certain grievances.”

“Did Lord Kyppe have those grievances?” asked Iris, darkly.

“He’s maintaining that he had no idea. Which, considering his position, is very nearly as bad,” said Matthew. “Even if he turns out to be innocent, the traditionalist faction will be out for his blood.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Jack. “Forget them! Maddie and I are out for his blood!”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” said Matthew, dryly. “And, then… You are right that we’d be able to tell if- if everyone else died of aconite poisoning. It decays quickly, but not that quickly.” He shook his head. “We–”

He was interrupted by a phone ringtone, a high-pitched electronic version of the Avlynyse national anthem.

“Hello?” answered Sophia tremulously. There was some shifting as she moved through the room. “Alright,” she said, voice already cracked and tearful. “I’m sitting down.” There was a beat, and then Sophia made a high, keening sound.

“Mom? What- What’s wrong?”

Another phone started to ring (still with the national anthem, but a slightly more traditional version), and Matthew swore. “What?” he snapped. “Oh, God. Are you sure it’s her? Yes. Yes. We’ll make the announcement… shortly.” Matthew took a deep breath and closed his phone with a snap. “They found Vivian’s body.”

There was quiet. Danny was sure everyone had already at least suspected that Vivian was dead. Having it confirmed was something different.

“Oh,” said Leo, weakly. “Oh. Do they… do they know how…?”

“You don’t want to–” started Matthew.

“She’s my sister.”

Matthew exhaled slowly. “She was beaten to death. They stole her Key and the Lesser Seal.” He inhaled again, loud enough to be heard. “We’re going to need to make a public statement. And–” His phone tweedled. “And the Assembly wants to have a special session to hash out a regency decision, and–” another tweedle, “and, ancestors.” More tweedles. “It’s going to be never ending. My family is dying, and–” He fell silent.

“Matthew?” asked Irene from the same general area Sophia was in. Were they hugging? Maybe? “What’s wrong?”

“Investigation just found that someone replaced the contents of Grandma’s capsule pills with nitroglycerin,” said Matthew, tersely. “Matches with her symptoms… heart stopped, but not the other signs of anaphylaxis, darn it.”

“That’s… three different causes of death, isn’t it?” asked Jazz, thinly. “Four different methods, if you count the wolfsbane. That’s unusual, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” said Matthew. “It could be six, for all I– Nevermind that. We need to get back to Kyr Argyn, for the special session, and ‘figure out what the future will look like.’”

“We who?” asked George.

“Adults,” said Matthew. “Anyone eligible for regency.”

“Not me, then,” said Eugene.

“You, too,” said Matthew. “Just because some idiots in the newspapers called you a bastard a few times doesn’t mean you aren’t perfectly legitimate, legally speaking.”

“Wait, what do you mean I’m legitimate? I thought–”

“You can’t expect me to leave Danny,” interrupted Maddie. “He was just poisoned.”

“Legally, everyone currently in the country–”

“I can stay, Mads,” said Jack. “Me’n Jazz’ll hold down the fort with Danny here.”

“We really do need you to come,” said Matthew.

“Fine,” said Maddie. “Danny, I–”

“It’s okay, Mom. I’ll be fine. I am fine.”

Maddie patted his hand. “We’ll have to disagree on that. Jazz, if you notice anything unusual, let your father and the doctors know right away. And– Who from security will be staying with them?”

Matthew rattled off a list of names that Danny instantly forgot.

“Right,” said Maddie. “Let them know, too. Danny, just… try to be safe.”

Well. Ouch. Danny would have everyone know that he always tried to be safe. And careful. And a lot of other things.

It took a few most of a half an hour for everyone to move out. Apparently they had to coordinate with the security team, get everything lined up beforehand, etcetera.

“I think,” said Danny, “that I’m in shock. Emotionally speaking.”

“That makes all of us,” said Jazz.

Jazz couldn't give him the kit until they were alone and Jack had dozed off.

"Security took me back to the house to get some of your clothes and things. You're going to have to help me, though. I don't know what's best for poisoning."

Neither did Danny, really. Surprisingly, poison, contact or otherwise, wasn't something he had to deal with all that often. Except for blood blossoms… and whatever was in Vlad’s stupid knockout gas, and those spiders that one time… did Spectra’s weird ghost mosquitoes count as poison?

Next chance they got, Team Phantom would have to look into poison remedies.

“Energy tablet for now,” said Danny. “Then, um. The little jar of eyewash.” The eyewash was a dilute solution of ectoplasm and salt, usually used for eye injuries, or the irritation that he sometimes got from his eyes deciding to be flashlights, but it could help. It’d be nice to be able to focus his eyes again.

Jazz passed over the tablets almost immediately. The eyewash, however…

Danny sniffed at the jar. “This isn’t the eyewash.” It was, in fact, the blood blossom cream. After a few additional natural portal related journeys, Danny had found that while just being near blood blossoms in ghost form was agony, touching them in human form gave him a nasty, itching rash. And hives. And… And there was a thought there, but it wouldn’t come loose.

“It’s the only jar you have,” said Jazz.

Danny frowned. “Oh,” he said. “I might have…�� Not brought the eyewash, I guess.”

“Why?”

“It’s liquid. You’re not supposed to bring liquids on planes.”

“We had a private charter flight.”

“I didn’t know that when I packed.” He handed the cream back to her and chewed on the energy tablet. Ecto-dejecto and weird dehydrated orange juice powder. Yum.

Not.

“I brought something else as well,” said Jazz, pulling something small and square from her purse and unfolding it.

Danny squinted. “Jazz,” he said, his whisper dripping with as much disappointment as he could squeeze in, “is that a ouija board?”

“I thought it could help with, you know.” She leaned in, and if the only witness wasn’t dead asleep, she would have definitely given them away. “With communicating with your invisible friends.”

“Can we not say things that make me sound crazy?” asked Danny. “And I know you can’t be serious. Ouija boards are trademarked by Hasbro. Nothing trademarked by Hasbro can possibly be spiritual.”

“I don’t mean like that,” said Jazz. “I mean, regardless of what it’s supposed to be used for, it’s still got the alphabet on it. If the ghosts here can’t write anything out, they can at least point and you can read what they’re saying.”

Good idea, except… “I can barely see, Jazz. Everything is little blobs of color.”

“Okay,” said Jazz, “but you can still see well enough to point where they’re pointing, right?”

“Well… yeah. I can see them pretty well, actually.”

“Great,” said Jazz. “Then, I’ll read off what you’re pointing at, okay?”

Danny looked up at Gwensyvyr, who shrugged, then nodded. “Okay, yeah.”

“Then let’s start with Vivian–”

“She’s not here.”

“What?”

“She went with Aunt Sophia and Lewis and Leo.”

“Oh. Well. That makes sense. Who’s here, then?”

“Uh,” said Danny. “A whole bunch of people. And Gwensyvyr.”

Silence.

“As in, the founder–” started Jazz.

“Of Avlynys Gwensyvyr?” they finished together.

“Yeah, that Gwensyvyr,” said Danny.

“Okay. Um. Nice to meet you…?” Jazz paused for a long moment. “This is really weird. Did you see who tried to poison Matthew?”

Danny followed Gwensyvyr’s finger.

“Hm,” said Jazz. “That’s a yes. Do you know their name?”

Gwensyvyr shifted.

“No. So. That’s too bad. Anyone else here know their name?”.

Matthew’s would-be poisoner, as it turned out, was a young, red-headed man with a press badge that said his name was Wallace Hadryn. Right before the ceremony, he’d had a quick interview with the Cupbearer, and dropped two pills into the cup while distracting the Cupbearer ‘masterfully’ in the words of one of the ghosts.

The pills had been red. All but invisible against the dark wine. They’d dissolved slowly, and the Cupbearer’s high-tech tests and traditional sip hadn’t affected him.

“At least,” said Jazz, “not at the time. I wonder if he might start feeling some symptoms anyway.”

Before that, none of the ghosts had been particularly paying attention to the young man, so they didn’t know who he’d talked to before, if anyone.

As for who had killed the others… The ghosts had no real idea. They’d been repelled from the area, and had only seen ‘suspicious figures’ at a distance. If that.

That was bad. It was very bad that whoever did this knew the ghosts were there and could get rid of them. Or that whoever had killed them had coincidentally stumbled on something that could banish ghosts. Even if they were weak ghosts.

Gwensyvyr had suspicions, though.

There have always been those who seek to tear power from this land and all kinds of people leave ghosts, Gwensyvyr had picked out, letter by letter. I fear this is a plan long brewed. We have been growing weaker for some time, even before your grandfather’s death. Cut off from allies. Many of my kin have only woken for this latest tragedy, and will sleep again, perhaps forever, and some sleep still. No hope for the future.

At least, that's what Danny and Jazz had eventually puzzled out. Wonderful their ancestor might be, it was clear she'd never practiced the art of spelling. In any language.

“You think the ones doing this are ghosts?” asked Danny.

Perhaps. Or they are guided by ghosts. Look to the death of your grandfather, of your grandmother. Look at those who preach progress and stability, but only think of paper gold. She bared her teeth. Look at their corporations and businesses. These worms in the Assembly. I call especially for you to look on Julius Skippa. His father brought in that vile construction business.

“But why would they do it?” asked Jazz. “Apart from the usual mundane reasons, I mean. It seems like all they’d have to do is wait.”

There are sacred things our family has long been charged with, older than this kingdom. Things that have been desecrated and not restored. Things that I may not speak of. Your grandfather was the last to attempt the trials. Vyvyan was preparing for them.

“They would have noticed something,” said Danny. “Or the trials would have fixed some of it.”

Gwensyvyr nodded and pointed at yes. I think, too, that the monsters wish to return. To take more than what they have taken already. Thus the seal. Thus the key. Would that I were stronger! I would tear them to shreds if they tried.

“But Matthew wasn’t going to do the trials,” said Jazz. “Not right away, at least, and with everything else, it would have been easy to distract him from ever taking them.”

But Mathyw denied them. On the phone, and later, in the halls of Kyr Argyn. And I am not certain sure that we face only one enemy.

A ghost phased through the wall and made gestures at Gwensyvyr, who nodded.

Keep safe, little syvyrys. The title - applied to both him and Jazz - made Danny blink, then flush. His numbness must be getting better, for him to feel that. With you here, there is hope for the future after all. Then Gwensyvyr took a step back from the board and made a closing motion with her hand.

Jazz hastily closed and put away the ouija board. Just in time. Matthew had returned.

“Jazz, Danny, how are you?”

“Fine,” said Danny.

“As well as can be expected,” said Jazz.

Matthew smiled tightly. “Jack,” he said. “Maddie wants to talk to you. Jack!” He nudged Jack’s shoulder.

“Whazzat?”

“Maddie wants to talk to you.”

“Alright, then,” said Jack. “Will you–”

“I’ll watch the kids, yes.”

“Okay! Stay safe, kids!”

“That was fast,” commented Jazz.

“It didn’t seem that way,” said Matthew. “You two didn’t realize there were monitored security cameras in here, did you?”

Danny’s heart leapt into his throat. From the way Jazz froze, he suspected hers had done the same.

It made sense that there would be, of course. In retrospect, security wouldn’t have left them alone like this otherwise, but that meant…

“How long,” asked Matthew, voice trembling with some emotion Danny couldn’t place, “have you been a syvyr?”

#danny phantom #ectoberhaunt22 #ectoberhaunt 2022 day 24: past and future #ancestral fic #ectoberhaunt 2022 #day 24

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cinnamonest · 4 years ago

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Since people actually liked it here's the continuation of the modern Xiao camgirl!darling post I cut from the original, as promised, most if it's under a cut. Here’s the original post. I didn’t think people would actually like the camgirl concept so I thought I was rambling too much and cut this part out lol but here it is now!

Tws: derogatory language/female slurs, mentions of reader being a cheater, reader is promiscuous, murder, incel-y mentality (our modern boy would be a 4chan user, look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong) and mentions of upsetting realistic things, this one's darker than the first part. If you're bothered by other modern stuff for being too realistic best avoid this too probably, involuntary pornography ---------- Coming up on one year since you gained your most loyal subscriber, you get a rather... Unsettling request. He has something he would like this month, in fact, he adds a few hundred to the regular amount (he's been saving up just for this) and asks for just the answer to one simple question. What's your name?

Your real name, he clarifies. He doesn't need a last name, nothing like that. It would just... Make him feel closer to you. He avoids using the term "anniversary," even though that's what comes to mind. He also doesn't tell you that he already knows, that this is just a test of your honesty. For someone who's so cautious, you would think you would think to give a fake name whenever you go to coffee shops for them to yell out, or change it on the packages you get. You hesitate. And it would be easy to give him a fake one, yet, you don't really think about it too much, you kinda think about that as an afterthought, what you should have done, but your very real name is typed out and sent before you really process it, and you feel a sort of unease, but it's already sent. No big deal. He can't do much with just your first name, right? If your name is common, you feel pretty safe, but even if it's a rarer one, surely there are other people with it, right? He's happy though. Kinda surprised, really, that you didn't lie to him. Maybe you trust him?

You're not stupid, you know something is wrong, you're becoming paranoid. And you connect the weird feeling to him, bc he goes radio silence for several days leading up to finally taking you. This dude who used to respond to any messages you sent within 10 seconds suddenly... It's like he disappeared? He hasn't responded to anything you send him ever since you said your name. You send him messages saying you haven't heard from him in a while and you're worried... The way you word it makes it sound like you're worried about him, but you both know that's not what you really mean. You're hesitant and suspicious of every guy you meet. You buy pepper spray and start carrying some around, you nearly spray a poor guy who you thought was trailing you, turns out he just lives in your building. He makes note of it. He watched you buy it, and is quick to realize you always hold it in the same hand. That must be your dominant hand, that's an important mental note for the future, since you're more likely to try to attack him with that hand. He'll remember. He has a note in his phone with information like that. Height, weight, birthday, social security number, parents' names, school she graduated from. All in little bullet points. He adds dominant hand to the list. He's not worried at all really. Already watched you struggle to carry packages he could lift with one hand, your strength doesn't cross his mind as a threat. At first he just doesn't know what to say, and that's why he stops responding, he feels too awkward but... He starts to enjoy the weird feeling of power the whole situation is giving him. You're worried, you're constantly paranoid, and it's because of him. Now you finally understand the same feeling you inflict on him, how you consume his thoughts every waking moment of every day. It used to irritate him that you held so much power over him, while he meant nothing to you. Now, the tables have turned. You're forced to have him constantly in your mind, whether you like it or not, just like you are in his. It's giving you what you deserve. It gives him a feeling of significance. He matters, even if it's not in a good way. And he keeps telling himself that once he's all you have, he'll matter even more. He's smart enough to realize that if you're paranoid, you might have mentioned him by username to someone else, so to ensure he knows what to do from this point, he has to sneak into your apartment at night as you sleep. It's so unbearably tempting, you have no idea -- you're right there and so vulnerable. He has to hold himself back because he knows that if he so much as touched you, he couldn't hold back. But it's torture, standing there so close, watching your chest rise and fall as he fiddles with the phone. Even when he unlocks it with your thumb, he tries to hold the phone from an angle to do so, even if the skin of his hand grazes yours, it would be too much. You have a lot of contacts across your messages and a bunch of different apps. You have one guy in your online chat you've exchanged far more messages with than anyone else! Hundreds upon hundreds of messages, and huge paypal cash drops, who the hell is -- oh, wait, that's him. Nevermind. But, to his pleasant surprise, he's the only one of your... customers that you regularly talk to, the rest just have a few paypal notifications or clarifications on your policies, but no actual conversations like you have with him. Of course, that's literally part of your deal, he's literally paying for it, but it makes him happy nonetheless. But as he goes through your personal messages, he finds that you are... in no shortage of options. Like, holy shit. It was kind of expected. You *are* really pretty, that's how you have so many followers after all, but this is a lot. So many contacts named some variation of "DO NOT ANSWER!!!" or "creepy guy that forced me to give him my number at the club", etc etc. Plenty of unsaved numbers texting you to never get a response. You've ghosted enough dudes to make your place haunted. It's... kinda awful, really. It also kinda hurts his heart a bit more than he expected. You have so, so, so many options, even without the cam thing, he's more insignificant than he even realized. ...Well, for now, at least. He'll be significant to you soon enough. And then you seem to have a sort of "boyfriend of the month" deal going on, aside from that. Plenty of male-name contacts whose last exchange is a "don't talk to me again!" message from you, plenty of messages corresponding to the same time as those to your girl friends about how you can't find a good guy and every relationship ends badly. How unfortunate. See, it's because you choose bad guys. You probably go for dicks and not.... well, he can't exactly pull the "nice guys like me" mentality, he doesn't delude himself into thinking he is one. He's lucid enough to realize that most nice guys would not be sneaking into your house and standing over your sleeping body to stalk your phone as they make plans to kidnap you. He knows he would probably fall under the classification of a creepy guy. He's just too far gone to care. Still, he would be so much better to you, he tells himself, not a cheater or a player like you complain about. To say he resents those kinds of guys -- ones that can do the unthinkable and actually talk to girls, let alone successfully, only to be assholes, and yet girls like you still go for them -- is an understatement. You're basically just a slut, you probably ignore all the guys that would be nice to you, just like all those internet forums he reads talk about. Typical.

Well, those forums also make fun of guys like him who pay for girls like you, but he can't blame them. It *is* kinda pathetic. There is one dude you talk to, though, now. Current boyfriend of the month, from the looks of it. You have a little heart emoji next to the name. He knows it's kinda pathetic that something so simple and insignificant sets him off, but it does, makes him pout and grind his teeth and curl his other hand into a fist. It's so unfair. Some dude you barely know gets to fuck you, and you haven't even known him nearly as long as you've known him! He doubts this dude -- hell, any of your boyfriends -- has put in the same amount of money that he has into you. They fuck you practically for free. And that, unfortunately for you, only solidifies his decision. If you're fucking some dude for a month because they buy you dinner every now and then, if we're going by that scale, then you owe him quite a good deal of pussy. Any hesitancy or guilt he had about the whole thing is gone. And he's a little mad. Keeps grumbling to himself that you're just a loose whore, fucking so many people and putting yourself out there on the internet. He wonders if they even know about what you do. Probably not, you probably don't tell them. Yeah, that sounds like what you'd do. Really, you're kinda lucky that someone like him is so willing to commit to you, since you are a slut. You don't deserve it, but he loves you anyway. And you'll probably have the nerve to be ungrateful for it too. Sigh. On the bright side, by some miracle, it would appear that you have not told any real-life people about him, you haven't sent out any hey if I disappear you should probably look into this creep type of messages. But he can't afford to have you doing so in between now and when you move in with him, so, he decides he has to act within the next 24 hours. While he's here, though, he decides to do a quick sweep of your place. Makes note of what snacks and drinks you like, what brand of toothpaste and shampoo and the like you use, so he can buy some for you. Maybe you'll adjust better if you have some of your favorite things. And then, after days of silence, he sends you a message, says it's fine, his internet went out for a few days. He means it to reassure you, but somehow it makes you feel more uneasy. He has everything planned out, or so he thinks. But you deviate from your usual schedule. When you leave work or class, you don't go home, you go somewhere else, first. How strange. Maybe picking up groceries? He follows from a distance. No, looks like you're going out to eat...? Maybe you're meeting friends or family or -- no that's a guy. Fuck. You must have planned this just earlier today, since there were no messages on your phone. It makes a bitter feeling rise in his gut. He hates that he can't get close enough to listen to your conversation. Well, he hates the whole thing, sits there and seethes the whole time. Watches you through the windows in the parking lot, thankfully you chose to sit outside. Feels his eye twitch and his hand clench every time you smile and laugh. It takes way too long. The fact that you split the bill feels like a punch to the stomach too. Shouldn't you be used to taking guys' money? Oh, and what's this...? This guy isn't the picture on boyfriend-of-the-month's contact. Well, well, well. You really are a whore. See, it's a very good thing he's taking you off the market. You're probably a reckless heartbreaker too. He's doing all the other men of the world a favor by taking on such a burden as you. And it makes him feel far more justified in keeping you locked away, since he has every reason to believe, now, that you'd run off and fuck someone else if given the chance. Halfway through, the guy briefly gets up and runs to the bathroom or something. While he's gone, he sees your face fall a bit. And then he sees you look around. You turn your head from one side to the other. Your eyes scan the area. You shuffle uncomfortably and you bite your lip and your eyebrows furrow. You're scared. You feel like -- no, you know you're being watched and it scares you. That makes him a little happy, for some reason. He wouldn't be sure what to do if you went home with the guy, but thankfully you don't. No big deal, this was just a bump in the road, he still beats you back to your building and he still goes through with the original plan. Even better, now that it's even darker outside. If anything, now he's got extra aggression and testosterone in his blood, running over the events in his head and going through some... very forceful and violent fantasies. The message he sent had you uneasy, and it's also how you immediately know what's going on when it does finally happen. You keep telling yourself you're being unnecessarily paranoid, that it's nothing, maybe that guy actually got his life together or got a girlfriend or something. Things like... What you fear, don't happen in real life, that's stuff that only happens in movies and stuff. You keep calling it that or it in your head. That won't happen to you. It's not going to happen. The series of events that play out in your head, scenarios you try to push out of your mind. Sure, in the movies it always takes place in the stairwell, but that's fiction, so you go up the apartment stairwell as always. You're not gonna let a bunch of B-grade old films scare you. And it's always some dude standing and waiting, but that nice young boy that you've never seen before is just leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone, he only glances up for a second as you pass by, he's not a threat, you're being paranoid. You flash a smile and a little wave as you walk by, he doesn't return either, just looks back down at his phone. See? This guy doesn't even care, you're being paranoid for nothing, you tell yourself. But as you make the turn to go up the next set of stairs you hear the click of a phone being put on the lockscreen, a few metallic footsteps ringing out in the open hall and echoing, coming up right behind you, but for that split second you expect a tap on the shoulder, maybe he has a question, it's not like movies, it's not like movies, you're not gonna get a cloth shoved over your face and--- Well, it's not exactly like the movies. You were prepared, but it all happens in one motion - one hand grabs the hand with the spray and twists it, making you drop it, the other wraps some material over your mouth. You were prepared enough that you don't gasp in surprise, you hold your breath and thrash, but it doesn't make any difference, you wiggle and writhe for a few moments but can't even begin to break free, eventually succumb to the lack of oxygen and take a deep breath. It takes a few seconds to settle in, it's not so immediate. You instinctively panic and thrash again, but he has a complete iron grip. The dizziness takes a second to set in. He huffs a bit in frustration and says stop moving, it's fine. It's definitely not, but it occurs to you that that's not something a kidnapper looking for any potential vulnerable girl says. It's a poor attempt at comfort. It's someone specifically looking for you. And if that wasn't enough, he says your name. Your very real name. Maybe it was a mistake to tell him after all. But the worst part of it all is that there's not a single doubt in your mind, even in your panic you have the realization, it's definitely him and this is literally exactly what you were afraid of. And it's the last thing that goes through your head. And once he's got you out cold he just takes a sigh of relief. He may have been very neutral faced to you, but in reality he was incredibly nervous. He hasn't exactly made or used chloroform before, our boy is operating on YouTube tutorials here. He's got adrenaline pumping through his veins and carries you with his arms trembling. He's on autopilot carrying you out, but his mind is also consumed by holy fuck I'm touching her she smells so nice she's so warm her face is so close I'm actually touching her-- you get the idea. He feels bad about taping your hands and feet together and putting you in the trunk of his car, kinda. It feels too much like what a really bad person would do to a girl they didn't care about, like he's a trafficker or a murderer or a criminal or something, but that's not true at all. Sure, he's still mad at you for being a whore and all that, but it feels improper, he just has no choice. It's late at night, but he can't risk getting pulled or being at a stoplight and someone seeing an unconscious girl in his backseat, so, trunk it is. But once he's home, to his tiny little downtown apartment (he'll probably be able to move into a better place soon, since he's not paying you tons of money anymore), he takes a quick check to make sure the coast is clear, and drags you out, up the stairs, all the way into his apartment, sets you down on the bed, where you'll be staying. He even washed the sheets and cleaned the place up a bit for your arrival. You probably would not like to see what this place looked like before the five trash bags worth of cleaning was done. He'll probably be more motivated in the future, though, since now he won't be so depressed all the time. And then the adrenaline of the fear of being seen is over, and that's when it sets in that this is real. It's very, very hard to hold back. You're real, in the flesh, he can reach out and touch you with his hands! It feels like a dream. And he realizes he can take this opportunity to do things he would be far, far too embarrassed to do when you're awake. He takes a few minutes to do just that, cautiously reaches out to poke your face, and then run a hand down your neck, your skin is so soft! Your hair smells so nice, he lays down beside you and runs his fingers over it. Puts hands on your body and just lays there in awe of the fact that you're real. He's pretty certain he's never actually touched a human female before now. Everything about you feels soft. Weirdly feminine, which is something very foreign and confusing to him. And he kinda uh... Loses it. Goes buckwild with just taking in every aspect of you. Again, since you're unconscious he can be gross and entirely shameless about it. Peels your clothes off and runs his hands and mouth over every inch of flesh, takes the tape off your lips and presses his tongue into your limp mouth until he's forced to let go to breathe, fingers you and tonguefucks you and sucks on your nipples and your neck. Lays pressed against you and just breathes in your scent. It takes every ounce of self control he has not to fuck you already. But he does jerk off a few times. That way he'll last longer, so it's a win-win. And then... you twitch. Tape goes back over your mouth. And then, you twitch again. And this time, you make a little "mm!" under the tape, you start trembling and he sees you try to pull your hands apart. You whimper. It sounds scared and distressed. He feels kinda bad, but it also makes him hard, and that outweighs any guilt by far. Besides, it's what you deserve after what you did earlier. You tortured him mentally, it's only fair. On the good side of things, you suppose, you don't have to worry about the usual fears one would have over such a situation - you're fairly certain he's not going to kill you, nor sell you. In fact, the bed you wake up on is pretty soft. You're naked and the tape is uncomfortable, but... At least he was considerate enough to give you a blanket. He does care about you, after all. First thing he says is asking if you're awake. Can you hear me? You hesitate a moment, and then you nod. He's a bit new to this whole abduction thing. He wants to make sure he didn't pull a muscle or something with the tape. So... Do you hurt anywhere? Does your head hurt? Oh, right, the tape. He's not stupid either. You have to promise you're not going to scream. In fact, he's angry enough about earlier that he gets a bit meaner than he originally told himself he'd be. If you scream, I'll make you regret it. Understand? You nod, so he takes it off, holding it close in preparation in case you were lying, but you don't actually answer him, you're silent again for a minute, then just ask a question of your own. You're that guy, right? He's silent for a few seconds, there's no need for any clarification. Finally just says yeah. You just breathe again. Silently. Finally you summon the courage to ask him what he wants with you. And why are you doing this to me? And his answer is fairly simple. What do you think? You don't say anything for a minute, and neither does he. He's not good with words, and you don't really have ones for this situation. It occurs to you that offering to pay him to let you go is probably not the solution. After all, this is the guy that's dumped unimaginable amounts of money onto you, you couldn't even come close to paying him back. You figure maybe, after he gets what he wants... well, you get the courage to ask. Is there anything... that I can do o-or... anything that will make you... are you gonna let me go, after you....? And the answer is, again, simple, but the one you did not want to hear. No. He's a blunt boy, so he doesn't beat around the bush, but he doesn't torment you by keeping anything from you. In fact, he's already rehearsed this speech a few hundred times in his head. He just wanted to make sure he's very clear so there's no misunderstanding, and while he likes some discomfort in a vengeful sort of way, he doesn't want you to be too freaked out to where you have a panic attack. He says he's just going to... keep you here. He has the things you'll need. He got your purse with your keys, so he'll even run to your apartment after this to go get some of your stuff. You don't need to tell him which number, he adds, he already knows which apartment you're in. He needs you here, he says. And he makes sure to add that it's your fault. If you were never out there selling yourself in the first place, this never would have happened. If you're good, he can make things a bit better for you. But you need to go ahead and accept that you're going to be staying and that no amount of begging or offers is going to convince him to let you go. He can be nice to you, he promises. A better boyfriend than the others. You just have to be a good girlfriend -- you know, obedient and sweet and do what he says. Just like you always were when you talked to him. Just keep being sweet like that and doing the things he tells you to do. You would argue that the terms boyfriend and girlfriend are not appropriate descriptors of the sort of relationship he's creating, but you keep that thought to yourself. Instead, you ask, How long are you going to keep me here? Which is a dumb question, since he's pretty sure he already made that clear. Forever. -----

There's a double homicide in the area. Takes place on the same night, and the same diameter of knife is used, so police believe maybe the two incidents are connected. Especially because they do have something in common, one girl. She was romantically involved with both of them. The girl in question's apartment has been vacated, very suddenly, and the girl has disappeared without a trace, taking things with her from the looks of it, so police believe she may be responsible, but other than that, they have no leads. A few weeks later, a video circulates all over the internet. Some famous camgirl finally started making porn, apparently. Just one video, but the description (which was totally written by her, it has to be since it's written in first person right?) says something about how she decided to quit camming, so this video marks the end of her career. She got into a relationship, so she says in the description, so she has to quit. It's roleplay porn, apparently, she's doing a good job at the acting. All tied up and gagged and getting fucked by some big-dicked guy holding the camera. He's silent, but she's making a ton of noise, cums several times. Really good acting, the fear and desperation in her eyes looks so real. Talk about going out with a bang. It gets a lot of likes. Tons of comments about how sad people are she's quitting. And of course, a lot of comments say, what a lucky guy.

#.camgirl

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illegiblewords · 3 years ago

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ARCHON THESIS: LAHABREA

Alright, I am going to do my best to make a Lahabrea analysis masterpost. In my opinion the devs have done some incredibly clever and subtle work with him as far back as A Realm Reborn, and while it’s possible they didn’t initially know all the details of his story—I’m actually inclined to think they either had a decent amount in-mind back then, or have managed to retroactively weave things together in a way that effectively creates the results I’ll describe. Either way, this is the picture that makes the most sense to me.

Warning, some spoilers for Endwalker trailers. Also warning this is huge and some of it just turned into info vomit.

First: In ARR, I think it’s important that the player is lulled into a false sense of security with regards to Ascians. Lahabrea’s behavior is confusing and without context makes him look like a flat, generically crazy, loves-explosions sort of villain. However, there are moments even very early on that poke holes in this, such as his exact comments to WoL at Praetorium.  

“The growing imbalance afflicting the planet must be redressed. If it is permitted to worsen, the very laws of existence—both aetheric and physical—will be warped beyond all recognition. Know you the root of this corruption? Hydaelyn! Like a parasite, She must be burned out if the planet is to recover. And naught but the return of the one true god will ensure Her complete excision.

Yet to pave the way for the master’s return, a chaotic confluence of untold proportions must needs be brought about. And that will necessitate the presence of the primals. Needless to say, both you and your Scion accomplices can not be suffered to interfere in this endeavor.”

I want to mention here. What Lahabrea is saying legitimately has a lot of overlap with what Avalanche argues in FFVII. Avalanche is framed as heroic.

Lahabrea tells us that existence is at stake and the star is in danger. Hydaelyn, who we now know is a primal Herself, is endangering reality by his account. He even says that the reason for all the chaos and primals is to bring Zodiark back, so he can stop this monumental danger that is Hydaelyn. The Warrior resists because Ascian methods are unacceptable, but the actual threats that Lahabrea is trying to combat sound pretty legitimate.

He’s not out to destroy the world, or to conquer it. He’s not acting for self-interest. Even Zodiark is the means to an end, with that end being the star’s preservation.

Back then, players are encouraged to just kind of take everything Hydaelyn says at face value. We go with whatever worshippers of Hydaelyn say to do and She’s not questioned because She embodies light. Light is just assumed to be good. There are certain clichés in video games, and FFXIV deliberately presents those for players to adopt only to reveal later that their assumptions and simplifications were incorrect.

The Warrior and Scions refer to Lahabrea as an ‘it’ while casually discussing ways to murder Ascians with auracite. In the Japanese version of Nabriales’ death, he screams and begs before he dies. Ascians are dehumanized and treated as acceptable targets for a long time without any understanding of them whatsoever. The Ardor does absolutely need to be stopped. But it’s not insignificant that Ascians are treated by heroic cast members like things rather than people for a long time. Having it revealed in Shadowbringers that the activities of Ascians have been coming from a place of personal tragedy and (given tempering) coercion... that’s pretty significant from a narrative standpoint. It challenges players to consider that even good and heroic people can inadvertently commit acts of excess cruelty or dehumanization. None of us are immune to that type of thinking, and we won’t always be right in our assumptions.

In Lahabrea, SE is making meta commentary by giving his actions and expressions a measure of ambiguity. At face value he seems to fit generic villain clichés… but the thing is, he isn’t living in that kind of world and isn’t that kind of character. Everything he does comes with a reason.

One of the biggest moments for me in terms of ‘opening my third eye’ on Lahabrea actually came with Emet-Selch referring to Lahabrea’s death as a “crowning act of idiocy”. Without angst context I was fucking delighted and laughed a lot, because that moment acknowledged unambiguously that the way Lahabrea acted WAS weird. Other characters looked at and judged him for behaving that way. It endeared both Emet-Selch and Lahabrea to me at the same time for that reason.

It meant that Lahabrea could be looked at as a person, who wasn’t just pushed into certain actions and expressions for the sake of twirling his figurative mustache and acting as a plot device.

(With angst context, I think Emet was going through stages of grief and hit “anger”. I also think that Lahabrea is extremely aware of the disdain other Ascians view or speak of him with and probably makes it worse in his own head. But that’s for later.)

One character revelation I want to cite that come from outside the game itself involves a quote from Yoshida at Gamescom 2019.

“...I think it is the case that either Elidibus or Emet-Selch underestimated Lahabrea.

Because I believe there is some sort of respect between them and also as you can see from one of Emet-Selch's dialogue speech he said Lahabrea would wear out but it is because Lahabrea did quite a lot of work because he was reckoned as a workaholic like me. “

I think there’s an additional quote floating around somewhere that explicitly cites Lahabrea’s soul being damaged but I haven’t found it yet.

The line from Emet-Selch about Lahabrea wearing himself out is:

”Mortal flesh is but the vessel into which we Ascians pour the elixir of our souls, molding it as fits the occasion. Or not, if we so choose. Be it for a year or a millennium, I prefer to retain the same form until my duty is done. So, after arriving here in the First, I fashioned some hapless body into the man you see before you. Though as your friend over there can attest, there are those of us who forgo such alterations. He was ever the rash one, Lahabrea. Jumping from vessel to vessel. Never heeding the toll it took on him.”

This is expanded upon in Ere Our Curtain Falls, from Tales From The Shadows:

"Lahabrea is gone," the voice said softly.

I could hardly continue to feign slumber at that, so I righted myself and turned to face Elidibus. The silence that stretched between us then only affirmed the truth that had gone unspoken.

For us, death was not the end. But "gone"...

"We knew this day would come."

I closed my eyes, letting out a measured breath, or what passed for one in the emptiness of the rift. He was right, of course. Lahabrea's boldness had only grown with the passing of ages─segueing inevitably into recklessness. Across many vessels and many worlds he blazed his trail, each mad leap forward leaving him that much more broken. Not satisfied with having brought about the Seventh Umbral Calamity, he labored needlessly to prolong it.

Was it his affinity for concepts of flame that made him so like the fire itself? From peerless Ifrita to that hopelessly immortal bird, his creations had burned bright and beautiful─as did he.

He should have known what becomes of the flame once all else is ash.

Emet-Selch makes it explicit that Lahabrea’s overwork and body-hopping were actively diminishing him. He describes the actions as rash, reckless, and mad. He also states outright that Lahabrea had been beautiful and passionate, at least at some point. This all supports what Yoshida states about how Lahabrea is a workaholic.

Knowing what we do of Amaurot and its culture, Lahabrea was one of the most revered figures in a society of scholars and specifically worked in phantomology. There is no way he was ignorant to the harm being done to his own soul. Additionally, given that Amaurotine society was so specifically gentle we can reasonably assume that Lahabrea being one of its most respected members wasn’t some kind of sadist.

His convocation crystal reads:

“The time is come. We shall rewrite the laws of creation. And we shall save our star.“

This speaks to Lahabrea’s sincere love for his world and people, as well as his own motive to protect them.

More insight can be found in Elidibus’ memory of Lahabrea in 5.3, which points to him having been kind.

“You worry too much, Elidibus. This dedication to your duty verges on obsession.”

This is especially notable because of the irony and contrast. Lahabrea wasn’t always a workaholic. Before the Final Days he recognizes the value of breaks. The obsessive streak comes later.

With all of this in mind, knowing that Lahabrea at heart isn’t someone who just likes to make others suffer for his own amusement and isn’t just oblivious or believing himself immune to soul damage either, it follows that he is making a choice every time he continues engaging in activities he knows will damage him. Specifically, the body-hopping and overwork. Guy has spent millenia self-harming and it is severe enough that when he is positioned beside Emet-Selch and Elidibus (each level 80 trial bosses), Lahabrea alone qualifies as a footnote boss at the very end of Praetorium at level 50. With Igeyorhm at the Aetherochemical Research Facility, he manages level 60. He is not a trial in either case. He has seriously weakened himself through his actions for eons. As one of only three remaining Unsundered, whose life alone is an irreplaceable resource regardless of anything else, this stands out as counter-intuitive. Even so, Emet-Selch and Elidibus did expect him to get himself killed.

Confirming Lahabrea as Speaker, as well as the regard Amaurot had for Convocation members, is the following quote:

“Hm? 'Twould seem the Hall is host to a most precocious visitor this day. And what, pray tell, shall be the subject of our discussion, young one?

Ah...the Convocation and their handling of the coming peril. 'Tis only natural that you should have questions.

Shall we begin with the members themselves? As all know, the Fourteen are the wisest and most puissant among us. They are the stewards of order, responsible for decisions which keep this star turning season after season.

Be it the speaker, Lahabrea, or the emissary, Elidibus, each seat is occupied by an elected sage of surpassing intellect.

Loghrif, Mitron, Emet-Selch... Their individual titles have, as a gesture of respect and a matter of tradition, become synonymous with their incumbents.

Thus it is with great incredulity that I greet this recent rumor that a seat in the Convocation is soon to be left vacant.

If proven true, 'twould be an unprecedented development─and testament to the immense pressure under which our saviors are toiling... In any event, I for one am confident they shall deliver our star unto salvation. “

At Akademia Anyder, a researcher says:

With time and effort, I hope to become a creator to rival Lahabrea. A master of every recognized creation magick, possessed of boundless imagination and willpower to realize impossibly complex concepts. And a renowned orator besides!

As another personal note on Lahabrea pre-Doom, Akademia Anyder offers the following when the Warrior is stunned Lahabrea was a scholar:

“Oh my, yes. There are few who can match his knowledge and expertise in the field of phantom creation.

You passed through the Words of Lahabrea, did you not? I imagine you found the research material there to be of particular interest, considering the purpose of your visit.“

Regarding the Doom an Amaurotine explains as follows:

“Good gracious, child, where is your family? You should not be alone at a time like this. Run along home. Quickly now!

Have you not heard? Though yet confined to the lands across the sea, a terrible phenomenon afflicts our star. They are calling it the “Final Days.”

'Tis said it starts suddenly, a cacophonous keening from beneath the earth. The sound distorts all living things within earshot, and wrests from us control of our creation magicks.

Once that happens, all is lost. Fear, pain, despair...every dread impulse is siphoned from our minds and given substance: an eternal fall of fiery rain; an incessant spawning of nightmarish beasts...

None can point to the source of the phenomenon. 'Tis as if the star itself has fallen ill─as if a force inimical to life now festers and spreads.

‘Tis only a matter of time until Amaurot, too, resounds to that discordant squall. You should stay with your loved ones, child... Stay with them... “

Within Akademia Anyder, there are notes detailing the Sound’s study specifically by Lahabrea and his followers.

“The instances of spontaneous creation occurring in lands across the ocean are now a confirmed phenomenon. Seemingly unguided by conscious will, these aberrations are said to manifest as malformed “beasts” of nightmarish aspect and unrestrained ferocity.

High-ranking phantomologists have since been dispatched to afflicted areas, where they conducted the capture and transport of a single entity. This specimen, characterized by a disproportionately large maw, was dubbed “Archaeotania”, and investigations to its aetheric composition are ongoing.

A theory posited by the esteemed Lahabrea suggests that the shape these fiendish beings assume is not random, but rather an amalgamation of the fears which lurk beneath our rational minds. As of this writing, researchers have begun pursuing methods by which potent guardians of deliberate design might be engendered to stand against this mounting threat.”

Regarding Archaeotania and its escape, an official at Akademia Anyder says:

“ ...Escaped? I should think not. The Akadaemia Anyder boasts the most-secure facilities and research protocols of any institution on this star.

Ah, but they were scheduled to conduct research on those samples we captured from across the sea. Is it possible they were even more potent than we anticipated?

...Yet even if such were the case, one cannot dismiss the resourcefulness of our scholars─not to mention the presence of the esteemed Lahabrea. Yes, I am certain they will soon have the situation well in hand.

You needn't worry your young mind about such things. And do not be discouraged─'tis a pity your inquiries were disrupted this time, but there will be other opportunities to visit. “

I mention this to show both the confidence citizens had in Lahabrea, and to highlight that Lahabrea was very much unable to contain Archaeotania.

Emet-Selch additionally backs up the nature of the Sound when it strikes Amaurot during Amaurot Dungeon.

“Welcome to the final days of Amaurot...

The fabric of our star began to fray...

...and the unchecked energies of creation begat malformed beasts.

Just as prayer gives rise to Primals, our dread made manifest our deepest fears.

The first beast was striking in its unsightliness

Yet even its defeat did not halt the march of oblivion

The land buckled; the cities burned; the waters ran red with blood…

The beast bellows and gives birth to terror. A terror which, in turn, gives birth to new beasts…

As if feeding upon the horror, the beast bloats… then shivers… then ruptures.

Yet this was far from the worst of it. Come, and I will show you…

Just a little further… And you will see the end of a world.

The star was fading. We saw that we had to weave its laws anew…

But between us and our goal loomed a final misbegotten fiend.

From the depths of despair, the last harbinger arose…

Its voice was fulgent destruction, and none could stand in its path.

And as it edged inexorably closer, we knew...

Without decisive sacrifice, our star would surely perish.“

I mention all of this because I’ve seen some skepticism regarding the Sound’s nature, and I want to stress--it is basically Silent Hill. Every repressed fear is channeled to the surface and manifests in material form as a monster. The design of the monster incorporates the insecurities and terrors of the individual.

Now. Just going off of these lines, what do we know about pre-Sundering Lahabrea?

He was a highly respected scholar and orator, with the position of Speaker within the Convocation. He was a master of all forms of creation magic but specialized in phantomology. He did love and feel protective of his people, being deeply admired and trusted by them in return. He wasn’t always an obsessive workaholic but became one at some point under stress tied to the Doom and/or Sundering. He was characterized by boundless imagination and willpower, was kind, and was respected.

I also want to take a moment to point at the Summoner quests because it is likewise notable that beyond whatever ties he had with sundered Igeyorhm, his sundered black mask assistants were also EXTREMELY loyal to him.

Notable lines:

ASCIAN OF THE TWELFTH SWORD: No more shall we endure your blinding effulgence. There can be no rival to the encroaching darkness.

ASCIAN OF THE TWELFTH PENTACLE: You have earned the ire of Lahabrea’s most loyal servants…

ASCIAN OF THE TWELFTH CHALICE: Did you imagine we would stand idle whilst you tore down our master’s glorious edifice? Face us now, Bringer of Light, and suffer the punishment for your transgressions!

In the name of Master Lahabrea, we pronounce your doom!

And then, later:

ASCIAN OF THE TWELFTH CHALICE: I cannot… I am undone! I have failed you, Master…*gasp* How…? We were raised unto greatness by Lahabrea himself…My master is wary of your strength, Bringer of Light—and rightfully so, it would seem. But your day will come…

None of the assistants cite Zodiark as their motivation. They are, very specifically, loyal to Lahabrea himself. This is interesting when compared to both Elidibus and Emet-Selch’s disdain for sundered mortals. Something about Lahabrea as he interacts with assistants behind the scenes still inspires loyalty.

Now. The next few things I want to establish come from pictures.

The statues both inside and outside come from the Words of Lahabrea. They are Lahabrea’s concepts. We know that Lahabrea is working on phantomology-based guardians to protect against the Sound. We see Zodiark statues outside with Lahabrea’s other concepts in-development.

Lahabrea is being all but explicitly confirmed as the originator of Zodiark’s concept.

Zodiark’s concept ultimately called for the sacrifice of three-fourths of the star’s population. Lahabrea would not have been able to sacrifice himself to this cause because as a Convocation member and the concept’s creator, his expertise was absolutely required. I also think this is the reason he was one of only three survivors of the Sundering alongside Zodiark’s Heart with Elidibus and the expert on the Underworld/Lifestream who can see souls and potentially elevate past members of the Convocation to continue helping.

Regardless of that--Lahabrea called for insane levels of sacrifice in the hopes of saving his world only to find himself among only three survivors. It was his concept that ultimately fell short. Everyone and everything he tried to protect was let down in the end following his direction. This is a man who has failed a LOT while giving everything he had. If any character is going to have survivor’s guilt it’s going to be him.

The next things I want to point out:

This is Archaeotania, characterized by a disproportionately large maw.

This is The First Beast, lined in mouths, whose head bears a shape reminiscent of Lahabrea’s sigil.

From here, I’m going to piece together the information we have for a timeline of The Final Days.

The Sound begins to manifest across the sea, at first in more localized areas but with increasing severity, area, and frequency.

Lahabrea and his researchers are dispatched to one of the afflicted areas. Here they retrieve Archaeotania and bring it back to Amaurot for study.

Lahabrea, who is an orator and the Convocation’s Speaker, is very badly affected by Archaeotania and possibly what he saw of the Sound’s effects. Even if he wasn’t at first, he certainly was when Archaeotania escaped his control and tore through Akademia Anyder--killing many people.

Lahabrea realizes that despite the trust his people place in him, he is very much fallible. This is not a good mindset to have while developing the last hope your entire world has for survival as per the Zodiark concept.

Added to this, Azem literally quits the Convocation over this concept.

When the Sound hits Amaurot, Lahabrea is among if not the very first to fall prey to its influence. He is likely traumatized by his experienced with Archaeotania. The First Beast manifests his failure and power both, showing the corruption of countless incomprehensible mouths in the wrong places. Calling down fireballs. Bringing death upon his people.

Lahabrea does successfully summon Zodiark with the Convocation, sacrificing Elidibus and half the star to do so. However, the world is absolutely ruined by the Sound. Another half of the remaining population needs to be sacrificed shortly afterward to make things habitable again. This was not originally planned and could only have been devastating.

The Convocation, tempered by now to Zodiark and rightly traumatized by everything that happened, tries to develop a plan to bring back those who lost their lives previously. Venat objects, and further does not believe that Zodiark’s solution will actually protect the star successfully. Lahabrea the Speaker and orator is unable to convince her otherwise.

Venat summons Hydaelyn, who kills pretty much the ENTIRE remaining population short of a deeply altered Elidibus, Emet-Selch, and Lahabrea himself. Lahabrea’s plans, all made to keep his people safe, have resulted in him being one of three people left.

The final three survivors, being tempered, have to dedicate the next 12k years to trying to Rejoin the world through countless genocides and horrifying acts if they want any hope of going home again. This is what it will take to save their world and change what happened.

Now, how does this all relate to what I mentioned at the beginning with Lahabrea’s characterization?

I think Lahabrea absolutely wants to die at this point, but as one of three remaining unsundered souls, as Zodiark’s creator, as the man who Amaurot trusted--he cannot allow himself the luxury of death. If he does his legacy is the man who destroyed and betrayed the world. He cannot demand so much of others without giving everything he possibly can to make things right. He has no boundaries in what he must personally give up in this regard, no standards. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of any situation morally when his plan destroyed the entire star. Lahabrea applies every moment he has in pursuit of the Ardor. However, he runs into a few issues. One: on a personal level the man has no sense of self-worth left and no sense of self-preservation outside duty. Two: living has become agony for him because of his guilt. It keeps him moving toward the Ardor at all times, but he has no peace. He treats his own desires as insignificant in the face of his mission, but this is someone who I seriously believe feels unworthy of survival and wants to end even if he can’t actively seek it. Three: I’m going to go so far as to say it would not surprise me AT ALL to learn Lahabrea wants to be punished for his failures too. Four: if Lahabrea has taken all of the blame for his star’s destruction, there is no way he is going to allow his own personal suffering to burden Elidibus or Emet-Selch further by asking for help. He can’t even let them know the extent of what’s wrong with him, because they’ll interfere. So he lies, and hides, and tries to otherwise disguise the severity of his problems. This I think comes through strongly in his exchanges with Elidibus. And five: after 12k years I’m pretty sure Lahabrea is aware of the scorn many other Ascians hold for him. Nabriales certainly makes no effort to hide it, Emet-Selch seems likely to voice a lot of concern as frustration, and given Emet himself doubted whether Elidibus still cares we can be pretty sure Lahabrea was insecure about it too. Add the whole handing-Nidhogg’s-Eye-to-Ilberd-for-fuel bit and that’s exacerbated like hell.

Anyway, Lahabrea can tell himself that he is giving everything he can to the Ardor by self-harming through overwork and possession, but deep down his lack of self-preservation is a slow suicide by proxy. He can’t admit openly that that’s what it is because if he actively pursues suicide then he is abandoning his people. But seriously, no one hates Lahabrea more than Lahabrea . When he continuously trivializes and dismisses his own pain with such an extreme level of guilt, when he actively seeks situations that leave him increasingly broken and diminished, subconsciously he is opening himself up to be killed.

I’m going to argue that Lahabrea’s points of inappropriate laughter are hysterical rather than “oh I am sincerely happy and having a great time right now.” His “Pathetic” bit at Gaius makes sense from the standpoint that he just heard Gaius belittle any kind of faith rulers might have as weakness only to see him fail spectacularly with Ultima. Lahabrea has failed his people, Gaius claimed to be better because no gods only men, then made abundantly clear he was all talk. It was a slap in the face to everything Lahabrea has done and tried to do for thousands of years.

Lahabrea’s introduction at Toto-Rak is basically him being loopy from exhaustion and talking in a circle about bedtime.

The mighty slayer of Ifrit comes now to me. …With a countenance that bespeaks understanding. An intriguing power, the Echo. I must needs choose my words with care. Mayhap I might if I deign to speak in my guest’s crude tongue. We meet at last. I am Lahabrea of the Ascians, servant to the one true god. Yours is a most fantastical tale. Truly absorbing. It is a tale to tell Eorzea’s children before bedtime. And it will soon be dark, Bringer of Light. All that stands between this world and Darkness is an irksome anomaly in the aether—the Echo. Yes… yours is a most fascinating tale. Alas, like all good tales, it must needs come to an end. But fear not… For the end of your tale is but the beginning of another… The tale of the Crystal’s demise!

In layman’s terms, he basically goes “Oh shit the eikon slayer’s here and knows what I’m saying. Shit. Shit, I’m not ready for this. Don’t fuck this up Lahabrea choose your words carefully you were made for this. You’re Amaurot’s top orator. Four days no sleep is nothing to an Unsundered. OH. OH WAIT. I SOUND STUPID BECAUSE LOOK I’M USING YOUR STUPID LANGUAGE. RIGHT. Hi. I’m Lahabrea and I’m here to tell you about our lord and savior Zodiark. You… you have a weird life. An interesting life. Kids probably think you’re great. Their parents probably tell them about you before bed. And… and kids go to bed at night. When it gets dark. Like… like Zodiark. Who’s also dark. The only thing standing between the world and… and Zodiark’s darkness is the Echo. Which you have. Which is incredibly frustrating. Ah… your weird life isn’t going to last though? But uh. Don’t worry about it. We’ll… we’re all going to kill Hydaelyn ahahahaHAHAHAHA!!!!”

And he runs away.

Seriously, nothing of substance is actually conveyed in that paragraph except that Lahabrea needs to go to bed. He tries to cover it with SAT words but man’s been caught with his pants down.

A quick note for Thancred as well: I remember hearing somewhere (but cannot cite, alas) that Lahabrea chose Thancred as a vessel specifically because they shared a lot of qualities in common. This definitely tracks with guilt and propensity to hide things. It’s also worth mentioning that Lahabrea during the Praetorium fight shouts “NOW MAKE YOUR CHOICE AND LIVE WITH IT HAHAHAHAHA!!!11!!” which is then repeated by Thancred in Heavensward around the conflict with Emmanelain. Thancred also drops a bunch of fire-slogans in Shadowbringers and likely has other Lahabrea-esque lines after his possession.

It’s additionally worth mentioning that pre-Praetorium Lahabrea did a lot of inappropriate laughter stuff (including while the Warrior beats the shit out of him) but post-Praetorium he is way more subdued.

The next piece of heavier analysis I can introduce is that in terms of events and timing, it looks very much like Lahabrea got benched after Praetorium due to injuries. Nabriales was placed under his supervision, and Nabriales seemed to deeply resent it by how he talks about Lahabrea. The idea of Lahabrea being pleased by any news he might deliver is something he considers unfortunate. He also talks about suffering the overweening presence of Lahabrea. With context and knowing he (like Mitron and Loghrif) will have his pre-sundering memories through his Convocation crystal, these elements actually make me wonder if Nabriales blames Lahabrea for everything that happened around the Doom as well. When Nabriales dies, Lahabrea tells Elidibus that Nabriales got himself killed more or less. I’d argue that he says this specifically because if Elidibus knows Lahabrea feels guilty for Nabriales dying on HIS missions, dealing with a mess HE failed to clean up, Elidibus would never allow Lahabrea to re-enter the field. Guy lied.

Previously in a meeting among the entire Convocation, Lahabrea shows up late (possibly was not supposed to be there due to recovering) and his input amounts to trying to convice Elidibus that he is able to go back into action because Ishgard is easy to push toward disaster. He tries to make this appeal to Elidibus again in their one-on-one scene with his “by my will” line--he’s basically arguing to Elidibus “I can do this please let me show I can do this.” Elidibus correcting him with “by His will” basically treats the plea as an exercise in ego, when it’s actually Lahabrea wanting to prevent his misstep with the Warrior of Light from costing anyone further.

When he entreats Igeyorhm’s help, it’s because Igeyorhm has also messed up spectacularly with her work on the Thirteenth. She of all people will understand Lahabrea’s need to fix mistakes. The reason he asks her for help at all is because even with his self-destructive streak, Lahabrea at that point I think was still injured from Praetorium and knew he would not be able to manage a solo fight against the Warrior. And in good conscience, even if he does consider himself personally worthless--his life as an unsundered is a limited resource that needs to be preserved. There is more he can and must do for Amaurot.

Except by asking Igeyorhm for help, he gets her killed in front of his own eyes trying to fix his mistake.

If you look at Mateus, the Esper tied to Lahbrea’s Scion of Light in Final Fantasy XII, Mateus has this blurb to offer:

Scion of darkness ruling and protecting those who live in the underworld, in opposition to Lahabrea the Abyssal Celebrant and scion of light. In the course of his rule, he submitted to avarice, and the darkness took his heart, transforming him until he was both evil and corrupt. Then in his cowardice did he bind a Goddess of the Demesne of Ice, and using her as a living shield, he challenged the gods.

I 100% would believe Lahabrea would feel like a coward for asking Igeyorhm for help, and Igeyorhm is a very icy lady.

A few additional analysis points:

- Ishikawa essentially confirmed in a PCGamesN interview in 2019 that Lahabrea was alive and trapped inside the Eye of Nidhogg being used like a battery at minimum until Estinien pierced it. Her quote is:

With Lahabrea, he wasn’t literally put into the White Auracite. But he was absorbed into the dragon’s eye, and Estinien pierced it.

- Elidibus for all that he accuses the Warrior of Light of killing Lahabrea, very likely handed Lahabrea to Ilberd as fuel for Shinryu without knowing it.

Consider Shinryu breaking its own mouth open to fire more powerful beams of energy, and sharing fight animations with Archaeotania.

Consider also:

Lahabrea is absolutely the Dreamer my dudes. And his nightmares of the Sound are being broadcast to bring it back for real.

Endwalker’s monsters are absolutely drawing from his oral fixation.

And when they don’t draw from his oral fixation, they present corrupted versions of other concepts of his.

- Lahabrea is very, very likely Thaliak in the same way that Azem is Azeyma and Azim.

For evidence I bring forward his wholly unaltered datamined character model:

Compare with Ascian Prime:

Compare with Thaliak PVP bandana:

Compare with Thaliak’s Astrologian card design:

Compare with the Thaliak statue from the Endwalker trailer:

Additionally, in FFXII Mateus and Lahabrea are associated with Pisces--and so fish. Lahabrea in FFXIV has been mainly tied to fire, but his Convocation crystal remains light blue and Pisces.

As a bonus note...

Tupsimati, what Nabriales refers to as “The Key” and got himself killed trying to obtain, the weapon wielded against Bahamut and Shinryu both, has the mark of Thaliak. Original property of Lahabrea.

I could go on about Lahabrea’s ties to the Sephirot fight, Byakko, worm imagery tied to sin in the lyrics of Thunder Rolls with Ramuh, and even the process of preparing bodies for burial according to elements in thaumaturge lore relative to fire, ice, and lightning. But this is big enough lol. EDIT: I did further analysis on these points after all for anyone interested!

Tl;dr Lahabrea urgently needs therapy.

#final fantasy xiv #Final Fantasy 14 #lahabrea #ascians #ascian #endwalker

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Note

Prompt~ hoping you'll like it ♥️

Things between the Nie brothers are not always nice and happy, they fight, just like any other pair of brothers, and sometimes things are said, sometimes these things are heavy and painful. Sometimes they're said in the wrong moment (maybe at the eve of a battle? Sunshot campaign?) and huaisang doesn't know what to do with the broken look his brother gives him before leaving the unclean realm. Because what if he doesn't return? What if the last thing he said to him was how much he hated the man he became?

Labyrinth - ao3

“But I didn’t mean to wish him away!” Nie Huaisang cried out.

“That’s really too bad,” the goblin king said, looking pleasant and humble and charming the way he always did, even in his cape of glittering gold and high-browed hat. “I wish there was something I could do for you, but the rules are the rules. You wished him away, and I took him.”

“Aren’t you supposed to only take babies?” Nie Huaisang demanded.

“Your brother’s enough of a crybaby to count, it’s close enough.”

“It is not!” Nie Huaisang wrung his hands. “You don’t understand, the last thing I said to him was that I hated him! Meng Yao, please!”

“It’s Jin Guangyao,” the goblin king corrected. His smile looked a bit strained. “Listen, do you think I’m happy about this? He’s my sworn brother! I’m only doing what I have to –”

“Oh, save it for Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang growled. “Show me the labyrinth already.”

“You’re going to face the labyrinth,” the goblin king said. His voice was very polite, and yet still expressed significant doubt. “You.”

“Yeah, me!”

“You remember that it goes ‘through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered’, right? Not ‘through a nice teacher and a forgiving grading system’?”

“Yeah, well, your father is a fragging aardvark. Let me at the labyrinth already!”

“You know what,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

The life-sized animated puppet blinked at him. “You – don’t want my help?”

“Nope. I’m good.”

“You haven’t even gotten into the labyrinth yet!”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t have a chance to get in,” Nie Huaisang said, patting around his sleeve and pulling out a fan. “So I’m just going to walk over and beat at the wall till something happens.”

The puppet followed him, staring blankly. Quite a change from his original apologetic ‘I’m sorry, I’m busy with my own things, I really can’t help you, also it’s too dangerous and you shouldn’t go’ response.

“You were blackmailing me to help you just a moment ago,” the puppet said after a little. “Don’t you need a guide?”

“Listen, I’m bad at memorizing things and I’m a little useless, but I’m not actually dumb,” Nie Huaisang said, fanning himself. “Jin Guangyao is a demon of the mind above all else, and the labyrinth is supposed to be ‘fair’ – which means, more than likely, that the labyrinth is a reflection of the subconscious, specially tailored to each person’s strengths and weaknesses. And that means that you, who sound exactly like Lan Xichen, are almost certainly a set-up sent by Jin Guangyao to ‘reluctantly’ aid me and then betray me.”

“Uh,” Lan Xichen-the-puppet said. “My name’s Hoggle, actually.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, er-ge…A-ha!” Nie Huaisang beamed at the gates that automatically opened. “Perfect!”

“Oh, don’t go that way,” the worm said. “Never go that way. And are you sure you don’t want to come in for a cup of tea?”

“No time,” Nie Huaisang said. “Thanks a lot – wait.”

The worm blinked at him.

“You’re a pretty attractive worm, in a slimy sort of way,” Nie Huaisang said, frowning at him.

The worm blinked again. “Why, thanks!”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Is your name Su She, by chance?”

“Definitely not!”

“Mm. Oddly vehement of you. Never mind. Just, quick, could you tell me exactly why do I not want to go that way?”

“I don’t suppose straight ahead is an option?”

The hands-faces stared at him.

“I’m just saying, I feel like most of my problems so far have come from the fact that I decided to accept the whole concept of turns. It seems like a mistake.”

“…it’s a labyrinth,” another set of the hands said. “You have to make turns!”

Nie Huaisang shook his head mournfully. “I should’ve brought Baxia or something and just – ZIP. Gone straight through. You know what I mean?”

“I’m dropping you in the oubliette regardless of your decision,” the first set of the hands said. It sounded a bit like Sect Leader Yao. “Just so you know.”

“My life is so hard,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “So hard! Do you know what it’s like to be overlooked by everyone? Do you know how hard I have to work at being this useless?”

“Drop him,” the set of hands that sounded like Sect Leader Ouyang said, and the set of hands that sounded like Sect Leader Yao said, “Yes. Now!”

Down Nie Huaisang went.

“I can take you back to the beginning of the labyrinth,” Lan Xichen offered.

“What, and waste all that time? I have a time limit, er-ge!”

“It’s better than being stuck in an oubliette. That’s where they put people to forget about them, you know.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes filled with tears. “You want to forget me, er-ge? You think I’m useless, don’t you? A good-for-nothing, who’ll never amount to anything –”

“Please don’t cry.”

“ER-GE! WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME!”

“Please stop crying!”

“So what’s the point of you?” Nie Huaisang asked the Wise Man with the Talking Hat.

“Not everyone exists to contribute to your storyline,” the Talking Hat snapped at him. “Some of us’ve got our own problems. Now hand over the candy!”

“Don’t be mean,” the Wise Man said. He had a white cloth over his eyes, and was smiling like he found the hat funny.

“Awww, but daozhang…!”

“Different plotline entirely, I guess,” Nie Huaisang decided. “Probably just here as a foil. Shall we keep going, er-ge?”

“I can’t believe you scammed me to get out of the oubliette,” Lan Xichen mumbled. “I can’t believe…”

“Oh, leave him alone, he’s just sensitive!” Nie Huaisang snapped.

“Am not!” the upside-down creature snarled, curled up on itself and trying to hide from all those that had been hitting him. Its fur was a vivid sort of purple. “Go away!”

“Don’t you have some sort of special power to help you here,” Nie Huaisang asked him as he tried to get him down before the goblins came back with weapons. “Rocks, maybe?”

“…lightning?”

“Well then get to it, will you?” Nie Huaisang frowned. “Wait. Lightning, constantly being tormented, terrible at communication, and purple? You’re Jiang Cheng, aren’t you?”

“…maybe.”

“Well then get down faster! I need to copy someone’s notes here!”

“Leave me aloooooooone!” Nie Huaisang howled, running away from the measuring snake.

“Wow,” Lan Xichen said, holding his cheek. “You kissed me.”

“You saved me from the snakes,” Nie Huaisang said. “Can we focus on how we’re in this awful stinking bog?”

“It’s not that bad!” a voice piped up. “I don’t smell anything!”

Nie Huaisang turned to stare, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you don’t,” he said. “I bet the total absence of a sense of smell helps when you eat spicy food, Wei-xiong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with spicy food!”

“You’re short,” Nie Huaisang informed the small goblin-like creature with the big grin and the red ribbon in its hair. It looked vaguely fox-like, or possibly like certain large breeds of rabbit.

“Why you..!” Wei Wuxian crossed his furry little paws over his chest. “Just for that, I’m not going to help you.”

“Uh-huh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Really. That’s awful…oh no! A dog!”

Wei Wuxian jumped high into the air. “A dog?! Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! Save me!”

Much to Nie Huaisang’s surprise, a furry dog immediately darted out of nowhere – only Wei Wuxian didn’t seem afraid of it, but rather hid behind it, teeth chattering.

Truly, Nie Huaisang reflected, the eyes of love are blind.

“I think the ‘dog’ is gone now,” he said. “Your brave and noble Lan Wangji must’ve scared him away.”

Wei Wuxian’s head popped out from behind dog-Wangji. “Well, Lan Zhan is really cool…hey. Are you trying to manipulate me?”

“Is it working?”

“No!”

“So you won’t help me?”

“No!”

“Not even if it means you get to figure out a really tricky puzzle?”

“No – wait. A puzzle?”

“I can’t believe this is going to work,” Lan Xichen muttered from behind Nie Huaisang. “I mean, I can. But also…Wangji…I love you, but you could do so much better than this.”

“Ugh,” Nie Huaisang said. “I’m so thirsty.”

“Have some Emperor’s Smile,” Lan Xichen said, offering a jar.

“Amazing,” Nie Huaisang said, accepting it and taking a swing. “I had my doubts, you know, but you’re actually good for something after all, er-ge –”

The golden bird was Nie Huaisang’s favorite.

He’d worked so hard to bring it back to his aviary – it couldn’t be forced, he knew; it would play along at first but in the end it would turn on you and bite you. It had to be coaxed with gentleness and kindness, approached indirectly so as not to spook it, convince it that you really did mean well – that you were harmless, that it had no reason to fear you. It was arrogant, too, proud of its shining feathers and ashamed of the brown plumage of its chick days, which still remained visible on its tender underbelly. Ironically, that was Nie Huaisang’s favorite part of it, the soft and gentle part; it might not be as pretty as the gold, but it felt more genuine.

Nie Huaisang smiled as he brushed the beautiful feathers, and the golden bird allowed him. He felt cherished, treasured. So what if he had to hide all the sharp parts of himself to get this close?

It was fine. He didn’t like to be sharp.

He wanted to be soft. Soft and gentle, careless and free, relaxed and without effort, good for nothing –

Wait.

No!

“It’s all junk,” Nie Huaisang hissed at the pile of burning fans, tears in his eyes. “I want my da-ge!”

“You’re all right!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, helping pulled Nie Huaisang up.

“Huaisang-xiong,” Jiang Cheng said, looking relieved. “You’re back.”

“We have to go to the temple beyond the Goblin City,” Nie Huaisang said, teeth gritted together. “We have to. I won’t let that bastard…we’re going to go there and throw all his damned tricks right in his face!”

“Just us?” Wei Wuxian asked. “I mean, I’m awesome, Lan Zhan is fantastic, and of course Jiang Cheng is great, too, but…uh…there’s a lot of goblins in the city.”

“We’ll sneak in,” Nie Huaisang said. “He thinks he’s sidelined me entirely – he thinks I’m useless. He won’t be expecting me to get this far.”

“I can get help,” Jiang Cheng said. “I have friends.”

“…not to be rude, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said. “But – really?”

“You know what,” Nie Huaisang said, eyeing the pile of rocks following Jiang Cheng around, each one painted with a name. One of the names was yellow. Two were in white, with forehead ribbons. “This is fine. I feel like it says something really rude about my empathy for and interest in our junior generation, or lack thereof, but you know what? I don’t care. It’s fine.”

“You saved me,” Nie Huaisang said blankly, looking at Lan Xichen, who shrugged, abashed. The remains of the mechanical temple guard were scattered all over. “Over – him?”

“Huaisang –”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said, holding up his hands. “Don’t. Don’t…I don’t want to hear you talk.”

Lan Xichen’s head dropped down and he looked at the ground. “You knew from the beginning what I was like,” he murmured. “I never tried to hide it –”

“I forgive you for being what you are,” Nie Huaisang told him, and Lan Xichen looked up at him, startled and pleased. “I forgive you for not having the backbone to stand up against Jin Guangyao for me – or for da-ge. For being willfully blind for so long, for needing someone else’s proof of his ill-intentions, for always picking him first, for never trusting me…I forgive you, even if you’d never forgive me for the same.”

He dashed away the angry tears in his eyes.

“I just wish this wasn’t a fucking metaphor.”

Nie Huaisang left the fighting to the people who knew what to do – Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng, even the rock-juniors – and went to the temple at the center of the city alone.

Some things, he knew, needed to be done alone, even if it was the type of alone when you were surrounded by other people. Even when those other people stood by his side and made him promise that if he needed them, he would only need to call. Some things…

“I want my da-ge back,” he said to the maze of stairs.

“Then go and find him,” Jin Guangyao replied, looking smug, and Nie Huaisang had to go up and down all those fucking stairs, because Jin Guangyao was nothing if not predictable with his trauma, looking all over, looking for –

Looking for pieces.

“It’s just a metaphor,” he whispered to himself, ignoring how tears were streaming down his face. “It’s just – I need to put him back together, it’s fine. I’m not too late – I’m not too late –”

Jin Guangyao held Nie Mingjue’s head in his hands, blinded and gagged and bound with talismans, pulled out of whatever oubliette he'd shoved it into to forget about what he'd done. “Beware, Huaisang,” he said, still smiling. Always smiling. “I’ve been generous up until now, but I can be cruel.”

Nie Huaisang laughed, scoffing. “Generous? What have you done for me that’s generous?”

“Everything! Everything you’ve wanted, I’ve done – I cared for you, I gave you attention, I got you out of work, doing your schoolwork for you and coming up with excuses to get you out of saber training. I gave you presents, fans and pretty clothing, and when that brute of a brother of yours tried to take them from you, I rescued you. And then I even managed your sect for you, answered all of your questions, any time you had – Huaisang, I’m exhausted trying to live up to your expectations of me. Isn’t that generous?”

Nie Huaisang bared his teeth. “Half of those are burdens that only fell on me because of you. Why should it matter to me that cleaning up your own mess and satisfying your own guilt is hard? Why should I pay such a price when all I wanted was to be your friend? When all da-ge wanted was to be your friend? How dare you, Meng Yao!”

“Huaisang…” Jin Guangyao shook his head mournfully. “Huaisang, the last step here is to say the words to break the spell. But you were never good at memorization, were you?”

Nie Huaisang bit his lip until he drew blood.

“Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered,” he said. “I have fought my way here to the temple beyond the goblin city –”

“Huaisang, stop! Look at what you’re risking here. You know how everyone loves me – do you think anyone will forgive you for taking me down, for tricking them all? You’ll be all alone!”

I already am, Nie Huaisang thought.

“My will is as strong as yours,” he said. “And my kingdom is as great…”

His voice trailed off.

“I ask for so little,” Jin Guangyao said beseechingly, convincingly, looking just like he always did, like the man who'd been their friend. “Just let me fool you, and you can have anything you want. No responsibilities, no stress, a life of your own. You can even have Lan Xichen, if that’s what you want…”

What’s the last line, Nie Huaisang thought, hating himself for being such a poor student, for cramming things into his mind without any order, for never being able to retain a single drop of it no matter how hard he tried. What is it? Why can’t I ever remember?

“It’d be so easy,” Jin Guangyao crooned. “Much easier than this. Just fear me, love me, believe me, and I’ll be your slave.”

Sharp teeth in a false smile.

Nie Huaisang shook in terror. He couldn’t – his da-ge needed him – he couldn’t be afraid, couldn’t be a coward, couldn’t be good-for-nothing – couldn’t let Jin Guangyao win – couldn’t let him –

That was it.

Nie Huaisang raised his head until his eyes met his enemy’s.

Sensing something wrong, Jin Guangyao’s eternal smile dimmed, and he began to step forward, reaching out, but it was too late.

“You have no power over me,” Nie Huaisang declared, and the world within a world collapsed.

Nie Huaisang opened his eyes.

Nie Huaisang sat in his desk in the Unclean Realm, trying to amuse himself by trying to figure out what exactly he’d eaten the night before that had given him such bizarre dreams. It was not successful, on account of him being alone.

Alone, just as he had been every night, and every day as well, since the success of his scheme at the Guanyin Temple.

Just as the dream-Jin Guangyao had threatened.

It wasn’t that Nie Huaisang regretted what he had done – the dream was clear enough about that; he’d do it all again in a heartbeat if he had to. But in the dream he’d been working alongside his former friends, with Lan Xichen betraying but then returning to him, with Wei Wuxian dragging Lan Wangji around, with stone-faced Jiang Cheng and the rather interchangeable junior squad behind him…and in his dream, in the end, they’d let him go to take his revenge, telling him that if he needed them for any reason, he could just call.

Just call, and they’d come back to him. Instead of turning from him in disgust, they’d stand by his side…

“Stupid subconscious,” Nie Huaisang mumbled to himself. “What do you expect? That I'd write to them and say ‘for no real reason at all, I find that I rather need you’?”

Silence answered him.

“Well, I do,” he said with a sigh, putting his chin on his hands. “Does that make you happy? I do need you.”

“You do?” Wei Wuxian’s voice rang out, and Nie Huaisang jumped nearly out of his skin. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Nie Huaisang turned, staring: it was Wei Wuxian at the door, the human version of him, and of course there was Lan Wangji right before him, and Jiang Cheng, and the (still mostly interchangeable) juniors, and – and even Lan Xichen, who Nie Huaisang was sure had gone into seclusion with no intent to leave.

“What are you doing here?” Nie Huaisang squeaked. And why hadn’t any of his sect disciples warned him?

“We just bullied our way though the door before anyone could stop us,” Wei Wuxian said cheerfully, answering the unspoken question first. “As for the rest – it turns out that I had the strangest dream the other night, really, truly bizarre, and obviously I had to tell Lan Zhan all about it, except it turned out he had a strange dream too.”

Nie Huaisang’s jaw dropped. “But –”

“I felt da-ge’s qi woven into the labyrinth,” Lan Xichen said quietly. “I thought it’d have long ago dissipated or been locked away, but – it was there, in every stone, in every turn. Every obstacle that didn’t really hurt you, every goblin that was more silly than scary…he was there. It was unmistakable.”

Nie Huaisang swallowed. The story of the labyrinth, baby-stealing wish-granting goblin king and all, had been one that Nie Mingjue had told him as a bedtime story, when he'd been a child in need of comfort; he hadn’t thought of it in years before last night. “But…why…?”

“Because Chifeng-zun has a demented sense of humor?” Jiang Cheng suggested, looking irritated.

“Jiujiu means that he hasn’t had that much fun in years, and also that you should throw a party,” Jin Ling said. “You are hosting all three of the sect leaders of all the other Great Sects. Also, why were we rocks?”

“Uh, no idea,” Nie Huaisang said. “Da-ge’s weird sense of humor, no doubt! Anyway, did you say party? I can do a party!”

He rushed out of the room, calling for his servants, calling for them to bring food and wine and tea, and as he did, he looked out of the window – a golden bird was flying away, looking hunted as if something was chasing it, and even as he watched, it crossed the borders of the Unclean Realm and suddenly dissolved into a fizzle of golden dust.

Nie Huaisang put his hand on the stone wall, and felt a familiar echo.

A very familiar echo.

“Oh,” he said, to his servants, feeling somehow simultaneously sheepish and filled with joy. “And while you’re at it, can you bring me my saber? I seem to have – misplaced it…”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #lan xichen #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #lan wangji #su she #sect leader yao #sect leader ouyang #xiao xingchen #xue yang #my fic #my fics #labyrinth

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deadpoetsmuses · 4 years ago

Text

"inspiration". | neil perry, dps.

in which a summer is spent with the poets, with a significant feature of neil perry.

✧ title: "inspiration".

✧ pairing: neil perry x fem!reader.

✧ genre: fluff, with slight mentions of angst.

✧ word count: 2,733.

✧ warnings: written in headcanon format, home life mentions, the reader lives in meeks' grandma's house, knox being a simp for chris.

✦ author’s note: requested by @mybabysweetascanbe! it's kinda funky how i wrote this as a headcanon but it still ended up being my longest fic lmao. also i wrote the poem that neil made for the reader myself so i'm sorry if it's kinda cheesy 🗿 but i hope you all enjoy this one !! don't forget to take care of yourselves guys <3

✎ The summer holidays had always been a time for the poets’ relief.

✎ Their academic year was constantly filled with difficulties for the poets, but it was harder for some when they were home for the summer.

✎ Neil felt as though he couldn’t be himself-- he loved reading and writing even more so than he did with accomplishing any of his parents’ wishes, like heading into medical school. He especially loved to act, and it was rough to keep that concealed around his dictatorial father.

✎ Todd’s older brother would be at home as well, and it was worse enough being in his shadow; but it had gotten worse with every one of his parents’ daily proclamations.

“We were quite disappointed with your grades from last semester, son,” His father reprimanded, looking down on him with stern eyes. “I just don’t understand what’s gotten into you. Your mother and I raised you quite well and you have your brother to guide you along. You know that he’s remarkably intelligent and well accomplished. Why can’t you be more like your brother?”

✎ Charlie and Knox had been just like Neil. The constant pressure that their parents put on them about becoming a banker and a lawyer was daunting; and all they wanted was to simply live as regular teenagers without concern for their future.

✎ Fortunately, Meeks’ grandmother was a woman who had a colossal and motherly love for the poets with a sizable residence in which her grandson’s friends could inhabit during their vacation.

✎ Thus, the poets resided in the Meeks household in the summer before their senior year so as to escape the stress and troubles brought to them in their own homes.

✎ Even though the summer was fleeting and their time was short, the poets found their time to be everlasting when they met the student boarder of the house.

✎ She went by the name of Y/N, which was a name that sounded just as sweet as the lady to whom it was attached.

“Hello, everybody! I’m Y/N!” The girl said, reaching out her hand to shake one of the poets’. Truth be told, it had been quite some time since any one of the boys had been in close contact with a woman; so they found themselves to be quite the martians in the situation. It took a few moments before one of the poets-- Neil Perry-- could offer his hand and shake hers. “I’m Neil! We’re friends of Meeks and his classmates from Welton.” The boy swore that he felt a spark as their fingertips touched, but he tossed the feeling aside; along with the apparition that he saw of a faint glimmer in Y/N’s eyes.

✎ The boys instantly took her in to their little group, and they all fell in love with her personality-- which was a platonic statement of course; but Neil Perry found this to be otherwise as he actually began falling into love with the new girl.

✎ He loved the way she cared for her new friends, the way she projected her personality through the clothes she wore, and all of the little smiles she gave him.

✎ With every beam and twinkle that she delivered, Y/N found herself to be falling for Neil as well.

✎ He provided a feeling for her that made the blacks of her eyes expand and butterflies to quiver inside-- which was the very same one Neil had felt when he first laid his eyes on her.

✎ She had been a fantastic addition to the band of poets, and the boys could not have had it any other way.

Despite the summer coming into fruition, the poets did not fail to meet up in their little cave every once in a while to read poetry, discuss girls, and laugh. The first meeting of that summer was simply like any other. “Guys, what do we think of Y/N?” Meeks questioned. A clamor of answers that ranged between “I think she’s great,” and “Do you think Mrs. Meeks has any more people in her house like Y/N?” echoed in the dark cave. Clearly, the boys had favored Y/N; but certainly not to the point where they’d be infatuated with her. “Yeah, I think she’s nice. She’s really pretty too,” Knox added. “Woah there Knoxious,” Charlie replied, expelling out a chortle. “I don’t think Chris would like to hear that. And besides, she looks more like she’s Neil’s type than yours.” Charlie’s words weren’t incorrect, but it was needless to say that Neil had strongly agreed with that statement.

✎ Over the summer, they would all begin to get to know each other better.

✎ The poets eventually introduced Y/N to the intricate realm of poetry, and she wholeheartedly fell in love with every line that was recited.

✎ They enjoyed every moment of their fleeting time together. Of course, there would be times where the boys would get into small fights and bickers.

✎ Pitts would always be yelling at Charlie for taking an ungodly amount of time in the shower, while Charlie would be yelling back about how Pitts always seemed to inhale the food that Mrs. Meeks provided for them before he himself could even take one bite.

✎ Cameron did his best to do some summer reading at night, but he found it quite hard as his room was beside Knox’s room, and Knox would spend hours on end talking to Chris over the phone.

“Oh, Chris. How do I love thee?” Knox sighed, lacing the telephone cords in between his fingers. “That’s the title of a poem we learned in Mr. Keating’s class. It reminds me of how lovely you are. Of course, she’s not as pretty as you are,” Knox’s giggles not only erupted through the phone; but it travelled through the walls as well, disrupting Cameron from the climax of his novel. “We get it, Knox! You’re a romantic poet! Now why don’t you go tell Chris about how you finished with a D minus in English!”

✎ While all of the little squabbles took place, they hadn’t even noticed the slight change in Neil and Y/N’s behavior.

✎ Y/N seemed to be keeping to herself more often, while Neil appeared to have possessed an undying smile on his face around the poets; particularly in the mornings when everyone gets up early except for him and Y/N.

✎ Little did they know, Y/N’s room had been vacant for the past few days since the arguments began-- which was approximately three weeks after the boys had arrived to the Meeks’ residence; and Neil seemed to be giggling in his room every night when the rest were asleep.

✎ In the duration of those three weeks, Neil had become more familiar with Y/N than any of the other poets had been.

✎ They’d walk along the nearby river every morning, discuss poetry in the late afternoons, and eventually fall asleep in each other’s arms at night.

“How long have you been living here?” Neil inquired, peering into Y/N’s eyes. His vision didn’t have to stretch too far as his face had only been a breath away from Y/N’s. The pair laid together under the warm covers of Neil’s bed with their legs entangled in one another’s and their hands interlocked, talking about anything and everything that came to their minds. “It’s been two years since Mrs. Meeks took me in,” She replied, gazing over Neil’s chiseled face. “In the whole time I’ve been here, I think you’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to me,” Y/N added, beaming up at Neil. Hearing her words, Neil slowly leaned his lips onto Y/N’s forehead, giving her an endearing kiss. She too had been the most interesting thing to happen to Neil in a long time.

✎ For each and every day that they were together, Neil wrote love poems.

✎ His poems revolved around his time with Y/N and included detail of all sorts; such as how colors appeared to be more bright and more vivid when he was with her and how lovelier the birds had sounded in the morning during their walks.

"My love,

The luminosity of the golden sun

does not compare to the radiance

of your glowing skin.

In this air full of morning dew,

the most beautiful scent in the air

is still you.

The sounds we hear of the melodious

birds are all because of your presence,

and they sing only for your beauty.

I look into your eyes and I see nature

reflected back at me; but it is much more

pleasant to perceive than if I were to do so

through my own set of eyes.

Though the morning lasts for a mere set of hours,

My fascination for you can go for as long as

this smooth river flows.

✎ Neil felt embarrassed about being so infatuated with Y/N, so he kept his poems hidden for the time being.

✎ Somehow, the boys had failed to notice Neil and Y/N’s constant disappearance.

✎ Although, they’d make little remarks from time to time that ran along the lines of “Ooh, Neil found a muse!” and “Y/N definitely likes somebody here. It’s probably me.”

✎ The last comment came from Charlie, which later earned him a smack on the head from Neil.

✎ So, Neil and Y/N did their best to keep their relationship hidden throughout the summer.

✎ The two were rather domestic in their relationship; they did all of the typical-couple activities that everyone else had done.

✎ To anyone else it would have been rather common to witness, but to them it was simply extraordinary being with one another.

It had been a scenic day at the river that morning. The beauty of the nature surrounding it had been ordinarily pleasing to Y/N; but all of its best qualities were magnified for Neil as his hand was in hers and the only thing he could smell was her fragrance. He had been quite nervous for the entire morning as he promised himself the night before that he would finally gather the courage to say those three magic words he’d been imagining to say for quite some time. Unbeknownst to him, Y/N had been thinking the same and had been visualizing how she would say it at that moment for the past few hours since. Just when the cascading waters began to relax and the chirping of the birds started to quiet down, the pair stopped on their trail and those three words were finally professed by Neil in a sudden manner while Y/N had spoken the same in a clear and gentle tone. They looked into each other’s eyes, recognizing the same look of love and eventually realizing what was said. As it was acknowledged, the two lovers simply smiled at each other and kept walking along; their hearts now beating on the same rhythm and their minds thinking of nothing but one another.

✎ Time to time, they would go up to the attic and listen to the music from Mrs. Meeks’ old gramophone, caressing one another as they slowly dance along to the lyrics of Ella Fitzgerald’s songs.

✎ Neil would always sneak a flower out of Mrs. Meeks’ rose garden and leave it on Y/N’s bedside table for her to wake up to.

✎ One of Y/N’s ways of communicating her love would be recommending books to Neil that she thinks is encompassed with his personality. Since then, Neil’s library had enlarged to a great extent.

✎ There would also be some occasions where one of them-- mostly Neil-- would get a little cheeky and try to express their love for the other out in the open.

“Eat up, boys! You know there’s plenty more of where that came from, so don’t be afraid to dig in!” Mrs. Meeks endorsed, setting down a bowl of mashed potatoes. With a jubilant ‘thank you’, everyone at the table promptly began to tuck into the mouthwatering cuisine. The boys soon found themselves distracted with the heavenly taste of Mrs. Meeks’ cooking; and Neil took this opportunity to covertly sneak his right hand onto Y/N’s thigh under the table. A scarlet blush crept its way up to Y/N’s cheek as she sent Neil a glare. Though her eyes expressed the message of “Not here!”, every other signal in her body sent the message of ‘Yes, Please’ to a very triumphant Neil.

✎ The summer inevitably came to an end and the boys were forced to return to Welton, much to their dismay.

✎ They couldn’t stand ending their summer; and they especially couldn’t stand leaving their new friend behind while the rest of them stayed together.

“Oh God, How are we supposed to leave this beautiful girl all alone in this big house?!” Charlie pleaded, theatrically dropping down to his knees and shouting out loud to the heavens. “It’s all just too emotional for us,” Pitts added as he went along with his friend’s act, his head bowing down to the ground in grief as he placed a comforting hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Just take me with her, God! Let me be with Y/N at her all-girls school!”

✎ Despite all of the inconveniences they put upon Y/N, the poets really did leave a mark on her. These boys showed her a new way of life-- she knows what ‘Carpe Diem’ means, and she knows how to seize her days because of them.

✎ Of course, Neil had a harder time coming into terms with their departure more than anyone else.

✎ Leaving the Meeks’ residence meant that he was leaving Y/N, which was something that he hadn’t prepared himself for.

“I’m not ready to leave you,” Neil confessed. Tears were beginning to form in his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away. After the individual hugs and goodbyes Y/N had given to the rest of the poets, the ill-fated time had come when she had to bid her own farewell to her lover. Neil believed that though their time was short and fleeting, it truly had been something special and something that he’ll never forget. Y/N was his first love, his first muse, his first everything; and no amount of riches could ever sum up to the prominence of that. Y/N placed her hand on Neil’s face, stroking away his tears with her thumb as she felt her eyes begin to swell up as well. “I’ll write to you every day, Neil.” Naturally, Y/N was on the brink of tears as well. She couldn’t bear to leave Neil after everything he’s shown her. It feels like she’s known him forever, yet everything felt so new and exciting with him. She loved him too much, and she knows she’ll continue to love him long after.

✎ Neil was afraid that she would forget about what they had soon after she had left, so he decided to give her all of the poems he had written about her.

✎ As her hands clasped the thick set of parchment, the tears she had been trying so hard to conceal had all poured out, staining the paper and her hands.

“Neil… these are beautiful,” She croaked. Her eyes skimmed over every title and date, realizing that there had been a poem for each and every splendid day that they had been together. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. That’s why I wrote these,” Neil corrected. “Everything I love about you is in these poems, and all of the love I have for you is written in each letter. I just don’t want you to forget about me while we’re apart.” The absurdity of Neil’s words made Y/N chuckle softly before she stepped forward and linked her hands around Neil’s neck, reducing the space between their lips. “I love you, Neil. You’re always going to be in my mind and you’ll always have my heart in the little pocket of your Welton blazer.”

✎ Y/N felt truly fortunate to have met Neil. This summer had come as quite a surprise for her-- she did not expect to fall in love so soon and with such an extraordinary person like Neil Perry. He was everything she’d ever looked for and he gave everything she deserved.

✎ Even though the bright days of the summer had ended and the early falling leaves of the autumn was yet to arrive, the change was of no concern as the only thing that mattered was what had been consistent-- and for Y/N and Neil, the thing that stood still for the two of them despite all odds was each other.

dedicated to these lovely people!! @mybabysweetascanbe @disagreeingpoets @catflowerbean @galaxyrhytm @nananostalgic @ughgclden @towriteabetterlife @neilsemeraldsweater @yourpal @willowestelle

#dead poets society #dead poets #dps #dead poets society fanfiction #dps fanfiction #neil perry #neil perry x reader #neil perry fanfiction #neil perry fluff #neil perry angst #richard cameron #charlie dalton #knox overstreet #todd anderson #steven meeks #gerard pitts #jemi-writes #jemi-requested #jemi-dps

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pigeonp0st · 4 years ago

Note

May I request a fic where Wanda Maximoff tries to make the reader who is shy laugh and accidentally discovers that the reader is extremely ticklish and she pins down and tickles the reader? Could you make it around 900 words and fluffy? Thank you! :)

Wanda Maximoff x Reader #3

Words: 1,489

Warnings: A vaguely sexual sentence

Notes:

There’s not an ounce of angst in this? Who am I? And I’m uploading again after only 3 days??? I feel reborn! Anyways, thanks for requesting and sorry for spelling mistakes.

————

Supernova’s have nothing on you. That’s what Wanda thinks the first time she sees you smile. She thinks of supernova’s, planets, and comets in the sky and she thinks of how she’d give up them all just to hear you laugh.

She’d give star, on top of star, she’d give galaxies, and wishes that aren’t hers to give, she’d give you anything, if only she could.

Telling you that though, that won’t make you laugh. It isn't funny to her how much she adores you (how much she loves you), and she doesn’t think it will be funny to you either. Honestly, you’d probably cry, and then Wanda would also start crying— and you’d both just be crying.

No, Wanda decides fairly quickly, that isn’t a good decision.

So...instead she tries stupid jokes on the internet, pranks on the others, pranks on HERSELF, stupid faces... everything...but apparently everything is not enough to make you laugh.

It’s infuriating.

Infuriating because sometimes—sometimes, you look so close. So close to laughing that your shoulders shake with the effort to hold it in, and she’s left to wonder why you try so hard to keep her from the one thing she desires more than anything.

You’re her girlfriend, and she’s never heard you laugh. It’s quite possibly her greatest shortcoming in life (she has a lot of them). She’s heard chuckles, and breathy laughs, she’s heard small huffs of laughter, and she’s seen gigantic grins, but she’s never heard you laugh fully, and unapologetically.

Today— today will be the day it happens. She’s more determined than ever.

————-

Today won’t be the day. She’s tried everything and more, and the only thing she’s gotten out of it is you looking at her like she’s crazy.

“I’ll pay you,” Wanda finally says, “please if you just...if you just…” She can’t bring herself to say what she wants because somehow it feels like she’s breaking the rules she’s made up in her head. “Can you just please?”

You watch her for a couple of moments, thinking so hard she can almost see the wheels turning in your head—yes, yes, yes, finally, Wanda thinks— but then you shake your head in exasperation, and continue eating your dinner.

Okay, this is fine; Wanda tells herself.

...tomorrow will be the day.

———-

“Have you...just tried to tickle her?” Sam asks Wanda the next day. “I noticed her holding in her laughter when that stray we kept last week started licking her foot—so she’s probably ticklish.”

She’s been complaining to him about her failures their whole lunch, and it seems to have paid off. Sam is a very smart guy. When she says so though he snorts and shakes his head in amusement.

“No red wizard, this time I think this is more about what you lack than what I have. You’ve been thinking too big.”

Wanda glares at him. “Call me ‘red wizard’ again the next place you’ll be flying is into a volcano.”

…Despite the change in their conversation, and the bickering it turns into, it was a very helpful discussion.

———

Mission ‘Hyena” is a go (she decided to name it Hyena because they are known for their laughs. She thinks it’s pretty creative).

All she has to do, she decides, is ambush you. The best time for it will be right after training—you usually decide to take a quick bath and lounge in bed afterwards, and you’re very sweet and gullible when you’re tired.

For some reason her plans make her feel like a very sneaky and awful person. She feels a bit of guilt…it doesn’t override her excitement, fortunately. She has been waiting for this day too long to feel any significant amount of guilt. Plus, it’s not like her end goal is malicious.

———

You're laying in bed scrolling through your phone when you get pounced on by Wanda….You’re not exactly surprised by the occurrence though.

Wanda’s been looking at you like a panther when she thinks you aren’t looking, but one that’s truly bad at hunting. So you aren’t surprised that she jumps on you, but you are surprised about WHY she jumps on you.

You were expecting something far more scandalous than a tickle fest.

———

Wanda doesn’t start tickling you immediately. She’s so utterly shocked by your expectant raised eyebrow that she just pauses for a moment, lost.

“Is it okay that i’m on top of you?” Wanda asks after a moment, because she realizes that she sort of has you trapped.

You pause, thinking with narrowed eyes. Then say, more amused than disappointed, but still slightly disappointed, “yeah.”

Wanda thinks back on all these past weeks, on all of her efforts to make you laugh—actually laugh— and starts to raise her hands-

“Is this the part where you tickle me?”

Her hands freeze. She freezes. You even freeze.

“Oh,” you say, smirking with a look far too smug, and far too victorious for someone who was supposed to be losing, “did you think I was an idiot?”

And Wanda drops her hands back down, this time not on your wrist but across her chest, and then over her face because she has truly never felt more ashamed. Not for her schemes, but for how she’s failed them.

She doesn’t know when this turned into some sort of competition, but it’s clearly one-sided.

“So...you’re not going to tickle me?” You ask when Wanda gets off of you.

Wanda grits her teeth, feeling more bitter than she ought to feel. “No, you dork, if I tickle you now it’s anticlimactic. You just had to go and talk, didn’t you?”

You actually have the decency to look guilty for a second, but then you realize what the two of you are talking about and just snort. “What is this, some badly written fic on tumblr by some overwhelmed gay author? At least try. Come on, it will be amusing for me. You might even get me to laugh at your struggles.”

Wanda doesn’t really stop to muse about how oddly specific you were, she just rolls her eyes and turns to leave...only to get stopped by you tugging on the back of her shirt.

When she looks over her shoulder to look at you your eyes are hard and determined, and she knows what’s about to happen now too. Just like you had.

She knows, because the determined set to your eyes turns soft the second Wanda meets her eyes to yours, and you're sitting back down now, letting go of Wanda’s shirt.

“You really gonna give up that easily?” You ask quietly, eyes shifting to the ground. And Wanda is just melting, melting because she loves you and you’re the sweetest person she’s ever met, melting because you're willing—you want— to give her what she wants.

Wanda lets out a small breathless laugh, turns around completely, bops you on the nose with a soft smile gracing her lips, and only hopes that it communicates ‘I love you’ effectively enough.

You smile back, unable not to, waiting for Wanda to look for what she wants. “Who cares if it’s anti-climatic, right?”

To your surprise, Wanda grins, kissing the top of your head, and says; “I wanna surprise you. It’s more fun that way.”

So you grumble and pull her into a hug, because if she isn’t going to tickle you, you expect her to hold you anyways.

She does.

———

Mission Hyena fails. She’s not too mad about it.

She can’t be, when just the next morning she wakes you up with kisses, and tickles, and you wake up grumpy and laughing all at once.

She can’t be when your laughter fills her sun kissed room with even more light, and she can’t be when this moment feels like it’s more than worth the wait.

As Wanda watches you laugh, watches as you throw your head back and force out breathless, soft pleads, she thinks that she would have waited eternity for this moment.

Supernova’s, galaxies, comets, wishes, and an endless amount of stars, they all would have been worth it, but none of them would have been a payment high enough. ‘Anything’ is not even sufficient enough.

You just look and sound so happy, and it’s all Wanda has ever wanted to give you. It warms her heart more than anything else ever could, warms it so much she wishes she could bottle this moment and keep it with her forever, because memories aren’t good enough either.

Still, when you ask afterwards, grinning and exhausted with your arm still clutching your torso and your voice still raspy; “was it worth it all?”

Wanda smiles, fulfilled and happy too, and doesn’t mention the price she was willing so pay. She just nods her head, and says; “Yeah. Yeah, I think it was.”

Like she wasn’t just considering if next time the universe would be enough.

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lady-literature · 4 years ago

Text

Accidental Crime Boss Marinette

Okay so,, I have this AU in my head, right? (not surprised) and I’m lacking any real direction for it (still not surprised) but it basically goes like this:

Marinette moves to Gotham.

She’s drawn there for whatever reason and the kwami are saying something about balance and being a Guardian and her sacred duty and something but Marinette isn’t really listening. She’s too busy trying to find a shop front where she can open a bakery without having to worry about getting mugged every time she steps outside.

Chloé comes with her, obviously, because they’re friends and Chloé has a business degree she puts to good use actually running Mari’s bakery and online boutique while Mari gets to bake and fuck around basically. Adrien, Luka and Kagami are not there, but that’s mostly because they travel too much to settle down and keeping an empty apartment in Gotham is just asking for trouble.

Kagami is a world-renowned fencer and Luka travels the world for his music company. Not touring, but soaking up cultures and ways of life so he can make soundtracks to movies and tv shows. Providing the background and life to a film is more his style than touring the world ala his father, Jagged Stone.

Adrien is having the time of his life being Kagami’s trophy husband. He has no pressing responsibilities he doesn’t take on for himself and he gets to fuck with the world’s elite with little to no consequences. He spends most of his days donating far too much money to charities and orphanages and then causing minor scandals that land him on the cover of magazines.

He has much the same kind of ‘dumbass with a heart of gold’ persona to the media as Bruce Wayne does, only without the playboy bits.

(There is a wall in the back of the bakery, where Chloé and Mari carefully cut out and frame every headline and ridiculous picture Adrien has. He is very much delighted when he learns about his ‘wall of fame’.)

Anyway, Marinette finds herself with a bakery not overly far from crime alley, much to Chloé’s chagrin.

(“What do you mean it ‘just felt right’?! I swear to kwami, DC, you’re going to get us robbed and sold into slavery.”)

They do not get sold into salvery.

In fact, despite their less than stellar choice of locale, they do pretty well for themselves. The only problems they have (according to Chloé) is the army of children Marinette accidentally attracted.

When asked, Marinette tells everyone that it was an accident. Meanwhile, Chloé, standing behind her, will shake her head and insist there was literally never any other option for them the moment that first kid came in looking to nab some cash and a few pastries.

Mari lives by the phrases, ‘kindness breeds more kindness’ and ‘do unto others’ and all that other nice person shit. Chloé just lets Mari pseudo-adopt her strays and makes sure that they don’t steal anything too important in the time it takes her to gain their loyalty.

The kwami stay staunchly out of any arguments involving the kids (and eventually the homeless all along their street and every working girl in a five-block radius). They do so with a special brand of amusement that never means good things for either of them. (After all, the last time the kwami looked that amused, they moved to Gotham.)

The first kid is named Serrure, as Marinette comes to learn over the next month after he returns again and again, getting closer and closer like a feral cat. Other kids come during that time, all of them too small and too thin and too guarded for Mari's tastes. She wants to wrap them all up and tuck them into bed but she can’t. She has to be patient, has to be gentle. These kids are just as likely to bite her hand as they are to accept help.

Serrure becomes an almost permanent fixture at the bakery after that first month. Mari’s not quite sure what she did to get through to him, but she did, she supposes. He can’t be much older than eleven and looks nine, but after getting settled, she and Chloé discover this little slip of a boy is just as mischievous as Trixx and has all the dramatics of their favorite black cat.

The kwami, when talking about him, only refer to Serrure as Loki, even after Marinette scolds them for it. She eventually gives up trying to correct them, it’s not like Serrure talks to them anyway(yet)((that she knows of)).

There’s an apartment above the bakery, which is where Chloé and Mari and all her strays that grow to trust her enough live. It’s three bedrooms, and at first, Mari just buys as many bunk beds as she can fit into the spare room and calls it a day. The kids feel safe in her home, which isn’t too surprising. Everyone thinks the bakery feels safe, feels like home or comfort or whatever else eases their minds.

And Marinette should hopes so. She certainly put enough time and effort and magic and energy into the wards around this place for that to happen. To protect her and the children and all her strays that no one else will help.

But, she eventually amasses too many kids to fit into the one room. Chloé throws a fit about having to share with Mari again—“I had enough of that in university thank you very much”—but she relinquishes easily enough.

Mari buys more bunk beds, and Serrure has taken to sneaking into her room to curl up in her bed anyway, and sometimes the smaller kids who have nightmares will come in and pile on as well.

(There are only a few that Chloé will allow to do the same with her. It is considered a high honor and breeds a playful kind of jealousy that Chloé finds amusing. Mari scolds her for pitting the kids against each other.)

That only lasts them another two months.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Chloé tells her one day before the kids wake up. Mari is at the stove, cooking and baking for a small army while Chloé balances the books. “There’s not enough room for us all, DC, and the only reason someone hasn’t come barrelling down on us about the abundance of children is by the grace of your absurd amount of luck.”

“Well I can’t just kick them out, Queenie! What do you want from me?”

“Either we need to buy more real estate in this city—which I’d rather not do—or you open up the grimoire and start building pocket dimensions. I know you can. I’ve read the chapter.”

Marinette looks at her. “That is such a bad idea.”

They do the idea.

And then Mari adds about a thousand more wards to the bakery, carved into the wood and counter and anything that’s a permanent fixture. Doorways become particularly ward heavy, what with them being the entrances and exits to the hidden realms and children’s’ rooms.

The apartment above the bakery isn’t quite infinite but it gets pretty damn close some days.

This also means, of course, that all the kids definitely know about magic now. Some of them—Serrure—have known about it for a while she knows, but it’s different now. The kwami followed her around most of the time and she doesn’t keep them trapped in the Miracle Box like Fu did, but now that the kids know, they don’t bother staying hidden.

The children, at least, love them and the kwami adore them with all the ferocity a god can give. After Chloé gets over her ‘ew children’ phase, she throws herself into their education (on top of actually running the businesses Mari keeps, mind you). She has the help of the kwami, who act as personal tutors to the children, and it’s not long before the kids start to joke about her being the Principal.

(Some tried to call her Warden, but that joke didn’t last long.)

Marinette has also been telling the kids bedtime stories ever since this started. Old stories of the Guardian and Chosens who fought back the darkness, she shares all she knows of the Orders history with these kids and it’s not until Wayzz points it out to her does she realize what she’s doing.

“Ladybugs are known for renewal. It is no surprise that you are rebuilding what was lost.”

Rebuilding the Order using children was certainly not her intention but, well. She supposes there’s no place safer for her kids than what is shaping up to be the new Miracle Temple. It’s the only haven where they can learn to harness their Gifts and powers, it’s the only place where they can be surrounded by others like them without being thrust into superhero-dom.

Context: about a month into this whole circus, Marinette had realized there was a significant—almost all of them really—amount of metas and Gifted in her little hoard of strays. Which is… odd. Especially with how few metas there are in Gotham.

She had asked the kwami about it, and they have that amused look again. “You are their guardian.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re their guardian. True, you are the Guardian of us, of the ancient ways, but you are a guardian at your soul too. You protect what is yours, and they are yours whether you realise it or not. The children can sense that, so they flock to you.”

And, huh. She supposes that makes sense but that’s also really kind of strange and weird and she doesn't want to think about that anymore actually.

So things are… fine, Marinette supposes. The bakery is doing well, and she has about two dozen-plus helpers running around underfoot to help tend to the customers or run to the store or help in the back with the baking. And every kid of hers has new clothes, their street things thrown out for being too ragged and replaced with something fresh made by Marinette’s own hands.

She embroiders little fairy wings into the clothes normally, because that’s what her cloaked wards look like most times and the kids like it and its technically the logo for the bakery and there’s a million reasons she does it.

It is, perhaps, her first mistake.

(“It was certainly not your first,” Chloé will snark one dayin the future.)

Because now Marinette has an army of magical children learning to wield their powers and not fear them and they’re all wearing what can be considered her insignia and uh oh, it looks a lot like Mari is some sort of up and coming mob boss who uses kids and prostitutes and the homeless as runners. People on the street start calling her the Pixie, start referring to Chloé—her second in all things just as Chat had been her equal—as Wasp, as Yellowjacket, as the Unseelie.

(They cannot seem to pick a name for her, but Pixie is all but engraved in stone. Mari is not sure who coined it, and she doesn't think she wants to know.)

The first time the whole situation is brought to her attention, she punches the idiot who dared even imply such a thing so hard she knocks him out.

Because look. The kids are hers right? And she watches out for the people near her, makes sure the working girls are treated as well as they can be and offers the homeless extra food and a dry place to wait out the storm. She offers her hand and gives them all a place to rest, to eat, to exist without expectations or consequences.

She does that because she’s kind, because it hurts her to see people in need, to see them suffer, not because she’s hoping to gain something from it.

The fact that most of them repay her in gossip or information or bend her ear about the newest goings on in the corrupt elite or filthy underworld is strange, yes, but it’s nice to know what’s going on in the city, she supposes. And one time, Kathy, who works on the corner of Brookes and Gilmore, warned her of a drug raid that saved her an unnecessary trip to the police station so it’s not like it doesn't have it’s uses.

But mostly, Mari doesn't really think about all the information that’s unintentionally or otherwise passed onto her. She remembers it all, because it’s rude not to listen when people talk to her, but nothing comes of normally.

Not until Serrure—now twelve and well versed in the magic of illusions and glamors and knows almost as much about this city as her or the Bats—bursts into the bakery one day and grabs Mari away from the front counter right in the middle of a customer ordering. She should, perhaps, be a little angry at that but Tony, one of the older boys and just shy of sixteen, steps into her place almost immediately, so.

And then Serrure speaks and everything is pushed aside in favour of the next words to fall from his lips.

“Someone took Sophie,” he says and she nearly sees red.

After Serrure, Sophie has been here the longest. She is the youngest of them all, only seven, but oh so clever and kind and while she looks nothing like her, everyone calls her Mini-Mari. If Serrure is her beloved first son, Sophie is her treasured daughter.

She’s out the door in the next moment, storming her way to their base. She has Sophie and a handful of extra kids back by sunset, a little frightened, but no worse for wear. She doesn’t make a big deal out of it, besides making sure that the idiots who dared cross her never do so again, but word gets out.

Soon, her kids and teens and adults begin giving her more than just information, they begin giving her problems. Ones she’s meant to fix because she’s Pixie. She’s safety, she’s protection, she’s the one the people start to turn to for help.

And enter stage left, one Jason Todd who’s all snark and charm and smiles wrapped up in a nice leather bow and tall enough that Mari likely could climb him like a tree. If that was something she wanted, she guesses.

(She wants. She just won’t admit.)

He becomes a regular at the bakery and befriends most of her kids.

Mari’s wary when he first takes an interest in them. They’ve been hurt and a lot of them are still adjusting to being safe and it doesn't matter that this man is hot enough to burn, if he steps even a toe out of line with her kids she’ll make him wish he was never even born.

But, she stops worrying eventually. The kwami like him well enough, but seem to think something’s odd about him—but its Gotham, who isn’t strange?—and both Serrure and Sophie take to him like ducks to water and they’re both good judges of character.

There’s a certain intuition they both have that reminds Marinette just a bit too much about herself and pure magic. Not for the first time does she wonder if they got such strong magic from their parents or if it cropped up in them randomly, fostered by fortune and chance and the magic that’s so deeply seeped into the bones of her bakery it’ll be here long after she’s gone.

And, okay, so she was a little right to be wary because Jason was mostly there to investigate her. Far too many people respect her and are loyal to her and she has a veritable orphanage in her pocket and also Harley and Ivy like her and it just- it doesn’t look good right?

But Jason’s a good detective and it doesn't take him long at all to see that Mari is just as sweet and kind and loving as she appears to be. Not long after that, Red Hood declares Pixie and all of hers, under his protection. She, of course, is more than capable of taking care of her and hers, and the underworld knows this, has seen it, but he does it anyway.

The news, of course, gets back to Mari and she is… confused. Why would the Red Hood do something like that? She’s heard talk of him being sweet on kids, but to claim her? They’ve never even met.

Bonus points for Jason being there when she’s told about it. He kind of raises his eyebrow at her because, huh, that was fast, and then spends the next few minutes talking up the Red Hood to her much to her utter bafflement.

He actually keeps doing that too, talking up the Red Hood. Mari thinks he has a crush on the man for the longest time because of it. Until he reveals he is Red Hood, then she just wants to punch his stupidly handsome face for being such an idiot.

Shit happens from there and things go down and the two spend a couple of months dancing around each other and intentionally and unintentionally ruling the criminal underworld and at one point Marinette definitely punches Bruce and Batman in the face—separately, much to Jason’s unending joy—and she also definitely adopts Duke/Signal as well because that poor boy needs to know he’s not alone.

And it’s just them being domestic and badass and lowkey raising an army of children and falling in love while the kwami and the kids and Chloé are all in the background just yelling at them to get together already!

Which, they do. Eventually. After all the secrets come out and Jason knows about the magic and Order and meets Mari’s other friends, ie Kagami, Luka and Adrien who are all intimidating for wildly different reasons. And Mari finds out that Jason died and came back (which earns him the nickname firebird btw) and that he was a Robin once upon a time but is now Red Hood and oh my kwami it all makes sense now.

Jason confesses like three times via classic Victorian romance novel quotes because he’s a fucking literature nerd but it’s not until he basically spells it out for Mari does she really understand. it’s all very sweet and heartwarming and then the pair duck into one of the empty pocket dimensions they have lying around and aren’t seen for three days.

(No one really goes to look for them tbh)

Chloé definitely teases them about early honeymoons and things but besides the two being even more ridiculously lovey-dovey than usual, life goes back to normal. Or as normal as it gets for them.

And they all live happily ever after the end.

#maribat #jasonette #my typewriter #batfam #crime boss mari #miraculous ladybug #dc #mlb x dc #i was possessed by the need to write this all down #i have so many random ass moments from this au #just scenes taht barely fit together #zero coherency #let me know if yall want that ig #?

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, you once mentioned something about Tom Riddle being a little suicidal. Your new post reminded of that and I wonder why you think that. It’s the complete opposite of what the books want you to think.

Alright, it’s time, let’s do this.

My standard disclaimer whenever we venture into the dark pit that is my thoughts on Tom Riddle: I’m going to say a lot of controversial stuff that fandom generally doesn’t agree with, I will say so much of this shit that I simply do not have time to explain it all, I expect 99% of you to disagree with me and the other 1% to be so horrifyingly offended that I dare to contemplate a world in which Tom isn’t always an overly competent psychopath that they leave me notes telling me to take this trash out of their character tags.

We good? Alright.

So, when I say a little suicidal, I mean that he is suicidal.

Not on the level that he’s going to kill himself tomorrow, or even has plans to kill himself, but in that he makes very strange decisions for someone who desperately wants to live.

And yes, I realize I speak blasphemy given that Tom Riddle’s entire m.o. is supposed to be his crippling fear of death.

Oh man, this one’s going to be so long.

So, my reasoning comes down to a few things:

The location of the horcruxes and the nature of their protections.

The events of Deathly Hallows and Tom’s final actions in the novel

The nature of horcruxes and what it means to not only be able to create one but what it does to you (caveat that I am going to headcanon hard here and speak utter blasphemy)

So, let’s start in order this time, because I think the first two are actually far easier for me to explain.

The Location and Nature of the Horcrux Protections and the Trouble with Backdoors in Security

So, first, the horcruxes are all conveniently located in Great Britain. Not even just in Great Britain, all in places that Albus Dumbledore and later Harry Potter can track down with relative ease, all fairly close to each other.

Now, part of this is undoubtedly attributable to Tom’s overly romantic nature.

Yes, Tom Riddle is a giant romantic, though not necessarily in the traditional sense everyone thinks of. The film “Patton” and its treatment of Patton comes to mind. Tom Riddle is a man enamored by a sense of greatness, of being remembered in this world rather than fading into oblivion, by the significance of places and times in history not only of the world but of himself. He creates an entire, grand, persona for himself because to live an ordinary life for him is to be worthy of nothing.

So, given that, of course Tom places the horcruxes in sentimental locations that have personal meaning to him.

However, it also makes them perilously easy to find and collect.

By itself, this wouldn’t spark my notice.

The ability to destroy horcruxes are not easy to come by. There’s only one basilisk and it’s by chance/Lucius fucking up that Harry gains access to the necessary basilisk venom. Using Fyendfire is an incredibly dangerous thing to do and just as likely to blow up you and the next three towns over as it is to destroy a horcrux. And if there are other means of destroying a horcrux they’re just as hard to come by or just as dangerous.

It’s not quite throwing it into the fires of Mt. Doom from which it was forged but it’s pretty damn close.

So, really, without JKR’s convenient Deus Ex Machina giving both him and Dumbledore the means to actually destroy these things, Tom Riddle’s horcruxes are pretty damn safe no matter where we put them. As we see from the locket, which Regulus manages to collect but Kreacher cannot destroy even after several decades.

However, what does spark my notice, is that the horcruxes can be collected by someone other than Tom Riddle when it appears as if they were never intended to be. What do I mean by this?

From what we see, there’s no benefit to Tom if the original horcruxes are found by anyone. He doesn’t seek them out to restore his original body, they’re just anchor points that should be hidden at all costs. So, he’ll never need a Death Eater to go collect them for him should he be indisposed (indeed, to do so would require a tremendous amount of trust in people he has very little trust in).

So, why hide them in such a way that others can access them? There are canon based options which would have prevented anyone else from reaching them. Given the existence of age lines, I imagine Tom Riddle could make some arbitrary barrier keyed only to himself. There are mokeskin pouches, such as the one Harry is given in the seventh book, which we know can only be accessed by whoever they’re keyed to. There’s the Fidelius Charm which, true requires a secret keeper which Tom would be very meh on, but options exist.

Tom Riddle could wipe the locations of his horcruxes off the face of the map. He chooses not to. Which leads me to believe that, at least on some unconscious level, he wants the horcruxes to be found.

Then we have the protections.

Specifically, I’m thinking of the locket here.

Yes, the protections are very formidable, but they’re also goddamn weird.

Rather than make the horcrux simply inaccessible, kill all those intruding, instead the intruder has to go through a very “Saw” like puzzle in which they drown themselves in despair until they finally get the locket, at which point they likely suicide by zombie.

More, there’s no hint that there’s any other way to retrieve the locket.

Backdoors in security are a very bad idea. What they do is weaken the security as a whole and, if you can take a short cut is, it means that someone who is clever enough and motivated enough can to. Dumbledore is both clever and motivated enough, and I imagine if there was a way to get the horcrux that involved not doing this ridiculous task he would have done it.

More, we’d be back to the land of Tom making sure only he can access the horcrux by requiring a password, keying it to his magical signature, or something so that no one else could get it.

Which means, that’s right, if Tom wants to get the locket he’s drinking the goddamn despair juice just like the rest of us.

What kind of a person would do any of this?

I’ve gone over this before, but I don’t think Tom Riddle’s crazy. Rather, in this case, I think he’s driven by an unbelievable amount of nihilist rage and is also quite depressed.

Tom goes to collect his horcrux, “Ah, it’s time to remember what a miserable life I’ve led and the sheer awfulness of my own existence. Good, I was starting to feel a little too happy. Let’s see if I get eaten by my undead, vengeful, victims today.”

The Events of Deathly Hallows and Tom Riddle’s Death

I think Tom Riddle’s final death in the books was suicide.

Tom takes over the Wizarding World, finally, and it’s as miserable as ever.

He’s trapped in this sham, barely functional, probably very painful body. His Death Eaters are completely out of control and for all that he wanted society to burn it’s now burning and no one’s even learned anything from this. Children in Hogwarts are being routinely tortured and have now staged a rebellion in which he’s having to slaughter them (I have reasons to believe that this is not what Tom Riddle wanted, at all, but that’s best saved for another post), and then he learns his horcruxes have all been destroyed without him even noticing.

There’s so little left of him, he has accomplished nothing, and there’s Harry Potter back from the dead yet again, gloating at him that love conquers all and Tom Riddle will never understand.

And Harry’s right, Tom Riddle will never understand, the world is meaningless and flat to him now and he finally understand that there’s no point to it. I think Tom Riddle decides he’s done. He’s just done.

He enters in a duel with Harry Potter knowing the weird nature of their wands. Now, it can be assumed he used the Elder Wand, but we know they get locked in Priori Incatatum , and that makes no damn sense with the Elder Wand (well, wandlore in general is silly, but I’m working with what JKR gave me here). So I choose to take JKR at her somewhat established canon and say that, no matter what Harry thought, Voldemort was using his original wand.

He throws out the killing curse, despite having now witnessed Harry resurrecting twice to this thing, and within two seconds it rebounds and kills him.

Voldemort’s death is a lot like this scene from the recent, terrible, 2020 live action Mulan (10/10 do not recommend). Now, we’re supposed to think that this scene is the witch saving Mulan’s life and thus showing her hope for the next generation. In actuality, the witch literally flies into an arrow she could have easily deflected from Mulan’s path. It’s a suicide that Mulan is too stupid to notice.

Tom chooses suicide in the most ridiculous, flamboyant, and easily written off manner one can and no one even notices. Instead Harry crows that he has personally defeated Voldemort, with the power of love no less, HUZZAH!

And the castle parties.

The Nature of Horcruxes

I almost don’t want to include this because it’s so... well, I’m really drifting far from canon and fandom now.

However, with horcruxes, there’s always an overriding question of why Tom is able to make so many when we don’t see anyone else with these things around (especially as it’s clear that murder doesn’t simply happen for those that now have horcruxes).

Usually, you have fic authors just sort of shrug and go, “Well, he’s that evil, I guess.” Sometimes you have them go, “No one else is crazy enough to keep going, and that’s why Voldemort’s cuckoo bananas.”

One very good explanation I’ve seen is that it’s because most people, when they murder, feel remorse immediately. The soul split happens, but they’re haunted by the murder for the rest of their life, and thus the horcrux isn’t made. Voldemort, feeling nothing when he kills anyone, is thus able to make them even for when he’s only indirectly associated with the death in question.

However, to me that never really jived philosophically.

Mostly, I simply cannot imagine that tearing apart your very soul is an act of indifference. Here’s how I see it: to do something like that to yourself, you must care, you must care beyond all imagine and human endurance. Your soul literally cannot abide it and saws itself in half, purging what you cannot stand about yourself the most.

The remorse part is, yes, remorse for the act and the victim but more to the point it is the ability to forgive and reaccept the worst part of yourself. That part of yourself that you purged and destroyed, which is nearly impossible to do and might very well destroy the fabric of who you are).

In other words, while creating a horcrux is an abominable act of hatred, it is also one of profound self-hatred.

Tom Riddle loathes himself so much that he is able to do this over and over and over again.

As Tom Riddle goes on he makes himself into less and less and less of himself until he probably doesn’t even know who he is anymore. He just knows, whatever is left of him, he loathes that too.

And then, of course, he gives up, runs into the nearest flying arrow, and dies.

TL;DR: Tom Riddle’s is a miserable existence that ended in a miserable if unintentionally hilarious manner

#ask #anon #tom riddle #voldemort

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