#flaws put within the first chapter
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
gay-dorito-dust · 3 months ago
Text
Sometimes you often forgot just how big Jason was in terms of physicality.
He was like a towering monster whose shadow could encase you but it was warm, protective and secure, leaving you feeling like the most safest person in Gotham.
You often forgot how big his hands were until his callouses were pressed against the back of your hand, hiding yours completely from sight as he closed his hand fully enveloped yours whole, keeping them warm from the cold that he knew you had a love/hate relationship with.
You forgot how effortlessly you could burrow yourself into his broad back, big enough to hide yourself behind whenever you felt fear, or just needed to be close to Jason in order to feel something in general as you nuzzled your face between his shoulder blades and hearing his strong heart beat that grounded you from just about anything.
You could hide away behind him and no one would be none the wiser until Jason stepped to the side, which he never did as he always assumed his position as your wall rather seriously, too stubborn to move for anyone who wasn’t you.
Jason has the physique that is told in Greek mythology, his hands were strong, his thighs were sturdy and powerful as his back and chest were nothing to scoff at either. He was beautiful with all his scars and callouses, for he was the most beautiful man to you who never failed to read chapters from his book to help you sleep, all the while he cradled your form against his larger one.
You often forget about Jason’s physical stature because it didn’t matter to you how big he was, or how strong he was because at the end of the day he was your Jason, he was the man you loved so dearly as you kissed his scars tenderly and caressed his callouses with softness as though you’ll hurt him somehow if you pressed too hard.
He was a giant teddy bear with you and you could only see the sweet, literature dork of a man who holds you close to his chest as though you were his personal teddy bear. His stature and physique didn’t frighten you, it reassured you and comforted you in more ways than one.
You forgot about his physique when his personality shone brighter for you to pay more attention to, his big strong arms that held you from behind, pulling you to his chest were merely a bonus as you snuggled into his neck and pressed kisses to under his jaw and making him hum in content. He was your sweet jay bird who always put you first no matter what, his unwavering loyalty left no room for insecurity or doubt within your relationship as you had found the perfect man in Jason Todd.
A man with flaws and errors of the past etched into his skin, but to you he couldn’t be more perfect as he smiled and laughed with you while keeping you close to him, as though afraid you’ll disappear but you’re more then willing to cling on to him in return…even if your hands don’t meet when returning his embrace in due to how big he was in general.
Yet still he was your precious Jason who was perfectly imperfect in your eyes, his towering and intimidating stature was merely a bonus to the awkward but endearing man that laid beneath.
3K notes · View notes
opbackgrounds · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
This scene with Sanji is one of his most important moments in the series, and in my opinion also one of the most difficult passages in the manga to interpret, because to completely understand it you have to look at the manga holistically rather than this scene by itself.
The big question that needs answered is why does Oda let Zoro "win" here by having him be the sacrifice instead of Sanji. Both are equally willing and both are identified much later on as the Wings of the Pirate King, implying that they have similar importance (although vastly different roles) within the Straw Hat crew.
If we go back to Sanji's introduction on the Baratie, his big flaw was that he lacked the "spear of spirit" to pursue his dream. Since he's been a boy he's wanted to find the All Blue, but even when he had the opportunity to go after that dream he chose to stay on the Baratie out of a feeling of obligation to Zeff. Sanji put the continued existence of the restaurant over his own life, something Luffy rightfully called him out for at the time, and even at the end of the arc had to be pushed away by Zeff and the other chefs before he finally set sail for good.
On Drum, Sanji once again almost died protecting Nami and Luffy during the avalanche, resulting in a broken back that required surgury from Dr. Kureha. Luffy again calls him out (note the English translation here isn't entirely accurate, see here for a breakdown), and with his power there's a good chance Luffy could have gotten them all out of trouble without all the dramatics by Sanji.
Something similar happens on Skypiea, when Sanji puts himself in the way of Enel so that Usopp and Nami can be saved. This case is perhaps more justifiable given the extreme situation they were in, but nonetheless he was still quick to throw his life away.
Then on Enies Lobby Nami--while not criticizing his chivalry--calls out Sanji for simply not running away from Kalifa, instead just accepting that he's going to get the shit beat out of him, and possibly die.
So there's a pattern of self-destructive behavior. Sanji repeatedly puts his life on the line when he doesn't need to in order to preserve the lives and dreams of the people he loves. Even him constantly simping over Nami and Robin falls a little into this category, because if either of them told him to take a long walk off a short pier I have no doubt he'd comply. It's that same extreme willingness to sacrifice anything and everything for the people he cares for that we see in Baby 5, except Sanji was fortunate enough to not be surrounded by people that encourage these worst impulses of self-destructive behavior. As he says here in Thriller Bark, he's just the cook. Luffy can always just find someone else.
(The glory of Whole Cake Island being Sanji realizing, no, Luffy can't, and he won't).
And it is finally on WCI that get to the heart of why Sanji is like this with yet another episode of putting his own dreams and happiness aside for the sake of others, and not until Wano that we finally see him take the first steps toward asking others for help instead of passionately throwing his life away when he doesn’t need to.
When Zoro first offered his head to Kuma, the prominence of his dream was first and foremost. Notice that Sanji never mentions the All Blue. One Piece is a series that places the pursuit of one's own ambition above all else, even if that ambition is selfish. Sanji hasn't yet learned to be selfish, so Zoro knocks him out and ends up being the one to accept Luffy's pain. Sacrifice isn't sacrifice if the person doesn't value what they're giving up, and right now Sanji clearly doesn't value his own life compared to the rest of the crew.
Next chapter Oda will speak through Brook to confirm that Sanji's willingness to give himself up wasn't foolish or stupid. It's just that he's missing a piece of the puzzle, and that's not something he'll have for a long time yet.
622 notes · View notes
ghelgheli · 9 months ago
Note
hey you might've been asked this before sorry if so, but have you read or do you have any thoughts on A short history of Trans Misogyny?
I have read it! I have a few thoughts.
I think it's a strong and important work that compiles historical archives into sharp analyses of how "trans misogyny" (using Jules Gill-Peterson's spacing) is not a recent phenomenon but a globalized structure with centuries of history. I also think it's flawed, for reasons I'll get into after a quick summary for those who haven't had the chance to read it yet.
JGP divides the book into three main chapters, the first on the notion of "trans panic". There, she traces how variants of this anxiety with the trans-feminized subject have presented—to deadly effect, for the subject—in such different settings as early colonial India, the colonization of the Americas, the racialized interactions between US soldiers stationed in the Philippines and the local trans women living there, and of course the contemporary United States itself. In every case she analyzes this "panic" as the reaction of the capitalist colonial enterprise to the conceptual threat that the trans-feminized subject poses; we are a destabilizing entity, a gender glitch that undermines the rigid guarantees of the patriarchal order maintaining capitalism. Punishment follows.
The second chapter is my favourite, and considers the relationship between transfeminine life and sex work. I posted a concluding excerpt but the thrust of the chapter is this: that the relegation of so many trans women and trans-feminized people to sex work, while accompanied by the derogation and degradation that is associated with sex work, is not itself the mere result of that degradation inflicted upon the subject. In other words, it is not out of pure helplessness and abjection that so many trans-feminized people are involved in sex work. Rather, sex work is a deliberate and calculated choice made by many trans-feminized people in increasingly service-based economies that present limited, often peripheralized, feminized, and/or reproductive, options for paid labour. Paired with a pretty bit of critical confabulation about the histories of Black trans-feminized people travelling the US in the 19th century, I think this made for great reading.
In her third chapter, JGP narrativizes the 20th century relationship between the "gay" and "trans" movements in north america—scare quoted precisely because the two went hand-in-hand for much of their history. She emphasizes this connection, not merely an embedding of one community within another but the tangled mutualism of experiences and subjectivities that co-constituted one another, though not without tension. Then came the liberal capture of the gay rights movement around the 70s, which brought about the famous clashes between the radicalisms of Silvia Rivera and Marsha P Johnson (neither of whom, JGP notes, ever described themselves as trans women) and the institutions of gay liberalism that desired subsumption into the folds of capital. This is a "remember your history" type of chapter, and well-put.
I think JGP is correct to insist, in her introduction, on the globalizing-in-a-destructive-sense effects of the colonial export of trans womanhood. It is, after all, an identity conceived only mid-century to make sense of the medicalized trans subject; and "gender identity" itself (as JGP describes in Histories of the Transgender Child) is a psychomedical concept conceived to rein in the epistemic instability of trans existence. This is critical to keep in mind! But I also think JGP makes a few mistakes, and one of them has to do with this point.
In her first chapter, under the discussion of trans misogyny in colonial India, JGP of course uses the example of the hijra. Unfortunately, she commits two fundamental errors in her use: she mythologizes, however ambiguously, the "ascetic" lives of hijra prior to the arrival of British colonialism; and she says "it's important to say that hijras were not then—and are not today—transgender". In the first place, the reference to the "ascetism" of hijra life prior to the violence of colonialism is evocative of "third-gender" idealizations of primeval gender subjectivities. To put the problem simply: it's well and good to describe the "ritual" roles of gendered subjects people might try to construe contemporarily as "trans women", the priestesses and oracles and divinities of yore. But it is best not to do so too loftily. Being assigned to a particular form of ritualistic reproductive labour because of one's failure to be a man and inability to perform the primary reproductive labour of womanhood-proper is the very marker of the trans-feminized subject. "Ascetism" here obviates the reality that it wasn't all peachy before (I recommend reading Romancing the Transgender Native on this one). Meanwhile, in the after, it is just wrong that hijra are universally not transgender. Many organize specifically under the banners of transfeminism. It's a shame that JGP insists on keeping the trans-feminized life of hijra so firmly demarcated from what she herself acknowledges is globalized transness.
My second big complaint with the book is JGP's slip into a trap I have complained about many times: the equivocation of transfemininity with femininity (do you see why I'm not fond of being described as "transfem"?). She diagnoses the root of transmisogyny as a reaction to the femininity of trans women and other trans-feminized subjects. In this respect she explicitly subscribes to a form of mujerísima, and of the trans-feminized subject as "the most feminine" and (equivalent, as far as she's concerned) "the most woman". Moreover, she locates transfeminist liberation in a singular embrace of mujerísima as descriptive of trans-feminized subjectivity. As I've discussed previously, I think this is a misdiagnosis. Feminization is, of course, something that is done to people; it is certainly the case that the trans-feminized subject is in this way feminized for perceived gender-failure. This subject may simultaneously embrace feminized ways of being for all sorts of reasons. In both cases I think the feminization follows from, rather than precedes, the trans misogyny and trans-feminization, and there is a fair bit of masculinization as de-gendering at play too, to say nothing of the deliberate embrace of masculinity by "trans-feminized" subjects. Masculinity and femininity are already technologies of gender normalization—they are applied against gender deviation and adapted to by the gender deviant. The deviation happens first, in the failure to adhere to the expectations of gender assignment, and I don't think these expectations can be summarized by either masculinity or femininity alone. I think JGP is effectively describing the experience of many trans-feminized people, but I do not think what she presents can be the universalized locus of trans liberation she seems to want it to be.
Now for a pettier complaint that I've made before, but one that I think surfaces JGP's academic context. In her introduction she says:
In truth, everyone is implicated in and shaped by trans misogyny. There is no one who is purely affected by it to the point of living in a state of total victimization, just as there is no one who lives entirely exempt from its machinations. There is no perfect language to be discovered, or invented, to solve the problem of trans misogyny by labeling its proper perpetrator and victim.
Agreed that "there is no perfect language to be discovered"! But JGP is clearly critical of TMA/TME language here. Strange, then, that less than ten pages later she says this:
this book adds the phrase trans-feminized to describe what happens to groups subjected to trans misogyny though they did not, or still do not, wish to be known as transgender women.
So JGP believes it is coherent to talk about "groups subjected to trans misogyny", which she thinks consists of the union of trans women and what she called "trans-feminized" groups. If this is to be coherent, there must be groups not subjected to trans misogny. So we've come around to transmisogyny-subjected and not transmisogyny-subjected. Look: you cannot effectively theorize about transmisogyny without recognizing that its logic paints a particular target, and you will need to come up with a concise way of making this distinction. But JGP dismissing TMA/TME with skepticism about "perfect language" and immediately coining new language (basically TMS/not TMS) to solve the problem she un-solved by rejecting TMA/TME... it smells of a sloppy attempt to make a rhetorical point rather than theoretical rigour. It's frustrating.
I have other minor gripes, like her artificial separation of "trans women" from "nonbinary people" (cf. countless posts on here lamenting the narrow forms of existence granted TMA people if we want recognition as-such!) or her suggestion that "a politics of overcoming the gender binary" is mutually exclusive from rather than necessarily involved with struggles around "prison abolition, police violence, and sex work". Little things that give me the sense of theoretical tunnel-vision. But I don't think all this compromises the book's strengths as a work of broad historical analysis. I would simply not take every one of its claims as authoritative. Definitely give it a read if you have the chance, especially for the second and third chapters.
536 notes · View notes
mapoeggplant · 4 months ago
Text
skip to loafer chapter 64 analysis // spoiler
the desire to be loved that distances her more and more from people: we are finally starting to understand a little more about yasaka's past.
Tumblr media
unlike what I thought, the first spark that gave shape to the kyoto arc didn't come from shima or the girl groups, but from one of the most enigmatic characters in skip to loafer: yasaka.
we always knew very little about her and how her story unfolded. all we had was the understanding that she was a very lonely person with a complicated family situation and someone who sought people's love. and now, together with mitsumi, we are starting to understand more about where she was going with when she said that mitsumi had always been too loved to not care about what others thought.
yasaka clearly has a great desire to be loved, but she doesn't know exactly how to make people create stronger bonds with her. she believes that by being a person who is liked and desired by everyone and making these people feel good, she will get everything she wants — and this illusion may have been the result of a troubled relationship with her father, something that I believe is possible due to the small flashback she provides us.
she wants to be loved, she wants people to look at her with affection and not disapproval. being loved, pampered, praised is the way she understands love, something probably the result of a strict upbringing, where demanding anything more would result in a disappointed look. to escape this, yasaka always acts like a good girl, who gives double meaning answers and only says what others want to hear. the superficiality of the love she receives is enough to soften her ego and feed her well-being and the superficiality of the love she gives is enough to protect her from getting hurt.
Tumblr media
but of course all of this is just a time bomb that is very close to exploding. yasaka puts on this persona of someone who does not want to be completely understood, but is unable to separate her frustration from the desire to form more meaningful relationships. she is not only shielding herself from people forming more mature relationships with her, but also doing her best to maintain superficiality so that her mask doesn't fall. another thing that solidifies this for me is the central page of yasaka surrounded by “affection” and gifts, showing exactly the loss of her childhood and the desire she still carries within her.
and what I like most about all of this is how mitsumi, someone completely opposite to her and who barely knows her, tries at all costs to cross this barrier that yasaka places between her and the world. by not allowing her to leave and insisting that she stay with the group, mitsumi is basically confirming to yasaka that it's okay for her to have her flaws and receive disapproving looks: her presence is still required and she is still a person who complements the group as a whole.
Tumblr media
I really like how sensei is always willing to put two completely opposite characters so that they can externalize their flaws and fight against their barriers — and the relationship between mitsumi and yasaka is exactly another great example of this. on one side we have mitsumi, who grew up surrounded by love and affection, that’s why she’s so sure of herself and doesn’t need to seek validation on others. on the other, we have yasaka who craves affection so much to the point that she will drown herself in any small glass of it.
another thing i want to point out about this chapter is how being in love can blind you for flaws of the one you admire so much. when ujiie realized that yasaka isn’t the perfect girl he always saw, the first instinct he had was to deny it: of course his goddess wouldn’t have a flaw!! she’s 100% that girl he idolizes and loves so much. but what if this was all something he made up inside his mind?? how will ujiie deal with this heartbreaking of a confession?
Tumblr media
another month blessed with another gorgeous chapter. sensei keeps surprising me more and more and can’t wait to see what she’s keeping as a secret from us. thank you so much for reading 💛!!
223 notes · View notes
taradactyls · 7 months ago
Text
Something I love about how Pride and Prejudice is told through an omnipresent narrator, aside from the witty remarks and insight into other characters it allows even though it's usually focused on Elizabeth, is how it plays on the audience's own prejudices and assumptions.
The narrator tells us very early on, chapter 4, that Darcy is "haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, though well-bred, were not inviting." We've already seen that when we meet him the previous chapter, and will see more of it in those following. But it's the readers, along with Elizabeth, who take that observation as not only a list of flaws (despite only the first actually being negative) but presumes even more damaging flaws must be attached to it. Darcy can be off-putting, especially so in the setting we meet him in: he dismissed Elizabeth within earshot of her, didn't engage with people attempting to converse with him, etc. It's easy to assume the worst of him in a world so driven by social niceties, and because we follow Elizabeth, who is so lively and playful amidst the rules which govern society. Elizabeth thinks he's bad tempered? It would make sense - he hasn't shown consideration for others much socially, why would he care when he's angry? He acted from resentment and jealousy and went against his father's will? That's not such a jump after the conclusion of a bad temper, his own acknowledgement of implacable resentment, and evidence of pride. The awareness of one offensive trait so naturally leads to prejudice against it, that we easily assume still worse qualities must exist. We are as mistaken as Elizabeth.
Even the idea that 'No, Darcy was never haughty or rude, he was just shy and misunderstood, the narrator is wrong' is just magnifying that prejudice. Yes, we do find out later that Darcy is not at ease among strangers, and was always intrinsically good; his morals and core values meant he was never as bad as Elizabeth believed. But that doesn't mean he was without flaws, and it's so fascinating that some analysis of his character seek to completely remove the negative traits which he eventually overcame after acknowledging them in himself. The logic seems to be that they feel if he had them in the start that he isn't actually such a good person. It's just another example of being so prejudiced against certain flaws that it's impossible for some people to reconcile that there doesn't have to be more serious failings attached, and someone can still be a good person despite being arrogant and not always nice. It's, ironically, being prejudiced in the exact same way that Elizabeth was at the start of the novel. It's amazing that Jane Austen was able to tap into that aspect of human nature so deftly, and invoke in both in her main character, and readers to this day.
Now, of course, the story is so well known it's rare for anyone to read it blind, so it's less likely anyone will be unaware of Darcy's good qualities despite first seeing his worst. Even if they do, Pride and Prejudice has become so genre defining that new readers who are the slightest bit genre savvy will be more aware than contemporary audiences were. But even if we know the story it's still so understandable why Elizabeth feels the way she does. We see what she sees and feel her conclusions make sense. Just as, even though the narrator tells us Darcy is starting to catch feelings for Elizabeth, we fully comprehend her not noticing and believing there's a mutual dislike. And though that is concrete evidence of Elizabeth not reading Darcy and his motives correctly, we are still so sympathetic of the basis of her prejudice that her continued belief in Darcy's lack of virtues makes sense from her point of view. We can see, as she later will, that she takes it too far, and should have noticed evidence to the contrary, but her prejudice against him based on his early behaviour and her pride at reading people correctly is so understandable.
Basically, in a story about the characters' pride and prejudices, I love, love, LOVE how the narrator's voice brings out those same traits in readers the exact same way we see it presenting in Elizabeth. We're all on that journey with her, and we can likewise learn the same lessons about ourselves as she does. Pride and Prejudice feels timeless, because even though society and thus the nuance changes, the book is about human nature, and that remains essentially the same.
165 notes · View notes
jarimaa · 4 months ago
Note
hey, i was just wondering what are your thoughts on the final chapter of jjk…
The End
This is gonna be a little detailed. I am gonna first give a short answer and what I liked and disliked, then a little more detailed one. This is about ending as a whole.
I remember I did quite some research during my college time on post modernism and existentialism because i had to write an essay (it isn't about that) but I will be referring to what I researched here and there, when put forth my points.
Tumblr media
Short answer- I am content with the ending. I am also surprised since this is the first time gege wrote a full manga for the first time, but he still managed to give an ending better than most. And any gripe that still remains, I will not hold it against the author cause the story and characters aren't real, Gege is.
Yuji, Sukuna, and Gojo's character have some of the best conclusions within the story (unpopular opinion probably 😮‍💨). The way they were written and the consistency with regards to their characterization was amazing.
As for what I am conflicted about, well, it's Megumi's character. I don't know how to say it, I liked it his conclusion, but I wish there was more introspection to how he reached there. But alternatively, I talked with a moot of mine, and they think the lack of introspection from Megumi is quite in-character. He decided to live for others once again (i.e., he didn't address his problems at all) and he is finding peace and comfort in the cage he is stuck at, it's such simple decision from his part, cause he is very clueless about his own psychology, and this is the beauty of it, that we as readers know what caused him to make that decision-according to my moot. I highlighted this one, cause this interpretation stood out the most. I also talked with other people, who seem to hold dislike for the lack of introspection from Megumi's end. While I am still conflicted, maybe I will address in some other posts or not at all, idk, but right now, I haven't formed my opinion on it. But I am satisfied, to say the least, conclusion itself isn't bad for me.
Detail:-
I like that it's more about evolving and coexistence rather than breaking the cycle or one conclusive solution. Regardless of Sukuna's or Yuji's existence, the curses will always continue to exist. It's humans' negative emotions that create curses in the first place. If the negative emotions of humans can't cease to exist, then curses won't either. Jujutsu Kaisen in a way rejects the idea that life can just have a start, middle, and end, or that one single truth/solution can provide closure. Maybe things can get worse in the future, maybe things can get better, that's up to you to decide, in that particular sense, it's open-ended.
You may ask what was even the point then? Well, let me offer a perspective, although it's just my interpretation, you don't have to agree to it...
When characters within a story accept a belief, perspective, or solution as the only truth, it can lead to their failure, especially if that belief oversimplifies a complex reality. But, one character who comes to understand the complexity can find a way to coexist with the chaos or ambiguity, though not necessarily "fixing" things.
In narratives such as these, the answer isn’t just a rejection of truth but a recognition of multiplicity, the presence of multiple perspectives, interpretations, or meanings within a single work or the idea that one truth or solution cannot account for the full stretch of experience. The character who realises the absence of a single "fix" often ends up navigating the challenges in a more nuanced way. They may not succeed in traditional terms, but they endure by accepting life’s complexity.
Many characters within JJK try to find some single "fix" to the system or the problem of curses and cursed energy and each of them had very flawed solution which we see failing--Yuki/Kenjaku/Geto were all extremists in that sense, one of my friend mentioned this in twt, Yuki wanted to completely break away from CE but also she didn't have any concrete plan, and Kenjaku who wanted to optimise it, but never really knew what merger could do, himself. Even Geto knew that killing all non-sorcorers is not possible.
Sukuna/Gojo-- both their ideals were extremely flawed. Many people have written amazing analysis on this, so i won't go in detail. But we see in the story how strength was the reason for both their solitude and which led them to path of their own death. But Sukuna perfected what Gojo didn't, sukuna completely threw away his humanity and was content living as a curse. A hollow human, who only ever cares about strength, he deemed love worthless, like Gojo deemed love to be the most twisted curse. However, gojo still wanted connections at the end of the day, and this kept him a little more humane than sukuna, who became a monster who clung to life wanting to stay at the pinnacle.
I liked that in the end Gojo realised that Yuji and other should follow their own path rather than just following his goals (although he would've like that) and I am glad they didn't follow his footsteps.
Tumblr media
This conversation between sukuna and mahito just added so much to their characters.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Sukuna is the man who perfected his ego. He discarded his humanity till his last breath. Sukuna says he was an unwanted child (maybe cause he ate his twin in his mothers womb, someone on twt pointed out that this is similar to biological condition called "fetus in fetu") and he internalised this all and lived his whole life as a curse, only ever caring about his pleasures and displeasure and being the pinnacle. But even a perfected ego gets humbled in death, and the same happened with him. He acknowledges that he could have taken a different route, and if there is a next time, it would be nice to walk on a different path. Beautiful, honestly.
Tumblr media
Now, Mahito is the literal manifestation of humans' hatred for others. He is a true curse, and he wasn't able to reconcile with his humanity after death because, unlike sukuna, he has none, he is not human. He is the manifestation of the same cycle of human hatred, he didn't change, he is the only one left sulking like a child. As I mentioned before, if the negative emotions of humans can't cease to exist, then curses like mahito won't either.
Tumblr media
You could then say - well, then nothing changed?
I mean, is it really nothing? Tengen is no more, and this is the curse user Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara caught, and what happened to him?
Tumblr media
Earlier, he probably would have been executed, but now Yuji offered him a chance to change.
Yuji turns out to be the person who learns to coexist. He is, for me, the best written character within the story with the best conclusion.
Now, let's just say that doesn't mean anything, nothing changed at all, there was no point...
However, the idea that "nothing changed" often misses the deeper layers of such narratives, which are less about external change and more about internal realizations, the acceptance of ambiguity and even the rejection of simplistic resolutions.
The "point" is not necessarily achieving change or a clear resolution, but rather witnessing the struggle itself. How characters navigate or accept a chaotic/indifferent universe.
There are two examples I can think of, first one being, Camus' "The Myth of Sisyphus", Sisyphus endlessly pushes a boulder up a hill, only for it to roll back down, its completely futile, yet the "point" is his perseverance. The second one is "Waiting for Godot" by Beckett, nothing really appears to happen in the story, and characters seem stuck in a cycle of waiting for this supposed person calles Gadot. However, the "point" is in the waiting itself. It's a reflection on the human condition, the search for meaning, and how we deal with uncertainty and the passage of time.
Thus, the point of such narratives is not in "what changed" but how we live with things not changing, how we adapt, or re-contextualise meaning of things when the world resists easy solutions or "fix its". It's reflectimg on the messiness of real life, where change is often slow, subtle, or non-existent, and simple answers are rarely seen.
So it's up to you to decide what you wanna make of this ending. Personally, I am very, very content.
Tumblr media
(Again, this is my interpretation, I could be completely off charts, and I don't mind, maybe I will change my mind after thinking about it again, or maybe not, but one thing remains, that I throughly enjoyed all 4 years I was reading this manga. Peace✌️)
76 notes · View notes
sativariddle · 28 days ago
Text
⤷ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
other chapters here.
SUMMARY ┆ ↴
the name riddle always made your blood run cold, the malicious surname of a malicious man tasting like poison on your tongue. so when dumbledore declared that mattheo riddle would be attending hogwarts, you felt a chill of dread settle over the great hall
when? why? how could dumbledore allow this? the child of his greatest enemy now strode through the towering doors of the great hall, his presence steeped in an air of menace and cold, unspoken cruelty.
how could someone as ruthless as a slytherin ever find love? it seemed impossible—mattheo was a stranger to the very idea. but everything changes when he meets you. though in his world, love isn’t the light, joyful feeling it’s supposed to be. for him, love means accepting you, flaws and all.
WARNINGS ┆mentions of; torture, mental trauma, physical trauma, violence, characters death, drug and alcohol addiction, sexual themes, parent neglect
Tumblr media
"excuse me, i'm just going to slip between you two—oh, sorry! i didn't mean to step on your foot."
apologies spilled from your lips, repeating endlessly like a stuck record as you made your way through the crowd of wide-eyed first years. the hogwarts express was a chaotic mess of moving bodies and luggage, and you were desperate to reach the hufflepuff compartment. "coming through, sorry!"
each compartment was filled.
you just hoped your friends had managed to find one.
as you hurried down the busy train, you passed the blue and bronze of ravenclaw's section before reaching the scarlet and gold of gryffindor. your eyes scanned the compartments and immediately landed on the familiar faces of harry, ron, and hermione.
a gentle smile tugged at your glossed lips as you pulled open the gryffindor compartment door, causing harry, ron, and hermione to look up, their eyes settling on the bubbly hufflepuff.
harry gave them a look that clearly said they would continue the conversation later, as it wasn't over yet.
hermione swiveled to face you, her smile mirroring your own cheerful expression. "good summer?" she inquired, her eyebrows raising expectantly.
"amazing!" you exclaimed, your eyes shining with delight. "the books you sent were wonderful - i couldn't stop reading them! mum said she never would have guessed i'd put the books down, i carried them everywhere." you chattered happily, hermione nodding along with every word, her smile growing wider.
"glad you did," hermione replied cheekily, turning to harry and ron. "told you she would appreciate them more than you two."
ron grumbled something under his breath, his arms crossing slightly.
harry, however, wasn't paying attention to ron's muttering. instead, he turned towards you, his expression curious.
"have you got a clue on what you're going to write for the hogwarts daily Insight?" harry asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as soon as the words left his mouth.
‘hogwarts daily insight’ was an idea you had begged dumbledore to approve for an entire four years. you argued it was only fair to keep people informed about what went on within the castle walls.
after all, witches and wizards were naturally curious—many had children attending hogwarts, so why shouldn’t they know what was happening inside?
not everyone liked the idea, of course.
some professors warned dumbledore it could lead to another rita skeeter, stirring up gossip and trouble.
but dumbledore, in his wisdom, saw potential in your vision. he trusted you completely. if anyone could handle the responsibility of such a project, it was you—no question about it.
your goal was never to create drama or make anyone feel bad. you simply reported what happened at hogwarts and submitted your articles to dumbledore.
if he deemed them unfit for publication, they stayed unpublished. but if he believed your work provided meaningful insight, he allowed it to be shared. so far, not a single one of your articles had been denied.
harry had been skeptical when he first heard hermione praising your article. but his doubts disappeared when you received requests from witches and wizards asking for stories about him. instead of running with the idea, you asked harry directly if he was comfortable with it.
when he said he wasn’t, you immediately dropped the subject.
he respected you for that—and from then on, he trusted you to handle his announcements, knowing your work would reach the entire school via breakfast readings of the daily mail.
as your articles grew in popularity, you noticed a shift in how people treated you.
some students tried to cozy up to you, hoping to get their own feature in your work, but you weren't interested in catering to petty drama or personal agendas.
'hogwarts daily insight' was the opposite of that—an honest look at life at the school. you refused to let it become anything less.
fan mail began pouring in, filled with admiration for your intelligence and the originality of your idea.
many readers expressed how much they wished you had started it sooner. you had, of course—but convincing dumbledore had taken years of persistence.
"not at the moment, harry," you say with a gentle laugh, amused by his eagerness. "we've only just boarded the train. writing about trying to find my friends' compartment isn't exactly daily insight material, is it?"
he glanced over at ron and hermione, both shooting him warning glares that clearly said, ‘don’t even think about it.’
but if there was one thing certain about the boy who lived, it was his stubbornness.
“have you heard?”
your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, clearly indicating you hadn't heard anything. "heard of what?" you asked softly, a slight frown pulling at your lips, curiosity evident in your voice.
harry glanced past you to the compartment door, double-checking that no one was lurking outside, before turning back to you.
“malfoy being a death eater—”
before he could finish, ron kicked his leg, and hermione shook her head sharply, a silent warning.
your eyes widened in shock. “what—?” you looked over at ron and hermione, their stern glares directed at harry only adding weight to his claim. “are… are you sure? that’s a serious accusation, harry—”
“—and i want you to write about it in your article, to warn the witches and wizards in the castle and—”
before harry could finish, hermione smacked him on the head with the folded article she’d been holding.
“you, of all people, should know what it feels like to be the subject of false accusations—” hermione started, but harry cut her off with a sharp glare through his round glasses, clearly recalling the events of fourth year and rita skeeter’s lies.
“It’s not false!” harry snapped.
you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “look, i need to find my friends. harry, we’ll talk about this later.”
harry gave you a small, appreciative nod. hermione, meanwhile, shook her head in exasperation but ultimately said nothing more. ron shrugged as if to say, what can you do?
turning on your heel, you opened the compartment door and headed down the corridor, making your way toward the hufflepuff section in search of your friends.
spotting one of them, you slid open the door to the compartment.
genevieve turned toward you with a grin, her sleek black hair swaying over her back. “well, if it isn’t my favorite little journalist,” she teased, laughing when you rolled your eyes playfully. “nice to see you too.”
“where are hannah, ernie, and justin?” you questioned, settling into the seat across from her.
“they’re looking for you. thought you might’ve missed the train,” she said, leaning back in her seat.
you nodded, smiling faintly.
Tumblr media
the great hall was silent.
usually, the hall buzzed with the typical teenage drama: excited whispers about daily prophet headlines, eager discussions about upcoming classes, and the usual gossip that filled any gathering of young witches and wizards.
but today... today was different.
the great hall, once vibrant and sparkling, now seemed covered in a dreary, grey pallor, as if the air itself was heavy with unseen dread.
the usual joyful chatter and laughter was replaced by an oppressive silence, broken only by the occasional hushed whisper.
tense.
"now, as you know, each of you was searched upon your arrival tonight. you have a right to know why."
shivers ran down your spine, making your hufflepuff robes feel impossibly drafty despite their warmth.
goosebumps prickled along your neck and arms, and you unconsciously hugged yourself tighter, pulling the thick yellow fabric closer around your shoulders.
your quill and parchment were tucked under your arm, just in case you needed to jot something down for your article.
"once, there was a young man who, like you, sat in this very hall. he walked these castle corridors and slept beneath its roof. to the world, he seemed like any other student."
only a fool would dare say the dark lord's name aloud, and dumbledore was known for his foolishly brilliant mind. he didn't shy away from speaking the name that made grown wizards tremble: “his name? tom riddle.”
dumbledore looked at you, then at the quill and parchment tucked under your arm. you immediately spread it out in front of you, quill poised, ready to take notes on dumbledore's words.
"today, of course, the world knows him by a different name."
the great hall hung heavy with a silence so profound that you could have sworn you heard the faintest rustle of your own partchment echo as you gulped down a nervous lump in your throat.
“help will always be given at hogwarts to those who need it,” dumbledore intoned solemnly, his twinkling eyes scanning the room. “and with that, let us welcome our new student, mattheo riddle.”
riddle.
as the murmurs and whispers around the house tables grew louder and more insistent, the massive oak doors of the great hall swung open dramatically, creaking on their hinges and revealing the figure that had silenced the entire castle.
entered mattheo riddle, his presence electrifying the silence.
his eyes, shockingly brown and cold as glass, were fixed unblinkingly on dumbledore, something darker flickering in their depths.
why? how could dumbledore let this happen?
your eyes involuntarily widened as mattheo began his purposeful walk down the aisle, then darted quickly to your friends - hermione's analytical gaze fixed intently on the new arrival, ron's jaw slightly agape, and harry's expression a combination of confusion and something that oddly resembled recognition.
their eyes bulged, jaws slack, as they stared in disbelief at mattheo's confident stride.
dumbledore had allowed him to enter with barely a nod, as if the most notorious dark wizard since grindelwald wasn't his own father, walking down the aisle like he owned the place, his tanned face marred by ominous scars visible even beneath the hood of his cloak.
as mattheo approached, dumbledore didn't even extend his hand towards the sorting hat; instead, it quicly bellowed "SLYTHERIN!"
Tumblr media
"did you see his face? it was covered in scratches—"
"—i didn't think the dark lord would name his son mattheo, it makes no sense."
"people say he’s already hexed a first year—"
"he’s kind of cute though—"
"—you’ve lost your mind, hannah—"
you let out a quiet sigh. it’s not that you’re upset with your friends for spending the entire evening talking about the dark lord’s son, but their chatter left you with hardly any time to write. they had been going on and on, leaving you no room to retreat into your parchment.
it seemed like everyone in the castle was on edge about mattheo’s arrival, openly whispering or speculating about him.
as long as your paths didn’t cross, everything would be fine. you really didn’t understand what all the fuss was about.
then again, the idea of a teenage boy hurting someone felt ridiculous to you. it was such a cruel, unkind thought that you couldn’t wrap your head around it.
you stood up from the couch, feeling restless. the hufflepuff common room was busier than usual, packed with students eager to gossip about the events of the day.
all you wanted was a moment of quiet—somewhere to clear your mind away from the noise and chatter.
your friends didn’t even notice when you got up. they were too caught up in their hushed conversation, deep in thought and whispers. you didn’t want to interrupt them, so you left quietly without saying a word.
you made a point to say a quick ‘hello’ to anyone you passed in the halls.
it was a small gesture, but you believed it mattered. at a place like hogwarts, where some students seemed to drift through their days without close friends, a simple greeting might remind them they weren’t invisible—that they weren’t alone.
you could tell by their forced smiles and averted gazes that they meant well, but today just wasn't their day. their greetings were laced with uncomfortable tension, but you knew it wasn't personal - they were just having one of those days.
you reassured yourself that it was perfectly fine - after all, everyone has off days. people are human, with all their complexities and mood swings. you shrugged it off.
heading towards the library seemed like the safest option since you doubted there was anyone in there at the moment. even if there were, it’s a library—they have to be quiet.
the castle corridors were relatively empty as you walked, the few students you encountered either strolling with a friend or being escorted by a professor.
the sound of your footsteps echoed softly against the ancient stone walls, broken only by the occasional murmur of conversation or rustle of robes.
your steps quickened, eager to blend into the shadows rather than stand out as an easy target. being a hufflepuff somehow marked you as 'less than' in their eyes, and you dreaded the inevitable jabs or sneers that often came with walking alone.
the library—a place of comfort. no noise, just the comforting hum of people around you, either reading a textbook or scribbling on some notes.
it truly was a good place to get some peace and quiet.
as you settled into a chair tucked away in the corner of the library, you pulled your legs under the cold wood of the table.
your fingers absently drummed against the cover of your textbook as you tried to focus. but then your eyes flicked upward, and across the vast, quiet library, you saw him—riddle.
he stood in the middle of the library, flanked by a group of familiar slytherins: pansy parkinson, blaise zabini, theodore nott, and draco malfoy.
mattheo lounged in a chair, a cigarette dangling negligently between his fingers, smoke lazily curling around him as if he were the ruler of the room. his expression was arrogant, almost daring, as if he were inviting a challenge.
you frowned slightly, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion. even from across the room, your thoughts began to spiral.
how on earth was he getting away with smoking in a place where ‘no smoking’ signs were practically everywhere?
was everyone else oblivious to the faint trail of smoke curling upward, or were you the only one who even noticed?
as if sensing your gaze, mattheo suddenly looked up, his dark eyes scanning the room.
blaise was speaking beside him, but it didn’t seem to register—his attention had already drifted.
then, his eyes found you.
snake meets badger.
an annoyed smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he locked his gaze onto yours. he didn’t look away, his expression almost daring, like he’d caught you in a private moment you hadn’t intended to share.
mattheo shook his head quietly, clearly not in the slightest amused by the way your gaze snapped back down to your parchment paper, only for you to risk a glance back up again.
you silently cursed yourself for your staring problem—a habit you thought you’d buried long ago. ever since that first-year incident, when you’d stared at snape for too long and he made an example of you in front of the entire class.
“fragile little hufflepuff,” he’d sneered, leaving you humiliated. you’d vowed to fix it after that, but old habits had a funny way of creeping back.
across the room, mattheo leaned closer to his friends, whispering something that made them snicker. whatever he said, it clearly wasn’t meant to stay between them, because within moments, the group of slytherins began to move—slowly straying from their spot and making their way toward you.
mattheo's hands are stuck in the pockets of his robes, his head tilted to the side as he watched you forcefully write down nonsense, pretending as if you had been doing it the whole time, which you should’ve been.
mattheo and his slytherin friends approach the oak table you are sitting at, and they circle you like a pack of hyenas surrounding an antelope.
they all smile wide and mocking, except for mattheo and draco, whose expressions are dark and calculating as they size you up. the others, fueled by their slytherin pride, circle around you like vultures, their eyes roving over your form.
mattheo is the first to break the silence, his voice dripping with annoyance as he flicks his cigarette to the ground, stamping it out under the heel of his dirty shoes.
"looks like we got ourselves here a little rita skeeter," he drawls, running his teeth along his bottom teeth. "fuck are you doin’ snoopin' around." you flinch as he leans in, his breath hot and stale against your face.
you knew the slytherins would inform him about your daily article—they despised it more than anyone. they’d tear it up right in front of you or ‘accidentally’ spill something on your notes whenever you were too focused to notice them lurking nearby.
above all, they knew you were too kind-hearted to write anything terrible about them in your article.
his friends continue to laugh beside him, leaning on each other for support as they all keep their predatory gazes locked on you.
you can feel the weight of their judgment as they circle you.
“i wasn’t snooping.” you tried to sound more clear, but you were so scared that your voice slightly cracked, looking at all of them through your eyelashes. “i just came here for some peace and quiet. i hadn’t got a clue you’d lot be in here, ‘m sorry—very, very sorry—”
mattheo raises an eyebrow at your cracking voice; he found it so fucking annoying. the slytherins around him chuckle, some of them sharing amused glances.
your apology seems to only fuel their desire to mess with you.
“oh, you’re sorry, are you?” he asks, his voice dripping with mockery. “how sorry are you?”
you knew they were messing with you, taking advantage of your kindness. but you couldn’t come back with a good response because all you saw were teenagers scared of their parents—at the end of the day—everyone in the castle are just kids and their first time living.
grabbing the parchment and quill you brought, you tuck it under your arm as you get up off the wooden chair. “i’m very sorry, i’ll be going now—”
as you begin to turn away, mattheo swiftly steps in front of you, blocking your path and forcing you to stop. the other slytheirns chuckle under their breaths, amused at the sight of you trapped.
his tall frame looming over you as he drawled, "whoa, whoa, hold on a second." his hand reached out, grabbing your parchment’s that were bunched up together and sending it clattering to the floor. "i don't think you're sorry enough just yet."
you didn’t want to start a problem; you hated the thought of going to sleep with a target on your back. you had to make sure you were good with everyone. “look, i really don’t want any problems. i’m really sorry.”
you dropped to your knees, desperately trying to gather the scattered parchments, your face burning with humiliation as you willed yourself not to cry, hoping that they would just leave you alone.
mattheo rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed by your apologies.
“sorry ‘s not gonna cut it," he snaps. "you’ve interrupted our discussion. you think a simple ‘sorry’ is gonna make up for it?”
his slytherin friends didn’t utter a single word, only adding a few laughs here and there, but you could tell they were scared shitless of mattheo.
but then again, who wouldn’t be?
you didn’t think twice and started walking away.
mattheo reaches out lightning fast, his hand gripping your wrist and yanking you back roughly.
“oh, no you don’t,” he snaps, his eyes flashing with anger. “not going anywhere just yet.”
going back and forth made the inside of your stomach twist; you just wanted to be back in the safety of your own dorm walls. “can you guys just leave me alone? i’ll be on my way, swear to you.”
mattheo looks down at you, his grip on your wrist tightening.
“temper, temper,” he mocks, his voice dripping with mockery. “you owe me an apology.”
you didn’t have to be told twice. if he felt he needed an apology, you’d happily give it to him. you hated being on people’s bad side. “i’m sorry,” you say.
mattheo arches an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with your apology. “that’s it?” he quips, his grip on your wrist not letting up. “you think i’m gonna let you go with a little easly ‘i’m sorry’? you can do better than that.”
you nodded, taking this as help rather than insulting. “i’m sorry for interrupting you,” you try again.
mattheo lets out an exaggerated sigh, his eyes rolling. "yeah, i heard you say that," he sneers. "but ‘s not what you said, it's about the delivery. try again, and make it sound like you mean it."
you scrunched your eyebrows together since you had really meant it the two other times.
apologizing was something you’d always do willingly—if you ever upset or offended someone, even by accident, you felt it was only right to make amends.
“i’m very deeply sorry for intruding on you and your friends,” you said, your voice earnest. “i shouldn’t have come down to the library.”
mattheo chuckles, his eyes raking over you. "better," he hums, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "now get the fuck out of here before i change my mind. you’re also infuriating as fuck, shit pisses me off."
Tumblr media
40 notes · View notes
genericpuff · 5 months ago
Note
Hi! I came here from your "lore olympus biggest whiff" blog about the finale... I've never read LO but I was always interested in it. However, after reading a few paragraphs of that blog (I didn't read all of it because I didn't want to get too many spoilers), it doesn't seem worth it. Would you recommend it up to a certain chapter? If yes, until which chapter should I read?
Honestly, if you want to read LO, I absolutely highly recommend reading the whole thing, or at least trying to. Not just to give context to the things we're all talking about in these communities, but also because it's about to go behind the Daily Pass wall on August 29th and it'll become even more inconvenient to do so.
I'm personally still a huge sucker for the first season myself because it just has that magic that LO used to have that a lot of us fell in love with in the first place; it still has its flaws, it's definitely the worst of the "Persephone looks like a toddler" era, but the characters feel a lot more real and a lot of the best, most iconic panels from the series come from S1. The first half of S2 also isn't awful, though the art does start to get a bit rough around the edges. It wasn't until the last half of S2 that I personally started to go , "Wait, I don't think Rachel knows what she's doing." That said, I didn't become a full-blown critic of the series until the S2 finale, which is where I firmly believe the comic should have ended (that is, if Rachel had structured the story better to allow for the S2 finale to be the overall series finale).
But you should read as much of it as you can anyways. Even if you can't get through a certain part of the story and decide to DNF, that's fine, but I personally don't want to be the one deciding for folks what they should be reading or how much. I also definitely don't want people forming their opinion of a work like LO entirely through my criticisms of it - the best way for you to form your own opinion, regardless of whether or not it aligns with my own, is to simply read it yourself. I know where I started to lose interest in the series, but you might not feel the same way when you read it yourself. It's definitely happened in the past that people have gone to read LO to "see what all the fuss is about" only to wind up loving it haha and that's great, honestly, I don't want anyone to wind up missing out on something they might like just because of my own opinions about it :' )
Honestly it seems daunting but you can easily read all of LO between today and the 29th, a lot of the earlier S1 episodes are relatively short and the actual pacing of the comic itself throughout the second and third season makes for a very quick reading experience, text bubbles usually aren't too wordy so depending on how fast of a reader you are, you can usually blitz through each episode within 2-3 minutes (that said, I'm also a bit of a faster reader so your reading time may vary). Plus the episode count on the app is also thrown off by several episodes that are purely dedicated to Q&A's, hiatus notices, etc. So it's about a 12-18 hour reading experience give or take, which sounds like a lot, but if you're able to read several chunks of episodes at a time in bursts, it can be done by the time it goes behind DP on the 29th :' )
So yeah ! I do hope you read it for yourself if you're really curious, and if you do, feel free to come back again and tell me about your experience! Did you get through all of it or did you DNF? Did it put any of my own criticisms into better context for you or did you wind up enjoying the series regardless?
Best of luck!! <3
62 notes · View notes
atlasofthestaars · 1 year ago
Text
[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .015
first part | previous part | next part
NOTE:
Yet again we’re hoping for less than three weeks update time. We’ll see how it goes now haha ^^
edit: I lost track of time. I keep on forgetting when I last updated.
Rain got in as a love interest, which does alter the story a bit! 
Reminder that I like to do canon divergence <3 
Would you guys like a collection of headcanons I’ve done for requests on AO3?? I usually don’t post them there because they’re pretty short but I can put them all into one book that I’ll update.
Also happy 100k+ words! I'm. I'm not ready to figure out how many words this will all be by the end.
FROM THE EYES OF SOMEONE WHO ENJOYS A MOMENT OF PEACE
“Things are getting rough.”
You stood upon the roof of a building, staring down at the destruction of the city around you. Outworlders mobbed the streets, terrorizing the innocent Earthrealmers. To describe it as “rough” was an understatement. It’s been two long years ever since the first invasions on Earthrealm started. It’s been nearly a year since you’ve moved out to the city along with the others to fend off where it was the worst.
Most of Earthrealm’s forces were sent here, along with Raiden, to defend the city. But there were a few that were scattered around the world to help other regions. Fujin and your father, for example, stayed behind to help the monks defend the Wu Shi along with others of the White Lotus. You missed both of them dearly, only being able to communicate with them occasionally.
You haven’t been able to visit Kung Lao’s grave in over a year. You only hoped that he understood why.
“Are you planning on going out again?” Liu Kang’s voice spoke. His voice dripped with concern. You turned your gaze away from the apocalyptic sight to your dear friend. It was a much better view than the one below. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you. You sighed and nodded before turning your gaze down to the view below. As disturbing as it was, you felt guiltier turning a blind eye.
“I have to, I don’t think Raiden and Johnny Cage are enough to take down that extermination squad they’ve sent out.” You said, crossing your arms. A light breeze passed by, sending the smell of smoke your way. You grimaced at the acrid scent. No matter how long you’ve been here, you’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to it. Especially with how you’ve become so accustomed to the much cleaner air at the temple. “That, and Nightwolf said he would enjoy my help to help recruit the two Raiden has been getting information on.”
“New recruits?” Liu Kang inquired. You nodded gravely in response. A hint of distaste seemed to linger with his words along with some confusion. You didn’t blame him, ever since you’ve been out here, you’ve never really gone and sought out other help. Well, you’ve wanted to, but Raiden had been hesitant in dragging others into this whole affair.
As if they weren’t already. Still, you saw the logic within Raiden’s decision, even though it was flawed. 
“Yes. Raiden says they have potential.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see your friend move. Was that a flinch? Or did he simply shift his weight? When you turned your gaze to check, you couldn’t tell. “I think it would be good to get more help. Our efforts are stretched out thin as it is.” You elaborate. Your hands go out to grasp at the concrete railing, gripping it tightly. You were certain by the time you let go of it, your hands would have the texture imprinted upon them.
“I still cannot believe that even after winning two tournaments and even I had nearly killed Shao Khan, it was not enough.” Liu Kang said, moving to stand closer to you. Bitterness coated his words. The distaste within his words felt strange, no matter how much more common it was becoming. You recalled back to the moment you had confronted him at Kung Lao’s grave. He was doing much better now, but you had felt like something had fundamentally changed within Liu Kang.
You could never truly pinpoint when that change happened. Was it when the invasions had started? Or maybe, was it when Kung Lao died? Part of you doubted it was either one of those, even if it sounded like it made sense. It was probably much earlier, maybe after Raiden had said Liu Kang was not the chosen one. Either way, he had changed. There was resentment that lingered in his soul, directed at Raiden. You could feel it with every interaction.
It worried you. Team morale was low enough as it were without the subtle drama between Liu Kang and Raiden. It was taxing enough to keep on a brave face in front of everyone, to pretend like everything would be alright. You didn’t know if you had enough spirit left in you to mend things together. With every day that you had to hide your dwindling confidence, you broke a little inside.
You should really talk to him, but you feared that it would lead to more issues. Maybe you were being irrational and over thinking things. You were all tired, maybe he was just irritated at how the world has essentially fallen apart.
Surely that must be it. Liu Kang was not one to dislike Raiden. If anything, he had been the one out of all three of you who had regarded him the highest. So it was illogical to think that he would suddenly dislike or even hate the god.
You were just being too worried. Maybe your logic has become weaker after pretending everything was alright for so long. That, and Liu Kang and Raiden were adults, or in Raiden’s case, more than an adult. They can figure out whatever dispute they had, if they even had one. They didn’t need you to coddle them. You had enough on your plate already, you could trust them.
Still, even with that conclusion, a pit of guilt formed in your stomach. 
Warmth radiated from Liu Kang, a detail that you noted as you were drawn from your thoughts. It enveloped you in a sense of security. You closed your eyes, and for a moment you had nearly forgotten how terrible everything was. You felt safe. You only indulged yourself in the sensation for a moment before you opened your eyes and forced yourself to look at the destruction below. You didn’t deserve to feel safe and comforted in a world that needed your help.
“I can’t believe it either.” You replied after a long, long moment. You didn’t know what else to say, because what else could you say? It was unbelievable to you as much as it was to him how awful things were, even after all your efforts. It felt like a perpetual punishment for something you’ve never deserved. None of you deserved this, and yet you were all saddled with the heavy responsibility of it.
The two of you stood on the rooftop, looking out at the horrors of the world for a long while. It wasn’t as if you enjoyed seeing it. Not at all, but you couldn’t bear holding a smile for the others right now. Being alone with Liu Kang was better for your soul at the moment. None of you spoke, either not knowing how to or unwilling to break the fragile silence that settled over the two of you. It wasn’t until you realized how much time had passed that the silence had been broken.
“I need to get going now.” You informed Liu Kang. “Nightwolf will be waiting for me.” You turned away, moving to walk away from the man. Then, you felt him grasp your hand. His grip was firm, but not harsh. Just enough to keep you there, but you could still shake his grip off if you needed. But you didn’t. Your gaze trailed up from the grip to his arm then settled on his face. “Liu Kang?”
“I-” He began. His hand trembled. For what reason you had no idea why. Worried, you turned to face him fully. You placed a hand upon his, trying to quell whatever had caused him to shake. His hand settled between yours. His gaze lifted, and for a moment that stretched into eternity, he stared into your eyes. There was a fire that seemed to burn in his eyes, then it slowly burned away into embers. A soft flush appeared on his cheeks, and it seemed he even stopped breathing. You rubbed the back of his hand with your thumb, trying to coax the words out of him. His hand twitched before squeezing yours. “I just want you to stay safe.”
You could tell immediately that isn’t what he wanted to say.
“I will.” You said, reassuring him. You didn’t know what he wanted to say, you just knew those weren’t the words he wanted you to hear. But you held no judgement for the man. He could tell you what he wanted to say in due time. There was no need to rush him. You simply smiled at him. You lifted his hand and pressed it to your chest so he could hear your heart’s beat. “This heart of mine won’t stop beating anytime soon, okay?”
A shy smile spread across his lips as he nodded. His gaze fixated on where his hand was spread upon your chest, feeling the steady heart beat.You could feel how his hand grew a bit warmer, a side effect you knew from him getting a little emotional, whether it be from sadness, joy, anything really. You stood there, letting him feel the reminder that you were alive for a few moments more.
“Alright.” You said, gently removing his hand. Though the man was tough as nails, you delicately removed his hand. You moved it down to his side before sending him a smile. “I’ll be back soon, hopefully with new recruits.” You assured him, giving him a nod. “You better stay safe too, okay?” You watched as the monk nodded slowly.
You left him on that rooftop, feeling the warm gaze of your friend follow your form as you descended down back into the base.
Waking up today was the first time in a few days where you did not feel mired in heavy emotion. That was not to say you didn’t feel at least a little somber, but you at least did not feel desolate. You didn’t think your bed could handle another frenzied episode. Your fingertips traced the sewn up areas a little guiltily. You were still hoping that it was enough to not make others not mad at you.
The last thing you’d want is to ruin the apparent fragile relationship between Outworld and Earthrealm over something silly like this.
You felt a little better at the idea that perhaps not all of your memories would be so heavy and dark. You swung your legs over the bed, and you moved through your morning routine with some grace. It was a small boost of confidence, but one you sorely needed. Maybe it was a little silly, but you didn’t linger on that type of thought process for long. 
As you stepped out of the bedroom, the last bits of your somber mood felt like they disintegrated when the sunlight touched you. You felt light, but there was still a slight chill in the air. It was hard to deny that you missed the warmth Liu Kang would give you within your memories. For a brief moment, you wondered if it would be silly to try and stand close to the god to feel if he had that same warmth. 
Right on cue, the familiar taps of princess Kitana sounded from the far hallway. As both of you made eye contact, you shared a nod in understanding. Both of you met halfway, falling into familiar step as you walked by her side. It felt familiar. You weren’t sure if it was because you’ve walked by Liu Kang’s side for years, or because of the implications of your memories that you might have walked by her side before.
It felt nice to have a companion to walk with, either way.
“I noticed you went around with the actor.” Kitana spoke, a tinge of amusement in her voice. You couldn’t tell whether she was amused at the idea of the actor, or you being with the man. “Or, rather, he dragged you around.” She quipped. You held back an exasperated sigh at the memory. Even the princess had noticed that?
“Yes, he was rather…” You trailed off, trying to think of the proper words to express your feelings without making a bad impression of the actor for the princess. “...persistent.” You watched her eyebrows raise, and she nodded. The very hint of a laugh left her lips. You blinked, you weren’t certain if that was the first time you’ve heard her laugh.
“I can attest to that.” She replied, a tone in her voice indicating that she understood, even if just a fraction, how stubborn Johnny Cage could be. “The actor would not leave me alone the day after the banquet.” She peeked over to you, a thoughtful look on her face. “Forgive me for saying that I had the thought to smack some sense into him.”
“I take no offense, I understand just how he is like.” You said, a laugh escaping your lips. “He’s rather stubborn whenever he wishes, but he has a good heart.” You said, hand raising to cup your own cheek. Your smile slipped into something that felt sentimental before it bounced back into its more friendly state. You shrugged causally. “Even if it isn’t apparent at first.”
“Such praises are more comforting coming from you rather than his own mouth.” Kitana said, and you could detect what you could only describe as a teasing lilt to her voice. You smiled warmly at it, and you saw how her own smile seemed to grow a little less professional and a little more genuine. It was like watching a flower blossom.
“I can imagine so.” You laughed, bringing a hand to muffle it. You could imagine Johnny bragging about himself to the princess, and her probably being annoyed at it. Or amused. Either way, you had a feeling that the impression he left upon the princess was not the one he desired. “I just hope he didn’t irritate you. Like I mentioned, he means well.”
“While he is persistent as any other who attempts to court me, he is far less brutish.” Kitana reassured you, making you feel a bit better about his flirting, “And, if anything else, he is amusing enough to listen to.” You let out another chuckle at the image of Johnny thinking he was wooing princess Kitana when in reality she thought him closer to a court jester.
“Don’t let him know that.” You informed her, making her quirk up an eyebrow. “He’s an…entertainer in Earthrealm. His ego would swell with pride at the idea that he at least amuses you.” You couldn’t tell if it was the trick of the light or not, but you swore you saw her roll her eyes at the premise of Johnny Cage’s ego swelling even more.
“I’ll keep that information in mind.” Kitana replied, a light tone to her voice. With that, the both of you arrived at the entrance to the Great Hall. She turned to look at you fully, a small smile still gracing her lips. “Enjoy watching the match.” She said, and you granted her the same sentiment. She walked off, content with your response.
To your surprise, Raiden and Kung Lao were not around yet, leaving only the fire god waiting in the Great Hall. You looked around. For a moment, you considered the possibility that you had arrived earlier. You then were quick to doubt that idea due to your walk with princess Kitana. She seemed to be very diligent on routine, so you doubted that you both would have walked out early.
“Where is Raiden and Kung Lao?” You inquired, moreso thinking about the former than the latter. It wasn’t like you didn’t fret over Kung Lao, it was just that the lack of Raiden appearing was strange. While Kung Lao was typically early, it wasn’t as if he didn’t allow himself to take more time to himself. Raiden, on the other hand, was always early. Almost to a fault.
“I am not certain.” Liu Kang replied, his voice calm. You looked over to see him composed as ever. He caught your gaze, giving you a small smile in return. Subconsciously, you found yourself standing near him. You noted the warmth he radiated. It was familiar, the same aura he had back in your memories. “I would not fret over it, I am certain they will be here in due time.”
“I know.” You said, and yet you found yourself biting at a thumbnail. Your gaze was cast downwards as you contemplated over the whole ordeal. “It’s just…odd.” You admitted. “He usually would be here by now. By he, I mean Raiden. Kung Lao sometimes shows up simply on time.” 
“Indeed.” Liu Kang nodded. You could feel his gaze still on you. It did not sear you, rather it felt gentle. It was much like how it would feel if you were to hover your hand over a candle to feel its warmth. “However, he is also not the type to show up late if it is an important event. I would not worry over it, it will simply cause more stress.”
“You’re right.” You replied. You felt called out at the last statement, but you knew it was for the best. After all, you weren’t the best at keeping yourself from not being stressed. It was supposed to be a friendly reminder. You took in a breath, straightening out your back before lifting your head up. You shouldn’t be stressed. 
A silence settled over the two of you. This silence was different from the comforting one you were used to. It was tense, like a string being pulled far too taut. You supposed it was your fault, you and your busy mind. That, and you've been finding it harder and harder to try and separate the man you remembered the god in front of you.
“Have you been enjoying your stay in Outworld?” Liu Kang spoke. His voice was soft. It was like a droplet of water falling into a still pond. It was so deliberate, so delicate, how he broke the tension. You turned your gaze, and saw the smile he sent your way. It was bittersweet, the way he smiled. It was exactly the same way you remembered. 
“I have.” You said. You weren’t keen on lying to the god, but you did feel a bit bad admitting it. You watched his face shift a tiny bit, but you couldn’t quite read if that had any significance. You turned away, finding it hard to see the way he smiled. “It’s very…different.” You told him. There was a hesitance to your words. 
Certainly you were struggling to find the right words because you didn’t want to make it seem like you were suddenly forsaking Earthrealm, but there was also something else to it. You enjoyed Outworld, you truly did. But you weren’t naive to blindly praise it to a god. There were, for all you knew, probably a darker side to this place.
The memory of seeing Shao Khan for the first time still lingered in your mind.
“I’m glad you have been enjoying it.” Liu Kang replied, a pleased tone to his voice. You felt his heat grow a little more. Curious, you glanced over to him to see he has stepped over a bit. He was standing so close that he was nearly brushing your arm with his own. “I hope you continue to enjoy your stay here.”
“How has your experience been for this trip?” You asked quickly, not wanting the tension to settle back in the air. You forced yourself to look at him, meeting those glowing white eyes. You wondered, just briefly, what caused the warm mortal eyes you once knew to become godlike. Was this just a new world where Liu Kang was deemed a god? Or was there more reason to it?
“It has been lovely.” Liu Kang said, seeming satisfied with the eye contact you gave him. “Not much has changed since the last hundred years since Outworld functions differently, but something about this time around has been more…” There was a pause as the god seemed to search the air for the perfect word to say. “pleasant.”
“I see.” You replied, but the words felt like a lie on your tongue. You understood the joys of being here, but not the reason behind why it was more enjoyable. The little voice in your head told you that you should know though. And you felt just a little dumb for not knowing the reason. Still, you kept the smile upon your lips. 
It was hard not to smile when Liu Kang was looking at you that way.
It didn’t take long for someone to show up. That person was Kung Lao. A broad smile spread across his lips as he sauntered in. As he laid eyes upon you and the god, his eyebrows raised as he looked around, probably searching for his fellow farmhand. When he did not see him, he walked over to you two and looked around once more, just to make sure.
“Where’s Raiden?” He asked, the confusion clear within his voice. You saw him cross his arms as once more, he scanned the room. He seemed more certain that his eyes were in the wrong rather than believe in the fact that his friend was simply not here. You supposed no one could blame him, you were just as unbelieving when you had arrived. 
“He's just a little behind.” You excused, trying your best to not show in your voice that you had felt the same way. You didn't want to cause a fuss. “I am certain he shall show in due time.” You saw the fire god nod in agreement, which only made sense since he had been the one to share that same sentiment. At your reassurance, you saw Kung Lao shrug nonchalantly.
“I guess so.”
Some more time passed, and despite your own words, you felt yourself getting antsy with every minute that the diligent man did not arrive. Kenshi had arrived at this point, sending the group a curious glance upon noting the disappearance of the champion. You felt your intertwined hands fidget and clench and unclench. The stare that Kenshi sent your way did not help either. He could do very well with being less obvious.
Finally, to relieve your worries, Raiden finally showed up with Johnny Cage at his side. You sighed as you walked over to Raiden. Your eyes raked over the man. He looked rather unkempt. His clothes were a bit of a mess, and his hat was a bit crooked. He seemed to be nearly on edge. Your tongue clicked as you reached out, adjusting his clothes and hat for him.
“You had us worried.” You admit softly, making sure that the man was presentable. After all, at this point, many of Outworld’s citizens were keeping an eye on Earthrealm’s strong champion. You sent him a small smile, trying to reassure him since you could see how tense he was on his face. You watched as his mouth opened to say something, probably an excuse, but you laid a hand on his shoulder to quiet him. “Hey, you’re here, that’s what matters. Plus, you’re not late either. Don’t worry about it, it’ll leak into your fighting”
“You’re right.” Raiden said, nodding slowly. You could see the nervous energy in him seem to melt away. His eyes closed as he took a deep breath in before releasing it. A small flush covered his cheeks, perhaps still from how he had rushed to get ready this moment. When he opened his eyes, he sent you a sunny smile that warmed your heart. “I will do my best.”
“I know you will.” You told him. You watched as Kung Lao handed over a few items for Raiden and Johnny Cage to eat. You could always rely on him for that. Raiden seemed most grateful at the gesture. Chatter among the group seemed to calm the former farmhand, and it was not very long until the usual proceedings occurred. 
“Young Raiden.” Sindel spoke, gazing down at Raiden. You were impressed with how she kept her smile seeming this warm and cordial despite the trend of her champions being taken down by Raiden no matter how the odds seemed. “You have…bested all the champions thus far with grace skill.” The empress commended, though there was almost a slight strain to her voice as she admitted it, it was very subtle, hardly noticeable. “Let us see if this next contender can match your might.”
Surprisingly, after being absent yesterday, General Khan was back to announce the next champion. 
“The next challenger is another one of my officers, Motaro.” The general spoke, his voice booming and echoing off the walls of the hall. The sound of hooves caught your attention, and you turned to see a centuarian walk into the halls. His stride was confident, and he walked in with his arms crossed. His gaze was tilted down already, almost glaring down at Raiden who was forced to look up at his opponent.
Despite being an officer, he lacked the same armor that both Kotal and Reiko had donned, being fully bare on his upper body. Only a silver belt concealing where a horse body fused into a human body was present as any sort of protection, and even then it was more decorative than anything. That is, until you spied the back of his horse body. A metallic tail more akin to a lizard’s was attached there. Your eyes lingered on the curve of his horns, finding them interesting. It seems that centaurians were not a simply a human fused with a horse body as Earthrealmers would believe.
You believe you’ve seen this man before, but whatever feeling you had was much weaker than it was for any other person you’ve met. Maybe this man was in your life for but a brief moment…still, if he was, it was strange your brain even felt like it recognized him. 
“Motaro is one of the centaurian’s finest.” General Shao bragged, seeming more enthusiastic to talk about Motaro compared to Kotal from the other day. Motaro lifted his head up to bask in the speech, an almost pleased look on his face. “With the tenacity of a bull and the might of one of the best warriors I have fought alongside, he is one of the best warriors in the legion.”
“Little man.” Motaro addressed Raiden curtly. He snorted as he continued to look down at the farmhand. His countenance returned to the look he had previously, but it was marred with a near sneer. His gaze felt nearly as sharp as his metallic tail did. You watched as Raiden took the comment in stride, bowing to his opponent, not fearing despite the size difference between them both.
“It is an honor to fight you.” Raiden told his opponent. You smiled at how polite he was to his opponents, even despite the lack of respect he was granted in return. Still, you wondered if that would remain that way in the future. While the thought of Raiden trying to smack talk his opponents was funny to think of, you hoped that nothing would hurt Raiden enough to take him in that direction.
Motaro’s fighting style was unique, suffice to say. His unusual body type, at least compared to what Raiden had normally fought against. He would charge in a brutish manner, using brute force to try and make the champion cower. Despite his bulk, he also maintained a lot of the battlefield control when Raiden tried to create space by being able to shoot projectiles from the metallic tail that you had spied earlier. 
Still, even with the trickiness of the fight, Raiden’s wit led him to victory. When he needed to close the gap, he would teleport behind Motaro. Due to Motaro’s body, he struggled to turn around and face the man before he was met with lightning that was strong enough to stagger even him. Sometimes, Raiden would realize that he would have to match the reckless nature of Motaro and surge right at him, catching the other man off guard.
It was no surprise to you to see that Motaro eventually collapsed. Taking deep breaths, Raiden looked down on his opponent, an ironic twist on the dynamic before. Except for Raiden, there was no hint of malice or disrespect in his eyes. Only warmth glimmered within his. 
“Thank you for the match.” Raiden told him humbly, a soft smile on his lips. You watched him reach out to try and attempt to help up his opponent instinctively. He almost seemed to flinch when he retracted it when Motaro denied the help. There was a mixture between a scoff and a huff from the centaurian, but ultimately he nodded before he walked off. You eyed the tail that almost seemed to drag on the floor, making a slight scratching sound.
“Congratulations on a well fought match.” You said, walking up to the once again successful champion. His smile seemed to grow as you walked towards him with a delighted expression. It was almost like seeing a child light up when you gave them the sweetest candy in the world. “Your technique is improving everyday.”
“I can only thank you, Lord Liu Kang, and the monks for preparing me for these moments.” Raiden replied, seeming to fall back onto his habit of being far too humble. You sighed and shook your head in disapproval of how he still didn’t consider his own skills into the fray. Still, it was endearing enough that you still smiled.
“Do not forget how much hard work you have also put in, Raiden.” Liu Kang reminded him, practically taking the words out of your mouth. You saw the god’s eyes flick over to you for a moment. Whether that was in reference to how you and Raiden had often stayed up late training or if it was a reference to how the god knew what was what you were going to say, you could not tell. 
“Yeah man, you killed it out there, even with sleeping in.” Johnny hopped into the conversation. You elbowed the actor at the mention of him sleeping in, maybe a little harsher than you should have after seeing how flushed the champion’s cheeks became. You heard the American clear his throat. “You gotta give yourself some credit, Raidude.”
“I will try.” Raiden said, a bit of hesitance in his voice. While it did seem to partially stem from the insistence from all of you that he should be giving himself more credit, you could also sense the hesitance coming due to the nickname Johnny had called him. You would never admit it, but the fact that even the kindest of your mentees seemed to hold a slight disdain towards the actor’s nicknames never failed to amuse you. Yet, all the same, the enthusiasm in him wanting to succeed and work hard on whatever his criticisms were shone through. 
After discussion with Liu Kang, like usual, your little group dispersed once more. For a moment, you swore you saw Kung Lao linger for a moment before he seemed to walk off with Raiden. You weren’t sure if your eyes were seeing things correctly, though. The man who did stick around was Kenshi, who soon found his way by your side.
“Ready?” The ex yakuza member inquired. His eyebrows were raised as he looked at you. The way he gazed at you seemed to tell you more words than he said, like how he was willing to wait for you if you weren’t. You supposed it only made sense, from what Kenshi had told you before, that the Yakuza would need to be subtle and communicate with others with even the slightest nod. Still, it was almost like a fresh breath of air compared to the others who seemed like an open book compared to the man beside you.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You told him with a confident nod. Then, the both of you set off. The difference between the walk to Sun Do with Kenshi compared to Johnny was almost night and day. While it wasn’t completely silent, you both only had some chatter here and there. It didn’t feel like small talk, and comforting silence filled the air otherwise. 
You took this time to try and sneak some glances Kenshi’s way while he seemed to remain vigilant in staring on the path ahead. Out of all your champions, you considered the man beside you to be the one you understood the least. While you did attempt to get closer to the man through food, there was still a lot you had left to learn about him. He wasn’t as eager to dispense knowledge as the others, even if he wasn’t totally private about the past. 
The reason why Kenshi was so vastly different in this timeline compared to the other three was beyond you. It was a mystery you’ve been trying to unravel since you’ve met the man. His backstory was completely different, and the lack of powers he had previously made you question a lot about this life. Different backstories weren’t anything new, per se, but it was still strange how…different it was. From your memories of the world before, you could conclude that perhaps his lack of powers was from how he did not wield Sento. 
You’ve considered confronting Johnny about giving the swordsman the sword back, after all the actor had it for a rather petty reason, but you’ve never gotten too far in your plans. You couldn’t guarantee that talking to the actor would do any good, that man was rather stubborn, even in the face of reason sometimes. But there was also another reason you’ve held yourself back.
You were afraid that the sword would doom Kenshi to some kind of tragic fate. Your memories of Kenshi's previous story were hazy. You couldn’t tell if it was because you simply didn’t remember, or if it was because you never sought out to ask too much about it in the past. Either way, you were upset with yourself over it.
What you did know for certain, despite the lack of memories, was that in your previous life, he had been blinded due an incident that had something to do with the sword. Yes, he did gain powers that enabled him to be more than he was, but thought of losing his eyesight because of it and you potentially being the catalyst for that was more than you thought you could bear. It wasn’t as if you could warn Kenshi of the dangers, you’d sound insane.
Plus, you knew with the significance of that sword, your warnings might go unheeded. You had a sense that the ex yakuza member was selfless enough to be a martyr for the sake of his clan. The thought of him giving up his eyesight willingly squeezed your heart.
You were willing to craft a hat for Kung Lao, there were no flaws behind that as far as you could tell. But Kenshi’s weapon had a lot more weight to it. You wouldn’t know if the consequences behind that influence were the same, and if they would be less than the positives. There was a lot more to consider. Even if your decision that you would err on the side of caution, you still felt guilty that you could not help and provide the weapon that the man beside you craved.
“You’re glancing at me a lot, should I be flattered or concerned?” Kenshi inquired, snapping you out of your thoughts. You found that you were now meeting the swordsman’s gaze who held you with an intrigued look. With a scene that felt all too familiar, you felt your face heat up again. How you’ve let yourself space out and stare so obviously at your companion two days in a row, you had no idea.
“Flattered, I suppose?” You said, awkwardness soaking your words after you cleared your throat. You found yourself unable to maintain eye contact. Suddenly, the blue sky speckled with clouds seemed interesting. You felt your hand creep up to the side of your neck and press against it. Compared to the heat of your face, your hand felt like an ice cube. 
You didn’t know what excuse to say, or if you even should. Obviously, you couldn’t tell him the real reason why you were taking what you thought was sneaky glances. If you weren’t telling the god who took you in about your memories, you weren’t going to tell Kenshi. The issue was that now, you had no idea what excuse to even say, and you put yourself in a rather awkward situation because of it.
Despite this, it seemed that you didn’t have to. You heard a chuckle, and took a cautious peek to see Kenshi looking at you with a gaze that seemed free of judgement. His cheeks were tinged with pink. It seemed whatever excuse he had gleaned from what little you said satisfied him. You weren’t sure what his assumptions were, but at this point, you figured you were far too deep to ask what he thought it was.
This was the consequences of your lack of sneakiness, you supposed. You didn’t find yourself too upset though. It seemed to make him pleased enough, and that was enough for you. 
The rest of the walk to Sun Do left you feeling just a little lighter.
You both wandered into the city, deliberately leading him in a different direction you had gone with both Johnny and Raiden. You didn’t need to retread those places, you knew very well that you wouldn’t find the gift for Bi-Han you wanted in those shops. It would only waste precious time. You both went from shop to shop, peering at possible gift ideas with careful eyes.
Shopping with Kenshi was much different than the other two. With Raiden, he had been far too passive. He seemed to enjoy peering at the wares and agreeing with you more than scrutinizing the items. He4 didn’t provide any meaningful feedback in terms of whether the gift was appropriate or if it felt right. You didn’t blame him, you had a feeling he was far too elated by simply being in the heart of the capital. That, and he was the one who invited you to explore rather than shop. 
With Johnny, he had a completely different taste than you did. He often criticized your choices for being too “tame” or not flashy enough. Perhaps it wasn’t the worst opinion, you had gone for subtler gifts, but the gifts he offered before the ribbon had all been rather…gaudy and definitely didn’t fit the Lin Kuei. It was almost a miracle he had spotted the ribbon and offered it up.
Kenshi, on the other hand, was almost like the perfect shopping companion. His tastes seemed to align with what you were searching for, so that was a far better companion than Johnny. Not only that, but he was very inquisitive and seemed to take every comment you said to heart. You couldn’t resist a smile as you realized this nature was the exact reason why you had chosen Kenshi in particular to critique your cooking. 
“How about this?” Kenshi inquired, lifting up an intricate blue sash. You hummed as you leaned in close to peer at the fabric. You plucked the item that was draped over his hands, your fingertips brushing against the inked surface. You lifted up, studying the details. Then, you squinted at it more as you tried to imagine Bi-Han wearing this sash. Your nose wrinkled at the fact that you could not conjure up that image.
“I think we should stray away from accessories like this.” You concluded. “I don’t think Bi-Han would find himself wearing anything in accompaniment to his uniform.” You explained. The swordsman nodded as he took your words into consideration. You handed back the sash to him so he could place it back. With careful precision, he folded the sash before delicately placing it back into its former spot. Had you not known the man, you would have never guessed his dark past with how he carried himself in his actions. 
You scanned the area, looking for other ideas while Kenshi also perused the store. Nothing in particular for the grandmaster caught your eye. This store was mostly filled with accessories, which was not the type of gift you could imagine giving Bi-Han. And yet, despite this, something did catch your eye. You walked closer to get a look.
It was a set of five rings. Though they looked initially plain, the closer you inspected them, you saw the beauty within the craftsmanship. They were intricately engraved, small patterns dancing along the metal. But the part that caught the eye the most was the gorgeous gems set into each of them. Each one had a different color, gold, pink, blue, green, and red. You marveled over the rings and were pleasantly surprised to see that the rings had some minor magic, so they could be resized on their own. 
You looked and saw they had a special deal if you bought the whole set. Your eyes lingered on the rings for a moment more. How perfect this would be as a gift for your champions. A smile appeared on your face as you thought about it. You glanced back at the bag where you held your gold. Maybe if you had left over gold you could come back for these. 
“I don’t think this place has what I’m looking for.” You told the swordsman, striding over to him. You stood slightly in the way of the rings. You didn’t think he’d notice them since it didn’t align with the idea you had for Bi-Han. But still, you wanted to keep it a surprise, just in case. Luckily, it seemed that Kenshi hadn’t noticed where you had gone.
“I agree, especially since this place is geared towards accessories.” Kenshi replied. He nodded in the direction of the door, his hand gesturing for you to lead the way. You did just that, managing to glance back at the rings one last time. You knew that if you did, Kenshi would be likely to notice with how much he’s been noticing your stares. Then again, you supposed that’s because your stares towards the swordsman were rather…obvious. Still, you wouldn’t put it past him to notice the little things.
And so, both you and the ex yakuza member were back on the streets. But not for long. This time, Kenshi pointed out a shop. At first, you hesitated, gazing at all the porcelain cups and teapots. You weren’t certain if these ceramics would be an ideal gift, but then your eyes landed on a particular teapot set in the window. You were so fascinated by it that you stepped inside to get a better look.
The teapot set in question was delftware styled. The blue painted ceramic was decorated to be depicting a snowy wonderland with snow leopards as the main focus. Your eyes studied the set carefully, marveling over it. It had some gold accents around the rim, giving it that extra pop. It even came with a little tea pet, a snow leopard. At first, you couldn’t imagine gifting Bi-Han such an item, but the more you marveled over it, the more you couldn’t imagine giving him anything else.
“With the way you’re looking at that, I think I did my job.” Kenshi remarked, walking up next to you. You smiled over to him, and you saw on his face a very pleased expression. He crossed his arms as he took his gaze from you over to the set. “It’s miraculous how cheap these items are here, back in Earthrealm, these would be worth a fortune.”
“I can’t believe it either.” You agreed with a nod. You eyed the price. It definitely was cheaper than you would expect, but the quality didn’t seem terrible despite it. Looking at it for a few more moments, you nodded once more. “I think this is the one.” You told your companion. Kenshi hummed, his eyes lingering on your decided gift before pointing to something else. 
“While we’re at it, you should probably get him some tea.” The swordsman recommended. Your eyes landed on the displays of various teas they had. You walked over, noting how they felt similar in style to the dried teas you served for Madam Bo. On a closer look, some of the teas even appeared to be the same. For a brief moment, you wondered whether a long time ago Earthrealm had some of their teas imported here. It didn’t seem too far off an idea.
You scanned the various teas they had on display. For a moment, you considered picking a tea unique to Outworld. But then you considered how awful it’d feel to gift something that he might enjoy, but then never be able to savor once again in his lifetime. For that reason, you decided it might be better to chose something that he may be able to get at home. 
One particular tea caught your eye.
You grabbed the box of the high quality tea, inspecting it. You had never considered this to be made into tea. You couldn’t help but to smile down at the box, too amazed at the fact that tea was a thing. You held it up to show to Kenshi who quirked up a brow.
“Parsley tea?” He asked, eyeing the box carefully. His voice sounded skeptical. You shrugged, but you already knew that the moment you had laid eyes on this particular type of tea, you were going to buy it. Something within you simply told you that it just fit him. That, and you couldn’t deny that you were interested in how it tasted. From the look Kenshi gave you, he seemed to know you were already set in your ways.
With a little pep in your step, you walked over to the Outworlder at the counter. After discussing which set you wanted along with the parsley tea, you soon found yourself back onto the streets with a very nicely wrapped gift in your hands. As you were walking back, satisfied with your findings today, you spied the shop with the rings you had looked at earlier. 
“Could you hold this for a moment?” You asked the man. You swiftly handed him the gift and quickly walked off into the shop, ignoring the perplexed look the swordsman had sent you. You couldn’t blame him, you had said you only needed one more gift. 
Stepping inside, you were thrilled to see that the rings you had your eye on were still there. Elated, you quickly asked the clerk for the rings. The centaruian seemed more than happy to oblige, giving you a few boxes to carry them in. You slipped the gold one on, eyeing how the light seemed to reflect off of it perfectly. The rest you slipped into your bag. You wanted to keep them a surprise for now.
Checking the money you had left, you were delighted to see you had enough to buy one more gift. That would be reserved for Liu Kang. 
“Find everything you needed?” Kenshi inquired. He peered at you, his eye catching the sight of your new found accessory. You nodded, beaming happily at the man. You reached out, hands extended to take back the boxes. Despite this, you found the man pulled away from you, boxes clutched securely to his own chest. “It’s fine, I don’t mind carrying them.” He insisted.
“I don’t want to burden you with them.” You said, furrowing your brows. You made a reach for the boxes again, but the man simply side stepped your attempt. You sighed, placing a hand on your hip. “This is rather childish of you, Kenshi.” You chided, trying to see if you could convince him to give back the gifts. And yet, despite your words, the man was adamant. You sighed once more, shaking your head. “If you insist.”
“I do.” The swordsman quipped back, a victorious tone in his voice. You resisted an eye roll and made your way back to the palace. Once there, you led the ex yakuza member back to your room since he insisted on helping them carry them back all the way back there. As you finally regained the packages, you peered at him for a moment before opening your door. “Wait a moment for me, okay?” You asked.
You stepped into the room, placing your packages along with the other gifts you’ve bought. You removed the rings from the bags, admiring them once more. For a moment, you considered bringing them all in so you could give them at dinner time, but then you paused, remembering you hadn’t gotten Liu Kang’s gift quite yet and how awkward it might seem. Plus, you fancied the idea of giving the gifts privately. It would seem more personal that way.
“Thank you for waiting.” You said as you strode out. You placed your hands behind your back, hiding the little box. You supposed you were as sneaky as a toddler attempting to hide whatever mess they’ve made, because Kenshi quickly sent you a questioning look and leaned over to try and peek. “Here.” You handed over the box, scanning his features for his reaction. “A gift.”
“You didn’t have to.” Kenshi said, his voice shocked. He tried to hand back the box to you, but you pushed into his hands. After that, he relented. He scanned the box, probably trying to guess the present before he opened the box. You felt elated as you watched his surprised reaction to the ring. He lifted it up, watching with amazement as he slipped it onto his finger and it fit perfectly. “This is…” He trailed off, trying to find the right words.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” You remarked. You held up your hand to showcase your golden ring. “I thought this would be the perfect present for all of us.” You then gestured to the red ring. “I chose that color specifically for you.”
“Why red?” Kenshi inquired, looking between the ring on his hand and you. You smiled at him, a small laugh leaving your lips as you looked directly into his eyes.
“Simple. I think it matches your eyes wonderfully.” You explain to him. A soft flush appeared on Kenshi’s face, and he appeared to have been stunned into silence. His mouth closed, then opened, then closed once more. Then, a soft smile appeared on his face as his gaze cast downwards to the ring on his hand once more.
“Thank you.” Kenshi mumbled softly. You grinned at him and placed a hand on his arm. 
“No problem, I’m glad you like the gift.” You told him. “Now let’s go, I’m hungry.” You walked off, leading the way. You missed the fond gaze Kenshi sent you way, taking one more glance between the ring and you before following you.
Dinner went smoothly, and it was just as delicious as before. You were tempted to make plans to go shopping for some Outworld type of seasonings before you left so you could cook up some food the reminded you of this place. Maybe if you had left over money after Liu Kang’s gift.
It was yet another wonderful night in the garden. You basked in the moonlight as you waited patiently for the princess to emerge from the palace. You perked up as you heard the familiar sound of heels, and smiled as your eyes landed on the princess. 
Oddly enough, there was not the more prestigious and refined look that she usually held. Her face held something that reminded you of the first time you encountered her here. She seemed…upset. You raised your eyebrows as she drew near. When she noted you in the spot, her face shifted, masking her previous attitude with a smile.
It reminded you of Empress Sindel’s smile towards Raiden.
“Are you alright?” You inquired, testing the waters. You saw her smile strain, like a string being pulled nearly too taut. Her hands, which had been folded in her lap, squeezed together as if she were squeezing out her frustration. 
“I’m fine.” Mileena replied, her words clipped. You couldn’t sense any hostility within her words, but you could tell that asking about her situation would probably be unwise. You didn’t blame her, you weren’t that close after all. You nodded slowly, taking her attitude into consideration. “How have you been?” She inquired quickly, eager to divert the topic of conversation.
“I’ve been fine, I went and shopped more today.” You told her with a smile. You could read the signs of her frayed nerves and played along with her plan, changing the conversation away from herself. You saw her eyes dart to your hands. You looked down and saw the ring. You lifted your hand to showcase it, allowing her to get a better view.
“I can see that.” The princess observed. She leaned in closer, analyzing the accessory and how it fit on your finger. You saw her expression change slightly, going from a more fake look to a more genuine smile. She looked at it for a few moments more before leaning back and looking at you. “It suits you, you have a good eye.”
“Thank you.” You replied, staring down at the golden gem which shone so prettily in the moonlight. You smiled, still feeling the high of making a satisfying purchase. You paused, considering what to talk about next due to her slightly antsy mood. “How was your day, princess? I’m excited to see how you fare against Earthrealm’s champion tomorrow.”
“My day was alright.” Mileena replied, her eyes looking away into the garden. There was almost an empty tone to her voice, as if she were not telling the entire truth. She rolled her shoulders back as she cleared her throat. “I…” She began, then paused, her face scrunching a bit as she seemed to ponder on the words she would say next. “I am interested to see how I fare against him as well.” She replied, the same smile from earlier appearing on her lips. 
You couldn’t tell entirely, but you could sense the aversion towards the topic of fighting. Was it that she was nervous? You scanned her. No, it didn’t seem so. But the reason behind her distaste towards the topic was one you weren’t certain of.
You couldn’t quite ask her about it either.
“What story would you like to hear today?” You inquired, quickly changing the subject. You saw her posture relax a bit, and what must be a breath of relief left her lips. Very subtle actions, but actions you noticed. You suspicions were definitely correct, she had some type of issue with fighting Raiden, or the topic of it. 
“Anything light hearted would do.” The princess requested, the relief of the topic change showing on her face. You pondered on this, humming as you considered the various stories and movies you’ve seen. What could possibly cheer her up? You smiled as you recalled the first movie you saw and turned to face her.
“Alright, then how about this one?”
That night, you didn’t quite know why she was upset, but you knew you uplifted her spirits.
part sixteen
tagged - @bonezisded @lollipopin @simpxinnie @zhivaxo @koisuko
208 notes · View notes
Text
The Chair Theory Part 2
Yuri, Fiona and Damian’s Chair
This is a continuation of this post, but if you want the summary of the post, I’ve shared my thoughts about how the seating capacity or size of the designer chairs in the volume cover of each manga represents the relationship with others of the person sitting there. I’ve also shared my thoughts on how the comedic inside covers is connected to the person sitting in the cover and the person who sits in the chair in those funny inside chapters are the person who understands the person in the cover the most.
So now let’s move to Volume 5-7 and maybe I’ll analyze Yuri alongside Fiona since I’ve already tackled some of Fiona in the recent post when I compared it to Yor, but her cover and inside cover has some similarities with Yuri that I found interesting.
Volume 5 & 6, Yuri’s Barcelona Chair and Fiona’s Heart Cone Chair
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Because of the position of the chair in the cover, it’s actually hard to see how big exactly the chair Yuri is sitting on, but based on most Barcelona Chair pictures that I see, it is spacious but it seem to only fit one. It could fit two but I think it’ll be uncomfortable, and Yuri seems to be taking a lot of space, indicating he doesn’t want anyone to sit there with him. I think this indicates how, even though he is now in the position that allows him to have relationships with others, he limits himself from doing this, only revolving his world around his sister. It is true Yuri is open and friendly (just not to Loid because he’s her sister’s husband) but he isn’t interested in having an intimate or deep relationship with anyone other than Yor.
Tumblr media
I’ve already discussed how the seating capacity of Fiona’s chair indicates her selfish desire to be loved by Twilight. However, even though she loves Twilight, she will never be in a position to accept him for she didn’t love him for who he really was. He was not the perfect spy she deemed him to be. He has flaws, fears and doubts and Yor was the one who sees that everyday and embraces all his imperfections. (I have more to say about her but I've decided to put them in a separate post for I think it's going to be a long one)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
So this is the part where we can notice similarities between Yuri and Fiona. Compared to the first four volumes, their inside cover wasn’t something that happens in reality. Both of their inside covers are the fantasies in their minds (notice that's its inside a thought's bubble), their deepest desires; Yuri wants to torture Loid for him and his sister to divorce their marriage (we can see him holding that divorce paper in his hand and also Loid was sitting in a different chair in the cover) while Fiona wants to marry Twilight (We can see her in a wedding dress holding a marriage certificate which opposes the one on Yuri’s and yeah she’s still the one sitting on her chair). And in Fiona’s cover, we also see her desire to get rid of Yor, the same as how Yuri wants to get rid of Loid.
Tumblr media
But those things aren’t real, they are trapped in those fantasies and both of them seem to have no grasp of reality or are refusing to admit it. Their inside covers could also display how Yuri is Twilight's antagonist while Fiona is Yor's.
Volume 7- Damian’s Willow Chair
Tumblr media
The Seating Capacity
Damian’s chair is too big for a little kid like him as Endo pointed out. He’s also sitting in the middle like Anya, reserving the spots on both sides for their parents. Damian craves for that familial love that was devoid of him. He always felt like he needed to prove himself and work hard in school just to be praised and get attention from his parents. That is why even though he wants to be as laid-back as Anya, and play and be like a normal kid, he can’t because he doesn’t want to disappoint. That is why all of the toys are hidden behind the chair. It was the desire to be a kid that he’s keeping within his heart. 
Tumblr media
Oh look, a number 7 pool ball was in front. It could be because this was volume 7 but we all know Anya’s experimental number is 007 too right? Could it just be a coincidence? Maybe… or maybe not.
Tumblr media
But in the comedic inside cover, Anya is the one sitting on his chair. Yes, Becky is also there and so is Emile and Ewen but it was Anya who was sitting there, copying his pose. Connecting to my first post, this means that the one who understands him the most is Anya. Besides from being the one who knows what’s on his mind, they were both seeking familial love and acceptance. They are both motivated by receiving praise and acknowledgement by their Fathers particularly. But Damian seems to be serious like what he looks on his cover while Anya could still be a kid and be funny inside of the Forger family.
I love how in the fan book, in Anya’s character profile, it wasn’t Loid and Yor that was in her relationship tab at the bottom, it was Loid and Damian. (Please excuse my annotations 😅)
Tumblr media
And for the covers of both these guys, she was the one sitting in their chairs, making the serious covers comedic.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I interpret this how she is the one who makes both of Loid and Damian’s life lighter and happier and how both Loid and Damian are concealing or denying the love they feel for Anya, in terms of Loid, his love for her as a father that is way beyond the mission and for Damian, his crush on Anya that he can’t admit out of pride and embarrassment.
Okay so that concludes the second part of the chair theory. I don’t actually have a lot to say about Volume 8-13, and I don’t know what Franky’s, Becky’s and Emile and Ewen’s inside covers are. I saw the raw but I can’t understand what they’re saying. So maybe I’ll conclude the chair theory through this post for now.
I'll deal with Fiona on my next post because I just realized something but let me gather the evidences first.
300 notes · View notes
g0tmilkx3 · 16 days ago
Text
It's Hard to Put into Words: Chapter 1/?
Tumblr media
Warnings: Conversion therapy, Comphet, Minor Fiyeraba, Fake dating/relationship (Galinda x Fiyero), Enemies to Friends to Lovers
Ao3 link here.
Dividers: firefly-graphics.tumblr.com
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Tumblr media
She met Fiyero Tigelaar at a wellness center lost somewhere in the shrubbery between Winkie Country and Ugabu. The White family established it there years ago: a unit with both numbers and status. Their reign was unlike anything any Ozian had ever seen. They were graceful yet firm enchanted yet religious. Magic ran in their bloodline, sparing no one. A great marvel indeed.
Beginning as their little secret the triumph of their unorthodox methods to fix children spread like wildfire among the neighboring counties. Each family that engaged had something to lose after all. Be it fortune or livelihood, the future of their lineage depended on continuing their legacy, passing their names along never to be forgotten in a dusty book. The message was clear: Come one, come all! Bring your sick child here, and we’ll fix them up. Complete with a pretty bow. No family deserved to have a sick child least of all a mentally incapacitated child. Galinda never thought she’d end up in such a place.
Galinda Upland was born into a nice fanciful family. Her mother, Larena Upland, and her father, Highmuster Arduenna, doted after her every waking moment. Since birth, Galinda has been reminded of her goodness. Named after Saint Glinda of the Unionist religion her name spoke for her before she babbled her first words.
She still finds her name precedes her.
It was easy for someone like Galinda to assimilate. She possessed all the attributes that proved she was worthy of her position as one of Oz’s most influential socialites. Everything about her was perfect; paving the way for her future that was so clear. But even diamonds have flaws some you couldn’t smudge out. Her first and only flaw reared its ugly head when she was just 11 years old. She confided in a friend, a person she thought she could trust. Larena fainted from the sheer horror of her discovery. Mr. Arduenna knew immediately what to do. Within 2 months she was cured and back on track to becoming another pretty jewel upon the Upland crown.
She was granted a clean slate upon her return to society. A new school filled with new people who knew nothing of her past. With the help of her mentor, she quickly learned how to dance in time with those around her from a very early age.
She was good. She was present. She was perfect.
Galinda was everything a girl could be all wrapped into one. At least that’s what Madam Morrible told her when she ended up at the wellness facility the summer between high school and college.
“Maintenance. For a young girl like you college can,” she had to choose her words carefully. “Vex you. Make you feel things you’ve never felt before.” She turned to her, neck straight stride militaristic. “It’ll make you want to do things you’ve never done before.”
“Yes, Madam Morrible.” She bowed her head in respect or maybe it was submission.
“You’ll meet people who are different from you. People who were raised differently.” She lowered herself to face Galinda eye to eye. “You remain on the straight and narrow. You are an Upland. You come from the Arduenna’s, a valiant name! One that has proudly carried the righteousness of Lurline. You won’t mess this up for them.” She moved away from Galinda leaving a chill in her wake.
“I promise I won’t. I’ll make my family proud.”
Madam Morrible didn’t respond. Her back was to Galinda as she gazed aimlessly out the floor-to-ceiling windows in her office. Morrible's office had a great view of the lush green forest the facility lived inside. The last one in all of Oz. 
The young girl caught her reflection in the window. Doe-eyed expression stricken across her face. Galinda looked out of place in Morrible’s dimly lit office, her pink dress clashing with everything in sight. The longer she stared at herself the more her face distorted. Her nose was too crooked - her blush too faint. Her posture couldn’t be saved by Lurline herself. She recognized this feeling. She felt it the first time she was here. A lost little girl hoping for reprieve.
She jolted in her seat when she noticed Morrible’s eyes locked on her.
Without an utterance, she was dismissed.
“Galinda Upland, how are you so perfect?”
“Oh, you’re too much Fi!” Her delicate hand landed on his broad chest in a feather-light slap. She batted her eyelashes up at him hoping to woo him. He responded with a peck to her nose. It worked.
“I’m serious Galinda, this summer has been perfect.” He waved his hand. “Even though we spent it in this place.” He pulled her chair out before moving to sit across from her.
They'd been spending their night in the common area of White's Wellness Center. Everyone in the building had long gone to bed but she and Fiyero couldn’t get enough of each other.
“Don’t remind me.” She finished off the rest of her wine. A few bitter drops trickled down the side of her mouth. Fiyero used a knuckle to delicately wipe the drops away, before tasting it.
“Another glass?” Her cup was being filled with a hefty serving before she could reply.
It was their last night at the facility and they chose to commemorate it with expensive wine. It was easy for Fiyero to bribe the guards. They technically weren’t allowed to partake but it wasn’t like he followed any of the other rules set forth by 'the great maker of rules' - as he called the White family.
Galinda stared down into her glass, eyes growing misty in their silence.
“Feeling blue?”
“Oh!” She remembered herself. Desperate to do away with her momentary lapse, she wiped a tear away before It could fall. “Excuse me, I just-“ She stopped short and took a deep grounding breath. On the exhale, a pleasant smile slipped on her face. “I’m just gonna miss you, is all.”
He didn’t buy it. They both knew she was lying through her teeth. Maybe it was the wine or the fact that it was their last night, but Fiyero didn’t feel like lying today. Galinda didn’t feel like pretending, but no matter her feelings she still took to the proverbial stage and slapped a smile on her face.
“You know I love you Glin.” He rested his hand on top of hers. The weight and warmth of his touch settled her trembling. “You can tell me what’s wrong. It’ll be our secret.”
Her eyes widened at his candidness, darting between his face and their joined hands. Once again she felt familiar tears filling her eyes but once again she blinked them back. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.
“I…” Her voice whispered through the halls checking each corner before returning. They were alone. “I have something to confess.” The words came out before she could stop them.
Loving Fiyero wasn't enough to stomp out that fire burning within her. Yes, she truly loved Fiyero - he was her dearest friend. Unfortunately, that was all she felt for him. Her consciousness was eating away at her sanity, taunting her to come clean. For so long she buried that voice now it couldn’t be contained. Her insides were a dastardly mix of anxiety and depression every day now. The idea of that churning inside of her for all eternity was troublesome. Causes wrinkles her mother would say.
“You’re incredibly handsome-“
“Yes." He mused.
“You’re charming-“
“The most charming.”
"And you’re a prince for goodness sake!” This time, she didn't know if her words were being directed at Fiyero. He tasted his wine before swirling it around in his cup. She hid her hands under the table, resting them over each other atop her lap. He glanced down following the action.
“I already know these things dear.” He clasped his hands together. "Give it to me straight." He beckoned her.
She had to be swift and say it quickly before she chickened out. The acid of the wine traveled up her throat before being swallowed. Blown by the heavy gaze of her lover, she closed her eyes and blurted her confession.
“I think I like women more than men.”
Here in the darkness of her mind, she felt at peace. She could stay here and pretend nothing was real. Imagine Fiyero wasn't there. Or better imagine a world where she was actually in love with him. But her fantasy soured when reality pulled back in. She had to face him.
That was the first time she’d seen his mask slip. But sure as the sun rose his bravado returned.
“So what love? I like men and women too.” He shrugged. “Just don’t tell my parents!” There was something sharp was in his tone. “Shall we plan a party for three?”
She ignored his quite lewd and frankly impolite remark. “What if I told you,” her words bounced off the walls. The room grew darker as she shrunk into herself, their shadows cast against the wall. With a lowered voice she continued. “What if I told you I don’t know if I like men at all?”
The silence between them stretched for so long that she wasn’t sure if he heard her. But his expression revealed he did. Never in her life could she imagine silencing the thunderous Prince Fiyero. They were alike in that way; confident, self-assured, and beautiful. They bonded over their similarities this past summer. Even now. Galinda didn’t know how to react when she had the revelation either.
Since childhood Galinda always knew she liked boys and girls, but something truly frightening happened at the beginning of the summer. It crept up on her on a humdrum Tuesday while she watched a women’s rugby game. They were absolutely tantalizing, they had muscular thighs she wanted to reach out and touch. That evening when she and Fiyero made love she imagined the soft body of a woman below her. Fiyero raved afterward, noting how he liked it when she 'took charge', how it was the best sex they had.
It was early in their relationship and it's haunted her since. That night left her feeling wrong. She’d never witnessed same-sex intimacy growing up, how could she possibly have been influenced to like the same gender? It decidedly didn’t make sense.
Oz forbid her parents found out, they’d keep her locked up in this godforsaken place. Make her spend what was supposed to be her Freshman year locked away in this dreadful place, parading itself as a Wellness Center. As always she’d come out of it perfect again. Perfect and straight.
Fiyero eventually grinned as he brought a hand up to cover his reddening face.
“Why are you laughing at me?” She could feel her own cheeks rage scarlet.
“It's just-" He burst into laughter again. "Thank god, I thought I’d lost my ability to seduce!” Galinda released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She felt airy, like a bubble ready to float away. But not quite. Guilt still anchored her.
“I’m really sorry Fi.” She rested her hand atop his. “I had fun this summer and I love you so. I didn’t know I wanted to make sure that I was actually… that way.” He waved her off.
“No worry darling we weren’t reciting vows” He sipped his wine. “So, how will the Uplands feel about this?” another deviation from his usual tone.
“Probably how your parents would.” She caught her reflection in a nearby mirror. Not a hair out of place, rouge perfectly placed, nose powdered to perfection. Her lipstick was a bit smudged from Fieryo’s kiss earlier but her dress was wrinkle-free, thankfully. “Since I can remember they always told me how a beauty like me was meant to marry a handsome man. One who could provide for me. One who had status. I wasn't congratulated for graduating top of my class, no, but for snagging a date with the likes of you.”
She turned to face him finally tearing her eyes away from herself. Still, her attention wandered. The weight of what she realized was beginning to hurt. For a moment she wished to exist outside of her body. To be the wind blowing or a tree. That's it. She'd be a tree, tall and strong. Leaves as green as they could come - a color she loved. Bark strong and enduring, never to chip. Kids would climb her and never worry about getting hurt. If they fell her branches would reach out and grab them. Elders could sit under her so she could provide them with shade. And when it rained she'd house the animals that couldn't make home in time. But that wasn't possible. She had to remain here rooted not by vines but by rigid traditions. 
“I don’t think they’d ever speak to me again.”
“Don’t say that.” His gentle hand lightly brushed against her chin, turning her towards him. “They love you.”
She smiled weakly as tears danced on her waterline, reflecting light from the candles. She hated to be so vain but she probably looked like an absolute dream. She caught her reflection again. She did. A damsel in distress, what she was taught to be. All she’ll ever be. Glassy eyed with red cheeks any man would swoon over.
“Not that much, Fi. They told me if I’m not engaged by graduation, they’d-“ she sniffled turning away from herself to look at the handsome prince. He didn't know the depth of their insidious nature. “They just can’t know.”
Fiyero's parents sent him to White's Wellness Center, yes, but he was still a Prince. That title held a certain privilege. Galinda could never dance through her life as freely as he did.
He frowned as her face crumbled. Though they were no longer together Fieyero still felt the pull to take her into his arms. She'd become his best friend over the summer. They mistook chemistry for romance, but they were destined to be just like this. Acquaintances that understood each other, who’d do anything for each other.
“What if - and don’t say anything until I finish,” He quickly tacked on. “What if you and I got married?”
“What do you mean?”
“No not like that!” his eyes lit up as his brilliant plan became more realized “Yeah. What if we just put on a show? Appease our parents, keep our inheritance, and be ourselves when no one’s looking!”
“That’ll never work," she deflated. "We've only been dating for the summer; our parents will never buy it."
“My parents met on their wedding night.”
"This'll never work." She repeated.
"But what if it does."
"What if one of us finds somebody we want to be with?”
“Well, it would have to be kept a secret."
“No girl in her right mind would want to collect dust in my closet. I think you’ve drank more than enough of Oz’s finest Pinot.” She leaned over clanking her glass of wine against his.
"Just think about it. My parents can pull a few strings so I can attend Shiz, may god have mercy on whoever keeps Prince Fiyero and his bride away from each other! And what about you? The beautiful blonde blushing bride, setting a great example for young girls everywhere. Engaged while getting the very best education!" He vibrated with excitement. "I can see the papers now 'Galinda the woman of the future!" He stared off into space attempting to bring Galinda in on his vision. “We’re going to be in college Glin.” He provided as if it solved all their problems. “Away from our parents, away from Madam Morrible, away from this place. We don’t have to pretend there. It’ll be our little secret.”
“I don’t know…” She debated. “What if someone finds out?”
“They won’t.” He challenged her to argue.
She could admit the plan started sounding more and more exciting. She could get the marriage obligation out of the way, and they both can have fun as their true selves.
“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?”
Unsurprisingly, their parents took the engagement news extremely well. They’d already begun brainstorming colors and locations. That night their families dined together, laughing over the joy of two people perfect for each other finally engaged. Galinda plastered on her smile, flipped her hair, and did everything she could to mask her melancholy. This was her life now.
At least she had Shiz to look forward to.
Tumblr media
Galinda was angry. She was more than angry she was outraged. Not only did Madam Morrible unexpectedly join the Shiz staff, some last minute student needed a place to room, and since every other room was conveniently filled they tricked her, Galinda the Good, into volunteering her private suite.
If the person was normal, maybe Galinda wouldn’t mind so much. But she wasn’t normal, she was green. From head to toe, she was as green as they could come. It even found a way to infect her eyes. Hints of green intertwined with hazel. Oz forbid!
To top it all off, she was incredibly rude and smart. Not that being smart was bad but she was the type of smart that made Galinda feel dare she say it, inferior. What a confusifying feeling.
Galinda spent all morning in student affairs just for them to brush her off. As if she weren’t an Upland of the Upper Uplands. While enjoyed the distance from her parents, she’d kill to have her daddy here to fix all of this.
“While I do appreciate all of the hard work you-” her words faltered before she regained her composure. “people do here in the office.” She tittered. “Especially here at the magnificent Shiz U! I must implore you to think of me and how this affects me.” She put on her sweetest, most charming, her goodest grin hoping for a miracle. She always gets her way, after all.
The apathetic employee took Galinda’s challenge and raised her an icy customer service smile, brimming with what Galinda could only describe as irritation.
“We’ll look into this ma’am, but you did volunteer and Madam Morrible insisted-“
“I didn’t volunteer!” She said through a tight grin, she swore she felt one of her perfect curls fall at the mere stress of the situation.
All at once the hair on the back of her neck stood on end as goosebumps rushed up her arms. She felt a burning at the tips of her ears, growing intensely with each second passed. There's that feeling again.
“Miss, Upland?” The receptionist's voice echoed, multiplying itself and floating through one ear and out the other.
This feeling was new, but it felt as familiar as a flame. A breeze whooshed in behind her, manipulating her hair to tickle her neck.
It was her.
Galinda could always feel her before she saw her. The chiming of the bells above the office doors confirmed her suspicions. She snapped back around before her unlikely roommate caught her eyes.
“I’ll just deal with it.” She grabbed her things and brushed past the stranger without sparing another glance.
Her room - Their room was mostly pink with specks of black or hideoteous grey strewn about. It's so mystifyingly wrong, Galinda often thought. She might die before the semester is through.
“Do you mind if I close the patio doors?” Elphaba Thropp was her name. She was different. She disrupted everything Galinda knew and warped her reality. Elphaba crawled under her skin and gnawed at her patience. Who knew how true Madam Morrible's warnings would become?
Elphaba's movements towards the open doors snapped Galinda from her train of thought.
“I uh actually do!” She hastened her way to the patio just as Elphaba reached it. “I quite enjoy the breeze.” She grinned nicely. “Don’t you remember?”
It was wondrous what happened that day. With a simple wrist flick, Elphaba shut the door with enough force to splinter the glass. Galinda would admire her abilities if she wasn't so moodified or if she wasn't so sickening to look at.
The two hadn’t mentioned that day since it happened. But Galinda knew Elphaba held an immense power. One Galinda could feel vibrating off of her whenever Elphaba cut her eyes at her. It frightened her but more than that it made her feel odd. She couldn’t put a finger on what it was. She felt uneven around Elphaba. As if the world had been thrown off of its axis. She never dwelled on that feeling long enough to name it. But if she had to guess it’d be loathing. How dare she waltz into the school of Galinda's dreams and live out her future.
“I remember, but it’s been open all day,” she began pulling the door. “I’m getting cold-“
Galinda pressed against the door frame keeping it from closing. “Don’t you have a blanket?”
“Have you forgotten this is my room too?” She continued her efforts.
“But it’s also mine.” Galinda’s voice chimed, deceivingly cheerful. 
Elphaba huffed, finally giving up and letting go of the door. Galinda stumbled forward but caught herself. She quickly regained her balance and shot a glare sharp enough to cut at her mortal enemy. Elphaba simply turned away. Galinda knew she was smiling, Elphaba always smiled when she made Galinda look less than composed. How wicked.
Galinda breathed in deeply, feeling that loathing feeling creep up her body and vibrate her bones. She didn’t like Miss Elphaba, not one bit. She hated how she made her feel. Her very presence struck a nerve in Galinda one that she never felt before. It made a pit of anxiety develop in her stomach. She captivated her without trying. Elphaba had to be using some sort of magic on Galinda. That was the only explanation.
Elphaba glanced back at Galinda, surprised to find that her glare lingered.
Or Elphaba Thropp was a test sent straight from Madam Morrible.
25 notes · View notes
victoria-daydreams · 10 months ago
Text
The Hare and The Tower
Tumblr media
Chapter Fourteen: Vile Rumors
AN: *scratches neck* yeah so remember when I said this chapter would be out a couple weeks after I posted that preview, well I got an upper respiratory infection literally that same week and between trying to recuperate, work, and school this was put on the back burner. Hopefully, with this chapter being long it makes up for the absence. And God help me, it's been so long since I've written anything so be easy on me lol.
Trigger Warnings: age gap, vomiting
Word Count: 5.3k
Taglist: @dogmatic255 @sidechrevans @amethystwonders11 @ladysindar @sweetwanderlust05 @newandykes @helloimlateforeverything @loveofvernonslife @stitchattacks @dariequeen @kishie8 @girlonfireice @snowymarvel1205 @greenlightower @harrypotteranna23-blog
If you want to be added to the taglist just leave a comment.
Summary: Still reeling from the fallout with Otto, Jesmyn is quickly forced to learn two harsh lessons. The transgressions of her husband are also hers to bear and brazen half-truths are worse than lies.
Chapter Fifteen: We Light the Way
A terrible dread washed through Jesmyn as she approached the carved, oak door ahead of her. The corridor was far too dark, too quiet. Her body felt heavy, and the air was akin to molasses—each step closer seeming to take a greater effort than the one before. Fear, panic, and apprehension coiled and collided within her, the onslaught of emotions created a horrible churning, stomach twisting vortex.
Coming to a standstill just outside of the door, she reached out with a trembling hand to knock on the door, but froze in mid-air.
"I've been informed I'm to travel to Driftmark with Princess Rhaenyra. We sail at dawn," Jesmyn announced quietly, her hand limply dropping back to her side.
Standing outside of Otto's bedchamber door, a shiver ran down her spine for the night seemed colder than most. Jesmyn could only stare at the warped flaws in the wood, waiting for a reply, but ultimately was met by silence. Jesmyn strained her ears for a sign of movement behind his door, for she knew he was awake, and he knew that she knew it as well. With each passing second, Jesmyn felt her heart turn into lead, sinking down further and further in her chest. She remained silent for a few more moments.
"I'm here to bid you farewell Husband, as we part on our separate journeys," she continued, placing her hand on the door. "You are angry at me, this I know," she acknowledged, releasing a shaky breath. "But I will not depart without speaking these words. I love you Otto," she said. 'Despite the harsh words we traded, my heart remains yours. Should anything—"
Forcefully, the door swung open drawing a startled gasp from her as the heat of husband’s gaze burned into her own. Otto's expression was unreadable as ever, his jaw was set tight while his mouth a thin line. They held each others stare for a few seconds, both waiting for the other to say something. Jesmyn broke first.
"I will not let our last words be ones we regret," she said firmly
Another long, uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Still, Otto only stared at her, an act which only began to draw Jesmyn's ire. She knew her husband well enough that she didn't expect an immediate reconciliation, but the hope was there in her mind. To her, this silence she was being subjected was bordering on ridiculous, did he not comprehend her words? She was set to sail on the unpredictable waters of the sea.
"I see," Jesmyn said softly, with a nod. "I shouldn't have came. I'm sorry for disturbing you," she apologized, dropping her eyes from him to the floor. "May sleep find you well, Husband," she wished, before turning away from Otto.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Jesmyn walked back down the corridor to her own chambers. The sun will be up again in a few hours or so.
"You posses both beauty and brawn,"
A velvety voice broke through the silence, lingering in the air like a caress. Jesmyn froze in place, mid-step, before slowly turning back around. Once more, her brown eyes stared at Otto’s blue and for the first time she finally noticed the tiredness around his eyes; the way his face was paler than usual. Their argument had taken its toll on him far more than he would let on.
"It's why I was so keen on securing your hand in marriage," Otto continued, deeply exhaling as he moved towards her. "Yet, your intellect fails you when it comes to Rhaenyra. Too blinded by friendship to recognize it is very the manner of how she manipulates you," Otto noted, coming to a stop in front of her. Leaning down, he pressed his lips against Jesmyn's hairline. "Knowingly or not," he uttered, before kissing the top of her head and lingering there for a bit.
Otto drew back and pushed the few loose hairs from where his lips had touched.
"Otto," Jesmyn whispered, leaning into his embrace.
But as quickly as his embrace came, he retreated from her. Entering his chambers, Otto spared one last glance at Jesmyn before he shut the door.
~~~x~~~
The Next Day
Sitting on the quarterdeck, needle and thread in hand, Jesmyn listened to the waves gently crash against the sides of the ship; the wood creaking as they swayed in the ocean. One by one, Jesmyn's needle stabbed through the white fabric. Her stitches small and perfect, forming the shape of the High Tower of Oldtown, its beacon unlit.
Unconsciously, she let out a breath, slow and heavy, while pulling the needle through again. All of the events from the day before still weighed heavily on her mind.
"Your stomach must be made out of cast iron, Lady Hightower," Criston said warmly
With a grin, Jesmyn looked away from her work to the knight standing in front of her.
"It has a mind of its own," she replied. "Some days I'm the vision of perfect health. Other days—"
Not too far off in the distance, Viserys groaned loudly before vomiting over the edge of the ship.
"Not unlike that, I suppose?" he questioned, slightly amused.
"Very much that," she agreed, laughing lightly. She felt her babe kicked her, as if to express its agreement. "Poor man," she added, shaking her head and glancing at the ailing king.
"Lady Hightower, may I ask you something?" Criston inquired, bringing her attention back to him.
"Of course," Jesmyn answered, a kind smile on her lips. "And there's no need for titles, we're not in front of the court. Jesmyn will be just fine," she corrected. "Ask your question Criston, my ears are open," she encouraged, gently laying down her sewing into her lap.
"Before you married Lord Hightower, did you ever think about... running away?" he asked, an unfamiliar tinge of anxiety in his words. "Freeing yourself from the duties and responsibilities unfairly placed upon you?" he went on.
Jesmyn chuckled softly, "What highborn girl hasn't?" she asked back, her shoulders slightly bouncing with humor. To answer your question, I have Criston, many times, ashamedly," she confessed.
"What stopped you?"
"Well, my family of course. I would miss them so very dearly," Jesmyn explained, as if it was obvious. "Gods, I couldn't begin to imagine the heartache my mother and father would suffer," Jesmyn continued, shaking her head. "Not only that, for my entire life I've known nothing but comfort and privilege. The thought of discarding that to be free, but poor is…unthinkable," she finished, her brows knitting together.
"Is that what most highborn girls believe?"
"I have no doubt they do," Jesmyn insisted confidently. "Make no mistake Criston, we highborn girls may constantly bemoan and complain about what is expected of us, but we know what's at stake if we don't," she assured. "I don't mean to offend, but I must say, you’re asking such strange question Criston. Why? Jesmyn wondered, her curiosity piqued.
Criston shifted from one foot to the other, "What if there was a highborn girl…one who was willing to runaway and forget all she's ever known?" he posed.
"Is she running away by herself?" Jesymn questioned, her brow furrowing.
"No, with her lover," he answered, hesitating between sentences. "Her lover who wants to take her away from everything she despises about her station,"
"Criston," Jesmyn called lowly. "Tell me, which highborn lady do you speak of?" she inquired, curiosity now morphing into concern.
"It's only a hypothetical, milady," Criston uttered, making Jesmyn's eyes narrow in suspicion. "But, should this lover and his lady runaway, know he would bring her unimaginable happiness," he said. "He has heard his lady's complaints, and wishes to free her from it all," he claimed, hope shining in his eyes.
"Criston, whatever you're thinking about doing, stop," Jesmyn stressed. "This will only end poorly for both of you," she warned.
"You don’t believe she would except my proposal,"
"Whoever this Lady is, It’s unlikely she would," she replied bluntly, with a scoff. "She's not going to give up her titles, her land, or riches for some lowb—” she continued, abruptly letting out a sharp gasp.
Her sewing needle had bit into the tip of her finger. Jesmyn couldn’t begin to recall when she had grasped her embroidery again. Crimson quickly rose to the surface of her skin, falling in heavy drops.
"My Lady!"
"I'm fine," Jesmyn reassured quickly, grabbing her handkerchief and pressing it to wound.
Silently, she was thankful for the prick against her finger, her next words would’ve crushed Criston’s hopeless romantic heart
~~~x~~~
The wagon ride to High Tide was one of bumpiness and strained silence. Lord Lyonel Strong, the new Lord Hand sat directly across from Jesmyn, casting glances of pity at her much to her annoyance. She didn't want his pity nor did she need it. Rhaenyra was seated next to her, refusing to spare her father a glance.
For the last stretch of the ride to the castle, the party had to leave the wagon and walk to the stone archway gate. Reaching the top of the stairs, the doors swung open to reveal High Tide in all its glory. Towers made out of gray stone and crowned with roofs of silver that reached high into the gloomy skies above.
The sound of steel clanging against each other drew Jesmyn's eyes away from the grandeur castle and to the two figures sparring a few feet away from the royal entourage. One possessed silver hair which she easily knew belonged to Laenor Velaryon, the other with red hair was unknown to her. The two men bowed in front of the party. It was also in that moment when Jesmyn realized no one was there to greet them.
"How odd," she thought.
"Where is Lord Corlys?" Lord Strong asked, annoyed and offended by the disrespect. "He should be here to receive the King," he reminded.
Lord Strong's words barely left his lips when the doors to the castle opened and a silver-haired man and woman descended the staircase The young woman could be none other than Lady Laena Velaryon.
"Welcome to High Tide, Your Grace," Laena greeted, with a bright smile on her face as she gracefully came down the steps.
"What is the meaning of this, Lady Laena?" Lord Strong demanded pointedly, taking a few steps forward. "Is this how House Velaryon greets its King?"
Lady Laena's smile remained, "My father has but just returned from his long journey and he has hastened to the Hall of Nine to await Your Grace's arrival," she explained easily, walking closer to them.
"Let's just get on with it," Viserys stated tiredly.
With that, everyone followed Lady Laena into High Tide. Jesmyn looked at the King from the corner of her eye, his brow glistening with sweat from the trek up here and his breathing heavier than anyone else's. It was worrisome to see Viserys’ health rapidly deteriorating before her eyes. The effects of his worsening illness had sucked away the luster of his healthy complexion and been replaced with a sickly white color. From what Otto told her, poorly healed wounds littered Viserys' body and the cost of that led to having two fingers on one hand removed. It's why he always wore gloves nowadays.
Once Viserys and Lord Strong walked inside the Hall of Nine, the guards immediately closed the door before Rhaenyra, Laena, or Jesmyn could enter themselves.
From her left, Jesmyn heard Rhaenyra let out an annoyed huff. Jesmyn could hear the Princess' thoughts without having to have them spoken. First, father decided who she should marry and now she's not even allowed to join the conversation.
"Come," Laena said as she intertwined her arms on Rhaenyra's and Jesmyn's. "Let us see what might be had to break our fast,"
~~~x~~~
The three girls conversed with one another while enjoying a fine breakfast. After about an hour or two, Laena gave Jesmyn and Rhaenyra a tour of High Tide. When their tour concluded, Rhaenyra decided to depart from the group so she could speak privately with her betrothed. Laena followed suit, being escorted back to her room by one of her servants for a dress fitting. This left Jesmyn to her own devices.
Leaning over on the outdoor balcony railing, Jesmyn exhaled as she gazed out at the ocean. The view was something straight from a painting. Above, the sun beamed down onto the gentle waves below her causing the water to take on a tint of gold. It was beautiful—breathtaking, really. The ocean reminded her of his eyes. They were deep, powerful, and sometimes mysterious, yet always comforting and gentle. Jesmyn smiled inwardly at the thought, wondering how Otto is fairing on his trip back to Oldtown.
Glancing down, Jesmyn could see the silhouettes of Rhaenyra and Laenor far off in the distance on the sandy shore.
"I must admit, I was surprised to learn of your presence amongst the voyage with the royal party,"
Jesmyn's breath caught itself in her throat, startled by the voice. Turning away from the railing, Jesmyn did not anticipate to see Princess Rhaenys in front of her.
She dropped into a curtsy, "Princess Rhaenys," she greeted, lowering her head. "It's an honor," she added sincerely.
"I hear a congratulations is in order," Rhaenys said, motioning for her to rise. "Laena told me you are with child once more, Lady Hightower"
"I am, Princess Rhaenys," Jesmyn answered, beaming ear to ear. "Thank you," she said, dipping her chin slightly.
"This will be your third child, correct?" Rhaenys questioned curiously.
"Yes," Jesmyn replied, her hand instinctively coming to rest on the bump. "There were some complications in my last pregnancy, but Lord Hightower and I made it through," she informed, rubbing her hand up and down her stomach.
"If you are here, I'm curious to know where is the Lord Hightower?" Rhaenys wondered. "Seeing as he has fallen out of the King’s favor," she reminded.
"My Lord Husband is returning to Oldtown," Jesmyn informed. "No doubt he’s already making the long journey back to The Reach," she guessed.
"You will not be joining him?"
"No, I will not, neither will the twins. King's Landing will remain our home," Jesmyn answered. "Princess Rhaenyra offered me the position of being her lady in waiting a day before my husband's dismal," she explained. "I accepted,"
Rhaenys only hummed, her eyes doing a once over of Jesmyn, "I can't imagine your husband was enthused about this arrangement,"
"Livid more like," Jesmyn corrected, a mirthless chuckle escaping her lips.
"And yet, this outcome, unfavorable as it is, Lord Hightower still managed to succeed in one aspect," Rhaenys said, her gaze turning into a calculated one. "Albeit, a small one," she added pointedly.
"And that is?" Jesmyn asked, not liking the shift of mood in the air.
"You, Lady Hightower," Rhaenys answered simply. "Who better to be his eyes and ears while he's away from court than his own wife, a lady in waiting to Princess Rhaenyra herself," she said, making Jesmyn's eyes bulge.
"I-I would never—" Jesmyn spluttered.
"There are things we think ourselves never capable of doing, but we wound up doing them all the same," Rhaenys cut in, taking a step closer to her. "Loyalty, seems to be a weakness for Lord Hightower. When push comes to shove, we'll discover together if you share that same weakness as your Lord Husband, Lady Hightower," she finished in a whisper, as Jesmyn visibly shrank back from the icy glare.
~~~x~~~
King's Landing
With a cold stare, Jesmyn scanned the near lifeless shell that was supposed to serve as her living quarters from now on. It was a downgrade from The Tower, but pleasant nonetheless. The space was cozily furnished, echoing the opulence and expensiveness of the quarters she resided in with her family when she was unmarried.
Unceremoniously, Jesmyn allowed herself to plop down onto the plush settee before maneuvering her body to lay flat on her back. A loud, exhausted sigh came from her as her head rested on the arm of the settee, one of her ankles dangled off the cushion. Jesmyn's entire morning had been chaotic since the moment the ship sailed from Driftmark back to King's Landing.
Standing at the quarterdeck, Jesmyn watched the foamy waves as they rocked the ship through the water. A light sea wind blew against her, moving her hair slightly into her face. It all happened so fast, one moment she was admiring the sun shining brightly in the clear blue sky. Then, Criston storming off in her direction, his mood darkening anything in the vicinity and cryptically uttering three words bitterly as he passed, "You were right,"
Lest she forget the most startling occurrence of the morning, King Viserys collapsing to the ground after taking one step outside the wheelhouse in King's Landing. A shocking scene to witness, but Jesmyn's mind couldn’t have been further elsewhere. Since last night, she remained in a sour mood after her conversation with Princess Rhaenys, which she knew Rhaenyra had noticed the change in her demeanor.
What was she supposed tell her? That her older cousin accused her of being just as deceitful as her husband was and attacked her character? Rhaenyra would only brush it off as Princess Rhaenys' personality of not being one to mince words or her usual cynicism. To keep her sanity, Jesmyn decided to remain silent and to brood, her feelings had been dismissed more than enough times in the past two days, she was ready to snap if it happened once more.
Slowly, Jesmyn's eyes began to droop low, the toll of the voyage beginning to weigh on her body.
"Lady Hightower," a handmaiden called softly.
Jesmyn's eyes fluttered open, shifting them to the young girl in front of her, "Yes?" she answered irritatedly.
"You've been summoned," the handmaiden informed.
Exhaling heavily, Jesmyn swung her feet to the floor and pushed herself up from the settee into a sitting position. An action her baby was not particularly fond of as they gave a sharp kick in her kidneys which caused her to suck in air and wince. Gently, Jesmyn rubbed circles on her stomach to calm her baby down before gingerly standing up.
"Am I to meet Princess Rhaenyra in her quarters?" Jesmyn asked, her hand resting on her bump.
"It wasn’t the Princess who summoned you, milady," the handmaiden corrected, making Jesmyn's eyebrow arch. "The Queen wishes to see you,"
The journey to Alicent's chambers was longer than it should have, inexplicably she began to feel nauseous with every step she took forcing her to make several stops along the way. Standing outside the Queen's private chamber door, Jesmyn squeezed her eyes closed and pushed out a deep breath.
A handmaiden opened the door, allowing her to enter the room, but Jesmyn's steps faltered when she realized Alicent was not alone. Criston was inside as well. The door shut behind her and Jesmyn curtsied to Alicent.
"My Queen—" she began, but stopped when she felt her stomach attempting to leap out of her throat. Jesmyn clamped her hand over her mouth, trying to quell the nausea.
"Oh you poor thing!" Alicent comforted, standing up from her seat and rushing towards her. "Has the voyage left you ill?" she asked, her eyes sympathetic as she helped Jesmyn to her full height from her bow before leading her to the sofa she occupied only moments before.
"It's nothing," Jesmyn reassured, watching Alicent sit back down. "I just need to lay down and this sickness will pass,” she explained.
"Then I will try to make this quick," Alicent stated, which made Jesmyn cock her head slightly. "Sit, why don't you," she suggested nervously, patting the empty cushion beside her.
"I am not fragile Alicent, honest," Jesmyn said, chuckling at her friend’s fretting.
"As you wish," Alicent said, with a nod and an uneasy smile. "I…I—how should I say this?" she questioned, but it was directed towards herself.
Jesmyn frowned at the swift change of mood from Alicent and glanced over to Criston. Briefly, he met her stare before guiltily lowering his eyes to the floor.
"Has some—"
"Rhaenyra lied to you!"
The sharpness of Alicent's interjection struck Jesmyn with icy coldness as she slowly digested her words. Jesmyn's heart faltered a beat, an invisible dagger plunging into it. A pressure on her chest.
"No…no…" she choked out in denial, slowly shaking her head back and forth.
Jesmyn's stomach suddenly twisted itself violently into a tighter knot than it had earlier. For a moment, she could feel nothing, and yet everything all at once. She couldn't speak, her body going numb, feeling light and heavy at the same time. Jesmyn was scarcely capable of forming a coherent thought. Rage, horror, sadness, and betrayal coursed through her, fighting each other for dominance.
"S-She swore on her mother's grave!" she whispered to herself. "She swore on her mother's grave!" she repeated, in near frenzy.
To remain standing any longer was a growing challenge for Jesmyn by the second, when finally her trembling legs gave out beneath her. She sank down onto the sofa, a fog clouding her mind while dizziness spun through her skull. Jesmyn's heart pounded in her ears, filling her head with noise. She couldn't hear anything outside the deafening sounds of her own breath. Otto's words from last night gradually became deafening in her head.
"Too blinded by friendship to recognize it is very the manner of how she manipulates you,"
Faintly, Jesmyn thought she heard her name, but couldn’t make out the owner of the voice saying it.
"Jesmyn?" the voice asked, somewhere in the distance
Suddenly, a pair of hands, that were soft yet firm, grasped her own. They forced Jesmyn from her daze, causing her eyes to snap up to meet Alicent's.
"Rhaenyra wouldn't do that to me," Jesmyn said, her voice hoarse and sounding nothing like her own. "I—I value our friendship so dearly, I went against my own beloved husband," she continued airily, still feeling far, far away from her body.
"It's true, Jesmyn," Alicent reaffirmed, squeezing her hands. "She lied to you, to us," she shifted her stare to Criston. "Tell her Ser Criston," she demanded.
"Lady Hightower, it was I who laid with Princess Rhaenyra that night," Criston confessed, looking down in shame.
Jesmyn swallowed Criston's confession bitterly, "She told the truth, on a technicality," she said, inhaling a deep breath and shuddering slightly. "Daemon didn't fuck her in that pleasure house, but it was you who took her maidenhood?"
"Yes, My Lady,"
A gasping, broken sob reverberated in the air, "W-What have I done? My marriage is in…ruins ….and for what? Jesmyn wondered, her voice wavering as her words came out in short breaths. "I–I need to write Otto, I—" she went on, until her stomach lurched suddenly and Jesmyn gasped. "I think I'm going to be sick,"
Swiftly, a chamberpot was held out in front of her which Jesmyn snatched into her grasp before hurling into it, spewing out her meal from earlier in the morning. She remained in the same position for a while, still retching.
"Thank the gods, a servant just cleaned that and left it here," Alicent commented, rubbing Jesmyn’s back.
Raising her face from the chamberpot, Jesmyn's stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight of the contents within the pot. Gingerly, she placed the pot down onto the table, fearing that she'd throw up again if she stared at it too long.
"Alicent, I'm so sorry you had to bear witness to that," Jesmyn quavered, reclining against the sofa and clutching her stomach. "You as well, Sir Criston," she added, looking over to him.
"You have nothing to apologize for," Alicent stated.
"I must go," Jesmyn announced shakily, dabbing the corners of her mouth with the inside of her wrist. "Arrangements need to be made," she informed, standing up.
The abrupt movement caused stars to dance in front of her eyes. Jesmyn’s hand shot out to grip the back of the sofa chair to steady herself, feeling her heart rate speed up.
"Jesmyn?"
She waved her hand dismissively, "I'm fine," Jesmyn assured, with a tight smile despite exhaustion creeping over her.
"Are you sure, Lady Hightower?" Criston questioned.
"I said I’m fine Sir Criston!" Jesmyn repeated sharply, releasing her grip from the couch and righting herself.
Taking a few steps forward, Jesmyn felt herself sway on her feet while her sight became strangely blurred. She blinked in rapid succession, blood pounding wildly in her ears and drowning out all sounds around her. Unsteadily, she moved forward again, however this time Jesmyn could no longer feel the floor beneath her feet. The room began to spin right before Jesmyn's eyes, rendering her sense of direction completely null. Darkness crept around the edges of her blurred vision, forcing her to close her eyes and orient herself. It was a misguided action to take.
Once her eyes shut, her knees buckled beneath her sending her collapsing to the floor.
~~~x~~~
Jesmyn awoke with a start, her eyes snapping open as a startled gasp escaped her. Wildly, her eyes darted around in confusion and panic as she took in her surroundings. A few seconds passed before Jesmyn realized she was in her bed within her new quarters, safe. Squeezing her eyes shut, Jesmyn exhaled heavily and rubbed her hand over her eyes. When she reopened her eyes, Alicent stood just inches away from the foot of her bed.
"Gods!" Jesmyn exclaimed, her body jolting with fright.
"Apologies, I didn't intend to scare you," Alicent said gently. "I heard rustling from within here, and came to check on you," she explained.
Carefully, Jesmyn pushed herself up from the bed and leaned back against the headboard.
"What happened?" Jesmyn asked, blinking and rubbing her eyes once more.
"You fainted," Alicent answered, looking over her in concern. "It all happened so quickly, you were unsteady on your feet, then you just crumbled to the floor. I don’t know what was worse, seeing you collapse or hearing it. Scared Ser Criston and I to death,"
Jesmyn's hand shot down to her stomach, "My baby—""
"Is just fine," Alicent cut in reassuringly. "Maester Mellos assured me as much," she answered, causing Jesmyn to let a sigh of relief. "How are you feeling now?" Alicent questioned.
"A bit dizzy, still," Jesmyn replied, turning her head to look out the window to see the sun was beginning to set. "I could only imagine what your father would say if he witnessed my fainting spell," she remarked, a small grin creeping on her lips.
"Probably forbid you from ever leaving the bed and have you waited on hand and foot" she joked, and the girls shared a laugh with each other.
Jesmyn faced Alicent again, "By the Seven, Otto's fussing over could be unbearable, but now that he’s no longer at court with me, I'll miss it more than I thought possible," she admitted, her mood turning solemn and dropping her stare down at her hands.
"And it's my fault," she thought.
A frown creased her forehead, "Has she heard about the incident, the princess?" Jesmyn spat out, disdain dripping from each word.
"She has, but I had a handmaiden to relay the message that you are not to be disturbed, maester’s orders," Alicent answered, with a half smirk.
"Good," Jesmyn said, nodding to herself. "I don't know how I will bring myself to assist Rhaenyra with all the festivities for her wedding this week, let alone, the opening feast tomorrow," she commented, her eyes narrowing.
"So don't," Alicent responded simply, making Jesmyn raise her head in shock.
"What do you mean, don't?" Jesmyn repeated, brows furrowing.
Alicent moved to stand by her bedside, "We'll discuss it further tomorrow, when you're better," she said, bending down to give a quick peck on Jesmyn's cheek.
~~~x~~~
Lords and Ladies from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms flocked to King's Landing to celebrate the wedding of the two most powerful Houses in Westeros, the Targaryens and the Velaryons. The joyous festivities commenced with a grand feast, promising a night full of dancing, drinking, and merriment. However, these feelings were not shared by all.
In silence, two young women walked the halls of the Red Keep side by side. For Jesmyn, everything was numb and nothing felt real. She walked daze like through the halls, following the noises from the throne room. Almost a decade long of friendship and good will, gone within a blink of an eye. All from one, little half lie. A lie which Rhaenyra allowed to leave her lips effortlessly.
"The ceremony is beginning," Alicent noted, rousing Jesmyn from her stupor.
Standing in front of throne room, Jesmyn could hear Viserys' echoing voice behind the massive doors.
She looked to Alicent, "We've discussed this for hours on end, but now that the moment's here I find myself rather nervous," Jesmyn admitted.
"Don't be," Alicent insisted, turning to face Jesmyn. "Princess Rhaenyra has made it crystal clear where her loyalties lie," she reminded, her eyes hardening. "It's time we do the same," she declared quietly.
Jesmyn glanced down to both of their gowns they donned for the evening, green like the beacon of Hightower.
"We will certainly turn heads that's for sure," Jesmyn stated, a slight chuckle escaping her.
"Head high," Alicent ordered gently, using her finger to lightly lift up Jesmyn's chin. "What are we?" Alicent questioned, allowing a small grin to form on her lips.
"We're Hightower women," Jesmyn answered confidently, with a smirk.
"And what do we do?"
"We light the way,"
Holding each other's stare, Alicent and Jesmyn nodded their heads in unison.
"Shall we?" Jesmyn asked, holding her arm out.
"With pleasure," Alicent responded confidently, linking her arm with Jesmyn's. "Open the doors!" she demanded, staring ahead at the guards.
With a low creak, Jesmyn could see a sliver of the throne room and at the center of it stood Viserys, still giving his speech.
"Reaching back to the old days of Old Valyria and the Age of Dragons. With House Targaryen and H-" Viserys cut himself off mid sentence, as the sound of the doors opening drew his attention ahead.
Every courtier followed his gaze to the doors where Alicent and Jesmyn stood arm in arm. Instantly, murmurs filled the room as everyone rose to their feet, Hightower being one of the first houses to do so. The two of them were the essence of grace as they made their way deeper into the hall. Jesmyn dared glance in Rhaenyra's direction to see her subtly horrified expression, Jesmyn told a lie of her own this day; that she was too unwell to assist and attend the feast tonight. When truthfully, she wished to be as far away as possible from the princess. Jesmyn kept her face neutral. Her eyes were detached, scornful, but she was more composed than she had been for the past 48 hours, albeit without her typical jovialness.
Jesmyn passed her family's table, catching the stares of her family members. Curiosity was in all their eyes, they were well aware how close Jesmyn had been with Rhaenyra. So, for her to be making such a bold move with Alicent, who was draped in Hightower green they knew something must of went down. Jesmyn met her parent's stare, silently telling them, we'll speak later.
Approaching the Hightower table, Jesmyn smoothly removed her arm from Alicent's and seemingly glided over to where Hobert stood. A proud smirk on his lips, Hobert bows his heads to Alicent along with several members of the table. To Jesmyn's surprise, her good brother extended this gesture towards her as well which she happily returned.
"Hobert," Jesmyn greeted quietly.
"Good sister," he responded, extending his hand out to help her sit.
Once Alicent was seated at the table, Viserys began to resume his speech which Jesmyn and Alicent had interrupted with their dramatic entrance, but it was apparent he could not remember where he had left off. It wasn’t until Lord Lyonel Strong slightly leaned over to Viserys that he remembered his train of thought.
"With House Targaryen and House Velaryon united," Viserys continued, "I hope to herald a second Age of Dragons in Westeros," he proclaimed, which received applause along with some banging on the tables. "And after tonight's small affair," he joked, causing laughter to echo in the room. "Seven days of tournament and feasting – and at the end of it all – a royal wedding between my daughter and Ser Laenor Velaryon, the heir to Driftmark,"
Applause thundered across the hall once more and shortly thereafter, Rhaenyra and Laenor's first dance followed. All eyes were glued the couple as the beating of drums echoed in the hall, taking Rhaenyra's outstretched hand Laenor began their dance with one another.
"Good brother," Jesmyn called lowly, and Hobert shifted his attention to her. "Might you have room for a wheelhouse of three on the trip back home?" she asked curiously.
"Don't you mean four, good sister?" he corrected softly, with a small grin which Jesmyn shared.
When the dance was finished, lords and ladies flocked to the dance floor to join in with the dancing as well. Meanwhile, Jesmyn was on her feet to mainly stretch her legs, but it quickly turned into Hobert proudly showing her off to the rest of the Hightower's at their table.
"There's another son of Oldtown growing within her, I'm confident!" Hobert exclaimed, beaming happily at the thought.
In the most bizarre turn of events, Hobert's and Jesmyn's relationship had actually blossomed due to the birth of the twins. The way the older man incessantly pestered her about having children, people would think she was married to him and not his younger brother. Looking back now, Jesmyn realized all he truly wanted was nieces and nephews to spoil, but gods above, he could've been so less cruel about it.
She laughed, "My stomach is hanging low," Jesmyn remarked, holding the bump.
"No, it’s going to be a girl this time around!" a female cousin disagreed, eyes gleaming at the thought. "Twin girls!" she added excitedly.
"Otto would faint," Jesmyn replied, another laughing bubbling out of her.
"Yes, and he wouldn't be the only one," Hobert stated humorously.
A chorus of laughter rang out from the Hightower table and from the corner of her eye, Jesmyn saw Alicent approaching them. For the first time that night, Jesmyn saw a genuine smile on Alicent's face as she walked towards her uncle. Bowing before her, Hobert lightly grasped her arms and bore a proud grin once more.
"Thank you for coming, uncle," Alicent said, happily greeting him.
"I worried that given leave of your father's shadow, you might wither in King's Landing's sun. But, I see that you stand tall. Know that Oldtown stands with you," Hobert declared, and Alicent with nodded a tiny smirk at his words. "I see you even managed to talk some sense into Jesmyn about returning home," he mentioned, making the vein Jesmyn's forehead throb.
"Oh, I didn’t—"
"Hobert, I was just beginning to grow fond of you, until now," Jesmyn bantered, but also was half serious.
"My daughter jests, she was taught to never hold grudges," Lord Clarick stated, from behind her.
"Wait until I tell you about the antics Rhaenyra's been up to recently, that will surely make you rethink that lesson," Jesmyn thought.
She spun around, "Father!" Jesmyn greeted happily, walking towards him with her arms outstretched.
Grinning, Lord Clarick brings her into a careful hug feeling her growing belly against him.
"It's good to see you on your feet, Jesmyn. The Queen told me that you collapsed yesterday," Lord Clarick said, with a small frown as he took a hold of her hands.
"I'm fine Father, a combination of tiredness and a little nausea from traveling to Driftmark and back," Jesmyn lied, squeezing his hands to reassure him.
"Speaking of The Queen," he began, his voice dropping so only she could hear him. "What was—"
Suddenly, screams pierced the air in the hall, causing Jesmyn to flinch before whipping her head to the dance floor.
She stepped away from Lord Clarick, "What’s going on?" Jesmyn asked, panic in her question.
Then, the crowd started scattering like rats from the area where scream originated and the throne room was plunged into absolute chaos. Bumping and shoving quickly ensued as the mass attempt by courtiers to run toward the exit led to people being trampled on. Jesmyn was just barely able to react in time to protect herself and her baby. With the crowd jostling around her, she was pushed further and further away from her father and Hobert. Frantically looking around through the sea of bodies, she managed to catch the eyes of Hobert who was next to a younger Hightower cousin.
"Hobert!" Jesmyn screamed, terror in her eyes as she protectively pressed her arm against her stomach.
Hobert looked at the young man and pointed to her, immediately he fought his way over to her. Strong arming his way through, he scooped her up as if she was light as a feather and began carrying her to safety. Jesmyn searched the crowd from her new vantage point, still trying to determine what caused all this, but even from the shoulders of her cousin, she couldn't see.
However, despite the madness that enveloped the throne room, a single thought arose in Jesmyn's mind, pushing out all others.
"This disastrous wedding is nothing less than what Rhaenyra deserves,"
~~~x~~~
A few days later
Servants hurried about to and from, carrying trunks of various sizes to the many wheelhouses that lined the courtyard of the Red Keep. At the center of this tempest activity stood Jesmyn, being seen off by two members of the royal family.
"I do wish you would stay, but I think being among family and friends in Oldtown will do well for you and the babe," Alicent said, a smile gracing her features. "And the little ones too," she added, giving Vanesha's button nose a playful squeeze.
Squealing in laughter, Vanesha squirmed around in her older sister's arms.
"I couldn’t agree more, my Queen," Jesmyn responded, mirroring Alicent's expression. "It's been too long since I been in Oldtown. Despite our quarrel, I know having the twins home will bring your father the much needed joy after everything that has transpired," she commented, as Alicent handed Vanesha off to the waiting handmaiden to take her.
"You'll write me the moment you're safely inside Hightower, yes?" Alicent questioned earnestly.
"Was there ever a doubt?" Jesmyn asked back humorously. Her eyes slid to Criston, who stood protectively next to Alicent's side. "Ser Criston, I trust you will look after our Queen with my departure? True friends are so difficult to find in these times," she mentioned.
Criston bowed his head, "You have my word, Lady Hightower," he promised, a ghost of smirk on his face.
With a smile, Jesmyn moved away from Alicent and Criston and towards Rhaenyra who stood with her new sworn shield, Harwin Strong. Sauntering purposefully over to the princess, the pebbles in courtyard crunched underneath Jesmyn's shoes. Even with the flurry of activity around them, the strident noise pierced the air in the otherwise noisy courtyard.
Standing in front Rhaenyra, Jesmyn had gone from cheerful to stoic in a split second.
"Princess Rhaenyra," Jesmyn greeted curtly, curtsying to her.
"It pains me to see you go. I was so looking forward to our spent together as my lady in waiting Jesmyn," Rhaenyra said diplomatically, and Jesmyn involuntarily quirked an eyebrow at the use of her name.
"Yes, well, after having some time to reconsider my decision following that nasty business that occurred at your wedding feast, I've come to realize something," Jesmyn stated, peering down at Rhaenyra with an expressionless stare. "Without my Lord Husband, I find King's Landing an ill-suited environment to raise my children, so many unsavory characters here at court. It would be ashamed if they were tainted by proximity," she asserted, her eyes boring into Rhaenyra's who subtly shrank underneath their gaze.
Jesmyn let Rhaenyra suffer under her withering stare a few seconds longer before clearing her throat and removing her arms from underneath her cloak. In her hands, Jesmyn held an object slightly larger than both of her palms put together.
"I do have a gift for you though, Princess Rhaenyra," Jesmyn informed, keeping the object face down. "Something for you to remember me by in my absence here," she finished, finally the presenting the gift to Rhaenyra.
With its face up, Jesmyn held the finished embroidery of the High Tower of Oldtown, its beacon lit.
113 notes · View notes
secretmellowblog · 1 year ago
Text
I really LOVE the symbolism of Jean Valjean giving up his National Guard uniform at the barricade.
In earlier chapters, the National Guard uniform represented Jean Valjean’s disguise as a “respectable law-abiding citizen.” It was something he wore to reassure himself he was safe whenever he was frightened of his secret coming out.
But one of Jean Valjean’s character flaws is that he’s become unhealthily obsessed with worshiping these symbols of “bourgeois social acceptance”/ “respectability.” He worships them in large part because that shallow appearance of respectability really is the only thing keeping him out of prison. His survival depends on how well he can keep up his act. His freedom depends on whether he can look and dress like a bourgeois.
Three or four times a year, Jean Valjean donned his uniform and mounted guard; he did this willingly, however; it was a correct disguise which mixed him with every one, and yet left him solitary. Jean Valjean had just attained his sixtieth birthday, the age of legal exemption; but he did not appear to be over fifty; moreover, he had no desire to escape his sergeant-major nor to quibble with Comte de Lobau; he possessed no civil status, he was concealing his name, he was concealing his identity, so he concealed his age, he concealed everything; and, as we have just said, he willingly did his duty as a national guard; the sum of his ambition lay in resembling any other man who paid his taxes. This man had for his ideal, within, the angel, without, the bourgeois.
But not only does he see the National Guard uniform as a means to an end— as something that will help him pretend to be respectable— he also, tragically, sees it as something that will make Cosette love him.
He doesn’t understand that Cosette loves him for his kindness. He seems to think she loves him for his shallow surface-level facade of a “proper gentleman.” He looks at wealthier men on horseback with even fancier uniforms and thinks that if he had uniforms like that, Cosette would love him more:
He once chanced to see a general on horseback, in full uniform, pass along the street, Comte Coutard, the commandant of Paris. He envied that gilded man; what happiness it would be, he said to himself, if he could put on that suit which was an incontestable thing; and if Cosette could behold him thus, she would be dazzled, and when he had Cosette on his arm and passed the gates of the Tuileries, the guard would present arms to him, and that would suffice for Cosette…..
After Jean Valjean and Cosette see the chain gang, Jean Valjean is violently thrown back into trauma-filled self-loathing and terror that he’ll be “found out.” As a result, he spends the next week trying to distract Cosette by taking her out to festivals— and wears his National Guard uniform to them:
Jean Valjean donned his uniform of a national guard with the vague inward feeling of a man who is betaking himself to shelter.
The National Guard uniform is basically the symbol of Jean Valjean’s disguise as Fauchelevent. It’s the tenuous “shelter” he finds in symbols of bourgeois respectability.
So when he gives it up at the barricade, he’s finally sacrificing all of that.
The barricade rebels are in a situation that’s basically a more extreme/exaggerated version of what Jean Valjean has been living through. Anyone who has a National Guard uniform will be seen as a respectable law-abiding citizen, and be able to walk past law enforcement unharmed. Anyone who does not have that shelter of respectability will be marked as a rebel/criminal.
So when Jean Valjean gives up his coat to save someone else, it shows that he’s finally giving up that shelter. I think it’s one of our first clear signs that no matter what happens at the barricade, he will never be able to go back to being “Monsieur Fauchelevent” again.
161 notes · View notes
seekers-who-are-lovers · 24 days ago
Text
An ode to a scar and the shoulder blade
Tumblr media
Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial with the prompt #FFF284 noticing small things. (Thank you once again!) Missing Ron’s 96 scar that I wrote this on a whim. Methinks this is only a prelude and I might add more chapters if I can. If you haven’t seen nor read the Shibuya arc, then treat some of these as spoilers.
Fandom: Kamonohashi Ron kindan no suiri / Ron Kamonohashi’s Forbidden Deductions
Characters: Totomaru “Toto” Isshiki, Ron Kamonohashi, brief appearance of Spitz Feier
Word count: 1095 (I struggled with this)
TW: mention of suicide, biting
Tumblr media Tumblr media
HAND on his heart, Toto could still pinpoint the time and place Ron’s “96” scar had bewitched him.
Well, bewitch might be a strange wording, but the very first time he found himself staring at it was the day he returned to Ron’s apartment to talk about the first case they shared together and the aftermath.
Ron sat on the floor with his thigh muscles bulging from his grey sweatpants, looking up at Toto. From this perspective, the police officer knew that he was not wearing a shirt underneath that beige pullover. He had a beautiful view of the scar. He was still aghast, mind, after Ron told him of his flaw, that is sending the suspects to kill themselves through his power of hypnosis, in which Toto experienced firsthand. But the scar kept on disturbing his peace.
Of course, that time Toto thought it was a tattoo. Who would in their right mind let himself be tattooed with a number? Especially when the Japanese people do not have a positive attitude toward skin ornaments. And yet, he did not ask Ron. Japanese men, the polite ones mostly, would never do such a thing. Besides, what would his grandma say? Oh well, the old woman knew that he had the habit of not holding back things from his mind, saying them aloud without filter.
Tumblr media
“It is not a tattoo. It is a scar.” Ron told him at the onsen. It had been a month since he learned to know the younger man and they already saw each other naked.
“Not a tattoo?”
Ron smiled at him and explained the instances he got the scar.
“Ah, I have learned to like it. It has become a part of me.”
“Definitely…”
To be honest, one could not overlook the “96” scar as it was so huge. But what fascinated him more was the intricate firmness of Ron’s shoulder blade. Toto realised later that Ron was not fond of wearing T-shirts underneath his hoodies or pullovers. The shadow of a bare chest followed his sleepless nights.
Toto thought about it long and hard when they were on the rooftop battling against Winter Moriarty at Shibuya. Ron asked for his help about searching for clues that had something to do with his scar and that could be found within the surrounding areas. The police officer could not help it, but his vision went straight toward Ron’s gorgeous left shoulder blade where the huge 96 was. The wind blew the collar away that it exposed the skin. Ron was not wearing a shirt with only his pullover hiding his upper torso. Toto gasped.
Damn it. They were in the middle of a crime scene exchanging wits with a Moriarty clan member and all he could think of was Ron’s white smooth skin and the muscles that defined his shoulders. Ron followed Toto’s line of sight, and an image of a lighted bulb appeared on his mind.
“As expected of my partner,” Ron said, who tried to lighten up the mood a day later after Toto informed him and Spitz that the cadaver in the morgue was not that of a suspect but someone else.
“What do you mean, Ron?” Spitz asked, curious, putting down the iced black tea on the table. The three men were at Ron’s apartment to go over the recent case.
“I asked Toto for clues. I never thought that the M Family henchman meant me and my scar. That was the reason I realised that Toto’s supervisor and the victim were in the same building.”
Quick thinking. Another asset that Ron possessed. Toto was so lucky to have known this person.
Spitz said his goodbyes mentioning that he could not stay longer and had to fly back to London as his students were waiting for him. The police officer, however, stayed.
“Are you still feeling distraught concerning the suspect and the victim?” Ron grabbed his drink, which consisted mainly of ice cubes and kuromitsu.
Toto found out from Amamiya that the victim chose to kill himself hours after Ron saved him. It made him wonder how huge the M Family’s influence all over the world was not only in England.
“There was a split second where the suspect looked scared though after you guessed it correctly. Do you think he was talking to the boss?” Toto focused on the floor.
Caught off guard, Ron spilled his black sugar syrup drink on his T-shirt.
“Ahh… apologies, Toto. I think I must change.” Ron took off his shirt right there and then that made Toto freeze on his seat. His mouth forming an O.
Mesmerised with the scar and the shoulder blade before him, Toto forgot to ask anymore questions.
He touched his forehead then shook his head in disbelief. Suddenly the room began to feel warm despite the ventilator running on the ceiling. He untied his necktie, rolled it nicely and pocketed it inside his grey suit.
“Are you all right, Toto?”
“Y-yeah… I felt so warm. Is all.”
“The room has a nice temperature, don’t you think?”
The police officer nodded. Vigorously. He supposed. The younger man came closer to him still undressed.
“Lately, I have been noticing things, albeit small, on you, Toto,” Ron began his speech. “You have a penchant for my shoulder blades, my left one specifically, is that so?”
Toto did not, well, could not, answer. He was tongue-tied and so Ron continued.
“Would you like to touch them?” Ron took the police officer’s hands and put them on his shoulders. “There… there…”
Like a scorching hot pancake, he put them away at once.
“Toto…” Ron sat then on his chair gesturing Toto to sit on his lap. “Come here…”
Like an obedient child, Toto followed Ron’s orders. He looked at this former shut-in with delectable blue eyes and an intellect so great he could not believe his luck.
At first, he hugged Ron and then placed his face on his left shoulder. Sensing that the forbidden detective was waiting for more, he sniffed it then bit Ron’s shoulder without further ado. It made the latter moan. Like a victim of a vampire, Ron made it more accessible to Toto, who was trying to control himself that he did not go for the overkill. Like a cat, he began to lick the “96” scar down to his shoulders.
“If you do not continue this Toto, I would be very disappointed…”
“Huh?”
“I would like to go on please… let’s go to my room!”
And Toto could not say no to that.
~tbc~
23 notes · View notes
sugar-grigri · 1 year ago
Note
I was wondering what you think the likelihood is of an actual canon Asa/Denji romantic relationship is? I mean obviously they're building that Asa has feelings for csm/Denji (separately) and Denji has shown passing interest as well. I wonder if it's feasible at all or are they going to be pitched against one another now that Asa's getting seen more in the public eye while Denji is forcibly pushed aside.
Love your blog and enjoy reading your analyzes of the chapters/characters/plot!
Denji and Asa will have a romantic relationship 
Tumblr media
I'm sorry to answer so late (almost 2 months later) and without justifying my delay, I think it's the right time in view of the last chapters to answer !!! I think Asa and Denji will have a romantic relationship. Before explaining my arguments, I would ask that we all put our personal preferences aside. I'm only interested in Denji and Asa's writing and story arcs. Now that that's been cleared up, let's get down to business.
First of all, I'd like to reiterate a few points about Denji's development and objectives.
In part 1, Denji understood what it meant to be loved properly, the different facets of love, how to protect and pamper a family, just as his response to the antagonist was driven by his love for Makima. It's important not to deny that Denji has become attached to Makima, and the paradoxical aspect of this affection is what made the end of Part 1 so brilliant and memorable.
Firstly, it confirmed that CSM's main theme from the outset was love, and secondly, it proved that Denji's response was extremely sensitive and mature. Instead of locking himself into a cycle of revenge and hatred, he forgave.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
But above all from a narrative point of view it's interesting because in the first part, Denji grasped his value as a human being, knew what it was like to be considered and loved by Power and Aki. I've always seen Part 2 as a response to Part 1.
After the character has grasped that he can be loved, Part 2 places within it, consecrating it as the pivotal protagonist: Denji's beloved, Asa Mitaka. Instead of simply mystifying the love interest as a deuteragonist, as many works do, and depriving us of her point of view, Fujimoto places her with equal narrative importance. Which makes sense, since love is a central theme, Denji's love couldn't take a back seat.
Tumblr media
All this to say that the very fact that Asa is also the protagonist puts us on the right track. But there's nothing to stop it all being a trap? Just as there's nothing to stop the relationship between the two protagonists opening up to a lovely friendship, is there? From a personal point of view, I'd have found it interesting if Denji had struck up another platonic friendship with a girl, with no undertones.
But that's not what Fujimoto has in mind...
Asa and Denji are written to complement each other. And when I say complementarity, I make it clear that the writing doesn't imply that a relationship between the two of them would solve their internal problems. Their flaws are put to the test by the external scenario.
Tumblr media
For example, Asa's lack of trust in others is underlined in her development compared to other characters such as Yuko and Yoshida.
Yuko and Asa had a sincere friendship, although this drifted into moral combat as the young girl wanted to be as beneficial and useful as Chainsaw Man. As for Yoshida, he torments Asa, playing the game of promiscuity in order to create distance between the two of them, motivated as he is by Chainsaw Man. But his aim is not to become like him, but to prevent him from acting to the full.
Tumblr media
Whether it's to inhibit Chainsaw Man or to become like him, Chainsaw Man has occupied a place in Asa's relationships with the others. But again, this only serves to underline the extent to which the destinies of the two protagonists are intertwined. Instead of hating Chainsaw Man even more for disrupting her relationships, Asa Mitaka unknowingly experienced his profound kindness.
Tumblr media
During the aquarium arc, Denji simply occupied a special place regarding this issue. While the young girl mortified herself about being a good-for-nothing, a loser like Denji, it was he who paradoxically helped her. Firstly, because he'd listened to her explanations, boring though they were, about starfish and the fact that they're edible. What's more, Fami can control those she would have starved, so subconsciously the fact that Denji offered her food saved Asa.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
But this is implicit writing, as it doesn't make sense until well afterwards, when Fujimoto spells out the conditions of the famine demon's power. When we read the aquarium arc, the one who finds the solution is Asa. Denji was merely a springboard.
This episode is central because Fujimoto, in developing the relationship between Denji and Asa, also clarifies the way in which he will write it: one will not overshadow the other, and he has not placed Asa as the protagonist so that she is not a pivotal point in the scenario.
But before this good experience, Asa only sees Denji's little flaws, the fact that he's a fan of Chainsaw Man, that he rips off homeless people and even goes so far as to dehumanize him, considering him somewhere between a cat and a criminal. Instead of idealizing Asa as Denji's great savior, she is first presented as a threat to the boy. But this chapter only confirms the future romantic (and tragic) aspect of their relationship.
Tumblr media
I'm putting my theory back on the cat, because it's this symbol that heralds a perhaps not-so-pretty ending between the two of them. Fujimoto takes on the characteristics of a Greek tragedy, with a game of identities, intertwined secrets and a series of misunderstandings, with two camps, characters also preventing their relationship (Nayuta and Yoshida). But above all, it's tragic: Denji is somewhere between a cat and a criminal, just as Asa lost her mother while trying to save a cat, just as the first being Denji saves in Part 2 is a cat.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The cat is a figure that links Denji and Asa (the fact that they both saved one, that it is linked to their family (Power and Asa's mother), the metaphor of cat and criminal being what characterizes someone as morally gray as the two of them TO SUM UP their relationship will end in sacrifice. The ultimate proof of love. Isn't it wonderful to have a boy as the protagonist who pursues love, only to die for it? The reverse is just as beautiful: a young girl who closes herself off in solitude finds self-fulfillment in dying for the sake of another.
Tumblr media
But back to something happier: Asa is the only one who has a healthy love (or rather, attachment) to Denji. Firstly, because she first faced Denji's and Chainsaw Man's flaws before seeing their good sides.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
First, she doesn't project anything onto the boy, and sees him exactly as he is. She experienced his obscenities, his interest in sex that repels her. This was something I'd considered a flaw until now, to be honest; I was afraid that if the two protagonists ended up experiencing intimacy together, it would "save" Asa from her rejection of sex. But I was reassured by Fumiko's development, which parallels that. Fumiko has an unhealthy interest in Denji and is constantly contradictory in her dealings with him.
As I said, chapter 142 sets up a fairly simple idea: no one respects Denji's limits, above all, no one sees him as the teenager, the child he is. With Chainsaw Man, the same thing happens: people, faced with their powerlessness against the demons, project their grief and frustrations onto the machine man, to the point of pushing him to live again and again to kill his loved one, his big brother. 
No one hears Chainsaw Man's cries for help 
Asa stands out from all this: first, she's the one who wants to save Chainsaw Man 
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Fumiko already had an idealized image of Denji before she met him, has an ascendancy over age, a manipulative strategy, but beyond these problematic issues she respects no limits, thinks Denji's sexual desires, which do exist (let's not deny it), are watchwords. 
She, who considers him a child, doesn't act at all in the spirit of protection that she acclaims. 
Asa has the opposite reaction, but purely the opposite. When she meets Denji, she's not at all interested, even distressed. She'll have exactly the same reaction to Chainsaw Man. She doesn't like him, so she has nothing to project onto him. And even her first reaction to him was far from idyllic. 
Fumiko's presence is also intended to underline the way she and Asa differ in the way they deal with Denji's limitations. 
Tumblr media
Asa respects Denji's limits, or rather those he has set as rules dictated by his little sister. But Yoru crosses a boundary by kissing him. Without the desire to justify a non-consensual act, what Yoru is doing is crossing a boundary not set by Denji but by Nayuta, who is trapping her older brother in a certain solitude by wanting to protect him. The control devil is obsessed with a happiness that can only be found in the number of two, which is the common trait that links Makima and Nayuta, although they are not exactly the same entity. The first kiss between Yoru and Denji is then an act of rebellion, rather than Fumiko's constant overstepping of boundaries. 
Tumblr media Tumblr media
(Again, these are two non-consensual acts, and I'm not justifying them, but they don't have the same narrative function).
But above all, the limits set by Nayuta have another meaning - they're there to consolidate the fact that Denji and Asa's relationship is a romantic tragedy inspired by the ancients, as Shakespiere was. The breaking of rules is a major theme in Romeo and Juliet, especially in the case of Juliet, who must choose between morals and her love, her family destining her for another marriage (symbolized by Nayuta). 
But we'll come back to the symbolism of Romeo and Juliet in a moment... 
Asa has met the purest version of Denji - whether it's Denji revealing his identity, or his profound kindness at the aquarium - and she's also witnessed the flaws of Chainsaw Man, this perverse monster, not good with words, who not only tried to reassure her, but actively protected her.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
In other words, when we see her disturbed by her growing feelings for both Denji and Chainsaw Man, they are more than sincere, for she has seen them both as they were. But above all, she is the first character to love both sides of Denji's identity. Whereas Makima was obsessed with Chainsaw Man or Reze focused on Denji's weaknesses, Asa became attached to both the human and the demon.
Tumblr media
Denji's dual identity is central, with the public hunters trying to annihilate Denji's demonic identity while the church relies on it, confusing the boy into having to choose one or the other, while the one who intends to help him unknowingly loves both sides. She likes him doubly. Asa is proof that Denji has to claim his two identities.
Tumblr media
Not only is the girl also two, harboring a demon within her just as Denji has fused with a demon, but the way their demons are linked to each other and have a history between them only reinforces the destiny that binds them.
Asa is someone who intellectualizes her emotions to the extreme, so her love is more cerebral than Denji's, who thinks primarily through his senses, having a more instinctive love. Yoru occupies half of Asa's brain, while Pochita replaces Denji's heart, totally in line with this symbolism.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Above all, Yoru is disturbed by Asa's budding feelings, which also affect her. We've seen that Yoru hasn't succeeded in transforming Denji. We all stopped to think that she couldn't transform a hybrid, a demon. Yoru is a knight of the apocalypse and has a natural ascendancy over other demons, just as Fami had the falling devil under her control and Makima had controlled many demons. No, the reason why Yoru can't transform Denji is twofold: she's disturbed by Asa's feelings, which are also her own, and doesn't have the will to make him her weapon; but above all, they're not yet together, and the feeling of belonging to each other hasn't yet been established. It's not certain that Denji will ever become Yoru's weapon, since as soon as their relationship is established, he will symbolically offer her his heart.
Tumblr media
In the current arc, Fujimoto places Asa in Denji's initial situation, so as to better parallel them: she becomes the church's new flagship image, her popularity competing directly with Chainsaw Man's. But while the current arc shows us the downside of these parasocial relationships, with Denji completely paralyzed by his existential crises, Asa experiences the opposite.
She who has always felt isolated is finally beginning to be appreciated and loved by the majority. In short, one begins to learn something that the other is just experimenting with. Denji and Asa are two very isolated teenagers who project themselves into the recognition their audience has in them. 
Tumblr media
What's certain is that Denji's existential crisis doesn't just concern him, insofar as his experiences can serve as a lesson to Asa, that to become a hero is above all to be alone. The church intends to sacrifice innocent people to spur Chainsaw Man into action, a church that Asa now represents. Asa hasn't yet seen this side of the church, so Barem mocks her by presenting her as a naive young girl. However, Asa has the intuition that tragedy will strike, since she has a nightmare of it.
Tumblr media
Asa's going to have to go beyond her moral limits, to take the brunt of her own popularity, and even if she intends to save Chainsaw Man as he saved her, I think it's he who's going to help her more, not to eclipse her but as a springboard to push the heroine to save herself.
Denji's development isn't slow, flat, in this arc, it just reaches its conclusion. What's left for him to do to end it all is to prove his love.
Even if it means dying for it.
Tumblr media
258 notes · View notes
midlandslady · 6 months ago
Text
So let me say this:
Geeta Patel wrote season 1 episode 8. That was one of my fave episodes ever! Viserys wishing for one last dinner with the entire family (poor Daeron LOL), Viserys so weak and frail entering the throne room to defend his beloved daughter (*forever emotional*), Daemon running from his spot to help Viserys to get on the throne and putting the crown on his head was so beautiful, Daemon cutting Vaemond's head for calling Rhaenyra a whore (most sexy moment in the entire show), the dinner with the family when Viserys begged for them to put aside their hatred and resentment because he loved them all and wished for them to be happy after his death (cries).
Geeta Patel wrote season 2 episode 3. What did we get in episode 3? Young Rhaenyra calling Daemon as soon as he steps in Harrenhal, Daemon crying for seeing young Rhaenyra with baby Jaeherys (again one of my favourite scenes in the entire tv show), Daemon in front of the weirwood trees and Alys telling him he will die there (poetic foreshadowing), Rhaenyra trusting that Daemon will give them an army if they allow him more time. Rhaenyra talking to Alicent in the same spot where they used to be friends and console each other (beautiful parallel). This is what I remember from episode 3. Did something else happen? Probably, I don't remember. Not to say that I don't care because I don't hate the greens (just Criston Cole most days and Aemond although he also intrigues me). Even Aegon is a very pitiful person. I find the entire story very tragic. And this episode touched my heart.
What else is Geeta Patel going to write? Season 2 episode 8 (season finale!!!!) And you know what she said to the interviewer?
"The other thing I got to set up that of course will pay off later is Daemon arrives to Harrenhal, and this is a new chapter for Daemon. This is where he will shift. He will for the first time look within himself... Harrenhal is a metaphor for what's inside Daemon's heart. In Episode 2, Rhaenyra pushed him away, and Rhaenyra is the first person he's ever really let into his heart and let his guard down with, and when he did she hurt him in Episode 2. She basically told him he was worthless, and so now his armor is on as he enters Harrenhal, but truthfully within his heart, the armor is shattered. So that's where the setup starts, and it will keep evolving until we get to Episode 8."
What does this sound like to you? To me, it sounds like music to my ears. Daemon's arc will pay off later... as in he will become a better person? Recognize his mistakes? Understand that Rhaenyra was right and deserves better (arguably but I will get there in a later post) and reconcile with her? Oh my!
He let his guard down when he let Rhaenyra in his heart and she hurt him 🥺 (he deserved it, kind of, I don't know if he deserved to hear that at the time but he surely deserved to hear it at some point).
His armor is on when he enters Harrenhal but within his heart, the armor is shattered!!!! 😭*pain*
I have always said that Daemon is one of the people who feels more deeply everything but he wears an iron mask, he puts up walls so high and hides his feelings through violence so no one can see how much he is hurting on the inside. I relate with that and maybe that's why I always understood him, always tried to see him between the lines of what he says or how he acts.
More than anything I want him to do the right, he doesn't need to be good, he can be flawed as we all are, but I want him to become a better man. His arc will keep evolving until episode 8 so we will see more hallucinations and more craziness but then one of these hallucinations will make him "shift" and I desperately want to see which one and how it happens.
I don't know if any of you watched Once Upon a Time but Emma and Killian were another of my 3 main OTPs and from the moment I saw Killian/ Hook I also envisioned the potential to be a great man. And I felt the same with Daemon from the first moment (of course it's GoT, so everything is more barbaric and ruthless but the essence is there).
Just please I hope he doesn't make more serious mistakes, so far he's not learning much with the visions, he is still committing war crimes to innocent people ("Do your worst, ser Willem." "Some things the crown should not be seen doing" - seriously? As if it won't backfire right away -_-), still clinging to the "I am the better fit to rule".
But these next 2 episodes will be crucial.
My last warning: Alys, stay away from him!
35 notes · View notes