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inhonoredglory · 3 years ago

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Run Away from Me: A Levi Meta

The core of this meta is to show that, IMHO, Levi’s violence against Historia in Chapter 56 is his emotional fallout from the torture of Sannes, as well as his own guilt at the person he had become. Coming from having only watched the anime, I personally found this placement in the manga of the Historia scene right after both the torture sequence and the Reeves Company alliance as incredibly meaningful, especially for Levi’s character and his emotional journey.

Levi is an immensely compassionate person, someone who wants to aspire to the “unimaginably altruistic” life of Erwin Smith (Isayama, SNK Encyclopedia). So how would this torture he had to inflict affect him? Because imagine for a second: This is the man who was the only one to truly react with horror and sadness at the knowledge that they’d been killing human beings all this time when they fought Titans. This is the man who went out of his way to ally with the Reeves Company in order to answer the Trost townspeople’s woes:

In Chapter 53, Levi is confronted with blatantly disrespectful Trost merchants who think the Survey Corps haven’t done enough to save their town. It’s the everyday things that burden these people—taxes, thieves, putting food on the table. Levi doesn’t once shoot back at them for their criticism. Instead, he listens. And then he spots a woman at the side of a merchant’s stall. She’s holding a baby and her eyes burn into Levi’s. She holds his attention while above him, the merchants continue their tirade. I think Levi’s thinking of his mother here: like this woman, she was a single parent raising a child in a city that is not unlike Trost now, a town abandoned and forgotten by society, poor and struggling. That child reminds Levi of himself, and this time, Levi can do something about it.

This is why Levi goes out of his way to ally with the Reeves Company. Levi and Dimo share a long, deep conversation, demonstrating that Levi’s alliance with them is more personal than merely the company’s strategic value. Dimo Reeves called Levi an “awkward yet kind man.” He goes on the say that Levi will “protect us and the barely-alive District of Trost, even though he doesn’t really have to.” This is Levi answering that townsperson’s accusation that “you in the Survey Corps aren’t working hard enough.” Levi entrusts to the Reeves Company the responsibility to bring the town out of poverty in the new world the SC will create. That’s his compassion, that’s his care, that’s his humility. That’s how he values the lives of people, not just by defeating Titans, but valuing their livelihoods. “A man like that must have come from absolutely nothing,” concludes Dimo.

This is the same Levi we find torturing Sannes.

In Chapter 55, the torture of Sannes happens because of the horrors Hange saw inflicted on Minister Nick. It is Hange’s passion for avenging Nick that drives the torture sequence, their anger at the tortures that had happened under the MP’s First Squad that motivates the payback inflicted by Hange and Levi. Levi’s violence is done, not out of his own desire, but primarily Hange’s. This is not to say that Levi was guiltless or without responsibility for Sannes’s torture; on the contrary, his actions weigh heavily on him, as will be discussed. But it’s interesting to note that out of all the tortures they did, breaking Sannes’ nose was the only retribution all Levi’s own (in reaction to Sannes’ justification of a series of horrific things the MPs had committed).

I also find it relevant that after everything they had done to Sannes, Levi was still visibly shocked at Hange’s overreaction to Sannes’ hesitation to answer their first real question. Because in Levi’s mind, everything they had done up to that point wasn’t torture—in one sense. It was instead a like-for-like payback for the horrors Sannes had inflicted on Nick. Note that it was Levi who had to pull Hange out of the emotional distraction of Nick’s death in Chapter 52, the same emotional distraction that drives Hange to overzealous violence here.

There’s an interesting parallel in what happens next with what Levi had gone through with Annie earlier. Levi threatened Annie with torture of her real body and said he enjoyed intimidating her as she was bound and trapped. Sannes confessed that for him, he enjoyed violence and tormenting the helpless—so why should he complain if these torturers, Hange and Levi, are the same as him? It’s a subtle parallel, but it’s a relevant theme in SNK that everyone, on all sides, are devils and monsters. Or as Sannes says later, “The world will always have people like us.” People who are violent, people who are lunatics, people who condemn themselves and get their hands dirty for the sake of some higher “good.” Sannes’ accusation isn’t lost on Levi, because this is the same Levi who looked at a struggling mother in a forsaken city and did something about it.

Justified violence is still violence. So what if Annie deserved to have her limbs cut off, time and time again, without relief of death? So what if Sannes deserves to have his fingernails torn off, one by one, without even a question put to him? They had, after all, inflicted death and untold horrors on innocent people. But does justice look like this? Does the name of justice absolve your hands from actions this ugly?

Morality is complicated. And Levi is the first to tell you that he doesn’t know how to slice it. “I’m not telling you what’s right or wrong. I certainly don’t know what is” (Chapter 59).

So now in Chapter 56, we come to the scene with Historia, right on the heels of that torture. The first red flag for me went up when Levi realizes he has “forgotten” to tell his squad about Historia’s true bloodline. It’s not that he didn’t intend to tell them, it’s not that he was not supposed to tell them. (Unlike, say, the entire Female Titan arc.) He forgot, and he’s clearly embarrassed when they confront him. Why? Because he’s not supposed to lose focus like that. But he did, because that information came from Sannes, and after that horrendous experience, Levi, like Hange before him, was emotionally distracted. That’s the only reason I can figure for Isayama focusing on Levi’s oversight like this, and showing Levi in such an obviously emotionally awkward place.

Hange isn’t here to translate for Levi, like she did when Levi berated Eren for being unable to harden during the experiments in Chapter 53. Levi takes the scenic, colorful route when explaining his feelings. To Eren, he admitted that his criticism wasn’t about blaming Eren for being unable to harden, stating that “going over our shortcomings and bitching about our situation is an important ritual.”

In this light, we can read Levi’s words and actions with Historia as a complicated picture of his psychological landscape. Notice how just prior to this scene, we saw Hange act out the aftermath of the torture by kicking the table. Levi too reacts, taking it out on Historia.

Imagine where Levi is right now. He’s taken on the role of Sannes in this new world—the executioner, the ultimate killer, Humanity’s Strongest. “Your hands are already dirty. You can’t go back to the way you were,” Levi tells Armin later, but it’s also what he believes about himself. All that idealism that brought him into the Survey Corps—a life bigger than being a thug in the underworld. Did all that idealism bring him here, to do this? He has to make it worth it, he has to make it count for something. It’s what he does every day when his soldiers die under him—he’s been there to make their deaths worthwhile. But who’s there to make the deaths and terrors he’s dealt out worthwhile for him?

Levi’s expression in the last panel is angry, yes, but also wracked with pain.

So when Historia says she’s unfit for the role of Queen, when she says she can’t be Queen because she’s not good enough, Levi snaps. “Then run,” he said, grabbing her. “Run away from us as fast as you can. Because we’re going to do anything and everything to make you do what we want.” Levi’s eyes are downcast, not looking at her, because what he’s saying is more about him than it is about her.

Because he knows he’s dark enough to follow those orders to do the worst things to a human being to make the entire world a better place. He knows it’s in his bones to commit these atrocities. He is afraid of what he found he’s capable of. He’s already come to terms with killing humans as Titans. He’s come to terms with torturing humans as humans. He knows he can and will do horrible, unforgivable things. That’s his strength, that’s what makes him valuable, useful, important. He’s not like other people—“I’m abnormal… probably because I’ve seen far too many abnormal things.” But he’s ready to condemn himself, to make his hands dirty for the sake of others. He’s decided he has to go full through with the darkness he’s committed, because how else can he justify what he’s done? “I’m fine playing the role of the lunatic who kills people like that. I have to be ready to rearrange some faces. Because I choose the hell of humans killing each other over the hell of being eaten. At least that way… all of humanity doesn’t have to be damned.” His are the hands that will be stained with blood, his is the conscience that will be stained, his is the soul that will sink to hell—all so that others’ innocence can be spared.

The 104th look at him like he’s gone mad, abusing a young, helpless girl like that. But they haven’t seen what he had to do. They haven’t seen how bloody his hands have gotten. His violence here is a desperate reaction to get someone to save him. He’s always been able to avenge the deaths of his soldiers. But this time, he is the one in need of redemption. He could not justify his violence completely, he could only plea for her to make them unnecessary in the future. By becoming Queen, it means he won’t have to keep torturing, keep killing, keep shedding human blood. Her becoming Queen means a peaceful transition of power. Her becoming Queen means he won’t have to pave the path to a new government with more blood and more guilt, at least, not more than he has to. He’s enslaved to doing what his strength allows him to do. He’s begging her to not let people ask that of him.

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project-ohagi · 4 years ago

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Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

Buy me a coffee!! <3

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of possible Self-Harm/Suicidal Ideation, Mentions of Bullying, Depression.

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The echoes of words that, since their conception, carved up your heart without reason or care, still plagued you. The angel by your side wasn't privy to your unpleasant truths - the history etched in to your skin, bygone times littered with bullying and self-disgust. The latter hadn't disappeared like everyone said it would. If they dragged that lie from their own experiences, they shouldn't have been surprised when you became angry, and weak from 'night studies'.

Hitoshi worried half to death, and crafted his words accordingly. He couldn't bear to imagine his company brought you so much discomfort that you refused to let him help - or even just listen. He wanted to understand why pain seemed to dull your eyes, why you isolated like you did...why you declined to let him in, even after months of a strong friendship. He loved that you saw the person past the quirk, he loved the gentle tone in which you called his name. He had hoped that, with the dormitory situation (and your rooms being on the same floor), you would feel more secure and perhaps encouraged to seek help. If you reached out to him...

...Please reach out to him! He had grappled with depression, with that empty, hopeless feeling. He knew it all too well. But his battle had been fought, and he had the skills necessary to aid yours. He could rescue you, but the hard labour was your personal burden. It was horrible. What kind of aspiring hero was as useless as he? It was true. You couldn't win on your own, but he couldn't win it for you.

Gods...he wanted to! He wanted to do everything, just for you!

It was impossible...unless you opened up your heart. He respected your space, but his unrelenting love threatened to crush those invisible barriers. It felt as though you were slipping, like there was a reason more sinister than he had anticipated, as to why you didn't want any help. He grew nervous, eventually deciding that the possibility of you endangering yourself was enough cause to demand entry into your room. Once inside, he could talk about his concerns and lend you an ear. He could also check for anything...sharp. He never wished to offend you or come off as condescending (like a lot of therapists did), but he was desperate. He worshipped you as some beautiful, divine entity - if your anguish managed to conquer the last semblance of hope that still burned...well, how could he live with himself?

How could he live with the knowledge that he hadn't ever told you your worth? If you were reclaimed by nature, whilst believing that you meant nothing...that he didn't completely adore you...

No - he just...he couldn't allow that.

Maybe it was an overreaction. Maybe you wouldn't be so reckless. But he wasn't about to risk that. You wouldn't be foolish. You wouldn't be selfish. This didn't involve anyone else - not even him. But you couldn't keep suffering. Humans could only endure so much.

The mentally ill - for as much as they rebuffed it - were powerful warriors. Each day issued forth a new challenge. Some gave up. Some kept fighting. Some battles were lost, and others were won. These people were incredible - deserving of eternal love and happiness. Hitoshi hoped to give you both. But first, he needed a better grasp on your situation. Voice everything to him! Every tiny thing, no matter its insignificance! He was offering you a chance, a way to stave off the negativity, just for a while. Would you accept it? Or would his intrusion signal the end of your friendship...of a possible, future romance?

He approached with caution...and a full plate of food. Immediately after the school day concluded, you had retreated to your room. He asked around, but nobody could attest to having seen you emerge. Therefore, you hadn't eaten yet. He knew you wouldn't deny yourself and isolate to such an extent - was it a silent cry for help, and...were you even aware of it? Were you holding out for a hero? Despite his allocation to General Studies, his aspirations had only flourished. He could save you from the depths of this depression! He could become your hero...

...if you let him.

A sigh tumbled from his lips, as he knocked on your door. To be honest, he wasn't expecting a response.

"(L/n)...It's Shinsou. I thought you might be hungry? And, uh...I was hoping to talk to you. Maybe..."

A muffled "Go away" could be heard from within, but, being so weak, it couldn't deter him.

He coughed awkwardly, placing a palm against your door. "Please let me in. Please let me help."

There was hurried shuffling, and the sound of you falling over something. It almost made him chuckle. Then, the door opened. You peeked from behind it, eyes narrowed and with a sickly complexion. You scrutinised him for a moment, without words. Next, you looked to the food.

And you let him in. You actually let him in! Relief washed over his heart, but the pain still stabbed through. You were clearly hurting, clutching the hem of your shirt and trying desperately not to wince. He saw it all. He set the plate down, but you didn't move toward it. Maybe you would eat after he left? Well, he wasn't about to force-feed you, so...as long as you did...

"How can I help?" He asked, taking a seat opposite you.

"I don't...I don't think you can..." You started, diverting your attention away from him and his charity.

Unluckily for you, he was determined, and nowhere near satisfied with your half-arsed answer. It had obviously been impromptu, but his questions symbolised an outpouring of emotion from deep within his soul. That was your worth - how much he yearned for every part of you. He knew his lines. They were engraved upon his heart, like wedding vows. He could recite them with ease...but they were far from easy.

"Look at me." He loathed using his quirk on you, but this was important.

The Fates would forgive him...hopefully.

After a minute, he relinquished control. "Please talk to me. I can give advice, or I can just listen. I'll do whatever you need. Just...let me know."

Let me know everything.

Wiping a stray tear from your eye, you relented. "Okay...but please - please don't laugh."

"I won't. You have my word."

You are my world.

"I...I was bullied, in middle school. And...it sometimes happens now, but just...not so often." Your throat felt parched. "It was because of my quirk. They said I didn't have the capacity to do good, and that I would always be evil. They didn't want to turn me to villainy - they wanted me to die. It was so hard, just trying to survive every single day, getting pushed around and tormented...made to feel inferior, like I didn't even matter."

Hitoshi remained silent, eyes blown wide in shock and disgust.

"You know my quirk, right? 'Bone Manipulation'? I hate it. I've hurt people I should never have hurt. I've ruined friendships - probably lives, too. And...and...I can't always control it! When I'm angry...sometimes it just happens...and I can't - I can't stop it!"

You were panicking, rocking back and forth while holding your head. The really frightening parts of your tale were still a mystery. You would reveal them, in due time. But right now...you needed Hitoshi's warm embrace.

Cradled in his arms, you could forget the whole world.

[Word Count: 1256]

#hitoshi shinsou x reader #bnha shinsou #bnha #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia x reader #trigger warnings #angst #cute shinsou is cute #mha shinsou

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Why The Great North Isn’t Just Another Bob’s Burgers

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It’s easy to take one look at FOX’s newest animated comedy, The Great North, and assume it’s exactly like the long running and beloved Bob’s Burgers. Two of The Great North’s creators wrote a good chunk of Bob’s Burgers episodes and the shows share a near-identical art style after all. At first glance some of the Bob’s Burgers character archetypes seem to be involved as well: awkward daughter, an odd sarcastic youngest child, and a loving, if somewhat offbeat, father. So why bother with something like Bob’s Burgers when you could just watch Bob’s Burgers?

While there are a few surface similarities, by the end of the first episode of The Great North you’ll realize there’s so much more to it than just an Alaskan set version of the Belcher family. It’s got humor all its own, unique characters, and the potential to be something that isn’t merely a rival to Bob’s Burgers but a truly unique experience.

So let’s head up north to discover all the reasons why The Great North is so wonderful. As a brief primer, the show is set in Alaska and follows the Tobin family with fisherman dad Beef, artistic daughter Judy, loveably dumb son Ham, bear-suit wearing son Moon, oldest and eager to please son Wolf, his always chipper and new to Alaska fiancé Honeybee, and Judy’s best imaginary friend Alanis Morissette…played by Alanis Morssette.

The Family’s Lack of a Mom is Refreshingly Handled

A lack of a mom is a huge trope in animation at this point (look at damn near every ‘90s Disney movie) and if there is a mom, especially in a comedy, she tends to be wacky or overly loving. The Great North puts a new twist on both of these in its very first episode.

The plot of the premiere deals with Beef struggling to get over his ex-wife years after she abandoned the family. An ex-wife isn’t anything to write home about, a single dad taking care of a family is a comedy trope in of itself, but it’s what we learn about Beef’s ex that makes this element so refreshing.

Instead of the mom just not being present or having died off screen, Beef only acts like she’s dead, a fabrication everyone goes along with to keep him sane. When he isn’t around though Judy is quick to point out the rest of the family doesn’t buy this and they never liked her much anyway. She even flat out states,

“She was a really bad mom, okay? And it was actually better when she left.”

The other kids then list off horrible things she did, like name their dog Grandma solely so, “she wouldn’t be lying when she said we were with Grandma when people asked.” She runs a blog with her “new lover” about stores that wont chase you if you shoplift. Even in her goodbye letter to Ham she just wrote, “smell you later.”

I love this so much because it replaces all the easy sentimentality of a dead or simply absent mom that comedies love and instead opens up some fantastic new storytelling opportunities. In the pilot alone it gives us deep insight into Beef, that despite how awful she was he refuses to think anything but the best of her. Why is he like that? Is it his way of not thinking about all the terrible things she did? She’s left him so broken he has to concoct an elaborate fantasy to keep himself sane. It makes you instantly love the character and while he does seemingly get over this denial in the pilot I can foresee it impacting him for the rest of the series.

It’s also so refreshing because the kids aren’t all that broken up about it. Knowing their mom was terrible helps reflect a lot of what kids go through in real life. Sometimes they just have a bad parent and there’s no deep explanation of why, they just are and it’s not great. Maybe Judy and the others are hurt by this and I’d love to see the show tackle that in the future but even if it strictly keeps this part of their characters on the comedic side of things? It’s empowering. These kids aren’t broken up by their awful mom and want her back; they’re thriving BECAUSE she isn’t around.

Nick Offerman Being Nick Offerman

Over the years Nick Offerman has perfected the deadpan and loveable character that brought him to fame in Parks and Recreation. His role as Beef isn’t a major departure from that mold but it does allow Offerman to be even warmer than his most famous character.

As Beef he’s a capable man who gets up to see the sun rise and chop wood. He loves nature so much he steals a potted plant from a mall to take better care of it. His love for his family is on full display and he often goes to absurd lengths to keep them together. Offerman brings a great charm to the role and all of the jokes he delivers are winners.

The Rural Location

Bob’s Burgers draws much inspiration from its city setting, while The Great North is set in rural Alaska. This may seem like a surface level change but once again opens up all kinds of new opportunities for stories and characters. Where the Belcher family was somewhat cynical to city life (you would be to with a landlord breathing down your neck) the Tobin family openly embraces the chilly north.

Judy sits out on the roof and talks with her imaginary best friend, Moon takes great pride in his ability to mimic a soon to be eaten cadaver laying out in the snow, and Beef specifically gets up every morning to stare in wild wonder at Alaska’s majesty while whispering “hot dog.” The whole family even delights in going to the mall, which is the kind of joy only someone living out in the middle of nowhere can truly appreciate.

The Different Character Dynamics

Even after eleven truly fantastic seasons Bob’s Burgers characters still manage to never feel stale and the team behind the show always finds new ways to play around with them. With such a rock solid cast of characters you’d think they could tackle any story imaginable but The Great North is already proving to be a home for stories that just wouldn’t work for Bob’s Burgers.

The most noticeable change is that most of the kids are older. Judy and Ham are both sixteen which opens up a lot of possibilities that couldn’t be done with the Belcher kids. They can get involved in more serious relationships, have jobs (as Judy gets in the first episode), and are able to be more autonomous from the family. Wolf, the oldest of all of them, is engaged! Imagine what could be done with a soon-to-be married couple? Honeybee herself also functions as a delighted fish out of water to Alaska, her thoughts on the Tobins’ life a needed commentary. Her outgoing personality also clashes well with Moon’s stoic nature.

The 10 Best Bob’s Burgers Episodes

By Chris Cummins

Judy and Ham also share a more loving sibling dynamic than any of the Belcher kids ever have. In Bob’s Burgers the kids don’t wear their hearts on their sleeves, they’re more likely to make sarcastic quips about one other. The Great North though has Judy and Ham share a special bond, the two have a secret handshake that goes for an indeterminable amount of time. It’s really sweet and it makes me excited to see what kind of comedy can be mined from this more openly affectionate family.

Ham Is Gay And I Love Him

Ham is my favorite character so far in this show. He’s a little slow on the uptake but loves everyone in his family a lot and can even make a perfect replica of a cadaver… in the form of a cake. He also happens to be gay, a fact that is wonderfully confirmed in the first episode when he blurts out, “I AM GAY!

To which Moon responds, “we know. You’ve come out to us a bunch of times.”

Beef then adds, “we love you just the way you are, damn it!”

Ham, clearly not remembering his past comings-out, yells, “WELL, THANK YOU FOR BEING AN ALLY!”

It’s a great scene and kicks any subtext out the door. Queer audiences don’t have to sit around guessing who COULD be queer in the show (as they’re so often forced to do with so little representation in media) there’s a character who said OUT LOUD he’s gay. He’s one of us!

Bob’s Burgers has had several one-time gay characters (Bob did refer to himself as “mostly straight” once but that was more of a gag) but getting a gay teen in the main cast is sublime. He’s also a different sort of gay teen then we’re used to in television, with a tiny “probably thinks it’s cooler than it actually is” mustache and his “not quite all there” personality. He’s not a stereotype, he’s got some obvious flaws, but he’s loveable! Sure enough, his family loves him and accepts him.

Having a gay character in the cast opens up so many story possibilities. Are there any other gay kids in this rural town? What if there’s only one and he’s forced to date him? Does he know what kind of guys he likes yet? Where do the gay kids hang out in this town?

It also must be reiterated that his family loves him and accepts him. While drama over coming out and acceptance is totally valid, I’m glad that Ham will get the chance to just be gay and his family will support him all the way. We can just see him happily (if somewhat absent-mindedly) live his life and that’s needed in a world with so little queer representation. As a pansexual man myself it’s heartwarming. I wish I had a character like Ham when I was growing up.

Alanis Morissette Is A Main Character

Yes, Alanis Morissette is in The Great North (played by the actual Alanis Morissette) but in an absolutely perfect choice she’s not the REAL Alanis Morissette, she’s Judy’s best imaginary friend who just happens to be Alanis Morissette. Judy’s artistic so it makes sense she’d look up to someone as incredible as the Canadian musical genius. As an imaginary best friend she tends to serve as a sounding board for Judy’s thoughts and gives absolutely flawless advice.

Even better though? The imaginary Alanis Morissette also only appears in the Aurora Borealis. That’s… incredible. What a way to take advantage of the show’s location!

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The Great North is a delight. It’s only been two episodes (the third one premieres February 14 and the first two are available on Hulu) but it’s already shown a lot of promise. Not in the “oh it’ll get good eventually” sense but in the “no it’s already great and I want to see more of it!” Don’t think of it as another Bob’s Burgers, just think of it as its own wonderful moose-filled show (it’s Alaska, what did you expect) and you’ll have a fantastic time. Truly, in these dark times we could all use a little help from imaginary best friend Alanis Morissette.

The post Why The Great North Isn’t Just Another Bob’s Burgers appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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atamascolily · 5 years ago

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Lily reads Star Wars: Red Harvest, part four

In which sentient plants offer excellent advice, but it doesn't help, and the zombie mayhem at Sith Hogwarts begins.

(If you’re just joining me, check out the “Red Harvest” tag on my blog for previous posts)

At Sith Hogwarts, we learn that the Big Bad is even more devious than we previously assumed:

Her name’s Hestizo Trace,” the Whiphid said. “She’s the orchid’s keeper. It needs her to—”

“Survive,” Scabrous said. “I know. That’s how I knew you were bringing me the genuine article.” He reached up and touched her face, his gloved hand cold against her cheek, like leather wrapped around an iron rod. “It was the one piece of information that I withheld about the orchid.”

PRO-TIP: DON'T DO BUSINESS WITH THE SITH. THEY *ALWAYS* CHEAT.

The Sith Lord nodded. “My droid will pay you on the way out.”

Time for another double-cross? That droid ain’t a HK for nothing...

Anyway, horrible Sith experiments follow using the orchid. Other Sith students spy and scheme. The student Scabrous tortured to death rises from his cage and breaks free. The zombie's first act is to bite off part of Darth Scabrous's face. Good for him, though it doesn't take.

Metal struck metal with a flat, declarative clang that reminded him somehow of the sound of training blades clashing at the top of the temple. It was a noise that said: Things have been put into motion, and whatever happens next, there will be no going back.

#accurate

More Sith students die, but it's hard to care because they're such terrible people. (Though we also learn that some of them were conscripted into the Academy, so they didn't necessarily start off as terrible people, but they sure are now!) I'm skimming a lot because it's all incredibly violent.

Zo escapes in the chaos. Darth Scabrous does some awful Sith alchemy to keep from turning into more of a monster than he already is. Zo eavesdrop on the Sith masters explaining to the students that it's just another Tuesday:

Zo realized as she listened that she could hear a slight but unmistakable tremor of concern in the Master’s tone. He was doing everything he could to cover it up, and perhaps the students were fooled, but to her mind he might as well have been wearing a placard: I’M DOING MY BEST TO SPIN A SITUATION THAT I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO ABILITY TO COMPREHEND, LET ALONE CONTROL, AND—

The orchid talks to Zo and warns her of trouble, but it doesn't help. The bounty hunter shows up again and grabs her before the infected students do. Cliffhanger!

Meanwhile, we meet a Sith nerd who just wants to translate secret Sith scrolls for Ultimate Power--who is also the only female student we've seen thus far. There's a sentient tree librarian in a crumbling library and I'm here for it.

“Something unsettling you, Kindra?” His voice was thick and raspy. “Some uncertainty of the mind, yes?”

“No.”

The librarian didn’t respond, just continued to slither his branches downward until the great bulk of his trunk dangled upside down in front of her, the warty, centuries-old eyes narrowing with myopic consideration. Dail’Liss had been the curator of the library for as long as anyone could remember, perhaps going back a thousand years or more. Although his elaborate root system was permanently embedded somewhere deep in the foundation, a seemingly endless network of branches and limbs allowed him to slide unimpeded through its walls and hollows. Ironically, it was this constant writhing and squirming that undermined the infrastructure of the building itself. Rumor was that it would only be a matter of time before the Neti brought the library down on top of him, sealing himself forever amid his own precious holdings—a fitting enough end, when Kindra thought about it.

“Look.” Kindra shook her head, increasingly irritated by the librarian’s evasiveness. “Either you have answers for me or you don’t. Either way I’m not going to stay in here and hide.”

“Best course of action, I would say.”

Tree!Librarian is right. She's not going to survive is, she? But I'm still kinda rooting for her, if only because everyone else is so awful in comparison. We haven't seen Kindra doing anything evil yet, but I'm sure she has, if only because she's still alive in this place and kindness is anathema to baby Sith.

The Tree!Librarian also doesn't seem evil... yet? How did he get here? What's his deal and why? I am so curious and this is all the backstory I'm getting, which is to say, almost nothing. Sigh.

One of the students gets bitten. His arm starts rotting. This Is Fine.

“Something’s wrong.”

“Meaning what?”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” ...

“About what?”

“I don’t know—this night, everything. You feel it?”

“Nope.” He shook his head, feigning an indifference that he didn’t even remotely feel. “Just another day in paradise, as far as I’m concerned.”

LOL, irony.

More zombies. More attacks on Sith students. Chapter Twenty is called "Lockdown" and I just can't even. Most of the Sith students are literally locked in the cafeteria with their ex-colleagues, and then the bloodbath starts. They're using the Dark Side to fight the zombies. It doesn't go well.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, this whole premise is fucking genius, because again, everyone at a Sith Academy is a horrible person doing horrible things in their horrible gothic nightmare castle, so it's hard to feel bad when they are horribly murdered by horrible Sith zombie alchemy monsters. It just feels like Laser-Guided Karma.

Shit just got real because Not!Qui-Gon arrives at the Sith Academy. The mechanic who greeted the bounty hunters is now missing, presumed dead It's tough to be psychometrist when everything you touch generates visions of violent death.

Meanwhile, a handful of surviving Sith students team up, kinda:

Ra’at held Maggs and Hartwig in the same regard that he did the rest of his classmates, with a kind of suspicious indifference. Their motives were purely selfish, as were his; he had no intention of sharing information that didn’t somehow improve his own situation. At this point they all knew something had gone very wrong, contaminating the academy or the entire planet; for the moment they were allies of opportunity.

These Sith can't even work together long enough to survive the crisis. No wonder the Jedi eventually kicked the Siths’ collective asses through the Power of Friendship.

Here, have some conspiracy theories along with your nightmare fuel:

“We all feel something kind of bad in the air, right? Like maybe some kind of a … disease. But who’s to say it’s not just one of Scabrous’s drills?”

Kindra’s eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”

“For all we know he started this himself.”

“Why?”

“Maybe it is a training exercise,” Maggs put in. “Or maybe he’s culling the weak students. It’s happened before. Remember the unakki eye spiders?”

“This is worse,” Kindra said.

“Don’t be so sure,” Hartwig said. “Eleven students went blind. Two of them died. Remember Soid Einray?”

“Soid Einray was a defective already.”

“Maybe, but he still hung himself afterward. And then we found out that Scabrous had reactivated the fertilized spider eggs from the pathogen bank as a nerve-reflexivity drill.” Hartwig refused to lower his stare. “I still wake up with blood in my eyes sometimes.”

Just another day at Sith Hogwarts, am I right? What a terrible place.

Ra’at began concentrating solely on himself and his own survival, forgetting all the others. The Masters at the academy had trained them to fight as a unit when necessary, but a Sith warrior’s true strength lay in his or her own personal will to power. When you could trust no one, fighting alone was axiomatic, a natural state.

Flattening himself to the wall, he felt the Force’s dark side coursing through him, a crackling electric chill that rendered fear and apprehension obsolete, and welcomed it. In that moment, he felt only a ready vigilance, weightless and unrelenting. Since arriving here on Odacer-Faustin, it was the closest to happiness that he dared let himself experience. Yet in so many ways it was superior to any happiness he’d ever encountered. It made traditional happiness look anemic by comparison.

The POV Sith students watch the cafeteria zombie attack on the security cameras, and realize what they're up against. Meanwhile, Zo is also realizing how much trouble she's in, and the orchid is having a breakdown:

They can’t be killed, a voice whispered from the back of her mind, they’re already dead, look at them. At first she thought she was hearing her own thoughts, and then she realized it was the Murakami orchid, roiling in its own guilt and misery, yammering out words that she alone could hear. Dead but alive, Hestizo, dead but alive, I did this to them, it was my fault, when Scabrous put me into that horrible vat, and now I’m inside them—

Poor orchid. I really like that it isn't evil and is just as horrified as Zo about all this. I’m still not sure how that’s possible, or what actually happened, but that’s okay, because none of the character do, either!

Zo is about to be eaten by the zombies, but then--

I’ve got an idea, she told the orchid. Grow.

What?

You’re in them now, she said, aren’t you? You’re a part of them. You said so yourself.

The orchid does, and the zombies explode through Plant Power.

She concentrated harder—she could actually see the flora growing inside the things now, driving it harder, farther, faster from within, even as the orchid began crying out, begging her to stop, telling her that this hurt, it couldn’t do it anymore—

A lot of screaming follows. But it does work. Once. And then the orchid passes out and... becomes evil? Oh, no, I hope not. Turns out the bounty hunter is still alive, and she's working with him now to survive, like you do. I bet he’s regretting his life choices right now, too.

At that moment, Scabrous had assumed that what he’d seen was a kind of exaggerated nervous twitch, a biochemical accident that the drug and the orchid had triggered inside Nickter’s body. But now—

I wasn’t kidding when I said nobody knows what’s going on; not even the Big Bad has any idea of the forces (ha!) he’s unleashed. He determines that Zo is fleeing for the library, and prepares to trap her there. Will not!Qui-gon get there in time?

Spoiler: not quite.

#star wars #red harvest #book reviews #space botany #space orchids

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comicteaparty · 5 years ago

Text

December 21st-December 27th, 2019 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from December 21st, 2019 to December 27th, 2019. The chat focused on the following question:

Without heavy spoilers, describe the worst thing you’ve put one of your characters through?

carcarchu

for a comic i haven't released yet (this happens in literally the first chapter so i don't really consider it a spoiler) the main character in this story has a rough life. she's saddled with enormous debts and gets fired from her job, then when things finally start looking up for her she gets hit by a car and "dies" the whole premise of the story is that people who die and get brought back to life by doctors (dead for just a few seconds) get powers

Cronaj

Hmmm.... I won't say whose, but probably the death of their child, and I've done some awful things to my characters. For some reason, all the pain and suffering in the world does not amount to the loss of one's child. To be fair, I don't usually consider it my fault that these horrible things occur in the story, because I couldn't change it if I wanted to. To do so would feel like a lie. These stories exist in my mind independent of what I want, and I'm simply telling them to the world. But yes... that child is the saddest creature I've written.

eli [a winged tale]

Torn apart, watched their friends die, forced to live forever... you name it, we got it In all seriousness, I also like focusing on the small (but not insignificant things) like not having your love reciprocated and questioning your worth. Sometimes it’s the small things that can collectively be destructive.

Capitania do Azar

In some ways, I think I have already done the worst I possibly could to my characters (war, being unable to help and losing their loved ones in darkness and loneliness). But on the other hand, I do plan to extend the mechanics of mind intrusion to the point of completely mangling up people's psyches, so I guess I'll have to wait and see which one feels worse

FeatherNotes

So far in GJS, we've had a character go through some, well, explosive limb loss There's quite a lot of hard things the chars go through / will go through, but i def see the brutality of the leg loss as something pretty huge for the character!

taterviking

I threw my main character under a semi, off a cliff, and shoved a tree branch into his brain. And then when he woke up I gave him long term memory loss and stole 80% of his memories from before he was 12

Kelsey (Kurio)

Boy am I glad none of us are gods heh

taterviking

I kind of treat writing like the Sims: which one am i torturing and which two did I build specifically to get naked together.

eli [a winged tale]

Omg Tater that’s a perfect analogy (edited)

taterviking

the only difference is that I can follow them to work and they're alllllll the money slave/work horse

Also, Viking is my father's name, you can call me Tater ;P

snuffysam

the worst thing that has happened to one of my characters canonically is something i have not and will not describe in-comic, so i'm not about to describe it here. there are certain... types of trauma... where even if a story depicts things realistically, respectfully, and with properly directed condemnation, fans romanticize the hell out of it. and i want no part of that. so, like, i'm keeping this stuff in the character's backstory, because i want to depict living with and growing past traumatic experiences, but i refuse to actually describe/depict what happened so fans don't get the wrong takeaway. the important thing isn't what happened, it's how she deals with it. as for things that actually happen in the comic - one character does get tortured by a government for information?

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

Oh boy. So I am rather known for torturing my characters. I don’t even know what the worst thing is, but ‘dying horribly’ or ‘very dark and tragic backstory involving abuse and/ or terrible loss’ describes 95% of my casts.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Several of my characters get horribly bitten/eaten by hungry spirits. If they aren't already completely wrecked by the attack, the resulting cursed bite leads to quarantine and ostracization. Even little kids get abandoned or sent away. And those who are eventually totally consumed by the curse... basically become half-dead. ...Yeah, I got a lot of 'worse than death' stuff going on

Nutty (Court of Roses)

Won't say who, but i don't think i could do much worse than giving a character the perfect life and then taking it and everyone they've ever loved away from them in one fell swoop, leaving them to wander aimlessly.

Deo101

I've put all of my characters through different things that I think aren't really comparable as far as saying one is "worse" than the other. Though, I think that I'll probably say making one of them essentially live through a genocide is pretty undeniably the worst thing, and also the only one that I've really canonically discussed.

DanitheCarutor

I'm lowkey into character torture porn, so I like putting my OCs through some shit. Apollo probably has the most cushy life of every character I've ever made, the spoiled brat! The worst thing that will happen, in TGtaHR at least, will be related to death and/or near death. Not so much the subject in itself but how it is used, which may or may not be the worst thing from a reader perspective, but from the character's perspective. I mean...? I guess anything relating to death is pretty bad, but I've kind of seen situations where the person would have considered it a luxury, soooo. I don't know where I'm going with this!(edited)

Deo101

sounds like you're going towards "my comic is the meanest thing I've put my characters through"

you big meanie.

DanitheCarutor

Ah! I'm such a bully! Nothing like putting your characters through the worst to make the positive payoff more worth it.

khkddn

is psychological or physical pain more impactful to readers? prolly depends heavily on the context huh

anyway for my comic I think it is a tie between a psychologically hurtful thing and a physically hurtful thing

the psychological one is a little something I like to call The Dress Arc, and the physical one is called Cold Swiss Cheese

Deo101

Incredible

khkddn

what is the point of having painful scenes if one does not give them cool names amirite

Deo101

Absolutely. You know whats up

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

I’d say psychological pain is much worse. A broken leg can heal in a month, but trauma stays with you. Of course, the former can cause the latter, but I always find it much more emotional when the character is feeling internally tortured rather than externally.

DanitheCarutor

I'm no expert but from personal experience with my comic, it's kind of depends on the reader? But physical is more universally comprehensible. A lot of the pain depicted in my story so far is psychological, with a little physical, and I've noticed people who have experience and/or are educated with the psychological aspect are more impacted by that than people who have never experienced or learned about it. Or to be more straightforward, people who have never experienced or have no knowledge of mental/emotional abuse have no idea what's going on in the story. Although when I had a scene where my frail, mentally unstable MC got punched in the face, everyone flipped out equally.

Of course this is just relating to abuse, when it comes to other stuff relating to pain I can't really give an opinion. I would say it's similar, since most people generally need to have a certain level of understanding of something to be impacted by its depiction of fiction, but I have no idea. Lol(edited)

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

No, you make a really good point. People generally can’t comprehend a pain they haven’t experienced, so I admit it would make sense to only feel empathy for physical pain if you’ve never known psychological trauma.

DanitheCarutor

Yeah, it's a douchey thing to do since this is subjective (there are people who have experienced trauma who lack the ability to empathize with others who go through something similar and vice versa), but I like to make a game out of figuring out who has and hasn't been in a really bad relationship based on how they respond to my comic irl, and online to an extent. Admittedly I'm hardcore into getting feedback half due to wanting to psychologically evaluate my readerbase.

Kelsey (Kurio)

Wait what?

DanitheCarutor

"What what" what? Don't worry, I don't do anything or judge based on stuff like that since it's so little info, I just like psychology... even if I may not be very good at it.

But yeah, I'm kind of a creep.

DanitheCarutor

Oh yeah, don't be scared to go back to posting in this channel? Thing? I won't be hanging out here, unless someone talks to me directly. I just responded originally because I had a tiny bit of knowledge on the subject asked.

Cronaj

I get that. I'm also kind of creepy. Plus, I kind of feel like webcomics are a bit of a social experience to begin with, which often involves a lot of studying the readers' emotional responses to the story.

keii4ii

Human beings automatically judge each other alllll the time, so part of it is inevitable. I think the most important thing is to acknowledge that you can be a little, very, or even totally wrong. ...The other important thing is, I do think there's a difference between subconsciously judging others and actively looking forward to it? If you are actively looking forward to judging others, that sort of turns your comment section into a social experiment of sorts, and I don't feel comfortable about that. If I knew the creator of a comic I follow was like that, I would be like "uhhhh you do you, but I want no part in that" and never comment.

I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Just.... ideally should be consensual?

I know some people who actually enjoy that kinda stuff, like even if they found out, they'd be like "ohhhhh SMART! :D"... Then there are people who would feel upset if they found out. So yeah, ideally this would be all consensual so people can opt in or out, but I don't know how you can do this while fully informing prospective participants.

DanitheCarutor

It sounds like a lie, but really, I don't judge. I make up fantastical concepts of what kind of person this is based on the little info I get from body language, facial expressions, what they say, and tone of voice but it's all thrown out the window because people are more complicated than that. At the end of the day I'd rather actually get to know the person before I truly judge their character. Also when it comes to normal comments I don't analyze unless the commenter is analyzing, usually the "judging" is when I ask for feedback... like, more than a couple sentences worth to get a good idea of how the story is mentally processed by that person. For example when I was asking for feedback after finishing chapter 4. While I was asking for critique, I also wanted to know how the story affected that person, get a vague idea of what kind of people the story draws in or what kind of people it drives away, etc. And yeah, I kinda go the extra mile with it because that's just how my brain works, it just runs all the time. I assume that person consents to me analyzing them and their experience when they respond to me asking for their opinion, but I dunno. Maybe I'll just... teach myself to not think when it comes to my comic or audience, I don't want to scare people off just because I'm an overly analytical weirdo. <_<'

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

I like when you use the physical pain for psychological pain. like someone is in heavy dangers, and comes out with only a broken leg. the other characters can feel guilty, hurt, etc other feelings. For me, physical pain is not enough, it is the reaction it sparks

DanitheCarutor

Oh uh, also @keii4ii, I can vouch that being analytical doesn't make you smart. My dad is like that and he's a complete moron, also I'm not the brightest bulb in the box either, I'm just a slave to my thoughts. Sorry, just wanted to clear things up to make myself look less bad.

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

I can understand that side of analysing. I’m often curious about my readers because I don’t have very many; my comics tend to be quite niche. So I wonder about what sort of demographic I’m attracting. From the people who have commented and shared a bit about themselves, it seems to be a lot of European and American adults in the 20-40 range who have received higher education (med students, professors, people in STEM, etc), which to me is kind of wild because I’m not writing ‘smart’ comics. There’s no real science or anything in my dark and morbid fantasy comics, so I’ve wondered what about them appeals to this demographic. This isn’t counting my new WT audience I’ve gained over the last couple of years, which is a very different demographic from those who follow on my site, but it’s really interesting to think about ‘What kinds of stories appeal to certain groups of people?’.

keii4ii

@DanitheCarutor Oh, I didn't mean to imply it was a bad thing. I apologize if that's how it came across. I meant it as a "thing I want vs thing I don't want." Just because I don't want a thing for myself, doesn't make it a bad thing.

Re: demographic analysis, more power to you if you're naturally into it. I'm like 'no..... let me just sit here and make this comic in peace.........' and even that's hard enough!

I do think about that stuff from time to time, but when I do, it's usually because I'm sad and am trying to think of non-worst-case-scenario explanations. So yeah, not something I enjoy pondering.(edited)

DanitheCarutor

@Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios) Same, even though my comic has gotten more readers than I imagined, it's still niche. Honestly don't know the age range, but I've gotten a range from psychology and medical students, or people with PHDs to normal 9to5ers who've been through similar experiences. (People who live with schizophrenia or clinical depression, or who have been in bad toxic relationships.) It's really interesting too because some of the readers who comment are very open about sharing intimate stuff about their lives without me even asking, which I'm not sure is due to the type of comic it is or because they relate to it? Either way I don't mind, it's kinda nice that someone feels comfortable enough to share that kind of info despite me being a total stranger. That's really interesting with your comic, though! Like, it's cool the types of people your work can attract, maybe your comic is smarter than you think. Lol

@keii4ii Yeah, but I don't want to discourage readers from interacting with my comic just because I'm into that stuff. Even though the work itself is far from safe I want people to feel comfortable enough to leave comments or discuss amongst each other.

keii4ii

Yeah, I think that's the dream for pretty much all of us, cultivating a comment section where everyone feels comfortable and welcome to interact

keii4ii

Getting back to the question, I really don't think I could answer, given the theme of my comic: "your pain matters, even if it doesn't affect the fate of the world/ even if it seems insignificant in the grand scheme of things." I don't have it in me to go against that and say to my characters, hey, guess what! Your pain pales in comparison to [this other character]'s!

Cronaj

That's an interesting thought. I mean, I spoke of what I consider the saddest scene, but really, in regards to the characters, they might not see it that way. That scene makes me cry, (and probably the character(s) directly involved), but the other characters have other sorrows weighing on their hearts, and those sorrows are also powerful in their own way.

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #creator interview #comic creator interview #creator babble #comic tea party #ctp

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commander-yinello · 6 years ago

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Identity

My entry for @saeyoungweek! I really wanted to write for the prompt identity because it speaks to me a lot.

I hope you enjoy reading! <3

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Who are you?

He grinned when he saw the curt message on his phone. They had a new member in the RFA, practically shoehorned in by V, and she was asking everyone who they were to get to know them. No doubt the others have held an entire essay describing themselves, Zen more than the others.

Leaning back on his chair, fingers hovering over the screen, he wondered what to say. A man who does shady things for money. It was better if she didn’t know that. Someone who has to work day and night to meet crappy deadlines. He shook his head. Too negative. A new member should have positive experiences while in the RFA. With fervor he typed out his preferred title.

I am the defender of justice, 7! 0! 7! When people cry out for help, I am there! The world has no fear, for 707 is here! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ And who are you? ^_~

Perfect. Short and powerful, just the way he liked it.

She followed up with a short description of herself. Nowhere as cool as the defender of justice, she joked. Luciel wants to reply that wasn’t true, but an e-mail on his computer screen sent from an unknown source told him to get to work.

“Work work,” he muttered, turning to his keyboard and putting his phone away. Mary would chastise him if he didn’t finish the current request today.

***

His phone chimed, interrupting Luciel’s twenty-hour session of lying down flat on his stomach. He turned his head away from burying it into the mattress to check his phone, the rest of his body refusing to be move.

Who are you?

Odd. Didn’t she ask this yesterday? With a bit more effort, he took the glasses off his nightstand and put them on.

How are you?

Ah. That made more sense.

God 707 is doing amazing! The lie was written so easily with one hand. He added a whole arsenal of emojis that didn’t match the empty feeling inside of him. Do you have need of the defender of justice?!

Please God 707, save me from procrastination! I’ve got chores I don’t want to do! T_T she replied with the same amount of radiant happiness, and it gave him some energy that he thought to be lost for the entire day.

Quick!! つ ◕_◕ ༽つ Take my energy! つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

It’s not working! What shall I do, defender of justice??

Luciel chuckled and willed himself to roll on his side so he could properly reply. He spent the entire afternoon messaging her, unwilling to think of the workload that lay beyond his bedroom door.

***

I also want to be the world’s best hacker!

He grinned. He was so far behind with the client’s latest project, but he couldn’t care less. For the past few days he had been more active on his phone, talking to her, pranking Yoosung, joking about the lives of the other RFA members. His maid berated him for looking at the security cameras too often.

You don’t want to be the world’s best hacker. You will be staring for days at your screen, never sleeping and forever eating Dr. Pepper and drinking Honey Buddha Chips. ◉_◉

Oh no! Are you alright? Do I need to tell your maid off to give you a break? You must get your rest!

Oops. Had he gone too far with his joke? Time for some deflection.

I’m kidding! It’s fine. I wouldn’t do anything else!

Really?

I can handle it! What’s more important is that you’re happy. (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) I will be whoever you need me to be~

There was a pause, longer than normal. Luciel was starting to wonder if she had to run off to do something when he saw the icon of a reply being typed.

I don’t want that.

His stomach sank.

I want you to be yourself. I want you to be happy too.

She didn’t understand. No, she couldn’t understand. He sighed and gave her an honest reply.

I’m just a 2D guy designed to make you happy. There isn’t more to it.

:( That’s not true, Seven.

Something about her insistency made him want to slam his fist on the table. He bit his lip until it stung in pain, tasting iron. Why were her words getting to him? Happiness was not meant for him. It was already a blessing that he could talk to someone like her regularly. He was fine living a fabricated life on the chatroom.

So why did this conversation make him so irrationally angry?

He decided not to reply.

Tossing his phone as far as possible on his computer table, he dove back into his code, drowned himself in it and worked on as long as he could until he passed out from fatigue. The continuous buzzing of incoming messages reminded him of his failure to keep himself in place.

***

The sound of his phone startled him awake. He got up, feeling the dent of the mousepad in his face, wiping away the drool from his mouth. 1 AM on the computer clock. When his phone rang for the sixth time, he answered.

“Why did you call me?” he asked, instantly regretting how harsh he sounded.

“You didn’t reply to my messages. I… I got worried.”

She would be worried. She was still full of hope. Luciel ran his tongue over the wound on his bottom lip, wondering what to say.

“I’m sorry. I’m tired and behind schedule. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“That’s okay. I know you’re working hard, but please rest too! I mean it!”

She reminded him of Mary. Except sweeter, and less taser threats. “Why are you up so late? Can’t sleep? Want me to sing you a lullaby~?”

A sound that was a combination of a squeal and a gasp came through his speaker, making him quiet his laughter so she wouldn’t be offended. “Y-you should go to sleep! Next time!” she demanded.

“Next time,” he promised. He was about to say goodbye and work on when suddenly he heard her voice again.

“Hey, Seven? Remember when I asked you who you were?”

Luciel blinked. “Yes?”

Did she know, he wondered. That the defender of justice was just a smokescreen he could hide himself in, so that everyone, but himself most of all, didn’t see who he truly was?

Now he realized why he had gotten angry earlier. It was because he couldn’t tell her why. He couldn’t show her his true self, the Luciel that was always tired of work, of himself. He had no past to be proud of, no future to look forward to. All that matter was his work for the agency. He wasn’t who she wanted him to be. He wasn’t who he should be for her. Even his own name was a lie. A fake identity so no one else would need to look out for him. He wasn’t carefree, or safe. She shouldn’t be around him.

He was the happy-go-lucky online prankster devil, and he would wear the mask until the end. He had already accepted it. Mentally he prepared himself to change the subject.

“I wanted to properly introduce myself first, but I was so nervous I sent everyone that. I felt so dumb, but I’m glad you gave me a normal response.”

A silent sigh of relief left him. “That’s so adorable! No worries, I’m sure the RFA likes you for it!”

“Maybe, but I like you.”

“Wh-“ he stuttered. His heartrate sped up and he clutched his shirt. “Ah, you shouldn’t say such things! That’s dangerous for my heart! Dangerous!”

He heard her giggle on the other end. “Go to sleep! I won’t go to sleep if you won’t!” he demanded, so flustered it was hard to say the words.

Finally she gave in and hung up, leaving him to calm down from the sudden attack. It would be a lie to say he didn’t like her too, but… he also knew that he would only end up hurting her like this.

So why couldn’t he push her away?

***

I’ve been thinking.

Of all messages he expected, it wasn’t this.

Of?

You.

He choked and his face started to flush once more. The half-eaten sandwich now sat forgotten in his other hand. She continued as he sat frozen in his kitchen chair.

I was thinking that I don’t really know you. I know a part of you, but I want to know all of you. There is more to 707 than just jokes and clever hacking tricks.

Oh. So she did suspect something. A hundred jokes ran through his head, but in a moment of madness he decided to reply seriously.

What if the parts of 707 you don’t know make you unhappy? Isn’t it better if you don’t know?

The Seven I got to know cares so much, he tries everything to keep everyone around him happy. I cannot imagine someone like that being horrible. As I said before, I want you to be happy too. I won’t stop, no matter what.

She was incredibly stubborn. Luciel’s face felt hot watching her type on and on about how she wasn’t going to quit. He wasn’t convinced she would stick around once she truly saw him.

You will see.

But the feelings he got reading her promises lit up a tiny spark of hope, and foolishly he thought, who knew?

Perhaps… perhaps she could be the one to convince him to take off the mask.

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sun-spark · 6 years ago

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Depression and Lies, a Relative Truth

Summary: The Truth is Relative, and Deceit knows this, especially when Depression comes to play. Or, depression affects all the sides differently, Roman gets the worst of it and Deceit helps him cope.

Warnings: Oh boy, Depression, self-deprecating thoughts, lies, mentions of anorexia (not in detail), Deceit, Sympathetic Deceit, bruising, mental condition affecting physical body, hella lot of angst, happy-(ish) ending tho.

Notes: This is based on my own experience with depression and my struggle to avoid becoming fully anorexic, as well as my realization the other day that the truth is very relative, especially within the mind of someone with depression. I don’t speak for everyone, this is merely based on my experiences with these issues, no one else’s.

Also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15329058

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Depression may hide the truth, but far worse it may alter what its victim considers to be a lie.

It was the voice that whispered and screamed into the depths of a person’s mind, telling them lies until a point comes when it no longer needs to lie, for to its victim, truth and lie had been reversed.

It affected all the sides without exception, though merely in differing ways.

To Logan it whispered that everything was pointless, that all of his goals were out of reach and he would never learn all he needed to, much less what he wished to. That there was no use in trying. And it continued, to and beyond the point when Logan would become fatigued, body hurting from unexplainable exhaustion.

In Patton’s ear were recountings of bad memories and whispers that he would always fail. Sinister voices that insisted he would never be good enough, couldn’t be since he always hid negative emotions behind a fake smile. In time Patton’s eyes would grow dull, his smile faker, a pain settling in his chest as motivation and joy were drowned under a torrent of sorrow.

Anxiety is called a symptom of Depression by doctors far and wide, when reality in minds like Thomas’s is that Depression heightens anxiety, rather than cause it. Virgil perhaps puts up the most fight against the voices echoing in his head, instincts to protect the other sides and their host winning out for a time. And so it was these instincts that Depression used against him, reiterating that life is pointless, that he could never be good enough, could never protect them, that they and Thomas would be better off without him to cause problems. Depression whispers and screams until fight-or-flight has turned to self-loathing, until tear tracks show on shadows no longer caused by makeup, and red crescents mar the insides of palms.

Despite all this, it is Roman who suffers the most. Creativity is a master at imagining anything he’s told, and the Ego is most easily bruised. Facades of grandeur hide insecurities, shielding fragile self-worth, but Depression slips under these shields easily. It is Roman who gets the most variety, each statement a well-placed dagger:

“You can never create anything good enough for Thomas.”

"You’re hideous and shouldn’t eat so much.”

“You will always fail at protecting the others.”

“How can you protect the others when you hurt Virgil? You’re pathetic and weak.”

“Don’t eat that, you’ll just get fatter.”

“Idiot, you didn’t eat today, go eat something!”

“Now you’ve eaten too much.”

“All your creations are flawed and horrible.”

“You’re a burden. The others would be better off without you.”

“They don’t love you, they never will.”

On and on it went, no lack of insecurities to be attacked, and Roman took it the worst. While Logan became fatigued and couldn’t think, while Patton drowned in sorrow, while Virgil fought not to end it all and never slept, Roman bruised.

Whoever coined the phrase “bruised ego” couldn’t have known how right they were. Normally when an idea was criticized or an insult was thrown at him by Virgil or Logan he came away with tiny discolorations in green and yellow, perhaps in blue and purple, spanning his chest and back and sometimes down his arms, they didn’t know and he kept it hidden…..But Depression was a worse hell. Every comment, every barb and insult from Depression, said in his own voice no less, left large splotches small as fists and large as soccer balls scattered over chest and back, arms and legs. Muted shades of yellow and green, blue and purple, black and red blooming like wrathful flowers. Harsher jabs and crueler words made them spread beyond his torso and limbs, coloring his face and neck.

Worse yet? Roman listened. Roman Sanders was malnourished and underweight, skin almost always a patchwork of bruises, eyes tired and sore from tears, all packed away and hidden behind a blinding smile and a grand princely façade. It was a smile he tried to practice in the mirror, as he did all of his more difficult roles, but the mirror was a dangerous thing, for when he could see his own reflection the voice gained in strength. Mirrors became an unhealthy addiction.

This is where we find the role of Deceit Sanders. Depression afflicts him as well, crowing that he’ll never be loved nor accepted like Virgil, that all he can do is harm the others and Thomas, but strangely, it doesn’t affect him quite as bad.

Depression is a personal hell silent outside your own head….with rare exception.

The others had long ago figured out that Deceit always knew when they lied, but they did not yet know the extent of his strange sixth sense. See, Deceit knew something the others hadn’t quite figured out yet: Truth was a funny thing, and in the realm of one’s own mind the facts cease to matter where the truth is concerned. He was not only aware of anytime the facts were outright denied or twisted, but also of anytime the “truth” was distorted.

Deceit Sanders could only lie to whomever he was speaking to, could only tell them what they would not believe….but he did not always speak in lies when doing so.

This is why part of his role was to care for the others, to protect them. And this is why he once again found himself appearing in Roman’s room while the other was standing before his mirror, gazing sadly at his own shirtless reflection.

“Roman.”

The creative trait did not turn to him but the flinching of his shoulders indicated that he had been heard. Deceit stepped forward slowly, each step accompanied by a statement spoken softly.

“Roman. You are important.” Step.

“Your creations are wonderful.” Step.

“You are good enough.” Step.

"Roman…”

He was behind the other now and he gently wrapped his arms around the princely trait, forehead resting between trembling shoulder blades.

“You are beautiful. You are not overweight nor grotesque. You are incredible.”

And so he continued for a time that may have been minutes or hours, continuing until he felt the malevolent presence abusing his ability lessen and the royal’s shoulder were shaking with silent tears. At this point the half snake trait lifted his head, rested his chin on Roman’s shoulder, and met brown eyes with his own mismatched ones in the mirror.

“You are loved.”

Roman’s eyes remained on his own in the mirror, though Deceit suspected the creative side could no longer see him for the tears running from his eyes.

Deceit would have stayed there, repeating words similar to these until Roman had cried himself to sleep, but he knew that was not to be when he heard the door open, a falsely happy voice calling the prince’s name.

“Roman I- !” Patton cut off abruptly at the sight of Deceit with his arms around a quietly sobbing Roman, mismatched eyes meeting his own from within an expressionless face. Anger lit the moral trait’s features and he stalked forward, grasping Deceit’s wrist roughly and drawing Roman to him more gently, practically dragging them both out the door, questions of concern falling from his lips directed toward Roman who did not answer. He dragged them, or rather dragged Deceit and carried Roman, out to the commons, disturbing both Logan and Virgil. He pulled Deceit to stand by the couch harshly before releasing him, settling a still crying Roman on the couch as the others came closer in alarm.

In the light, Patton saw the sprawling nebulae of bruising and he turned to Deceit angrily while Logan attempted to ascertain the severity of the injuries.

“What did you do?!!” Patton was glaring at him furiously, but Deceit did not respond.

A whimper from Roman at a particularly painful prod from Logan sent the fatherly trait scrambling onto the couch to wrap his arms gently around Roman. Logan fetched some wraps and ice and ignored everyone while he applied them to the worst of the bruising. Virgil merely watched the deceptive trait in silent consideration.

Patton was running a hand through Roman’s hair repetitively, attempting to comfort him while he spoke to Deceit.

“Why would you do this to Roman?! What did you even do to cause this short of beating him?!!”

Deceit shrugged with one shoulder, tamping down his emotions.

“I did not tell him that he is important and loved.”

Virgil still had his eyes trained on him shrewdly and he raised a brow curiously, voice oddly calm in all of this. “A, how the hell could you tell him that since you can only lie, and B, why the hell would that hurt him?”

Deceit stared at Virgil helplessly, trying to figure out how to explain, but Patton gave him no chance, anger overwhelming the normally soft heart.

“It doesn’t matter! He can’t just do something like this to Roman! I don’t know what the heck we ever did to you- !”

Something in Deceit snapped and he leaned down swiftly, grasping the moral trait’s jaw in his hand, making him fall silent and forcing him to look at him. Logan eyed him warily while Virgil took a single step forward on reflex, still watching and assessing. Deceit payed them no mind as Patton fell silent and glared into Deceit’s mismatched eyes. Deceit had had enough.

“I caused this.” He let that sink in a moment, seeing Patton’s eyes widen. “The truth is not relative. I can not only speak to one of you what you believe to be a lie.” He saw Logan’s expression turn to one of mild shock as understanding dawned on him, but he kept his eyes on Patton’s. “I did not tell Roman that he is beautiful, nor did I tell him that his ideas and creations are wonderful, nor did I tell him that he is loved.”

He stared Patton in the eye for a moment, seeing surprise and guilt mingle in brown orbs, before releasing the other’s jaw and turning on his heel, not giving time for a response.

He met Virgil’s eyes as he passed and saw the other watching him in an appraising and calculating manner. He walked on, told himself that it didn’t matter, that he didn’t care. And if, as he walked away, a little voice in the back of his head told him that they would never accept him or love him….well, he ignored it. The truth is relative after all.

Fin

Tags - If you want to be added to my tag list or have a writing/drawing request, drop an ask in my inbox!

@emospacegeekvirgil @modcarbz @illogical-anxieties @redrosella @chipminkle @neonwaffleninja @residentanchor @kanejandkruge @itsneverthateasy @a-pastel-pan

Y’all were supposed to get my witch Virgil drawing, which is done, but I wanted to post a fic instead, so I hope you enjoy it?

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wandering-through-wonder-land · 6 years ago

Text

Depression and Lies, a Relative Truth.

Warnings: Oh boy, Depression, self-deprecating thoughts, lies, mentions of anorexia (not in detail), Deceit, Sympathetic Deceit, bruising, mental condition affecting physical body.

Also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15329058

@anxiousangelvirgil

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Depression may hide the truth, but far worse it may alter what its victim considers to be a lie.

It affected all the sides without exception, though merely in differing ways.

“You can never create anything good enough for Thomas.”

"You’re hideous and shouldn’t eat so much.”

“You will always fail at protecting the others.”

“How can you protect the others when you hurt Virgil? You’re pathetic and weak.”

“Don’t eat that, you’ll just get fatter.”

“Idiot, you didn’t eat today, go eat something!”

“Now you’ve eaten too much.”

“All your creations are flawed and horrible.”

“You’re a burden. The others would be better off without you.”

“They don’t love you, they never will.”

Depression is a personal hell silent outside your own head….with rare exception.

Deceit Sanders could only lie to whomever he was speaking to, could only tell them what they would not believe….but he did not always speak in lies when doing so.

“Roman.”

The creative trait did not turn to him but the flinching of his shoulders indicated that he had been heard. Deceit stepped forward slowly, each step accompanied by a statement spoken softly.

“Roman. You are important.” Step.

“Your creations are wonderful.” Step.

“You are good enough.” Step.

"Roman…”

He was behind the other now and he gently wrapped his arms around the princely trait, forehead resting between trembling shoulder blades.

“You are beautiful. You are not overweight nor grotesque. You are incredible.”

“You are loved.”

Roman’s eyes remained on his own in the mirror, though Deceit suspected the creative side could no longer see him for the tears running from his eyes.

In the light Patton saw the sprawling nebulae of bruising and he turned to Deceit angrily while Logan attempted to ascertain the severity of the injuries.

“What did you do?!!” Patton was glaring at him furiously, but Deceit did not respond.

Patton was running a hand through Roman’s hair repetitively, attempting to comfort him while he spoke to Deceit.

“Why would you do this to Roman?! What did you even do to cause this short of beating him?!!”

Deceit shrugged with one shoulder, tamping down his emotions.

“I did not tell him that he is important and loved.”

Deceit stared at Virgil helplessly, trying to figure out how to explain, but Patton gave him no chance, anger overwhelming the normally soft heart.

“It doesn’t matter! He can’t just do something like this to Roman! I don’t know what the heck we ever did to you- !”

He stared Patton in the eye for a moment, seeing surprise and guilt mingle in brown orbs, before releasing the other’s jaw and turning on his heel, not giving time for a response.

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maculategiraffe · 7 years ago

Note

When you get this, post ten facts about yourself and pass this ask along to ten of your favorite followers. If you feel like it! This is a friendly, low pressure meme. :D

1. I have grapheme-color synesthesia, meaning I perceive (Roman) letters and (Arabic) numbers in color. A is yellow, B is orange, C is pink, D is red, etc. I didn't realize this wasn't a universally shared experience until sixth grade, when in language arts class we were discussing a story we'd read and I got two characters confused, "Mary Louise" and "Cynthia Parker," and by way of explaining my confusion offhandedly said, "sorry, they're both pink and blue" and everyone was like "...what." I had a whole lot of trouble studying Greek because the alphabet wasn't in colors that made sense to me.

2. I find horses unnerving on, like, an existential level. They give me the whole-body shudders, like one of those Lovecraftian things that Simply Ought Not to Be, that offend mine eyes and sanity by their proportions. The first time I watched the movie Willow and there was this scene where "unicorns" (white horses) galloped in slow-mo towards the camera, I let out this involuntary scream and hid my face and my viewing companion was like "wtf is wrong with you." This is one of the 16 reasons I cannot tolerate the Western genre under any circumstances.

3. I sometimes play tabletop role play games, mostly World of Darkness, with my boyfriend and a small group of friends. The two characters I've grown most attached to are a) a vampire named Alethea who was a bonny lass named Polly Cooper working in an Edwardian-era flower shop when she was Embraced (vampired) by a beautiful seductress calling herself Josephine who was later murdered by a serial killer raised by werewolves, and b) a daughter of the god Hephaestus named Chloe Smith (geddit?) who built an engine so efficient it accidentally tore a hole in the fabric of space-time so she had to team up with a few other gods' children and a human mage-hunter named Anthony who's one of two people she's ever actually (platonically) loved to defeat the eldritch abominations that came through the gap. Alethea is currently trying to wrangle a wealthy and psychotic vampire hunter she Embraced as part of a Machiavellian scheme involving the vampire city council, who adores her so much he's constantly having people he perceives as obstacles to her murdered behind her back, and she's like "Kaspar for fuck's sake, I'm not ambitious, I've lived this long by keeping my head down" and he's like "but now that you have ME you can assume your rightful place as Queen of All Vampires" and she's like "I don't WANT to" and he's like "because you're so endearingly humble and self-effacing but we can fix all that." Chloe failed to save Anthony's life from a cabal of mages so she called in nineteen favors from every supernatural being she knew and went to Hell Itself (kind of? long story?) to get him back, and succeeded, and now her one goal in life is to kill the insanely overpowered mage who killed Anthony in the first place. She's trying to get the other person she loves (her Russian half-brother Kostya, the son of Svarog) to help, but he's like "Сестренка, не будь дураком, this mage is the fucking worst, let well enough alone" and she's like "HE MURDERED MY WITCHER DAMMIT." (Anthony has amnesia about the whole thing and Chloe's fiercely determined to make sure it stays that way so she's barely seen him since the Thing but she watches over him from nearby and it SEEMS like no one's going after him again? but we'll see)

4. I was raised in an incredibly toxic fundamentalist evangelical Christian church, which imploded just before I went off to college because the (married, with five kids) pastor was discovered to have been having a passionate affair with the wife of one of the elders (who also had five kids, everybody was very quiverfull), and have gone through a lot of Spiritual Seeking since, but I adore my current Episcopal church, which takes it as a given that our primary duty as Christians is to love and look after anyone who needs it, in the ways they need it most, as best we can. As such, we educate ourselves and others, which I also love since the Christian culture of my youth was like "don't think about it don't think about it you'll go to hell if you think about it." Also women and "Practicing Homosexuals" (the parlance of my youth) are allowed to be priests and bishops (we have two female priests and three male ones at my church) and the current bishop of the entire American Episcopal church (the first black man to hold that role) is the former bishop of my own diocese, so hometown diocese represent 😀

5. I love swimming in the ocean. I'll stay in the ocean all day until somebody drags me out. I think I have some kind of sense-memory of the womb that activates in the ocean when I'm weightless and being gently rocked. If I'm ever eaten by a shark just know I died as I was born: being agonizingly and unexpectedly ripped from a state of mindless bliss.

6. When I was a kid I had a hamster named Butterscotch, who lived in a tank from which she was constantly escaping. She would take her little hamster wheel, pack the bottom of it with cedar shavings, pee on them to affix them in place, climb the now-stationary wheel, muscle-lift the top of the tank, and squeeze herself out to freedom. She'd do it right in front of me, like, "So? Watch this." She also climbed the stairs in my parents' house by reaching up, gripping the edge of one with both paws, muscling herself up over the edge, and repeating until she reached the top. She was the original American Ninja Warrior and I loved her so much and I cried so hard when she died.

7. I had terrible, debilitating nightmares as a child, which led my mother to purchase a book called Helping Your Child Overcome Nightmares, which was about guided meditation and taking control of your dreams, and I immediately took and read the book myself because it sounded interesting, and I vividly remember the first time I successfully took control of a dream. There was a striped rug in my room and I dreamed that a tiger materialized on it and growled at me, and I said aloud, in my dream, "Pretend the only thing he's afraid of is not being able to see" and threw my blanket over his head and he yelped and kicked and vanished. I used these techniques to great effect after my husband died, when I was horribly, horribly afraid that I'd dream he was alive again and it had all been a mistake, and then wake up and absolutely be unable to stand it, so I'd dream of him and say "I'm really happy to see you, but you're dead, you're not really here" and it seemed like it sort of hurt his feelings but I knew if it was really him he'd understand I had to protect myself.

8. Speaking of my dead husband: we agreed before he died that if there was an afterlife he wouldn't hang around and haunt me, he'd move on to whatever new adventures might await and I'd catch up later if necessary. I explained this to a grief counselor who asked if I'd had any Experiences of the dead one since he died (since apparently that's quite common) and I was like "oh no, we agreed he wouldn't hang around" and she was like "oh well that's... good, then?" and I was like "damn skippy, hopefully he's got better things to do"

9. Speaking of weird dreams: while we were on the transplant waiting list and living in hellish limbo, I did a lot of exploratory dream work, and one thing I did was establish a kind of little shop in the dream world that sold tea and tarot cards and geodes and this lady worked there who would help me with what I needed and supply me for my various exploratory missions in dream space. It was like... near the "entrance" to the dream world, so when I'd lie down with guided meditation I'd go to sleep and come up "near" it. Now hear me out because I swear this is true: years later, YEARS later, I went to New Orleans for the first time-- I'd never been near the place before-- and THAT SHOP WAS THERE. It was the same EXACT shop. Sold tea and tarot cards and geodes and there was a back room curtained off, which was where the lady from my dream always was when I came in, and I was too fucking terrified to ask what was back there and I hightailed it out of there and it's still the most overtly Weird thing that's ever happened to me in real life.

10. The first video game I ever played was Dragon Quest VIII on the PS2, and there was a subplot about a king whose wife had died and he'd been grieving and weeping for two years and the whole kingdom was sad and depressed because the king couldn't deal with his grief and we the adventurers had to go on a quest to find the Moon Shadow Harp and bring back a memory of his wife telling him he was stronger than he knew and him saying "I'd be lost without you" and her saying "no you wouldn't, you're strong and also no matter what I'll always be with you because you love me so much you couldn't ever lose those parts of yourself, the ones that love me, and so I'll always be with you" and I bawled like a friggin' baby, and then I tried another video game (Final Fantasy X) and was like "ugh, so it was just that one video game that was good, never mind" and that was the last time I played a video game until Fallout 4.

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serceleste · 7 years ago

Text

my victory over hamlet

I expect everyone who follows me knows about my Hamlet saga because I won’t shut up about it (sorry not sorry) but I really wanted to write down my experience, mostly for me, but I’m sharing it because so many of you have been amazingly supportive all the way through my disastrous first attempt to my eventual victory. So here it is, and if you just want to hear about Oscar and the play you can skip a ways down, lol.

I wanted to see this play from the moment it was announced. I mean, it’s obvious that I love Oscar’s beautiful face and he just appeals to me in general, but I absolutely love him as a performer. So the idea of seeing him live, in Shakespeare, was just… But I kind of pushed it off, because it would have been an enormous expense. The tickets weren’t cheap, I live halfway across the country so there would be airfare, hotels, Uber/taxi fare, food… I’m not where I thought I would be in life at this particular point so it just didn’t seem feasible.

And then.

The play began. I started hearing about it. And I thought… if I don’t at least try, I’m going to regret it forever. I have far too many regrets in my life for still being young, stemming from my natural introversion and anxiety and from the fact that I have always, always tried to be responsible and level-headed and do what’s expected of me. But I just thought… fuck it. I am going to do something ridiculous for once in my life just because I want to.

The tickets were sold out, obviously, so I started searching for inevitably over-priced secondhand ones. I found one that wasn’t too bad. I found a hostel a mile away from the theater, I booked a flight, I took off work. I went to NYC by myself to see Oscar Isaac play Hamlet.

And then it got cancelled. I was devastated, guys, I think you all know that. The theater employee told me Oscar was ill and I just thought… you know what? That figures. It figures that I would do this crazy thing and it would crash to hell.

So I went back home. I’d had a nice time beforehand exploring parts of the city on my own but the memory of standing there and hearing that lady tell me it was cancelled and going back outside and just… It soured the whole thing.

I called my mother. I told her I was so disappointed that all I could think about was trying to go back. She told me that I should take a few days and let it settle, think about it, but it was my money.

That was Thursday. On Friday I was checking StubHub again and figuring out what day I could make it work. August is our busiest month of the year and a blackout period where no one can take off. Because of my promotion last year I don’t work weekends anymore but in August I do. I thought, okay, I’m working weekends the second half of the month, but if I go just before then, on a Friday evening or Saturday morning, see the play Saturday, and come back on Sunday, that won’t affect anything. Saturday the 12th was squashed right in between undoable time periods and literally the only day all month I thought I could make work.

On Saturday I went back to looking for tickets and flights and the hostel. I found one ticket, more expensive than last time but not overly ridiculous (and I had had my first ticket refunded) for Saturday the 12th. I found plane tickets only slightly higher than before. The hostel was 20 bucks a night more than when I’d stayed during the week but still cheap. I dithered.

Then chelliaphra told me that was the day she and her friend were going, and then she offered to let me stay in their hotel room, and I went !!!!!

I dithered a bit more, the seller upped their ticket price (BASTARD), I bought it anyway. I was going to fucking see this fucking play if it killed me, which seemed better than stewing in regret and disappointment.

This time it was a physical ticket they mailed to me. It arrived and the seller had SCRATCHED THEIR NAME OUT SO IT LOOKED LIKE I FUCKING STOLE IT. I mean, the name on the ticket was bad last time, it gave me anxiety, but at least it was a woman’s name so unless they ID’ed me, which seemed unlikely, it would have been fine. But this was SCRATCHED OUT LIKE I STOLE IT OH MY GOD. I had to call StubHub because I was freaking out. StubHub, or at least the woman I spoke with, has excellent service and made me feel better. I was still going to freak out until my butt was actually in my seat in the theater, but I felt reassured.

My dad’s reaction was the greatest. I told him, hey, so you know how I went to New York to see a play and the play was cancelled? Well, I bought another ticket and I’m going back. My dad just went, ‘oh no’. LMAO. Then he said he hoped it was a hell of a play and I was too embarrassed to admit that I cared less about what the play was than who was in it. :D (I mean, Oscar could have been in the shittiest production of fuck knows what and I would have wanted to see it.)

So I went back to NYC! I was so anxious I was nauseous, I slept maybe 4 or 5 hours, I got up at 3:30 am Saturday morning to catch my flight. I wandered around midtown partly to pass the time, partly to do the tourist thing because it was a different part of the city from what I’d seen last time, and partly to distract myself from how badly I was freaking out, to minor success.

I met chelliaphra and brehaaorgana, who were totally lovely (and I know this wasn’t your intent but thanks for actually making me eat! I was in NYC roughly 48 hours last time and ate exactly one actual meal, and I know myself enough to know I would not have eaten at all this time if I hadn’t been with you so thank you, lol) and we went to our hotel, which was AMAZING, I will never stay anywhere that nice again for the rest of my life, I am sure. Yay accidental free upgrades! \o/ There was a pillow menu!!

I got my period in the hotel, of course, which helped contribute to my severe nausea, like, omg, I was dying. I was so anxious over everything, over my ticket, over the play actually happening, over every stupid thing I could be anxious about. No even the truly magnificent comic book store (next to door to the magnificent bookstore I explored last time) could do much for me.

Actually arriving at the Public made me feel worse, if that can be believed, I was having flashbacks of how utterly shitty I had felt, looking at the corner where I’d called my mom and cried, remembering how fucking horrible I had felt walking down the street and figuring out what the hell I was going to do now. Thankfully we didn’t pass the awful bench I’d sat on feeling miserable, lol, before I walked to the park and wrote fanfic.

We took obligatory pics next to the poster of Oscar. We went inside. I was dying. Chelliaphra went with me to the desk to see if they could reassure me about the ticket but mostly it was down to StubHub. The announcement that the doors had opened came over the speaker and we went up so at least if there was a problem I’d be at the front. I thought I might vomit.

When the woman scanned my barcode and the “good!” beep happened I almost cried I was so relieved, it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard in my life.

And then my butt was in the seat!!!!! It was fine!!! I was going to see the play!!!!

Chelliaphra and brehaaorgana had seats in the front row and my jealousy was epic, tbh, but honestly I was so happy just to actually be there, after everything, that I would have stood in the doorway or something and thought that was good enough. The theater was very small, anyway, so all the seats felt pretty intimate. I was in the first row at the top of one of the aisles so it was actually rather nice, though I did end up having a bad angle for a little bit of it, Oscar had his back to me for one of the really key emotional scenes, which was a bummer, but whatever.

And the play! If you are looking for a critical evaluation of the play, this is not it. I had never seen Hamlet performed before and I read it once in school but that was a while ago. The closest I’ve come to seeing it was watching the movie version of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, lol. I had zero expectations of how it should be.

I fucking loved it. It was wild. It clearly was a non-traditional staging and I dug every minute of it. Oscar was phenomenal. Just… OMG. He is such a brilliant performer and seeing him live was something else, I will never forget it. He has so much energy and intensity and he knew how to play to the entire room; he made you feel like he cared about every person in the audience and he made eye contact with EVERYONE, no matter how crappy your seat was.

He speaks Shakespeare as naturally as you or I would speak to each other, like it’s how he normally talks, so it feels conversational and everyday. You forgot he was actually speaking Shakespeare because it just rolled off his tongue as if that’s how he always speaks. His comedic timing is SO GOOD, I did not know Hamlet could be that funny. He pushed troll!Hamlet to a whole new level. His gestures, his body language, everything. A few favorite moments were when he makes this mocking kissing gesture to his mother, and when he was running around dragging Polonius’ body in a sheet before stowing it in the audience, and the ‘may I lay my head in your lap’ bit, when he’s joking about his, uh, parts, and he just like raises his leg up and gestures and I died for multiple reasons. I also loved the use of the comfy sweater, Ophelia wears it, and then throws it back at Hamlet when she’s returning his gifts, and then Hamlet wears it.

And he was so moving, dear lord. Watching him play Hamlet’s grief and loss was incredible. Knowing that he lost his mother this year really gave it an extra emotional impact, because you know that had to have informed his performance, I mean, the thrust of the play is the loss of Hamlet’s father. (Also I would just like to say that I was attacked by the playbill, like, it literally says the play is dedicated to Oscar’s mother, and in his little bio bit it says it again, ‘dedicated to my mother’, GOD I HATE FEELINGS.) When he cried it was impossible not to cry with him, he was so heartbreaking and moving. You could literally hear the sniffling across the audience. The scene where he sees his father’s ghost was amazing, and he was so good in Act Two in the big emotional part with Gertrude.

And, you know, Oscar with blood on his face is the most Extra.

Everyone knows about the lasagna but watching it was… I mean, he sat on a table and railed at a tray of lasagna with a knife and you could not look away, and when he says, ‘why what an ass am I,’ it was like you could finally breathe again.

(The lasagna was an A+ prop, btw, for the way Oscar murders it and for the way Ophelia just digs into it post-spurning Hamlet. And my friends informed me it smelled amazing, lol.)

And, yes, he spends a lot of time in his underwear (very small well-fitted underwear that sometimes rode up a bit one side and obviously I noticed, sorry not sorry). Um. He looked great in it. His ass is FINE, and I feel like this post would be lacking if I didn’t call attention to that. (He killed the lasagna in his underwear, for the record.) There was a bit in Act Two when he was watching the players where he was leaning over the back of a chair just in front of where I was sitting and that was indeed a perfect angle because DAMN. His shirt fell down to cover the front most of the time but yeah, that was not bad either, lol (and my friends confirm the answer to the question is cut, in case you were wondering). But all that being said, he was running around in his underwear and you couldn’t not look but he is also just such a fantastic performer that he was in his underwear and you were still mesmerized by the actual performance. Also I just liked it as a dramatic interpretation, I mean, he comes out when Hamlet’s meant to be a bit mad, no pants, a toilet seat protector around his neck, his hair sopping, reading the newspaper. It worked. Later on when he’s dressed again he whips the sweats back off to show his madness (or, as can be debated, his “madness”) again and I just really bought it.

Plus, he sang! Having never seen it, and only read it the once, I have no idea if that’s common practice or if it was just Oscar (I feel like it was just Oscar??), but I Approve. God his voice is lovely, I have witnessed Oscar singing in person, I can die happy.

Also I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about his hair because it’s me, hair is my thing, and Oscar’s hair… It was shorter but it was on point, and let me tell you, his hair just does that naturally. You know what I mean. It got wet a bunch of times and he would run his hands through it and it just curls like that, like, ridiculous, his hair is fucking amazing.

Of course I was there for Oscar but I greatly enjoyed the cast in general. I thought Gertrude and Claudius were amazing playing off each other and off Oscar, Ophelia was lovely (and what a beautiful voice!), Polonius was especially amusing in his ‘imparting wisdom’ bits (and looool at the bathroom as set piece), I really liked Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and Laertes was from Preacher! The gravediggers were played by Ophelia and Polonius and they were very funny. Ophelia knocked me in the head with her potted plant when she came down the aisle to cover Polonius with dirt and flowers and I felt blessed, lol.

But Keegan-Michael Key, OMG. What a fabulous actor. I knew he would be hilarious but I wasn’t expecting to be moved quite so much by his drama, his closing lines were especially good. I loved how much they played up the Hamlet/Horatio relationship, all the face touching, dear lord, and Oscar kissed him on the mouth! I kinda ship it now, tbh. I know Hamlet/Horatio fic exists and I feel like this performance should inspire more, lol.

But, you know, I have to note the play within a play, the reenactment of the murder of the king to try to provoke Claudius, with Keegan as the king and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern as the faux Gertrude and Claudius. It was EPIC. They were all great, with their large, overdrawn movements, but Keegan was… The audience was in hysterics watching his over-played parody of a death, and damn if he didn’t go Extra for us. Oscar was sitting there covering his face to try to hide that he was laughing (we all saw you Oscar) and you could just see his OH MY GOD. Keegan did a ‘thank you!!’ to us at the end.

Oh, and the cellist! There was a cellist playing background music and they used him quite amusingly at times, like when Claudius basically tells him to fuck off.

For the gravediggers scene, Oscar and Keegan came down the aisle to sit in the audience, and Oscar was perfectly diagonal to my seat and let me tell you, his eyelashes are INCREDIBLE. So fucking long. Ridiculous. How is he real, seriously. But that was an impressive bit, Oscar is stunning in the famous ‘Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him, Horatio’ monologue, and the actual funeral, fucking hell, he killed it and he killed me, and the way it cuts out after he and Laertes have just wrestled over the burial ground with Horatio trying to stop it and Hamlet is just lying there clutching Ophelia to himself killed me again.

And there was fencing, of course! I loved the fencing. Oscar put on the white shirt with the codpiece thing and I approved. Damn the fencing was excellent. And obviously then it was sad because it’s Hamlet and everyone dies. The finale was all rather gutting, good job all around.

So the play was wild and I loved it in a very non-judging way, I was just immensely entertained and I loved the cast and Oscar was fucking phenomenal. Obviously we gave them all a standing ovation.

I feel like I should mention now just how fucking tired I was. By this point I’d been awake about 20 hours on almost no sleep, and had spent the day an anxious, nauseous wreck. I was SO TIRED. OMG.

THEN. OSCAR. We asked an usher about seeing the actors and she told us that unfortunately, if we were hoping to see Mr. Isaac, he usually didn’t stay on Saturday nights. So we were bummed and went outside to find somewhere to get food. But I had to pee horribly so I went back inside and I won’t lie, I was totally taking my time because I was thinking maaaaaaybe, maybe if I stay long enough he actually will come out, or maybe the other actors will, and then I came out and thought damn, it’s louder than when I went in, and there was a crowd, and I looked, and THERE WAS OSCAR OH MY GOD OMG!!!!!!!!!

Chelliaphra and brehaaorgana had already come back in on account of the commotion so yay! We waited for Oscar! There were so many people! He looked fucking exhausted! I felt so bad, actually, at taking up his time when he probably wanted to go eat and be face first in his bed, but he was such a sweetheart and stayed and smiled for everyone, he was so lovely and gracious.

I tried taking some pics of him standing there but there were seriously so many people. But I got my moment! He was so nice!! He smiled at me and made eye contact and John Boyega is 10000000% correct, it is really hard to look away from his face, he is so damned handsome. Like, fuck. He is a beautiful man. No one should be that beautiful in real life, it is unreal, like, you look at celebrities and you know there’s make-up, there’s photoshop and airbrushing, but goddamn, he is so beautiful up close. SO BEAUTIFUL. Also he smells great. And he is so small! I did not expect him to be so small! Like, I knew he wasn’t actually very tall but it’s just startling in person how small he actually is, he’s just tiny and compact and cute, I love him.

So it is a miracle I actually formed words. I was so nervous my hand was shaking and my brain would not function properly, IDK, partly how tired I was, partly how shy I am, partly OSCAR ISAAC IS LOOKING RIGHT AT ME FUUUUUUUCK. I also was so anxious not to bother him any more than I already was, or take up more of his time, because I felt so bad, he looked so tired and he was being so sweet, I felt guilty at bothering him. So I really barely could make myself say anything beyond asking for what I wanted and thanking him five thousand times, I don’t even know if I ever told him how much I loved the play, like, damn, I hope I did.

He took a pic with me, I think you’ve already all seen it!! I stood right next to Oscar and he took a pic with his face next to my face!!! And he totally signed my Kylo Ren journal, that is full of fanfic, a good deal of which is Poe/everyone, I am deeply, deeply amused by this. I had originally wanted him to sign my playbill too but I felt guilty asking so I just got the journal. I’d thought about bringing a Poe comic for him to sign, maybe the #1 variant that has him on the cover, but it wouldn’t fit in my purse and I had like this tremendous embarrassment at the idea of having to carry it around and keep it on my lap during the play (I was already a bundle of anxious nerves so this probably sounds stupid to everyone else but I just did not need the added anxiety), so the journal worked because I always have it in my purse anyway, and it just really really amused me to have Oscar Isaac sign my Kylo Ren fanfic journal. I half want to never touch it again because I’m afraid of wrecking it but I also want to, like, write something particularly trashy in it now, haha. (Of course, a lot of what it currently contains is plenty trashy!!) Because I am an awkward dork when I went to the comic shop and was struggling to think of something to say to not-boyfriend beyond ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ I blurted out some nonsense about wondering if he knew how to take care of autographs, and I ended up showing him my Oscar Isaac signed Kylo Ren journal (WHY AM I LIKE THIS I HATE MYSELF), but I might take his suggestion and put it in one of my comic protector bags.

Oh, also! He was wearing that backpack he always has, that he clips in the front like a 5 yo whose mom made him do it except he’s a grown ass man and chooses to do it, he is so adorable and dorky, I love him.

As we were leaving we saw Gayle Rankin (Ophelia) by the door so we stopped and talked to her and she signed our playbills. I’m a bit bummed we didn’t see anyone else but tbh, Keegan-Michael Key could have been standing right next to me and I would not have noticed because OSCAR OH MY GOD.

We found out later that Lupita Nyong’o had been there too, and I’m so sad I didn’t see her, her bone structure is sooooo lovely, it would have been so cool to see her beautiful face in person, plus I think she and Oscar are so cute. But alas. I suppose at least I can say I was in the same room as Lupita!

So we went for pizza (again, thanks for making me eat guys, even if you didn’t know you were doing it!) and went back to the amazing fancy hotel and I sent my pic to like everyone I know, and I was just so blindingly happy, and I was fucking exhausted but I was so hyped I barely slept anyway, I would doze a little and go back on Tumblr and doze a little and text my mom, it was ridiculous, lol.

And that was my adventure with Hamlet and Oscar! It was so stressful and I was ridden with anxiety and I spent way too much money I shouldn’t have spent and at times it was crushingly disappointing, but in the end it all worked out and I had an amazing time, definitely one of my greatest experiences ever that I will cherish forever. I’m so glad I got to meet chelliaphra and brehaaorgana, as much of an introvert as I am and as much as I did like wandering around NYC on my own without any socialization pressure, it was so great getting to nerd out with them over Oscar and the play and they made it so much more fun. Plus, I appreciated the moral support when I was dying beforehand, lol. Thank you so much to everyone who put up with me through this whole thing, when I was freaking out and when I was miserable and when I was exploding with nerdy joy. <3 I’m sorry this is so long! I feel like I am leaving things out anyway!

Bottom line: OSCAR ISAAC IS BEAUTIFUL AND A FANTASTIC ACTOR AND A LOVELY HUMAN BEING AND HE HAS A GREAT ASS.

Sometimes being utterly ridiculous and just saying ‘fuck it’ totally works out, guys!

#me #me vs hamlet #hamlet #oscar isaac

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anxious-talk · 6 years ago

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A peek into the author

The World Health Organisation has defined Mental Health as “a state of well-being. Mental health is defined as a state of well-being in which every individual realizes his or her own potential, can cope with the normal stresses of life, can work productively and fruitfully, and is able to make a contribution to her or his community.”

To many, this has come as a shock. Too often do we see the literal words ‘mental health’ mentioned in a negative, and almost derogatory, way. When anyone mentions the almost controversial topic, it’s immediately met with a mix of responses, most of which are negative, and often extremely offensive to someone with a diagnosed mental health condition.

In today’s wild era, roughly 7.0% of adolescent’s (WHO categorises this as anyone between the ages 10 and 19) are diagnosed with anxiety disorders, with separation anxiety and social anxiety as the most commonly diagnosed, according to a 2015 report The Mental Health of Children and Adolescent’s done by the Victorian Government. As someone who was diagnosed with anxiety from the ripe age of 14, I have been on the tail end of mixed responses from family, friends, colleagues, and even complete strangers.

I refused to tell my friends, feeling embarrassed about the whole situation, and not wanting any horrible rumors to spread around my school (this happened frequently, so my anxiety over that was completely rational).

My parents were informed, seeing as it was my school that actually recommended I seek help, and I wasn’t of the legal age to attend a GP by myself, thus my mum tagged along to the mental health assessment. They tried to inform seemingly everyone else in my family, to my horror. They claimed it was to spread awareness, and build a support network around me, but to my 14-year-old mind, it felt like they were betraying my trust, and just finding any old hot topic to bring up over the dinner table.

The only people that regularly spoke to me about my mental health at the time was my school counselor (an amazing woman, truly. I don’t know how she dealt with me each week), and my psychologist at the time (who’s named I STILL don’t know to this day) who I saw fortnightly, sometimes in private sessions and sometimes in group sessions with other similar aged females.

5 years on from that, I am back seeing a psychologist every few weeks (because the Australian Health System only lets you have 10 sessions with a psychologist each year and my wage certainly wouldn’t cover extra sessions), and have just recently been put on a mild form of SNRI, which is usually meant to treat depression, but is also commonly used for anxiety. My wage also doesn’t cover psychiatrist bills, but I am fortunate that it Medicare covers most of it, and I have parents who are willing to help out if it eventually betters my mental wellbeing.

You could say my mental wellbeing took a turn for the worst.

I stopped seeking ‘professional help’ shortly into 2015 when I thought I could handle it on my own, and just seeing my therapist at school was enough. While she worked wonders with me, I still probably could have benefited from a psychologist as well.

It wasn’t until 2018 when I realized everything was turning downhill, and I needed help fast. I actively sought out help, which is a huge step in the right direction for anyone with a mental health condition that is wanting to get treatment. I emailed the old clinic I used to go to, I went to see my new GP about a mental health care plan and was put through the mental health assessment by a lovely woman named Nina when I showed up at the clinic in May.

It was about a 5-week wait for a psychologist, and I was finally seen by my current psychologist whose name shall be left from this post, simply for her own privacy (it’s an extremely uncommon name). I get along with her great, and it doesn’t feel very clinical and professional like all of the movies and TV shows I saw as a kid, which is great. It is extremely important that you get along with ANY health care professional you see frequently; GP’s, psychologists, psychiatrists, dieticians, gynecologists, and any kind of specialist you might need/want to see. You have to build a great relationship with them, otherwise, you will feel uncomfortable, and not let out your true concerns.

She’s helped me with a lot of things.

One of my main concerns is eating. I do not have a diagnosed eating disorder, although my year 7 teacher would probably argue with you (seriously, she tried to force me into an anorexia clinic simply because I was coughing up phlegm! In the middle of winter!)

I have little issues with my body. I have always been slim and very tall, so naturally, my slimness is even more highlighted. I have small assets, which is where my body issues lie, but apart from that, I’d actually maybe like to see more weight on my stomach and thighs.

My eating anxiety stems from when I had braces. I was terrified of people catching me with food stuck in my braces, as well as various incidents of eating too many hot dogs and smearing sauce over my face. This slowly developed into a fear of eating ANYTHING in front of people I wasn’t comfortable with.

I ate burgers and pizza with a knife and fork, to minimize any mess, and to make portions small and ‘ladylike’.

I avoided using chopsticks or eating Asian cuisines, especially when I was dating my now ex-boyfriend, who was Chinese.

I slowly slimmed down my portions, because I knew my body couldn’t actually consume a normal amount of food (my stomach apparently is just very tiny when it comes to any food of actual sustenance) and didn’t want the disappointed faces of my parents burned in my brain.

I had always eaten in a separate living space to my family, which probably only further amplified my anxiety, meaning now I sat at different tables at family events and friend get-togethers.

I was always last to the Christmas feast because I didn’t want people to see what I was putting on my plate.

And I never EVER ate at the buffet. I couldn’t think of anything worse.

The past 6 or so months with my new psychologist have proven to be useful. I had to list 10 anxiety-inducing things to do with eating, from mild to extreme, and each week was set with a homework task, slowly working my way from the bottom to the top. Each time I saw her, I was to report on whether I did it or not, how it felt, and if I was ready to move on to the next one. It isn’t about completely overcoming the fear. It is about being comfortable enough that it doesn’t induce such horribly painful anxiety.

2019 is the year I want to work on my fear of intimacy/unsolicited touching.

Again, this stems from a completely rational series of events. Events that, unfortunately, many people (yes, PEOPLE!) in this modern world have experienced. I have been sexually assaulted by multiple different people and at different times. This does not mean rape if that is what has immediately come to mind.

The CASA Forum (Centres Against Sexual Assault) defines sexual assault as “any behavior of a sexual nature that makes someone feel uncomfortable, frightened, intimidated or threatened. It is sexual behavior that someone has not agreed to, where another person uses physical or emotional force against them. It can include anything from sexual harassment through to life-threatening rape. Some examples listed in a PDF include stalking, unwanted touching, unwanted sexual comments or jokes, pressuring for dates/demand for sex and offensive written material.

Hence why I reiterate; MANY PEOPLE HAVE EXPERIENCED THIS. Seriously, just google some statistics. It’s incredible the numbers that stack up. #NoMeansNo.

But this isn’t just a fear stemming from my horrible dating experiences.

I genuinely just hate being touched.

When close family members (I’m looking at you dad) squeeze me into their chest just after I’ve eaten dinner, even after I’ve warned them I will projectile vomit everywhere, it makes me feel like my worries and my aversions to physical intimacy are being ignored because they’re uncommon.

This isn’t to say I don’t touch people or want to be touched.

I just want to initiate it.

I will avoid most family members at a gathering unless I am close with them. Close aunts and uncles will get kisses on the cheek. Younger cousins will get loose hugs they can back out of (I know what it’s like to be 14 and not want my older relatives putting me in what feels like a chokehold).

I’ve just started giving my older brother hugs when I leave his new house, seeing as we only see each other every other month since he moved out, rather than every day at my childhood home.

I will greet certain friends with hugs upon seeing them after a long time and will let them lie on my shoulder when coming back from a wild night out drinking (I am the mum in this situation ALWAYS now, seeing as I no longer drink).

But those greetings are on my own terms. They are people I feel immensely comfortable with. They are greetings and goodbyes.

It’s the bits in between I don’t like. The cuddling on the couches. The random hugs in the kitchen when I’m trying to get a drink of water or wash the dishes. The random brushing of my hair with their fingers when we’re sitting next to each other (seriously, do not touch my hair. I hate it, and I haven’t washed it in 4 days).

I am trying to work on this. Or at least, I am trying to get better about communicating my avoidance of physical intimacy. I would like to find that person I am incredibly comfortable with, and whom I won’t flinch away from when they randomly trap me in a back hug.

I don’t know if this was brought on by my own want to fix it, or by the fact that everyone seems to be telling me that as an almost 20-year-old, physical intimacy is an IMPORTANT part of my life right now, and I shouldn’t be avoiding it. Maybe you should just stop worrying about my sex life, and starting worrying about your own marriage, you nosy little shit.

This post doesn’t really have a moral.

It is a little peek into the last 5 ish years of my struggling with anxiety.

I am not defined by my anxiety. I do not introduce myself as the girl with anxiety.

But it is a part of me, and I can't ignore it anymore. Ignoring it does no favors. I am ready to face it head on and tame this beast so it only attacks when it needs to.

I just hope you can do the same.

#lifestyle #anxiety #advice #anxiety advice #mental health #journalism #journalism student #blog #personal blog #blogging

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sage-nebula · 7 years ago

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Your post about Lillie and Lusamine was great, and it got me thinking - Pokémon could use some more unfriendly female main characters (outside of the villainous teams!) There's nothing wrong with nice girls but it would add more variety. I personally would want to see a female rival in the next game who acts like Clair from GSC - elitist and condescending but she learns her lesson in the end. Clair is just one of my favorite female characters in the franchise because of how different she is. :)

“Pokémon could use some more unfriendly female main characters (outside of the villainous teams!) There's nothing wrong with nice girls but it would add more variety.”

Women are diverse. Yes, there are nice, polite, sweet women---but there are also rude women, cold women, horrible women, abusive women, snippy women, asocial women---the list goes on, and on, and on. And not all of these women have to be villains; if Pokémon would go back to the days when we could have truly antagonistic rivals like the Johto Rival, then we could have a female rival who is antagonistic for a good part of the game until she, like the Johto Rival before her, comes around to be . . . well, less antagonistic. Even setting rivals aside, we could have important female characters who are technically on the “good” side but just aren’t nice, because “good” is not always “nice”, and women can exhibit and exemplify that just as much as men can. Nice, sweet girls are just fine and there’s nothing wrong with them, but this series has an abundance of them, as if girls aren’t allowed to be just as rude and unfriendly as the boys somehow can be, and I feel that Lillie and Gladion are a prime example of this. Yes, everyone reacts to abuse differently, and some abuse survivors do act like Lillie! But even setting aside the horrid Good Victim / Bad Victim dichotomy it created between them (as shown by how fandom reacted to them), it really does feel like Gladion was allowed to be rude, cold, and snappy at times due to the fact that he is a boy, and that is a behavioral pattern set commonly filled by male characters. Meanwhile, Lillie was a moe shrinking violet because, again, those are typical feminine traits (at least in anime). In my mind, there’s no reason why Lillie couldn’t have exhibited many of the very same C-PTSD symptoms that Gladion honestly did, given that she, too, was abused by Lusamine. She should have been allowed to be closed-off, unfriendly, and cold, too. And while she is fine the way she is, I do find it a bit exhausting that we seem to have a problem with diversity among female characters in this sense, at least when it comes to female characters that a.) aren’t supposed to be antagonistic, and b.) are in the spotlight.

So yes, we could definitely use more variety. Let women be diverse! Let them be selfish, rude, unfriendly, sarcastic, just as much as you let them be sweet, kind, and cute! Give us that beautiful variety! We could hopefully see it in the next game, but I’d like to see it in the anime as well. Before Alola was announced, I had an idea for a female companion of Ash’s who was, say, the daughter of the regional professor. Her goal would be to become a professor as well, but of a more archaeological sort; she would be determined to travel the region and make some great discovery that would kickstart her career and get her name on the map. However, battling wouldn’t interest her so much; she would recognize that it is sometimes necessary in conflicts with wild pokémon, but would see trainer battles as nothing more than chest-beating between the trainers, and tournaments as that but on a grander scale. Tournaments are, after all, just big contests for personal glory and accolades; in her mind, they wouldn’t really do anything to benefit the region or the world. There’s no edification to be gained there, nothing of substance. She’d scorn the lot of it. So when she decides to set off on her journey without a very strong pokémon of her own (like, she has one, but since she doesn’t like battling she hardly trains), her professor parent lets her go . . . on the condition that she travels with Ash, who just arrived, has a lot of experience and credibility as a trainer, and could be a good bodyguard. Of course, the girl thinks that is utterly pointless and a waste of time, and absolutely looks down on Ash for being a trainer (who, in turn, is understandably pissed at her condescending attitude), but agrees to the terms because it’s the only way she’ll be allowed to go peacefully. What results is a definitely contentious relationship, particularly since the girl has no interest in stopping in towns so that Ash can get his badges, but at the same time Ash is determined to get his badges because he originally came to this region for that purpose, not just to be a bodyguard to some know-it-all snob who can’t even take care of herself.

“I happen to know more about survival than you ever could,” she snaps. “I read all seven volumes of The Scholar’s Guide to Survival in the Wilderness by famed archaeologist---”

“Big deal, you’ve read some fancy books,” Ash snaps, waving a hand. “How far have you actually gone, huh? And how many battles have you won?”

“As if someone needs to showcase muscle in order to be self-sufficient---”

“When it comes to not being eaten by a wild pokémon or taken hostage by some evil team, yeah, they do!”

“What evil team? What imaginary threat do you expect to attack us?”

“Nothing imaginary, but yeah, there are some bad guys out there! And there’s Team Rocket, too, and they can be real annoying! You’ll see!”

I’m sure there are people in fandom who would hate her for daring to be caustic toward Ash, but I think that it would be absolutely refreshing to see a female companion who absolutely is cold at first, who is sharp-tongued and critical, but who is also smart, capable (though inexperienced), and softens and warms up over time. Not to the point where she’s all sunshine and rainbows, perhaps, but to the point where her criticism is less sharp, where she is nice in her own way. (And yes, Misty was also quite harsh at first, but that was because of things Ash did. I would want this girl to have conflicts simply because of her innate personality, because she’s not a friendly person, because she is critical and cold and thinks she knows everything already, particularly given how much she studies and research to fulfill her strong thirst for ambition.) I think that it’d be incredibly interesting if we could have a female companion like this, but . . . well. The odds for that are extremely slim, I feel. Alas and alack.

#orasforlife

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lamiaward · 8 years ago

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Dracula comes to Storybrooke

I don’t own OUAT

Season 6 au. Dracula is in town, and he has his eyes on Regina. Henry and Emma must fight for Regina’s safety as Dracula invades her dreams and steals her strength but do they know what they are up against? After all, there was never anything in the fairy tales about Snow hitting her prince with a rock…..

Warnings : mention of the marriage to Leopold. (non-graphic) Mention of injury.

She is angry. Or rather, she is trying very desperately to be angry, because anger will allow her to be cold and disdainful to the blonde mena- the blonde, to Emma - to pull her walls up and have them be as thorny as possible. It is humiliating, how she can't speak because even swallowing hurts but all she wants is that anger to will protect her, and how she digs her fingers into her own skin because how dare you desire that anger. That anger is the evil queen's. That anger will hurt your family and it. is. WEAK.

Her sight is blurred, and every time she swallows it feels like she has to force several arrows down her throat. She wants to throw herself at something and have it hurt, for searching for that anger so desperately. You have friends, family. You should be grateful for that. You cannot be angry.

She isn't. Or rather- she isn't at who she wants to be. She is furious at herself- for wanting this in the first place, for daring to think happiness is still something she is allowed to strive for, for any of the thousand times she was weak, she doesn't even know- and she can only think how she keeps making the wrong choices, somehow. She thinks of the way Emma's muscles froze beneath her fingers - and hates herself when she can only think of the split-second those lips moved against her and her own lips started to pull up at the corners.

She isn't foolish: she knows what she feels for Emma. Some days, she can even appreciate it. Some days, she isn't furious with herself for how Emma's smiles can wreck her heartrate and how she feels breathless whenever they connect- magically, or just when they talk. Most days however, she is painfully aware of what she has done- of how Emma Swan deserves better than what she could ever be.

Unfortunately, knowing it doesn't protect her.

Fortunately, she doesn't see Emma for at least days after it happens. (and perhaps she further humiliates herself by sobbing into her pillow, and in an especially weak moment, she wakes hungover stares at a thankfully unsent message)

She is miserable and using all the skills learned from a mother like Cora, and a mentor like Rumplestiltskin to hide it. She thinks Henry might know ( he definitely suspect) and he is even smart and instinctual and caring enough to likely guess it has something to do with Emma. Especially since Emma has been trying very hard to avoid Regina, making excuses that ranged from "I've got work" to " I am looking for the creeps that kidnapped you" (she had never actually gotten to telling Emma just how she had arrived at the house in the midst of the forest) . And Henry is cross with her - as he had told her " I can't believe she is being like this, I am so sorry mom"- and even Snow is scolding her daughter - I am not mad Emma, I am just disappointed - like that wouldn't make Emma's longing to run worse.

Snow was family, but sometimes she still thought the woman was an idiot. Especially concerning her daughter, who happened to come from a very different background and logically wasn't always understood by her mother. However, Regina would've expected Snow to at least be able to work out that certain things trickered Emma. Like disappointing her family (it was undoubtly terrifying to the lost girl Emma used to be; disappointing a family must have once meant losing them again)

Things were tense in their family right now- and Regina felt horrible enough that she had barely left her house the past three days. Right until Henry had enough of it - " Mom. You are hardly a threat to the public good anymore. You've saved everyone at least three times, and most of the people kind of love you" - and she was coarced to leave the house by a mixture of Mill's slyness, Swan stubborness and Charming - well charming-ness.

Our son is a force of nature. But she smiled for the first time in days as she was pulled along by a chatting Henry, listening to his stories about lessons and superheroes and writing ideas with the easy, proud smile only he could pull from her. She tried to scold him, but instead laughed when he yelled a greeting at Ruby in the middle of his story, then gently pushed her down and continued talking. "so I told him he was dumb. Because it is wonderwoman, duh. So of course she would win".

Regina smirked. " I agree, thinking she would lose is rather foolish".

" Right? Anyways, after that Ben was kind of sully. Until I promised we could meet at my place soon again" Regina melted as Henry grinned adorably. "I think he misses you cooking".

" That is rather sweet of him".

Henry shrugged. " Your cooking is just really good".

" Did you never hear about the rule, Henry?" Ruby had suddenly appeared. Years of experience had taught her to just come to the table because the two would be talking nonstop anyways, so it really didn't matter that she interrupted them.

Regina arched her eyebrow slightly - Ruby could almost hear the 'what now, miss Lucas'- while Henry just smiled at her. "You shouldn't compliment someone else's cooking when you're in a restaurant - especially not one where the cook has a crossbow"

" I am pretty sure Granny also prefers my mom lasagna".

" No, I don't lass! I have been making delicious meals long before your mother could even spell the word 'lasagna' " .

Regina bit her lips to hide her smile. " It is rather rude to listen in on people's conversations, miss - "

" Not when the people are blabbering about you, then you can listen in all you want. And none of that miss Lucas bull, Regina, or I will come over there".

" I am terrified. I am sure you knitting needles are very sharp after all "

Henry snorted, while Ruby shook her head and whispered " Are you insane? She has wicked precision with that crossbow of hers".

" I've catched your grandmother's arrows in the past".

Ruby's eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh yeah. You know, if I hadn't been kind of angrily terrified at the moment, that would've been so awesome".

Henry nodded. "It was pretty bada- cool".

" Do I need to test your arrow-catching skills, your majesty" Henry grinned at Granny.She had walked over, which she often did when the dinner wasn't too crowded. She was scowling, but her eyes told him that she wasn't really mad or anything. Just some friendly teasing, which showed his mom had really become part of the Charming family.

" I would not want to harm your ego like that, dear" Regina immediately shot back, the disinterest in her tone and general tone obviously fake. Her eyes were glinting slightly as well.

Granny huffed. " Ha. As if you could!".

" I could catch anything you throw at me".

Henry interrupted the friendly bickering-goading when he was suddenly struck by a thought. " Mom! " .

" Yes, mijo?".

" You should".

Regina frowned. " I should .. catch arrows?".

" Well yeah. It is the perfect way to test your speed , right?".

" Henry, I have told you before - I am not certain it is wise to experiment with my newfound 'talents' " . I have just rejected the darkness- what if I hurt you. Regina felt like she had participated in that foolish 'ice bucket challenge' that Emma and Henry had been talking about before all of this happened. There was so many ways to accidentally hurt Henry.

Henry scoffed. " Mom, you would never hurt me. And- I really think we should gather more intel. And because you won't let me sneak into that house - ".

" Henry. Under no circumstances are you to ever enter any building that has those creatures in it. Understood".

" Yeah. But regardless, if you won't let me find out stuff in that way, we need something else. And I don't think your powers are evil or anything".

It was only years of conditioning by her mother - manners, Regina, are important if you want to marry- that kept her from shifting in her chair. " I hope not" she said, with a glance at Ruby ( Granny had walked back into the kitchen now that the 'fun part' was over). She just smiled.

" Well, I don't think so " he hesitated, then asked. " Or - what does it feel like?".

Like having run a marathon in the burning sun, and forgetting to drink. Like rubbing ice cubes over your gums. Regina had to swallow, both figuratively and literally. She had to swallow the urge to wrinkle her nose with disgust as she swallowed more spit than she thought she could produce. But that was what it had been like, an incredibly itchy and dry throat alternated with moments where her salivory glands were working overtime.

" Mom?".

Regina shook herself. Even as a teenager, I never had issues with my concentration like this. " I- right, what it feels like. It is difficult to describe. I am experiencing several things, Henry" .

" Like what- ".

Regina glanced at Ruby. "Perhaps we should order first?" . Ruby's pout showed that she understood that Regina had ulterior motives ( namely getting the gossip away from her private business)

" Yeah okay. Hot chocolate with cinnamon, fries and a burger please".

" Henry, please choose at least something moderately healthy. You have already eaten too many unhealthy things the past days".

" The burger has lettuce on it".

" Fine. But only because I will prepare a nutritious meal tonight. And tomorrow. And- did Emma already tell you what she will be preparing for you friday?" Usually, they have family dinners on friday even though every other week it's 'Emma's' friday. But Regina suspects there won't be any family dinners for a while.

Henry snorts. " Mom, I am pretty sure Emma doesn't even plan what she is going to do in the next hour, let alone two days later. She usually just goes to the store with me, and lets me pick something ".

" I will choose something then" Perhaps risotto. I still have not tried that recipe.

"Okay, sure. Are you going to order now?".

Regina sighed, then chuckled. " Of course. I would not want you to explode with impatience, after all"

Henry rolled his eyes, but he returned her grin. She turned to Ruby. "A chicken wrap, and a coffee please"

" Sure, madam mayor" Ruby immediately said, grinning. Like her grandmother, she liked to tease. Which was why she still called Regina madam mayor, even if they had become somewhat friends thanks to Snow's habit of holding events where she tried to drag Regina off to talk with everyone ( including dwarves. She had come to tolerate Grumpy. Tolerate. Not like him, like Henry insisted she did).

As soon as Ruby disappeared with a wink and a "coming right up, mayor Mills" , Henry tried to convince her. " Come on mom, we need to know more. The book is still not giving enough information!".

She briefly touched his hand at the aggravated tone. "Henry"

" I know- I just, what if you suddenly get worse? What if the transformation isn't over yet, or the vampires try something again o-or" Regina left the booth and sat down next to him, throwing an arm around him at the sight of his crestfallen expression. " todo estará bien, mijo"

" You can't promise that "

" Corazón- ".

Her own eyes burned at the sight of his wet eyes, and the tear trails on his cheeks. " No! You can't" he hugged her really tightly for a moment, then pulled back again but stayed close. Before she could reassure him that she was fine, that she wasn't dying or anything, that they would find a solution, he whispered something that made her bite her lip really hard to keep from crying herself. "No me dejes mama, no me dejes"

She hugged him again. " Nunca, mi cielo".

When he was calmed down enough, she slowly pulled away again and grabbed a tissue from her purse. As she gently wiped away his tears, he leaned against her. "I thought you wouldn't wake up anymore. That my family would get broken".

Her hand stilled. " Henry, you would never be alone. You would still- ".

She almost flinched at the angry tone. " I don't care! Nothing is okay if I don't have my entire family" she had a flashback to a four-year-old Henry, the one who was terrified of the old creaking oak tree, to the point where he would grab her hand so very tight and hide his face. " You are my mother. I love you".

"I love you too , sweetheart, I love you so m-much" a few tears slip. But she manages to keep the rest back.

" Then at least do something, please".

Regina sighs. " Like what?".

" I don't know. Just- at least feed or something".

" Henry- ".

" Mom. I am not stupid. I can see you're hurting, that you're becoming more frail and have less energy and- I think you need blood. " he adds the last part in a really quiet voice.

" I am fine".

Henry huffs. " Yeah, right" he is quiet for a while, then: " you wouldn't have to hurt people. The hospital always has blood available".

It is odd, how the cold in her gums intensify while she feels slightly nauesous at the idea as well. Of course I do, I do not wish to drink blood. Old, cold blood. So unlike Emma's warm- She nearly flinches at that thought. She has been having thoughts like those a lot , but it still unbalances her.

" I will think about it" she finally says, allowing Henry to pull away.

" Promise?".

" I promise"

He seems calmer now, almost relaxed. He even smiles brightly at her, and glances at the kitchen. " I think the food is ready " . She loves how he can still get excited about things like that. About food, and comics, and video games.

She waves Ruby , who had been waiting for a sign that they didn't need some time and space anymore, over. She immediately saunters towards them, hands Henry his food and drink with an affectionate " There you go Henry, try to eat a little slower than usual so you don't choke" and a head ruffle before turning towards Regina.

Her smile abruptly drops. As does her stomach. When she tries to think, all she gets is 'thirsty' . Her eyes flit down, to where she can suddenly hear a heartbeat like a drum, all thumpthumpthumpthump. She hisses, her gums suddenly burning like she has drunk hot chocolate far too quickly.

" Ruby " she says. She is aware- but why- that she should tell the girl to leave, but all she wants her to do is closer. She thinks that sound may have been a plate falling- who cares when Ruby is coming even closer than she had been previously and she she smells so good.

The sound is nice too Regina thinks when Ruby moans really softly as she yanks her forward and immediately slides her lips over her skin, following the path of blue veins towards - she only realizes the growl was all hers three seconds after it happened. She gasps as it all comes rushing in- the sounds of hushed whispers and yells, the smell of coffee and all the other things you can buy in this diner and the furious-worried face of Granny Lucas.

The crossbow still pointed at Regina.

The arrow planted in the wall next to her, its feathers tickling Regina's skin when she turns her head. The blood on her cheek, the wrong colour when she lowers her hand again.

" You got three seconds girl. You back - or do I need to point this thing at your heart? " it's Granny's growl, and it prompts Regina to lick lips that feel dry and kind of burning before croaking " I am back, I believe".

" Ruby, come stand next to me".

" Gran- ".

" Girl".

" Granny- she wasn't going to hurt me".

Regina feels pleasant shivers, and very unpleasant ones crawling and jumping over her spine. She wants this. If I as much as insinuated I wanted my teeth burried in her neck, she would let me. Ruby's eyes are black, with gold pulsing underneath. She makes an angry sound when a hand wraps around her wrist , and tries to pull her back. Regina might be growling herself.

" Gra- " .

" Shut up "

Granny's hand, the one that is holding her crossbow as she points it at Regina, is trembling. Regina takes another step towards her- when did I stand up, exactly- and keeps staring at her as she smiles at Ruby. "Ruby?" she immediately yanks herself free and presses against Regina. Who is only barely aware of a harsh voice, and the wood in her right hand. She tosses the arrow back, in the direction where she can feel the other woman is still standing.

Ruby tastes amazing. There is only a slight hint of iron, an aftertaste really. The first impression is spices and meat and- her magic flares, something explodes and she only barely catches Ruby when her knees buckle. She lays the girl behind her, then slowly grabs the arrow in her shoulder.

" Last warning. I don't want to hurt you Regina- but I will if you don't leave my granddaughter alone". like earlier, it all comes rushing back. She is aware that it is Granny standing there, and that she is trembling slightly but that her lips are pulled tight. She won't hesitate. The boy next to her- that's Regina's son. Regina's brave, kind boy and he is screaming. She thinks he might have been screaming her name first, but now it's all " don't hurt DON'T HURT HER DON'T " as he struggles against the person holding him.

Regina collapses, falling on the seat of the booth.

She almost pushes Henry away- you could get hurt, you could get hurt, you could hurt - but ultimately, she cannot bring herself to do so. He sobs as he rushes into her arms, and she pulls him towards her and watches Granny over his shoulder. She still has to lower the crossbow.

" I am sorry, I am s-so sorry". She likes Ruby. She could've hurt her. Usually, this would be the part where she gets angry and fights something - preferably the monsters who did this to her. She should toss her fireballs at their faces- surely fire can still destroy them.

In fact, she might have - were it not for the hand that's suddenly on her shoulder.

She tries to breathe through her mouth only, but it is useless. Ruby is still there, and Regina can smell her, and the blood still on her lips tastes delicious and. She wants more.

She grits her teeth, tries to push the hand away. " Ruby- " the fool just smiles- and Regina feels her control slipping again when she leans in. She feels something that may be teeth sliding out in her mouth when Ruby murmers "It's okay. I know you won't hurt me. You have my permission".

Before Regina can do something admittedly stupid, something she will regret, Ruby yells "hey!" and throws her grandmother an affronted look. Granny just rolls her eyes, tightens the hand around her granddaughter's arm. " I am not going to let you be bitten by a vampire. Isn't it enough to be a werewolf?".

" I wouldn't immediately turn into a vampire" Ruby pouts.

" No, Ruby".

Ruby sighs. " But she needs blood, doesn't she?".

Regina can function normally again, now that there is a little distance between her and Ruby. " That is a very bad idea, miss Lucas".

Ruby turns to her. "No, it isn't. I don't know how long you can go without blood, but I am guessing not that long before it turns really unpleasant. I heal faster than most people, so it is pretty safe to bite me" . She grins. "And it feels pretty awesome- really, I wouldn't mind. At all".

Henry stands and wrinkles his nose at Ruby. " Ew"

" What? It does! It kind of feels like- ".

Regina quickly raises her hand to stop Ruby. " That is enough , miss Lucas",

" Maybe I was going to say it just feels like eating sundae".

Regina snifs. "I very much doubt that".

Ruby's grin widens. "You are also really hot, which probably- ".

" Ruby!" Henry throws her the most exagerrated, betrayed and revolted look.

Ruby just laughs and playfully pushes him. " Come on, surely you have heard that before "

" I don't want to hear it" he narrows his eyes at her. "And you have a girlfriend".

"It is not like I am offering to sleep with her- I am just offering my blood".

" Please do not ever say the word 'sleep' in relation to my mom ever again. Ever".

"Okay, whatever mister sensitive".

" Ruby, please stop torturing my son. And I am not going to bite you".

" I am just asking for a repeat performance "

" Mom!" Henry scolds, when Regina cannot help herself and smiles flirtatiously at Ruby. Stop that! At least she manages enough control to not say Ruby's name like that again.

" My apologies Henry, but- ".

"You know, we could always go upstairs" Ruby offers.

Regina arches her eyebrows. " I am a queen, and have a bit more class than that".

" Yeah, right" Ruby says. She looks like she is going to add something, but then she glances at Henry and shuts up. Granny snorts, and finally lowers the crossbow.

Henry sighs and looks at Regina. "It might be a good idea, you know" before Regina can say anything, he quickly clarifies. "To drink her blood".

" Henry. In most tales, vampirism is strongly linked to mind control. It could be very dangerous to drink anyone's blood"

"Maybe. But it is also dangerous if you don't! ".

Granny sighs. " I cannot believe I am saying this, but perhaps the boy is right" she gently touches Regina's shoulder. And says... something. Regina doesn't really know. She is distracted for a moment, and she clears her throat but it doesn't make the feeling any better. Without thinking , she grabs Granny's hand

It is yanked back. " Don't even think about it, I am not your walking juice box ".

" I was hardly going to bite you. Your blood - it is less appealing".

Granny scoffs. " You did not seem to mind two seconds ago ".

" That is likely because I am still very thirsty" Regina admitted.

" So you think you wouldn't drink Granny's blood if you weren't like really thirsty".

" I think so"

" So it matters whose blood it is? ".

" Yes. It smells different- and it makes me feel different".

He wrinkles his nose. " Like, when you drink it".

" No, more like- when I am around people".

" Wait a minute" he quickly grabs his bag, that he had placed on the ground when they entered the diner, and takes out a leatherbound notebook, and a pen in the shape of a lightsaber. "Okay. So what does it feel like?".

" All the customers are calmed down again, and I think some of them are getting antsy "Granny remarks, looking at severely grumpy-looking people. She looks at Regina. " Can I trust you to only set your teeth in actual food, not humans?".

" I am in possession of something called self-control, miss - Granny "

Granny snorts. " Didn't look like that just minutes ago, little miss selfcontrol. Try to keep your teeth tucked in, or whatever" Regina weakly glares at the woman as she marches away, to the counter.

" Should you not get back to work as well?" she asks Ruby.

" Nah. I am entitled to a lunch break anyways" she plops down next to Regina- or tries to. Before she can , Regina stops her with her hands on Ruby's hips and gently pushes her towards Henry. " Sit next to Henry, dear, not me" her fingers tighten on those hips for a moment, and for a crazy second she thinks about pulling Ruby in her lap.

She tries to be subtle about putting more distance between them, even when Ruby sits down next to Henry with an eyeroll and a little huff. She forces her focus back to Henry. " What did you want to ask, mijo?".

He clicks his pen. " The blood thing. What does it feel like, and smell like. How do you feel right now - do you think you really need to feed right now or is it okay?" he points the pen at her. "And no lying! I will know it, and you can't sabotage the research like that".

Regina feels warm, and light, and automatically smiles. "So you have inherited Emma's 'superpower' now".

He just shrugs, then watches her impatiently. She brushes away a stray lock and stares at her plate. What is the best way to explain? She tries to think back to what she felt when Ruby got so near. And compare it to what she has felt around other people. " My senses are sharper. That is one of the things I noticed immediately. My sense of smell has also improved immensely- so I can smell their blood now. And it's iron but it is also very specific".

" Specific?".

" Yes. Miss Lucas, for example, smells like the earth and spices".

"Oh. What do I smell like?".

"Why do you want to know? ".

" I am curious".

" That new aftershave you 'borrowed' from David. It is quite... overwhelming".

He blushed and looked down. She clumsily reached for his hand and squeezed it once. " It is smells perfectly fine to humans Henry- it is just a bit much for someone who can smell extremely well".

" You sure?".

" Of course".

"So what does my blood smell like? ".

She sighed. Why did I raise him to question things again, and to persist? " You smell like ink, and old books and chocolate".

He stares at her. " That isn't what my blood smells like, isn't it?".

" No, but- it is kind of difficult to explain Henry. The most I can offer, is that your blood smells sweet with only a hint of bitterness".

" Oh cool" . He scrabbles something in his notebook. " So have you ever wanted to drink mine?".

She inhales sharply, brings her hand to her forehead for a moment. " Henry- "

" Mom. I don't care, okay? Like, of course I care that this is happening, that you are in danger and everything but if you have ever wanted it- it won't make me look at you differently".

He is so sweet, so understanding and caring. She smiles at him, forces down the tears that are threatening again. " I know, mi cielo, but - this is all just very confusing".

" Okay".

She sighs, then admits " I have- It was not as pressing, or overwhelming as it has been around other people. But I am thirsty and - " She tries to smile, but it ends up being more of a grimace. This thing I am turning into does not care you are my son, and that I love you and I would never do something like that.

" I get it. But- "he scrunches up his brow a little. " it is far stronger around other people? ".

" I- yes. I hardly even have to attempt to control myself around you. It is more that the thirst gets stronger than that I truly want to drink your blood".

" Hm. Interesting. What about gramps and grandma?" her heart aches, like someone froze it and then grabbed it to squeeze it like one of those stressballs Archie once had the nerve to offer to her. That small grin- it is all Emma's. " Do you want to drink Snow White's blood really badly? ".

She manages a chuckle. "Surprisingly, no. It is- with Snow, the thirst is managable. It is worse than around you - it feels like you have not drunk anything yet, and it is already in the afternoon, and you see a glass of water somewhere. It is that feeling. But it is nothing I cannot ignore, or even something that would be in my mind for a long time".

He scribbles that down as well. " And grandpa?".

" It is different with your grandpa. If I forgot to watch myself around, something might accidentally happen. But I have a feeling that I would have to be incredibly thirsty for that to happen".

"" Huh. What is different about Ruby and Emma then?".

She tries to hide how that unsetttles her, but she can still feel her eye twitch just a little bit. "Emma?".

" Well yeah, you bit her didn't you?".

" I am certain that was merely because I had only just been... changed Henry".

She sees her own you-do-not-fool-me-you-imbecile look thrown back at her. " Mom. I have seen the weeks after. There were at least three accidents where it almost happened again. Three. And you kept- you kept using the Thrall".

" The Thrall".

He grins for a millisecond. " That is what I call the mindcontrol thing. Pretty good, huh?".

" I am certain I did not- ".

"Mom, you totally did. It is not like I am accusing you or anything, okay. I just noticed that you used the Thrall to like get her closer?".

She feels like the oxygen in the air has suddenly replaced with poison, poison that makes her lungs burst, her stomach lose all functionality, her self-loathing pretty much explode like a volcano.

" Mom. It is okay" she shudders and looks down at her hand, which Henry is gently holding. She can't look at his face. He loves Emma. Surely- he wishes something better for her than me. " Mama"

She glances at him. " If that is what I did- it was never on purpose Henry. I would never- " She thinks of arranged marriages, and she used to hope desperately that Leopold would be called away that night. She thinks of Emma's face, grim and dark and pained, as she laughs and tries to pretend the creeps that looked a little too long, touched a little too much - or just wanted her to do things for them that would get them into trouble- when she pretends that was nothing. " I would never hurt her. Not anymore- ".

" I know. Duh. Mom, you have stood up to Gold for her, and risked a lot for her, and you cook for her when you know she is going to have a long day for work. Seriously, how many times have you given me food that I should give to her?".

" We are friends" it is the only thing she knows to say.

"Yeah. And I think it is great and all, but- " he steels himself, raises his head slightly. " what happened? Why is mom trying to run again? " it is a question he has asked a lot, and the answers she has given ( "I don't know". " she told us, she is busy") have not been believed.

" I have told you that it is miss Swan's- ".

" Mom. Will you just be truthful, please. I hate this , okay? I hate that she doesn't just barge in anymore, and that you are subdued, and that grandma is sort of fighting with mom and I hate how we might not have family dinner tomorrow or the day after or the day after that. We need to stick together. You are in danger, and mom is running" he sounds like her, so angry with a lot of pain and fear hiding beneath that anger.

She touches his chin gently. " Your mother will not run forever, Henry. I am sure she will realize what she is doing, and apologize to you".

"She shouldn't apologize to me, I still see her. She is mistreating you. She should be there to protect you!".

" Henry, I can protect myself. Better than ever, actually".

" But what if you get bitten again, or they kidnap you or they force themselves into your dreams. It is only Emma that has kept you in bed these past weeks. If she hadn't stood guard, and been around you and everything, you would've gone to the graveyard again".

That much is true. She feels herself smile at the memory of Emma holding her hand to keep her from getting away in her sleep, or waking and seeing Emma sit in the chair in front of the bed, or any of the other silly things that Emma did because she cared. Because they were friends. And you ruined all that. You are hurting your family. Again

" I am just saying mom, we need Emma".

" I know, Henry, but this is Emma's choice. Not ours. She has to decide for herself what she wants".

" But- " .

" Henry"

He shuts up, but she knows this isn't the last time he will bring it up- and if he won't bring it up again, he will try to find some way to get Emma to at the very least talk with her again. She knows the look in his eyes, knows him well enough to be aware he is already concocting a new operation.

She should be colder. She can feel the cold- but it isn't touching her. That doesn't make sense , but it is like walking in the Snow wrapped in really thick clothing. She breaths and it is visible, she can feel ice beneath her feet and when she tries to light a fire- it freezes before her heavy limbs and struggling magic can make it work.

" What do you want?".

He steps out of the fog. Or perhaps he stops being part of the fog. When he spreads his arms wide open, his cape billows behind him. There was not any wind just now. " You, my dear, you".

She almost tries to channel the evil queen before she gets nauseas by the thought that she would still cling to that, even now. Instead, she just shrugs and crosses her arm. She purposefully slides her eyes over him, making sure to keep her expression as bored, as disinterested as possible.

His hands feel like an electrical shock and a snow storm all at once. " I believe you to be the perfect fit for my family, Regina" the evil queen probably would have ripped his hands off by now. Regina just stands stockstill as he slides them from bare shoulders to her hips. She waits one more second before she pushes him, hard.

She notes he doesn't breathe when she steps close enough that their lips could brush, pushes him even harder. " You- " she pushes him again. It is almost easy to find rage now, with his smug smile, with the blood around it glaring in her face. " are not family".

She hisses at the painful electrical shock she receives where his hands are grabbing her wrists. Looking into his eyes is like fighting sleep but she manages a glare whenever she glances at the blood around his mouth. "What does a creature like you know about family?" she spits in his face.

He chuckles. He chuckles, but the look in his eyes is so pained Regina forgets for a moment and has to bite her lip to keep herself from asking whether he is okay. " Too much to be happy" he says, which makes her narrow her eyes.

She tries to make her magic work, but it barely flickers - fear works almost as well as anger usually, why is it not working why is it not working. Perhaps because she isn't afraid. His hands are burried into her hair, yanking on it to bend her head back, and a droplet of spit glides of his fangs and falls on her neck and he smells so much like blood that her own teeth start to burn (not his blood- if he has it. Is that- ) but she isn't afraid. She isn't much of anything.

It is good. It is forgetting pain, and warm baths, and touches that make you shiver in a good way. It is good enough that she doesn't protest as his teeth scratch her neck, and again. And again. Doesn't protest - he is a monster, stop him!, who knows what this will do to you- until she sees it.

She yanks back so quickly and with so much strength that she trips over her own feet and he nearly falls as well. She trips over her own feet again in her haste to get up, hardly feeling the pain as her knees hit the ground, she gets up again and throws herself down next to the body.

Her magic does obey now. It seems as desperate as she is, purple sparks hovering above her hands, as she lowers them to throat and the abundance of blood. She can only focus on the blood- not what is beneath it. Not how that throat is -

She takes exatcly ten minutes to asses the injuries and think about what needs to be healed- how it can be healed.

Regina closes her eyes and pushes at her magic. Pushes and forces it to sink into what is left of skin and grits her teeth ( it is pretty much like kitesurfen during a hurricane). She breathes through her mouth and pushes her hands into the wet earth- No. You don't want that. You can't hurt him. You can't.

Still, she feels herself bending over, gently brushing away brunette locks from a face whose features are still set in an expression of acute terror. Wake up baby, wake up. When she presses her lips to his cheek, she knows it was a mistake. She is too close to all the blood on his neck.

Hungry. Thirsty. It burns- but with cold. She reels back when her fangs shoot down painfully - or she tries because a hand buries into her hair and pushes her towards the crumpled, small body in front of her. She struggles, but she can't fight her own instincts and the extremely strong grip on her head all at the same time.

She can't help licking her lips when she is pushed against that neck, her lips smeared with the blood there - she tries to yank away, or light a fireball or do anything but he just laughs. His voice so close to her ear, his weight at her back- it all makes her sick.

" Just give in - and I will give you even something better"

" Get the hell away from me" she growls, her fingers burning as she gets ready to thow him off- the sudden flash of heat automatically makes her throw herself forward, using her body as a shield. She keeps pressed down, does not even move when she feels her shoulders burn.

She only stands when a familiar touch is on her arm, and quickly pulls her up.

Emma lifts the child in her arms without another word. She puts away her sword before she starts to walk. Regina presses closer to her, summoning a fireball and glancing around the courtyard. She curls her hand around Emma's arm, then allows her magic to take them.

As soon as they materialize in her bedroom, Emma puts the child down on the bed. She takes a step back, then asks "Is he - " she grits her teeth, shakes her head. Regina presses her hands against her stomach in a hopeless effort to calm down- and to keep herself from going over to hug Emma.

She does walk over, and places her hand on Emma's arm though. " I aleady healed him".

" And he is- ".

" I thought they had ripped his throat at first. But I believe the injuries are more superficial than I believed at first- ".

" Super- Regina, look at all the blood!".

" Yes, well. I do not- " she yanks Emma back from the bedside when the boy suddenly grabs for her arm, his eyes snapping open. She pushes Emma behind her at the ferocious snarl, the sounds, the - well everything. Stubborn idiot she thinks as Emma tries to push past her. Tries being the operative word, because no way that Regina is letting Emma rush towards the boy when he is snarling and spitting like this.

They exchange a startled, worried look and rush forward at the same time when the boy starts to groan instead of hiss, nearly black eyes terrified. He opens his mouth " M-mamma?" then screams. Regina pushes him down as he starts to kick, hit and try to crawl at his own skin. She grimaces when his teeth sink into her hand instead of his own.

" Emma- "

" Right here" Emma pants, struggling to hold the kicking/screaming/slapping boy down. " Jesus kid, calm down okay?".

The boy actually listens for a moment. Regina sees her own pain in Emma's heartbroken expression as the boy's lips tremble and he whispers "Dolore" .

Regina gently wipes a strand of hair from a very sweaty forehead. " Il dolore si arresta" she whispers. She smiles as he grabs her hand. He swallows, nods. She stares at his arm- it is not just too thin, but the blue veins are pulsing. And - Emma flinches next to her as the boy starts screaming again.

" Regina. What the hell is going on?"

" He is changing "she breathes.

" Shit".

"Quite" she says, trying to grab his arm again as he flails on the bed. His body arches, his eyes rolling, but before Regina can do anything, he already collapses and his head lols to the side. She presses her fingers to his neck, holding her breath-

she looks at Emma. "He is alive"

" You didn't react like that ".

Regina shrugs. "I am rather used to pain ".

" Regina- ".

" However, we are not knowledgable enough to assume that is the reason. Something else may be going on ".

" You were like that too" Emma said quietly.

" Like what?" she automatically squeezed Emma's bicep, trying to comfort her.

" In this coma-like state. It was goddamn awful".

" I remember"

They stared at the motionless boy for a moment before Emma asked " what do we do now?".

"He can stay here, as long as he needs".

" And what if he changes? ".

Regina sighed. "The hospital, I suppose".

" Ah" Emma is squirming, enough that Regina slowly turns to look at her an arches an eyebrow at her. Emma rolls her eyes slightly, but swallows and softly says " 'm sorry".

" And what , exactly, are you sorry for? " even if a part of her immediately wants to forgive Emma- you are the one who was foolish enough to kiss her- the rest of her wants her to squirm a little. Wants at least a little elboration, because she had just been thinking she might actually get a happy ending when Emma had run away.

She doesn't even know what Emma is feeling, because the cruel ( yes cruel . Giving hope and then ripping it away by running is nothing short of cruel) woman is not looking at her. " Fine. I am going to check on Henry, miss Swan. I understand if this friendship between us has to come to an en-".

It is impressive how quickly Emma moves forward. Regina sighs as the door slams closed, Emma's magic obviously the culprit. "Emma. There is no need to damage either my door or my walls- ".

"Regina, hear me out okay? I really like this thing we have. Because you're kind of an asshole at times, but I get that is also because of your very high-maintenance mother and well- everything. But what I said , I meant that. No one understands me like you do. You wouldn't think to judge me, or just forgive me because you are a hero or whatever, or even demand that I be the saviour"

Regina couldn't have frozen more if someone had tried to use squid ink on her again. " You are the only one in this whole damn town I practically had to force to let me help with finding their happy ending" .

Emma swallows, nods. " I would never ruin that. Really. Or do you- do you want to stop being friends?".

" No. I enjoy it" . She almost adds all the other things she wants. How she wants to wake up, and see that awful jacket haphazardly thrown over a chair. How she wants to slap Emma's hand away from the pots and pans on the stove. How she wants to laugh at Emma's silly jokes, and listen to her stories. How she wants to bicker and fight and make up. (because for a moment, she had genuinely believed Emma might want those things, too. But she didn't. She had run away, had she not?)

" Great. I - think it is great, you know. I have never really had friends. Apart from Lily, but that was a freaking mess. And really, what are friends worth when they're just your friends because they are predestined or drawn to you or whatever shit it was that kept pulling Lily to me, and me to Lily" Emma shakes herself. " Anyways, I like it too. I really like your cooking, and you help me with all this stuff- like the magic, and you are pretty great when you are not plotting my downfall " she laughs, a little awkwardly.

" Wonderful" Regina says emotionless. Just like her mother, destroying me. Although I am certain that the storybook was not alluding to this method of destruction.

" Yeah. So, friends? " .

She deserves better anyways Regina reminds herself as she tries to smile through the pain. " Of course. You are forgiven, miss- Emma".

Emma exhales slowly. " That means a lot, thanks. And uh- I really am sorry. I shouldn't have run like that".

" I am familiar with your special brand of coping, Emma" it is not completely gentle, because Regina cannot have Emma running away. Not when that could hurt Henry again. But it is gentle enough that Emma still smiles at her.

" I know. And I- I am trying not to be that person anymore".

" Okay. We have bigger things to be concerned about" she looks at her wall in purpose, because more of Emma Swan's stupid face and stupid kind expression and she will forever embarrass herself by breaking down crying. And I do not want Emma to feel guilty. She has started to feel far too responsible for people's happiness.

" I guess- Regina, do we not need to talk more about this. I mean, you- " She cannot even bring herself to say it, she is so revolted by it. Regina's eyesight is slightly blurry, but she manages to swallow even if it feels like it is not saliva but tiny daggers and glance at Emma. Who looks ready to bolt again.

" No, miss Swan. We need to do what is best for our son. And what is b-best- " she actually needs several seconds to calm herself, don't cry don't embarrass yourself, and she looks at the wall because if she looks at Emma Swan everything hurts too much. " for Henry, is if his mothers are both here. And they are cooperating. So that is what we will do. You will apologize to Henry. You will explain it to him. And you will never do that again".

She stares at the wall as Emma comes closer. She has to clench her hands into fists to keep herself from actually, physically pushing the woman away. Now that she can no longer fool herself into believing that somewhere, deep down but somewhere , Emma feels like this as well- the very thought of Emma being near her is too hurtful right now.

" Go, mi- Emma".

She hovers, and for a moment Regina desperately wants Emma to reach out. To ask whether that is tears brimming in Regina's eyes. To notice that she is nearly crumbling. Emma reaches for her, but she closes her mouth again before saying something. She squeezes, once, then slowly lets go and gives Regina a timid smile before the door slams,

and Regina crumbles against it.

#swan queen #season 6 au #vampires

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wand3r3r · 8 years ago

Text

Pure Comedy - An Essay by Father John Misty (aka Josh Tillman)

“What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun.  

Is there a thing of which it is said, ‘See, this is new?’ It has been already in the ages before us.  

There is no remembrance of former things, nor will there be any remembrance of later things yet to be among those who come after.” - Ecclesiastes  

Pure Comedy is the story of a species born with a half-formed brain. The species’ only hope for survival, ﬁnding itself on a cruel, unpredictable rock surrounded by other species who seem far more adept at this whole thing (and to whom they are delicious), is the reliance on other, slightly older, half-formed brains. This reliance takes on a few different names as their story unfolds, like “love,” “culture,” “family,” etc. Over time, and as their brains prove to be remarkably good at inventing meaning where there is none, the species becomes the purveyor of increasingly bizarre and sophisticated ironies. These ironies are designed to help cope with the species’ loathsome vulnerability and to try and reconcile how disproportionate their imagination is to the monotony of their existence.  

Now all of a sudden they expect light in the dark, warmth in the cold, and to make something out of nothing. Cooperation among the species to achieve these goals eventually yields a worldview wherein some among the species believe that there are individuals for whom this type of work is maybe ill-suited. The contribution of the ill-suited is of a more abstract, inspirational nature. The ill-suited begin to make subtle distinctions among themselves that extend beyond “eaten by a bear/not eaten by a bear”. These distinctions involve do-it-ness, cool-face-and-body-ness, craftiness, etc. – an arrangement emerges where these traits can be traded in for better-than-ness. This better-than-ness really starts to run rampant, and the species begins to wonder if there isn’t a Sky-Man in the sky who is perhaps the source of all better-than-ness. It seems like a pretty good explanation for why the species is so important.  

Sky-Man pretty much runs the show for a really, really long time, and his inner-circle of better-thans gets increasingly smaller and smaller, even though by the end of his reign everyone in the species considers themselves one. Unfortunately there are some better-thans who get together and decide that one way of better-than-ness is better than other betters-thans’ better-than-ness and teach their little half-formed-brain babies as much (most who interpret this distinction as “me’s” vs. “not-me’s”). “Not-me’s” eventually come to encapsulate everyone that is not a single “me” at any given time, and this paves the way for incredibly distasteful behavior until the species arrives at a place of such alienation and fear there is really nothing so horrible that one of them wouldn’t do to the other. To deal with this less than ideal state of affairs, which seems suspiciously incompatible with how progressive and evolved they are by this point, they set about to entertain themselves into an oblivion with politics, sex, ﬁnance, philosophy, and other games of war. This they do until they are so numb, and the idea of any “not-me” so untenable, that they are blissfully incapable of noticing they’re all dead. This happens more or less on an inﬁnite loop until the end of time.  

Something like that.  

Imagine if you will, as the album starts, that you’re way out in space looking at the earth and, though it’s impossible to “fall” through space, you start a free fall anyway in the direction of the bright blue marble. For the next 75 minutes you plummet toward the earth, losing more and more perspective on what an abstract and impermanent place our planet is, how predictably we step on the same rakes, slip on the same banana peels over and over again through the ages, quickly becoming more and more immersed in the very messy business of being a human – the dubious privilege of being here, the elusiveness of meaning, true love and its habitual absence, random euphoria and the inexplicable misery of others, truth and its more alluring counterfeits, the sophistication of answers that don’t make any sense, the barbarism of our appetites, lucky breaks and injustice, faith and ignorance, crippling, mind-numbing boredom, and the terror of it all ending too soon. Before you know it, you’ve delicately crash-landed and ﬁnd yourself lying on your back looking up at the stars. If you’re lucky, with someone you love; even if just for a day, a year, a lifetime. Though just an hour has passed you have no recollection of what the earth looked like from the far-ﬂung reaches of space, nor how simple it all seemed a matter of minutes ago.  

I know everyone doesn’t feel the same about what’s going on right now. What for some is clearly garden-variety violent white nationalism serving as a catch-all for any number of paranoia-induced anti-fantasies foisted upon the poor and uneducated precisely by the ideologues bent on manufacturing voters who can be manipulated into voting against their own interests by making good and sure they remain poor and uneducated before cravenly blaming their problems largely on people bearing distinctions like race, gender, and sexuality so people forget everything that’s good about the American experiment, is to others an opportunity to wrench the country back from the inﬂuence of hypocritical corporate tyrants bent on enslaving our minds with spineless liberal rhetoric in order to justify wiping out the jobs of decent people so they can fulﬁll their fey utopian dream of an impossible global community designed to proﬁt only its architects (probably Banking Consortiums, pedophile rings, and deﬁnitely The Illuminati). 

This album does not espouse either of those views.  

Both of those views take for granted a certain degree of sophistication, or at least a knack for cooperation, that I’m absolutely convinced humans do not possess; not to mention some kind of innate logic to the proceedings here on Earth – which make a much better case for being some kind of demented joke than anything else.  

The terrifying reality concerning the dilemma above is everything is chaos and no one is really in control of anyone or anything.  

But what about the well-documented history of humans making life a living hell for other humans since time began?  

There is no intellectual, political, or spiritual explanation that will ever satisfy anyone for longer than a moment, least of all this, the only explanation with any dignity. The explanation that appeases both our instincts for compassion and liberation. The explanation that we can either accept and move forward together or keep screaming to our respective heavens, “Why, God, why?”  

Things are the way they are because this is how we, the human race, want them.  

This is how we want it.  

Hold the motherfucking phone. Josh Tillman, you have said and done some stupid fucking things since we’ve known you, but this is too much.  

Now the liberals and the conservatives are both outraged because that is a sentiment that is so profoundly insensitive to the ways in which the other side is clearly wrong in objective ways regarding basic decency, but what’s the alternative? We’re either all complicit in this purest comedy, or the people who aren’t to blame are at war with the people who are to blame until everyone is dead. Simple as that.  

Is progress possible? What does it look like? The conversion of everyone to our respective beliefs? Well, we’ve seen how that typically goes. The destruction of everyone who fails to conform? That’s not it. The erection of institutions with the power and infrastructure to enforce a rule of law with the good of as many as possible at heart? Not much evidence for that panning out.  

What I recommend is this: we return to the Vedic cycle and submit ourselves to the likelihood that many of us will end up getting eaten by bears. It’s only natural. What if instead of imbuing our expectations for the quality of our lives to include perpetual happiness, dream fulﬁllment, excessive painlessness, existential certitude, material wealth, and all variety of romantic stimulation, we were just grateful for every day that didn’t involve getting eaten by a bear? What if progress only meant literally progressing from one day to the next without getting violently dismembered by a 9-foot tall, 500-pound grizzly?  

The irony here of course is that many more humans than we’d like to think, most of whom are not reading the interminable liner notes to a folk rock album, do live in daily, perpetual fear of getting killed by a mammal far more terrifying than a bear, and I think you know the one to which I refer. This form of mammal attack is made all the more nightmarish by virtue of the fact that the mammal in question kills purely ideologically. Bears kill because they’re hungry; they’re very reasonable in that way. So maybe we should submit ourselves to their authority. Bears we can trust.  

Bottom line is that as long as we expect to live in such a way – immune to the natural laws of this godless rock that govern everything else here – human existence will continue to be a cruel joke. I fear, however, that it is too late for us to go back into the natural order. We have no desire to return to our primal scene. We like the way things are. We’ve got sandwiches when we’re hungry! Airplanes for when we want to go somewhere! Social media when we want our voices to be heard by all God’s creation! We know that these magical conveniences come at a staggering price, and that excess for the few is based on the scarcity of the many, but that’s why we invented the business of globalization! We’ve already built the wall! It’s a great, great wall that goes up to the heavens and is as transparent as museum glass. It’s a beautiful wall that winds surgically through nations, cities, neighborhoods, and sometimes even homes. It is a globe within a globe, and those who live within its interior are as clueless as to what’s happening on the other side as we are to what’s happening right now on the far side of Mars. 

There’s only one creature that can penetrate that wall, friends, and it is bears. Bears can smash through that glass like a pitcher of sugar water through a brick wall. The equalizing revolution of bear justice is coming too. Sooner than you think. As it gets hotter and hotter, they’re coming. They’re coming into our neighborhoods, they’re coming into our schools, into our churches, into our banks, into our places of business, into our governments, into our beds.  

The joke is that the best we can do is keep on keeping on, which we’ve proven ourselves pathologically adept at. We’re going to save the planet alright, and it will be a glorious sacriﬁce just like the Sky-Man we invented showed us how.  Bears, man.

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starglossie · 3 years ago

Photo

title: stress relief rating: m tags: fwb / eventual relationships / humor + fluff / maybe angst most likely not word count: 7.3k+ chapters: 1/?

summary: oikawa is a law student on the verge of a burn out, and iwaizumi hajime just happens to know a really great way to relieve stress.

written for iwaoi week day two w/ prompts: university, fine arts, coffee shop.

can be read on ao3 or under the cut below!

Oikawa pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His eyes twitched. Sharp stabs of pain traveled up his temples. He squinted at his Macbook screen. He had put in a good amount of work with his outline for Contracts. So far, he’d managed to copy and reorganize his notes from lectures and his book into a cohesive skeleton. The topics were outlined in an organized fashion. He even had color coding.

His brain hurt something awful, though.

“It’s almost three a.m.,” he croaked. He’d been in the library all day attempting to gather his life together and get a work on his revision materials.

Usually, Oikawa was ahead of the game when it came to balancing doing homework and reviewing what he’d already learned. The past month and a half though had thrown him off his path and right off a cliff. He pinched at the bridge of his nose.

Every joint in his body ached. When he yawned, he felt the exhaustion really settle on his bones. Finals were coming up. About three months away. Oikawa was at the top of his class. Sitting dangerously uncomfortable at number one. He was no genius, though. He hadn’t climbed to the top on coattails and summer breezes.

No, he’d clawed his way up there. With gnarled teeth, snarled bone, and blood from his adversaries, caked underneath his nails. .

He rubbed his eyes and closed his computer. He wanted to cram in another section but the clock—screaming how close the sun was to coming up—and how little Oikawa had slept in the past three days were all too loud to ignore. Tonight would not be another night of self destruction, he decided.

“Up and at ‘em, Tooru.” Oikawa packed away his books, highlighter, book stand, and laptop, and put them in his bag. He reached for his coffee cup and opened up the lid. What met him was one feeble sip of a honey almond milk flat white. Oikawa frowned. “This is a top ten anime betrayal…” he grumbled as he brought the cup to his lips to down the last remnants of his hope, sanity, and bliss, all in one gulp.

Whoever said law school was an incredible experience filled with rewards and life-long lessons could get hit by a truck. Then a bus. Then eaten by a shark.

Oikawa had never been more stressed. While he was a competitive little gremlin who enjoyed putting in the work behind the scenes to show up on stage and outshine everyone and anyone—law school was incredibly taxing. Though that’s not really new. This semester, however, was taking the cake in taxes.

As he headed home to his off-campus apartment, Oikawa debated—not for the first time—the pros and cons of dropping out. Yes, he was in the spring semester of his second year. And he had stellar grades. He was on Law Review and his Note Topic he’d written on the harms of using purposefully difficult vocabulary to gatekeep legal knowledge was accepted to be published in next year’s journal. He was the lead attorney on his school’s Mock Trial team. And he was sexy. Objectively, life was grand.

Oikawa climbed up the metal steps on the side of his apartment building. They were slippery from the rain storm that had passed by earlier in the evening. Oikawa had forgotten his umbrella and raincoat, which had forced him to stay on campus later than usual to get his work done. No way he was lugging ten pound books, notes, and a computer all the way to the bus stop. His apartment was about an hour away on a good day, but when it rained, the campus-owned, 24-hour buses were even slower.

He yawned. His jaw popped. He wanted his bed so badly. His knees creaked as he climbed the three flights of stairs to his floor. The world smelled of post-rain. Where the wooden steps smelled of wet bark. And the earth smelled of dew.

“Fuck you, rain. If you hadn’t come by, I'd have been in bed earlier.” He had many grievances against Mother Nature to file. But he’d do that after he shoved some food in him and went to bed.

As he reached the top of the steps he spotted someone leaning against the balcony. He froze. He saw his neighbor step out of their open door, talking to the man on the balcony. The man leaning against the balcony was shirtless and wearing gray sweatpants. He had spiky black hair and a silver piercing hooped on the top of his right ear. From his view, Oikawa could see the beginning of a black tattoo on the man’s left shoulder. His neighbor was also just in sweats.

A small trail of smoke curled into the space between his neighbor and whoever his guest was. Oikawa couldn’t catch what they were saying, but heard the clicking of a lighter. The soft rush of an inhale from the stranger. Oikawa shouldn’t be looking at this. He didn’t particularly care what his neighbor got up to, or who he got into. And it was nearing four in the morning and Oikawa had a lecture in about seven hours. Sleep should have been more pressing.

Yet for some reason, he couldn’t move. He watched his neighbor laugh, then curl his hand around the back of his guest’s arm. Oikawa’s grip on his messenger bag strap tightened. His breath caught in a gulp as he watched his neighbor bend down real freaking close to his guest’s face. His neighbor’s eyes were closed until they weren’t. They opened slightly.

And they met Oikawa’s widened gaze point. Blank. Center.

Right then! He should really get going.

Oikawa double timed it to his door. Once he got the door, he opened his bag and fumbled around for his keys. God. Shit. Where were his keys?

“Just my luck,” he felt around in his bag and came up with pencils, markers, and a gum wrapper he really should have thrown out in a trash can instead of putting in his bag.

Then he felt his pockets and remembered, oh right. They were in his jacket. Feeling his cheeks redden, and his back get incredibly hot—were they looking at him? He sure hoped not. Oikawa wasn’t into watching people get it on in public. Or well, he could be. If drunk, and properly convinced, but he at the very least had to be participating in it.

Just as he found his keys and slipped them into the door, his neighbor called out to him.

“Yer back late, Oikawa. Books got ya by the balls?”

Oikawa’s loose grip transformed into a titan crunch. He turned the lock as he turned his head, putting on his award-winning fake smile. “Tsu-chan! Good morning!” Now, he got the chance to see Atsumu’s guest properly.

What the fuck? He’s so hot.

Maybe it was one of those ‘attractive people attract attractive people’ things Hanamaki had always told Oikawa about. Oikawa knew that intimately. Because he was attractive. And Atsumu, objectively, was attractive. Until he spoke, then he was ugly.

But this guy? Whoever he was? With his strong jawline, tanned skin, charcoal eyes, and dark eyebrows. Holding a cigarette between his lips. His gaze, that looked somewhat bored—barely interested—was zeroed in on Oikawa. With such an intensity it made Oikawa want to do terrible things, many he couldn’t quite name. This guy was stupid attractive. Way out of Atsumu’s league.

Maybe he was drunk and didn’t know better. That had to be it. It was the only logical conclusion.

“Don’t mind me!” Oikawa continued as he pushed open his door, “I’m about to head in and completely forget our meeting in favor of sleeping. For my sanity, you know.”

“Yeah?” Atsumu leaned against the railing. “Ya could have done that sooner, ya know. Instead ya chose to be a creep”

Oikawa popped his lips quite loudly, “Well! Someone was giving me a free show! Hard to ignore that when you’re sucking face outside my door.” He turned to Atsumu’s guest, “Tsu-chan brings the horrible out in me, sorry about that.”

Atsumu’s guest for the night barked out a laugh, “Yeah.” He took a long drag of his cigarette, then snuffed it on the railing. “I found that out pretty quickly, myself.”

“Not true!” Atsumu pouted, “I brought great things out of you tonight. Like yer pretty little moans and yer-”

Oikawa slammed the door to his apartment before he could hear something he really, really didn’t want to hear.

“Tooru, you look like roadkill.”

“Thank you so much, Kou-chan!” Oikawa threw his hands in the air. Loud enough to have a few heads turn. “I love when you point out all my insecurities and flaws in broad daylight.”

Suga beamed. “It helps keep your colon clean.” He poked Oikawa on the side.

“Ow!” Oikawa jumped from the touch. Suga snickered and slid into the seat opposite of him. They sat on two, plush white chairs in the large hallway of their law school building. Oikawa had camped out there with his laptop balanced on his knees right after class.

He liked working in direct sunlight. And these two chairs, surrounded by potted plants, always sat right in front of windows as tall as skyscrapers that welcomed all the sun and its glory.

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

“I was in bed by 5 and up by 9 so technically 4 hours.”

“Technically?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa’s glasses slid down the slope of his nose as he typed away on his computer. “Technically. Because in bed doesn’t mean asleep. I probably entered REM around… 5:20? So really, I’m on about three hours of sleep. Unless you count the night before yesterday. Which my volleyball coach used to say the night before the night before was the most important night for resting before a big game because-”

“So you’re delirious,” Suga cut in. Oikawa glared up at him over the top of his computer monitor. Suga shrugged and reached for his phone. “I’m not wrong.”

Suga’s phone dinged and his fingers flew across the keyboard. Oikawa adjusted his glasses and closed his laptop. “Interesting how you’re suddenly all up in your phone when you’re with me but you know I die without constant attention?”

Suga kept texting, “RIP, my dear friend... I’ll speak at your funeral, I promise.”

Oikawa frowned. Suga was one of the few people in law school he genuinely liked. Suga was funny, friendly, and incredibly messy. He was entertaining to have around. He was also one of the few people willing to call Oikawa out on his bullshit. Which Oikawa always appreciated having around, even if he never vocalized it. And probably wouldn’t vocalize until maybe his funeral. Or at all.

“Rude and uncalled for!” Oikawa drummed his fingers on his laptop. He had practice for Mock Trial later that evening until about nine. His Law Review paper needed to go through another round of edits too. He also had to review his notes from lecture today and continue updating his outline. Oh, he should probably schedule in time to eat and sleep and poop too.

But when? With what free time?

Suga peeked up from his phone, “Wow,” Suga frowned, staring for a few seconds more. “You’re stressed,” he concluded.

Oikawa felt like he’d just gone under a microscope. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Oikawa turned his head as he heard his voice being called. A group of girls walking by had called out to him. He slapped on a smile and gave them a wave, while silently praying they didn’t come up to talk to him.

His prayers fell on deaf ears, apparently.

“Oikawa-senpai,” one of the underclassmen approached with two girls behind her. Oikawa vaguely knew her name. It started with a T. And that’s as far as he’d go with that. Her curly hair fell to her shoulders, and she wore a very bright red lipstick that somehow didn’t stain her teeth as she smiled bright and wide at Oikawa. “We wanted to know if you were coming to our class mixer this weekend.”

Ah right. Yes. A social life. He had to find time for that too.

“Where’s my personal invite, ladies?” Suga leaned forward in his seat, fixing a pout on his face. “I’m hurt! I’m wounded!”

The redhead behind the brunette laughed, “You’d come whether we invited you or not!”

“The mixer was your idea!” The dark-haired girl placed her hands on her hips.

Suga stuck out his tongue, “And it’s a good one.”

Oikawa couldn’t tell if it was the lack of sleep or not, but Suga was more hilarious than usual. He threw his head back and laughed, feeling the tiredness cling to the sound. He needed coffee. And a nap. At least thirty minutes. So he could be somewhat of a person to lead his team tonight.

He’d have to navigate these girls first, though. “Hmm, let me check my calendar! I’d love to come, but I want to make sure I don’t double book myself. I’ll text you?” Oikawa pulled out his phone and gave it a wave.

“Sounds good,” Tsumugi, that was her name. Tsumugi-chan smiled. “We’ll see you there, Oikawa-senpai! Sugawara-senpai!”

As the girls walked away, Oikawa turned his attention back to Suga. “I need coffee.”

“Oh, heck yes.” Suga jumped out of his seat. “I was waiting for you to say that. Let’s go! You need, like, seventy shots of caffeine inserted into your arm via IV at this rate.”

Oikawa packed up his stuff and slung his bag over his shoulder. He ran a hand through his messy hair and followed Suga out of the law building. “Okay, now you’re just exaggerating,” Oikawa said as they made their way to the bus stop. There was a local coffee shop in town about a ten-minute bus ride from the school. Most of the students went there for their midday breaks, coffee stops, or study sessions.

As the bus pulled up, Sugawara pulled out his wallet, as did Oikawa. He took out his bus card as he climbed the steps and swiped in. “Am I? Or am I telling you the truth, as I should, because I’m your bestest friend.”

“You’re more of a best pal,” Oikawa quipped as he scanned his bus card and followed Suga to the middle of the row. The bus was pretty empty. A few people were scattered in different seats, so it wasn’t hard to find two open ones. They clambered into a pair of seats in the back, elevated above the other seats. “A trusted comrade in arms, even.”

“Thank you so much,” Sugawara drawled. He claimed the window seat. Oikawa took the middle seat. Their knees bumped as the bus crawled from the stop and headed down the road. They passed buildings and people. On the way to the coffee shop Oikawa and Sugawara discussed the upcoming mixer.

“How do you have the energy to plan a party and study?” Oikawa took off his glasses to clean them with the hem of his shirt. He held up the glasses, squinting. Were they still smudged? A tad. So he went right back to cleaning. “I don’t even try to kid myself anymore. I don’t even pretend to act like I still have the social battery for that stuff.”

Suga was still on his phone. Type type typing away. Oikawa was a nosy bitch. And wanted to know who had sucked up all of Suga’s attention when he was in the almighty presence of Oikawa Tooru. So, because he knew he could, Oikawa leaned forward. Pressing his shoulder against Suga’s so he could get a better peak at his friend’s phone. All he managed to catch was a D for the contact photo and one flirty bitmoji before Suga’s fist connected right into his nose.

“Ow!” Oikawa fell back into the chair. Bumping and jostling around with the bus. His nose ached something awful. Bright red and stinging. He cupped his bruised nose and scowled. “That was rude! That was a tort! I’m taking you to court!”

“That was self defense, and I’d win that court case hands down.” Suga looked so fucking pleased with himself. The gremlin. “Who said you could look at my phone? An invasion of privacy is a tort, too.”

“We should have never gone to law school,” God, hearing himself and Suga talk about law related things in a casual, joking context made him want to hurl. Thankfully, the bus rolled up to the coffee shop in time. And that cut their conversation short as they stumbled out of the bus and went inside.

Their coffee shop was creatively named: Coffee. With a giant coffee cup sign that lit up past midnight on the weekends. Oikawa had asked the owner about that once and the owner had told him it was intentional. A sort of beacon, or a northern guiding light, for all the grad students up late doing work.

“Y’all don’t know the first thing about self care,” the owner, Osamu, said as he gave Oikawa Tooru, the moth that had followed the bright light of his sign, a decaf green tea latte with almond milk and an onigiri on the house. “So I figured lemme at least give y'all a pick me up before you crash several hours later. Which by the way, go to bed.”

Osamu was great. And after that, Oikawa made an effort to not only visit his cafe at the ass crack of night.

“I’ll grab us a table,” Suga said, motioning over to a circular table by a window. “Coffee on you?”

“You’re just grabbing the table to get out of ordering the coffee,” Oikawa said but he reached into his bag anyway for his wallet.

“Bingo!” Suga winked and without any more shame, sauntered over to the table before anyone else could claim it.

If Suga wasn’t so pretty and charming and a gremlin, Oikawa wouldn’t fall for his tune.

Oikawa went to the register. He searched for any signs of Osamu but found a worker at the coffee machine instead. The worker had short, cropped black hair but what it looked like fully was hidden by the black cap on his head. Oikawa drummed his card against the counter as he waited.

“Hi!” he called out. The worker turned his head and then, suddenly, Oikawa was punched in the gut.

Holy shit. It was him.

Oikawa had no idea that Atsumu’s hook up worked at Coffee. Nor that he would see him so soon. Atsumu’s hook up regarded him for a minute, before realization washed over his face. Oikawa’s breath caught in his throat as the man’s lips slowly pulled into a lopsided smirk.

“Long time no see,” Oikawa frantically dropped his gaze to the man’s name tag.

Iwaizumi.

“What can I get you?”

Iwaizumi.

“... You good, dude?”

“Right!” Oikawa jumped to attention. God, he hated this. Why was he so flustered? He’s seen hot people before. Fuck, he was one of the hot people. A random man (Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi) shouldn’t have him so off balance. “I’m good. I’m coffee.”

“You’re… coffee?” and now Oikawa wanted nothing more than to obliterate on the spot. Iwaizumi looked more amused than put out. In hindsight, that was probably a good sign. In current sight, Oikawa wanted to cease being in existence. “Then I’m tea.”

Oikawa snorted despite himself. His ears burned red at the tips. “Hilarious. Thank you for joking along and not making me feel like a dumbass.”

“That’s what I’m paid for.” Iwaizumi rested his hands on the counter. “So how can I help you, Coffee?” Oikawa caught a flash of his tattoo from his rolled up sleeves. He wondered what the full sleeve was? He wondered how big or small it was? If it had taken him hours in one sitting to get done or if he’d finished it between multiple trips? He wondered if his ears had hurt when he’d got them pierced. He wondered if Atsumu already knew all of this.

He wondered why he was wondering any of this at all.

“Can I get a chai latte and hazelnut iced coffee?”

“To go?”

“For here. I’m with a friend.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes trailed over Oikawa’s shoulder. He dragged them back once he found whatever it was he was searching for. “A study date?” he asked, punching in Oikawa’s order into the machine.

“Something like that,” Oikawa quipped, then suddenly, “but platonically!” he had no idea why he felt the urge to add that on. “We’re platonically… studying, together.”

Iwaizumi fixed Oikawa with a long, flat stare. Oikawa, not for the first time, wondered why he was blessed and cursed with a horribly beautiful mouth. He was going to be a lawyer for fuck’s sake! Why was he so nervous speaking to a stranger? He had to get it together.

Finally, like daybreak coming after a long night, Iwaizumi huffed. “That’s good to know.” Thank God he didn’t find Oikawa strange. “That’ll be 1400 yen.”

They completed the transaction. Iwaizumi reached for a plastic cup and a black sharpie. He hesitated, and then glanced up at Oikawa. “Should I write your name as Coffee or do you go by something else?”

“It’s Oikawa,” Oikawa felt a surge of something akin to hunger. A desire to hear his name spoken on this man’s tongue. Just once. “Oikawa Tooru. But,” he added quickly. “You can just say Oikawa.”

“O-i-ka-wa,” Iwaizumi’s enunciation of his name did something awful to Oikawa. He felt like he’d been struck by lightning and was rushing down a steep hill all at the same time. He watched Iwaizumi’s fingers intensely as he marked up the two cups. He noticed that Iwaizumi wore rings. Two silver bands. One on his index finger and one on his thumb. Oikawa had a sudden urge to stroke his thumb over them several times.

God, what was wrong with him?

“I’ll call you when it’s finished.”

“Thanks.” The word felt wrong on his tongue. He wanted to say something more, but wasn’t quite sure what. Did he even need to say anything at all?

Oikawa went back to Suga. Who was still, surprise surprise, on his phone when Oikawa sat down.

“Okay, spill,” Suga raised his head as Oikawa sat down and fixed him with a curious gaze. “Who are you texting? Who's the D? A dick appointment?”

Suga threw his head back and laughed, a blush staining his cheeks. “No! I mean, his dick is great and I’ve had several appointments with it since we’ve met…”

“Incredible!” Oikawa clapped. “I’m so glad one of us is getting laid,” he said with all the fake sincerity he could drizzle onto his words. “Who is he? To circle back to my question!”

“Why are you so in my business?” Suga retorted. “Who’s the cute barista you were chatting up, huh? Let’s get into that.”

“I’m cross-examining you here. Not the other way around!”

“Let’s call it a plea bargain,” Suga grinned.

“God,” Oikawa slid into his chair. “I hate this. Can we stop using legal terms when we chat? Can we be normal for five minutes?”

“Never,” Suga crossed his legs and played with the ripped part of his rubber phone case. “I think it’s become a coping mechanism now. We make so many law school jokes because if we’re not joking, we’re crying.”

That was far too real. Oikawa had to give him that. They kept going on in circles about Suga’s mystery D while they waited for their coffee orders. After an aggressive line of questioning, Suga finally relented and told Oikawa that he was talking to a guy named Sawamura Daichi. Daichi was an older guy Suga had met out one night when he was clubbing. According to Suga, Daichi made a living as a bodyguard for some CEO.

“His abs,” Suga’s mouth had a little drool on the corner, “they were so solid. I could build a four story house on them they were so stable and delicious and-”

“I can’t believe it’s not even demon hours and I’m sitting here hearing you objectifying poor Daichi-kun.”

“Hey!” Suga sat up in his chair. He pointed an accusatory finger at Oikawa, who stuck his tongue out playfully in return. “He told me I could objectify him if I wanted to. Since it’d only be fair ‘cause he kept talking about my ass like it was-”

“Here’s your order.”

Iwaizumi placed their coffees on the table. Oikawa’s heart skipped several beats. Suga made a quick grab for his coffee and cupped it in the palms of his hands.

“Oh, I thought you were going to call us when it’s done?” Oikawa wanted to find another place to land his gaze. Like the plants hanging above their heads or the way Suga slurped his coffee like he’d been dehydrated for days. Instead, he kept his eyes on Iwaizumi. He played with the brim of his hat as he spoke.

“You looked busy with your conversation. Didn’t want to interrupt that.”

“Ah, were you checking us out then?” Oikawa felt like such an ass. Flirting with people while they were on the job was such a scummy move. Why did he do that? Why couldn’t he have started flirting once Iwaizumi got off the clock.

Wait no. Why did he even want to flirt at all?

“I’m s-” he went to speak, but Iwaizumi was quicker.

“I was. But just you.”

Oikawa’s mouth hung open. Suga took an incredibly long sip of his coffee. Slurping loud enough to break the sound barrier. Iwaizumi smirked and turned on his heel, walking away to the counter to tend to a customer that had just entered.

Once he was gone, Oikawa heard Suga start cackling.

“Oh my God. You’re a disaster!” Suga had to put his cup down because it would jostle too much from how hard he was laughing. Oikawa’s lips pulled into a deep frown. Suga making fun of him was completely unwarranted! Was he disastrous at that moment? Yes. Did it need to be ridiculed? It could be—but not here.

“Don’t laugh!” Oikawa hissed. “Stop it,” he hissed again. But Suga just took one look at Iwaizumi who was talking to a customer and lost it all over again. “You’re the worst!” Oikawa flipped Suga off.

Suga flipped him off right back, “If you come back here to awkwardly flirt and panic around the hot barista again please alert me. I must know.”

Oikawa reached for his coffee and hoped the cold from his iced coffee would cool him down. And if he happened to steal glances at the cute barista who also, apparently, had slept with Atsumu Miya (for why?), then what of it?

At some point, the words on Oikawa’s screen began to blur together. He pinched the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses. God, he was tired. He was so tired. This past week had been so hectic. His computer had a day after his coffee run with Suga. So he had to resort to handwritten notes for three days. His fingers still cramped from how furiously he’d taken notes to make sure he got all the important information down. Suga was a godsend and had made an extra sheet of notes for Oikawa for their classes. So tonight, after he’d gotten his computer back, he was able to make a fresh sheet to put everything together.

Mock Trial had been a disaster this week, too. His team's been doing so well at first. Moving smoothly from openings to direct examination, but once they’d started practicing their cross-examinations, everything had gone downhill. The witnesses had forgotten their stories and the attorneys couldn’t keep their line of questioning straight enough to get through the important parts. Oikawa had told them to call it early that night. Start fresh again tomorrow. He could still see the frustrated and disappointed looks of his teammates as they’d filtered out of the classroom one by one.

He still felt the tinge of failure on his skin. Etched and caked so deep down, no amount of scrubbing could get it out. If his team failed, it was a reflection of him as a captain. He had to rework their strategy. Figure out a way to get his team back on track and confident enough to kill it at upcoming competitions.

But God, if Oikawa wasn’t on the very precipice of burn out right now.

Oikawa Tooru didn’t like to burn out. Well, who really did, right? Oikawa specifically hated knowing the crash and burn was coming. It always started slow. With irritation and clipped remarks. With not being able to focus for long periods of time. With indulgences becoming more and more gluttonous compared to a reward for hard work. Oikawa liked efficiency. He liked being on top of things. He liked being high functioning and even higher performing.

Of course, burn out was natural. You work at something so long, so rigorously, and without putting on the breaks—you wipe out. His therapist had encouraged him to seek self care. And while Oikawa had nodded and smiled and said “You got it, Doc!” he had not performed an ounce of self care since his last session three weeks ago.

He glanced at the clock on his computer screen. It read, in a rather gentle voice: 2:05 am.

He didn’t have class tomorrow, thankfully. But he did have to go into his internship to represent a client.

Oikawa shut his computer. He should go to sleep. That would be self care, right? Choosing himself over his work? But he had so much to do. He wasn’t on the ball with any of his tasks.

But sleep was persistent. He rubbed his eyes. The world was a bit blurry. “Okay, Tooru,” Oikawa made the executive decision then and there that sleep was a necessity. “Let’s go to sleep and be a normal person.”

Once Oikawa reached the top of his apartment steps, he smelled cigarette smoke. His heart raced a little. Wondering, if maybe, where the smoke was—there would also be fire.

Iwaizumi leaned against the railing. This time, in a t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the shoulder and a pair of jeans. His face turned towards the city. Illuminated by the soft glow of the buzzling lamp light hanging above his head. Oikawa gripped the strap of his bag. He wondered if he should say hi. They knew of each other, right? A greeting shouldn’t be too crazy.

“Hi hi!” Oikawa waved. His voice cracked. Ah shit.

Iwaizumi turned his head slowly. The light at the end of his cigarette glowed, a lazy firefly that could barely keep its light on. He raised an eyebrow—the one with a small gap in the brow, and then smiled. With a bit of teeth. And this time, from where Oikawa could see him standing, he could finally get a good look at Iwaizumis’ tattoo. On his shoulder, down to his forearm, linkedin thick black lines were leaves that spiraled down Iwaizumi’s arms like ivy vines. They curled and looped around an inked sword that went straight down Iwaizumi’s arm. Oikawa’s fingers twitched. He wanted to outline the shape of Iwaizumi’s tattoo with the tip of his fingers for hours.

“Oh, hey.” Iwaizumi gave a small wave himself. “We meet again. You worked late?”

“Unfortunately,” Oikawa brushed his hair back. His glasses slipped down his nose slightly. “Law school work is piling up, as all.”

“Ah, right.” Iwaizumi took a long drag of his cigarette. Then exhaled. “Osamu was telling me about that. How you law students come into his shop at the ass hours of the night, looking like zombies, begging for some caffeine to make it through the day.” Another drag. Another exhale. “Sounds stressful.”

Oikawa chuckled, but it was void of any humor. “Stressful doesn’t even describe the half of it.”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi said. “Well, let’s hear it.”

Huh? Oikawa blinked several times. Rapidly as his brain scrambled to catch up with what Iwaizumi had offered. An opportunity to converse more. Why in the world did that make Oikawa feel so… so… excited?

“You sure?” Oikawa took one small step for progress, one giant leap towards his devastation. Until he stood right beside Iwaizumi. They both looked out towards the city scape. The night was dotted with the lights of homes still awake. With people still up. With the stars covered by the darkened clouds hanging above the city. “I’m sure Tsu-chan will be out here any minute looking for you. And if you couldn’t tell from last time, me and him don’t get along. It might be a brawl.”

“I like brawls,” Iwaizumi reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “You smoke?”

Oikawa shook his head, “No. It burns my lungs and I rather like my lungs.”

“Understood.” A beat later, “You want me to put mine out?”

“No, you can keep smoking. I don’t mind it.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “Alright then. Go off, as the kids say.”

“The kids?” Oikawa scrunched his nose up. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five. You?”

“Also twenty-five. But I don’t make a habit of talking like I’m fifty.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Iwaizumi said. Okay, excellent. He had wit and humor. Oikawa wouldn’t be bored, at least.

“You really want to hear me complain about school?” Oikawa could name seven other things he’d rather do than listen to someone go on about school, especially if he wasn’t in school himself. Wait, was Iwaizumi in school? Oikawa furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you do?”

“Two questions at once, very lawyer-y of you.” Oikawa scowled, which, apparently, Iwaizumi found hilarious, because he laughed. It was a husky, low sort of chuckle. That scraped at the corners of Oikawa’s sanity, right to the bone. He felt a burn, similar to the inhale of a cigarette, glow in the root of his chest. “To answer your second question first: I work at the coffee shop, but you knew that already. I’m also in school, so yes. To answer your first question,” Iwaizumi’s cigarette butt lit up like a firefly in the night. “I’m interested.”

He was interested. He was interested. Oikawa was transfixed on Iwaizumi and the light of his cigarette. On the rough way Iwaizumi spoke yet delivered his words so carefully. As if Oikawa was someone important, and as such deserved to be treated with tenderness. Oikawa’s lips pulled into a small grin despite himself. Slowly turning into a devil’s grin, a mischievous curl at the ends.

“Promise you won’t get bored?”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, the one with the gap, before matching Oikawa’s smile. “Only if you promise to keep me entertained.” he replied, with a crooked grin and smoke trailing out on his exhale.

Oikawa’s heart stuttered.

Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa for a long time. Oikawa held back the urge to flinch. His mouth felt dry from how much he had talked. Just talked. On and on and on about the few highs and many lows of law school. It was weird. Oikawa usually didn’t talk about his struggles. Not because he wanted to pretend like he had it all together, because he didn’t. All he did was try, and try his best, and then do better than his best, and then keep polishing and working and fine-tuning his progress until he got the results he wanted.

He knew he wasn’t a genius. He knew he wasn’t a prodigy. But he knew he was the epitome of hard work. He knew his strengths, and capitalized on those to make up for his weaknesses. He sharpened his weaknesses so if they were to ever come to light, he could navigate them with ease. He worked relentlessly and restlessly to rise above. His rankings showed that. His test results showed that. His current social position at school showed that. His work reflected that.

There was a price to pay for all that success, however.

Oikawa's shoulders were tense all the time. He hadn’t gotten proper sleep in two weeks. He was more irritable (than usual, which to Suga was very surprising as he thought Oikawa couldn’t get any more irritable). His focus and concentration were slipping and falling through his fingers like sand. He hated it. He hated being burned out. His eyes burned. His shoulders felt heavy. In this moment, as he expelled all his frustrations over Mock Trial, how he felt like a failure of a captain to his team, of the pressures of balancing life and work and everything--how he just wanted to turn himself off for a few days--everything had just come out.

And Iwaizumi listened through it all. Without judgment. Without pressure. A force of nature that said, so quietly and present like the vapor trail of smoke that had long since gone out from Iwaizumi’s cigarette, I’m here.

Oikawa could have cried. But if he did, it wouldn't be around a (hot) stranger.

“So that’s…” Oikawa said, curling his fingers around the railing, “my story!” He managed a brilliant smile. That didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I didn’t bore you after all, right?”

Iwaizumi shook his head, “Nah. You were good. I was entertained,” and those words had no right making Oikawa shiver. But they did. And he’d blame it on the cold, early morning instead of the heat twisting in his gut.

“I think it’s only appropriate I ask if you need to vent, too,” Oikawa motioned towards the door leading to Atsumu’s apartment. “Unless, uh, you need to get back there. To Atsumu.” He wrinkled his nose. “Though if you ever need to vent about that, I’m all ears.”

“Nah, he’s asleep. I’m in no rush,” Iwaizumi said. Then a beat after he added, “You guys don’t get along.”

“We’re like two dumpster cats fighting over the last fish bone. Though I’m the prettier, fluffier, less smelly dumpster cat.” Oikawa said.

Iwaizumi threw his head back and laughed. The sound was glorious. Rich, deep, beautiful. Oikawa’s gut twisted. “He said something similar, that’s so funny. You guys are kind of the same,” Iwaizumi wiped at the corner of his eyes.

Oikawa gasped, like he was electrocuted. “We are not! Take it back, Iwaizumi Coffee Shop Worker and Student!”

“Now what the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know your full name.”

“Would you like to?”

Suddenly, Iwaizumi was very, very close.

A stutter in a heartbeat. “I-I. Well.” Oikawa licked his lips, dropping his gaze to Iwaizumi’s mouth and then shooting it back up to Iwaizumi’s eyes. “If you’d like.”

Iwaizumi tilted his head, eyes remained glued on Oikawa. His gaze, unlike Oikawa’s, was slow to crawl down to Oikawa’s lips. As if he was trailing the tip of his finger down the slope of Oikawa’s nose, to the curves of Oikawa’s lips, to touch and to feel. Oikawa sucked in a sharp breath. His grip on the rail tightened. Iwaizumi’s eyes widened slightly, then he smirked.

“I’d like,” came out slowly. “You can know my full name. It’s Iwaizumi Hajime.”

Iwaizumi Hajime.

“Yours?” Iwaizumi continued. Still so close. Still so hyper focused on Oikawa.

“Oikawa-” Oikawa exhaled heavily through his nose, “Oikawa Tooru.”

“Oikawa Tooru,” Iwaizumi repeated. Oikawa had never enjoyed hearing his name from someone else until this moment. The buzzing light above them flickered. The cars below them drove on and on. The lights were dimming from the windows of houses going to sleep. The world was going, and turning, and sleeping, and staying awake, and here was Oikawa talking to Iwaizumi Hajime against the railing with his apartment a few feet away.

He liked it.

He liked this moment, a lot.

“Thank you for listening,” Oikawa said quietly into the small space between them.

Iwaizumi’s eyes searched Oikawa’s face. He rubbed at one of his rings. “You want some advice?”

Oikawa snorted, “If it doesn’t involve dropping out of law school to join a circus or a pyramid scheme, I’m not sure I want to hear it.”

“No, it’s nothing that dramatic.” Oikawa wanted to say that his escape plans were not dramatic and instead well-thought-out when Iwaizumi kept going, “You need a stress relief.”

“That’s what my therapist said, too. I’ve yet to do that, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe that’s because you haven’t found an option for stress relief that’s…” Iwaizumi leaned forward, “worth your time.”

“Yeah?” Oikawa asked, completely oblivious. “Like what?”

Iwaizumi’s hand rested on the nape of Oikawa’s neck. It was the hand with his rings. Their coldness pressed against Oikawa’s skin, making him shiver. Iwaizumi was now consuming Oikawa’s space. Enough that, if Oikawa dared. If he tried. He could lean forward. He could lean forward and-

Iwaizumi kissed him.

Oikawa’s eyes slowly grew and grew, until they were the size of Jupiter’s moons. Iwaizumi’s eyes weren’t closed either. They were narrowed, taking him in. As his mouth gently pressed against Oikawa’s. The kiss was a bolt of fire, a blaze of lightning. Oikawa’s fingers twitched on the railing. He inhaled, and Iwaizumi pulled back.

For a second, neither of them moved. The cars kept going, and distantly Oikawa could hear someone’s alarm going off. The light above them kept buzzing and buzzing but everything was so faint. Everything was so, so damn faint.

But Oikawa could feel the cold metal of Iwaizumi’s rings still on his neck. Present and overwhelming.

Oikawa’s nostrils flared, “Iwaizumi Hajime?” His voice cracked.

Iwaizumi smirked, “That’s me. And my suggestion? You need to get laid. And my offer?” Iwaizumi pulled his hand until his palm cupped Oikawa’s cheek. And his thumb, the one with the ring on it, traced the lines of Oikawa’s bottom lip. Oikawa felt delirious and ready to pass out and was on the verge of exploding. “I’m a real good stress reliever.”

Oikawa’s brain shut down. At that very moment. He forgot what it was like to have rational thoughts that didn’t revolve around sex and Iwaizumi Hajime and wondering what it would be like to taste his lips again and how smoke had never tasted so good until Iwaizumi Hajime had kissed him and how Oikawa might get addicted to nicotine if kissing Iwaizumi, just lips along, was like that and-

“You in?” Iwaizumi’s soft question broke through Oikawa’s inner disaster of a monologue. “If not, that’s okay. I can also be here to listen, too. I just thought, y’know. You’re not ugly, and I think we’re attracted to each other, so I figured...” Iwaizumi pulled his hand away to scratch at his nose. He looked a little shy now. The audacity of this man to look sheepish after pulling off such a bold stunt like that.

“No,” Oikawa blurted out. Iwaizumi’s face shifted into shock. “No, I mean-Yes. Yes, I’m in.”

What happened next, Oikawa never anticipated. Iwaizumi’s face morphed from shock to utter delight. His eyebrows arched to his hairline. Three little crinkles formed in the corner of his eyes, closed with content. As he smiled, brilliantly, with the tip of his nose reddening just a bit. He was adorable. He was so fucking adorable. Oikawa was going to die. He was going to die and Iwaizumi would be his cause of death, this much he was sure.

“That’s good. I’m glad.” Iwaizumi tugged on Oikawa’s bag strap, pulling him forward. Oikawa stumbled a bit, making an ‘oof’ at the sudden gesture. Iwaizumi leaned his head up and gone was his boyish charm, his utter delight.

Now he had become a predator, and Oikawa was his prey.

“Wanna relieve some stress right now?”

Oikawa never liked being prey. Never enjoyed the thrill of being hunted. But under Iwaizumi’s gaze, dark and filled with playful mischief—filled with promises he intended to keep. Oikawa’s mind went to a million places at once. All of them were filthy. All of them were wonderful.

Oikawa fell. He wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s hips, his fingers digging in as confirmation. His own smile was wicked and sharp and full of wanting. “Only if you promise to make it worth my while.”

“I intend to.”

#iwaoi #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu #my fics

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