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amjustagirl · 4 years

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Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi's heart has always pointed north. He wonders if it's broken when it starts to point inexorably towards her.

Set in the aftermath of The Astrophile, in the same universe as Storm Chaser.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi / f! reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance

Wordcount: 7.8k

Masterlist link here

A/N: Dedicated first and foremost to Ami @softsakusa, one of the first people to convince that my writing isn’t shit and that I should keep creating fics.

This fic is also for all the readers who wanted a happy ending for the reader in The Astrophile (which sets out the backstory of the reader, Iwaizumi and Oikawa), and also follows the events of Storm Chaser (which follows the turbulent relationship of Miya Atsumu and now wife - I named her Kaiyo in this fic to avoid confusion!).

Hope you like it - reblogs and comments are always dearly appreciated <3

It must be the worst meet cute of all time.

That is – if he’s using that phrase correctly. It keeps appearing in the god-awful English movies Bokuto and Miya keep playing during team movie nights that makes him want to tear his hair out.

But yes, he meets her at Miya Shino’s seventh birthday party, the birthday girl the apple of Miya Atsumu’s eye, the princess of his castle, the most perfect angel in the entire heavens - the list of pet names growing longer and longer the more the obnoxious setter prattles on about his daughter.

And apparently Miya Shino is a chip off the old block, and is as obsessed with volleyball as her father. Which means that he, one Sakusa Kiyoomi, is forced to turn up on a Saturday afternoon for a birthday party to teach a group of children roughly about the same height as his kneecaps how to play volleyball.

There are plenty of other MSBY players that Miya Atsumu could have rounded up to fritter away a Saturday afternoon. Hinata, for instance - the sunny, fiery headed opposite hitter a perennial favourite with young fans. Or Inunaki - the liberio has an amiable personality that he certainly wouldn’t mind snot nosed children hanging off his arms like a walking, talking monkey bar. But no, Hinata is apparently busy on a weekend meditation retreat, and Inunaki is at his sister’s wedding party, so both of them managed to escape this travesty of a birthday party.

That leaves him with Bokuto who’s practically a child himself, beaming, bumping balls at screaming children with one hand, the other hand lifting another child above his head. Meian’s here too but his own kid is somewhere in this gaggle of monsters anyway, so he’s here to carry out his parental duties – hopefully his presence might balance the sheer chaos he’s sure he’s about to face.

‘Omi-omi you made it!’ Atsumu greets him with a slap to the back.

Sakusa resists the urge to bare his teeth. Is this what hell is? Screeching gremlins underfoot, the nauseating smell of fried food permeating the air.

And it’s probably because he’s still in a horrified daze at the situation he’s put himself in (which Atsumu is either too dense to pick up on or already immune due to the series of similar expressions he pulls at him on a daily basis), Atsumu manages to snap a party hat on his head, before he prances off in victory.

Sakusa snarls, ripping off the red paper hat off his head.

Why on earth did he agree to this again?

‘Sakusa-san! Thank you so much for coming!’

His glare softens by a fraction.

Miya Kaiyo, Atsumu’s long suffering wife approaches him, careful not to touch him, waving at him instead. He appreciates her thoughtfulness, so he thaws a little, giving her a slight nod in greeting.

Right, she’s the reason why he’s here.

He’s always been fond of her - competent, patient, intelligent, far too good for her idiot of a husband. Approximately a year ago, he sought her professional help with his accounts. He graduated with a business degree from Chuo University, so he can tell there is obviously something fishy that his manager is pulling with his finances, but the accounting courses he took weren’t in depth to pinpoint the problem. Miya Kaiyo, on the other hand, a trained forensic accountant with a nose like a bloodhound for fraudulent accounts, nailed down the problem within a week. So when she asked him after a game whether he’d be free to attend her daughter's birthday party, he hadn’t been able to turn her down.

‘It was no problem’, he says stiffly, already itching to spray the whole place down with disinfectant. ‘I’m glad to be here.’

Kaiyo laughs at his obvious lie, tugging at his sleeve to seat him in a corner. ‘You don’t have to go play with the kids if you didn’t want to! I invited you so we could catch up, and besides, I did want to introduce you to someone.’

‘Hm.’

He doesn’t try to mask his reluctance this time. Kaiyo means well, he knows, but between her and his mother, he’s tired of having to fend off match making attempts. It’s not like he can’t get a date – he can and he has, it’s just difficult to find someone willing to put up with his prickly personality and busy schedule.

‘Well she’s not here yet, so you’ll have to wait. And while we’re waiting, tell me how’ve things been, Sakusa-san?’

Grateful that he’s not going to be forced into shepherding children into playing anything remotely resembling an actual volleyball match (he suspects he might have more luck teaching cats how to do the conga), he settles into his seat, mouth stretching into something resembling a smile. He lets her chatter about work, and they’re deep in a discussion about his plans post-volleyball (because he can feel the countdown on his career in his creaking bones, his aching sinews) when Atsumu swoops in on him again, like a vulture seeking easy prey.

‘What’cha doin’ with my wife, Omi-omi’, he slips a hand around Kaiyo’s waist mock possessively.

She swats at him. He ducks, raising his hands in surrender.

‘I enjoy talking to an actual adult sometimes, ‘Tsumu!’

‘Oh come on, I already have to share you with ‘Samu most of the time, now you’re leaving me for Omi-kun?!’

‘Dramatic ass.’

‘Please, you chose to marry me.’ He crows, flipping his hair. He looks ridiculous, he always does. Kaiyo seems to agree -

‘And I wonder why sometimes.’ She retorts, Atsumu squawking indignantly at her response, hair ruffling like an offended chick. But Kaiyo ruins the effect of her words by laughing, leaning over to affectionately peck her husband on the cheek.

Sakusa should be annoyed by this display of childishness, but for some inexplicable reason, a frisson of longing bubbles in his chest instead. It’s strange. Marriage or even serious relationships have never been something he’s actively sought. After all, it always seemed horrendously illogical to put all your eggs in one basket and hope nothing trips up – but his heart pays his mind no mind, and the strange sensation continues to trickle down his throat into his chest.

He makes up an excuse to slip to the bathroom for a tactical retreat from this madness.

Then he takes a breath.

Rinse. Lather hands with soap. Rinse. Repeat again .

Familiar motions, bred out of a desire to do things right, transformed into an unbreakable habit. Cold water, washing away soap bubbles.

Right. Now he’s ready for another plunge off the deep end .

He’s a foot past the threshold of the community hall where the party is being held when Miya Shino darts towards him. She’s very clearly her father’s daughter with his penchant for mischief because she dives between his legs, making him stumble in confusion. Then Meian Shugo’s eldest son Makoto barrels towards him, intent on reaching the ball held aloft in Shino’s hands.

Athletic reflexes be damned in the face of a pair of hell-spawn.

‘Shino!’. Kaiyo shouts.

‘Makoto!’ Meian thunders.

Sakusa flails, decidedly without grace, and in his attempt at not squashing the two little devils, he manages to do something even worse .

Much, much worse.

He manages to trip over his feet and bump right into the woman Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to (this, he finds out later). It’s a lost cause – he’s six foot two of pure muscle, dwarfing her by a mile, and she’s carrying a huge box in her hand.

He ends up face planting directly into her chest.

His brain short circuits at the feeling of plush softness and vanilla and – ,

‘Woah - Omi-omi, never thought I’d have to defend the honour of my cousin in law’, Atsumu laughs.

The sudden flare of irritation at Atsumu’s words kickstarts his brain back into gear. Rearing back in alarm, he promptly topples over onto his butt.

‘Uncle ‘kusa, I’m sorry’ Shino screeches, distraught. Makoto merely snivels. Kaiyo is evidently the only one with working brain cells, because she rushes over to help them up.

The-woman-with-the-mysterious-box makes Kaiyo take the box first. It holds precious cargo - Shino’s birthday cake, he later finds out, but because she manages to cling on to it with admirable tenacity, it emerges more or less intact. Then she turns to him, still sprawled on the floor. He scoots away, still dazed.

She offers him a steady hand. ‘Hello’, she says. ‘It seems we’ve gotten off to rather a bad start.’

There is a hint of mirth in her voice, but her eyes are kind.

He takes her hand with a rare smile.

Miya Kaiyo grins behind the cake box. It turns out her daughter is a better matchmaker than either her or (heaven forbid) her husband.

It turns out that Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to her cousin, newly moved to Osaka from Tokyo. She’s a sports journalist, used to cover volleyball even, but for some reason their paths never crossed. She too, is tired of her cousin’s well intentioned meddling, but asks him if he’d like to meet her for dinner one day ‘if only to get Kaiyo off her back, because she’s persistent’, and funnily enough, he agrees.

He doesn’t mind making a new friend, he reasons. She seems decent enough.

They go out for dinner on a Tuesday night. She doesn’t complain when he tells her that due to his diet planned by MSBY’s nutritionist, most restaurants are off limits. Instead, she asks intelligent questions about whether the sources of protein and fibre he’s relying on are varied enough, even suggesting alternatives like tempeh, a Southeast Asian soy product.

He appreciates that.

She doesn’t also fawn over the fact that he’s a professional athlete. That makes sense, considering she’s probably interviewed dozens, if not hundreds of individuals who are just like him. It’s nice - he’s tired of groupies who start dates off by staring at him starry eyed, but ending it with disappointment in their eyes when they discover that he’s just a guy who practices hitting balls enough to do it for a living. And best of all, she doesn’t mind that their conversation sometimes wanes into silence. She doesn’t seem to feel the need to fill empty spaces with inane drivel, nor expect him to entertain her like a circus animal.

He likes that.

So when the night ends, he asks her whether she’d like to have dinner with him again. ‘Just as friends’, he’s quick to clarify.

‘Sure’, she nods, and they bid each other goodnight.

They start having dinner every Tuesday night, subject to their erratic schedules.

He enjoys her company. She’s thoughtful, bringing him home made baked goods like zucchini cake (low sugar, of course), sneaking him chocolate scones for his cheat days after she discovers his hidden sweet tooth. She’s considerate too, never blinking an eye at his compulsive need to make sure everything is just in order, even if the waitress stands behind them aghast when he insists on using disinfectant to wipe down their table. She doesn’t even call him paranoid when he passes her a bottle of sanitizer.

Slowly, he finds himself confiding in her about things he’d maybe only tell his cousin, Motoya. Or at least, the things he would tell Motoya if the guy would only pick up his calls.

‘Sorry’, Motoya texts back after a couple of missed calls. ‘ Practice has been brutal recently.

In a remarkable display of restraint, Sakusa does not point out that EJP Raijin is below MSBY in this season’s rankings.

So he tells her instead about how he’s contemplating retirement, how he’s trying to chart out his next steps career wise. She surprises him by listening to him gravely, pointing out that he can lean on his business degree to possibly land an office job in event management or with sports associations, putting him in touch with one overly excited Kuroo Tetsuro. He tucks her suggestions away carefully at the back of his mind.

It’s nice to have a friend, he tells himself, his lips quirking ever so slightly when her hand grazes his as they walk down the street together.

He invites her to the monthly gatherings that the MSBY players take turns to host for their family and friends, making the excuse that he needs a human shield in any event hosted by Miya Atsumu. She agrees easily, perking up at the chance to spend a Sunday afternoon with her cousin and niece - ‘ and Kaiyo’ll need help, especially since she’s pregnant’, bringing far too many cupcakes topped with the lightest, fluffiest cream cheese frosting he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting. Even Miya Osamu gives her a nod of respect after stuffing his face full of her cupcakes. He, unlike his twin, has good taste.

Her brow furls into a concerned frown when he quietly sneaks himself a second cupcake. ‘You don’t have to force yourself to eat it just to be polite! I made it, so I know it has so much sugar and butter it would make your nutritionist weep. If you want, I snuck some zucchini cake in my handbag for you instead.’

He stubbornly shovels a large bite into his mouth. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’

She bursts into laughter, leaning forward to wipe away the smudge of frosting on the tip of his nose with her thumb.

Miya Kaiyo shoots him a knowing look across the room, waggling her eyebrows in an eerie imitation of her husband. He fights to keep his face blank, refusing to feed her satisfaction, but fails, a hot flush rising in his cheeks.

‘Traitor’ he mouths at her. Her smirk only deepens.

Fortunately, the gathering ends with no further mishaps, either to his physical well-being or his dignity. Makoto is packed off with Meian, the little boy whining for more time to play with Shino. Hinata and Bokuto prance off for some ridiculous buffet on the other side of town.

As for himself, he hangs back with her to help the Miyas put their house back in order, expelling an amused puff of a laugh from his nose when she forces the very pregnant Kaiyo to ‘stay still, for goodness sake!’ on the couch, dancing around the house with a mop, Shino trailing after her waving a feather duster with gusto. He refrains from telling the little girl that she’s more likely to spread the dust than to actually clear it – at least she’s not causing more havoc this way.

‘I can’t believe I could’ve ever taken this for granted, y’know’, Atsumu comments from behind him, mouth wide in a tender smile. ‘It’s the best feeling in the world to have a wife and kid who loves ya to the moon and back, welcoming ya home after a long day at work. They make everything worth it.’

He’s thrown for a loop at this rare display of emotional vulnerability from the usually obnoxious setter and for once, does not resort to hostility, choosing instead to acknowledge the blonde setter’s words with a tacticum nod.

The Miyas’ apartment is far too chaotic for his tastes, with colourful toys scattered on the floor, mismatched picture frames of the little family on the walls, but laughter hangs in the air, and light spills from the windows, illuminating the warmth and love and fondness in every look and word the Miyas gift each other.

His father gave him a compass when he was a child, as a present to celebrate his first match. His mother clucked her tongue because it’s a strange gift for a child - delicate, fiddly, its gold exterior tarnished with age. But his father chuckled and told him that he’s old enough to appreciate that the compass is his father’s, and his father’s father before that, an heirloom to remind their sons to work hard at everything they do, and to keep their hearts on course, pointing north.

And Sakusa thinks he’s done that. He’s worked and worked and worked at perfecting his skills in his chosen sport. He’s accepted his solo course, so laser focused on carving out a career in professional sports leaves little time or space for intimate relationships. Not to mention the fact that watching the disaster of Atsumu’s early years of marriage from the sidelines, made him swear off similar heartbreak for himself.

But there are times when he can’t help but feel a little lonely - when he has to struggle to find a date for MSBY events, when he has no one to celebrate the holidays with, when he goes home every day to his neat, cold apartment with space for only one occupant.

The compass in his heart creaks. It starts to turn a few degrees just off-course.

‘Do you ever wonder what it’d be like to get married?’ he asks her as he’s walking her home that night.

‘I did, once upon a time’, she shrugs carelessly. He misses the sudden strain in her smile. ‘Why do you ask?’

He stays silent for a while, the length of the quiet street giving him time to properly ferment his response. He considers the effects of adding splashes of colour to his dull life, weighs it against his long cultivated instinct to avoid the potential chaos of any emotional entanglements. He finds himself suddenly craving the sweetness of cream cheese frosting, and wonders how it’d be like to come home to light, fluffy cakes baked by her hands.

When they reach her apartment block, she tilts her head at him curiously, obviously awaiting his answer. He tugs his words together, strings his swirling thoughts into a decipherable sentence.

‘Because Atsumu and Kaiyo seem happy together. And I wondered if we’d be happy together too.’

He watches her puzzle over his words, her brow furling into a confused frown. ‘And I wasn’t proposing, by the way’, he feels the need to clarify.

She snorts. ‘I didn’t think so.’ With a directness that he very much appreciates, she looks at him squarely and asks - ‘Are you asking me out, Sakusa Kiyoomi?’

He meets her gaze. ‘Yes, I am. We’ve known each other for a decently long time for me to conclude our personalities are well matched, and we’re both mature adults who respect each other’s work schedules and commitments. And if you don’t mind that I can be overly blunt and quiet sometimes - ‘

‘ - which I don’t’, she interjects, with a chuckle.

‘I think we might be happy together’, he concludes, with a small smile that’s becoming more common in her presence.

He allows her the space to turn his proposition over in her mind.

‘Alright’, she finally says. ‘I guess we can give it a go’.

So much for Atsumu accusing him of having a heart made out of tin. Flesh and muscle works overtime to pump blood into his cheeks as she slots her fingers between his and gives his hand a squeeze.

Being in a relationship isn’t too different from what they had before.

They still keep to their standing date to meet every Tuesday (schedules permitting, of course). But now he doesn’t have to make up excuses to ask her out on outings that aren’t food related. At first he tries his best to adhere to dating norms, arranging for romantic dates at candlelit restaurants, buying her massive bouquets that make her sneeze.

‘It’s fine, Omi’, she tells him gently after they spend another uncomfortable evening in a dimly lit restaurant eating off plates too large for the laughably tiny food portions. ‘I’m happy just hanging out with you. You don’t have to go out of your way to impress me, I’m not holding on to any ridiculous expectations of you’. He stops after that, glad he doesn’t have to suffer another night trying to decipher which utensil to be used at which course, or having to put on starched formal wear to yet another stuffy restaurant.

She’s noticeably happier when they accompany each other on trips to the supermarket, each holding a stack of coupons to take advantage of the latest deals. She shields him from any overly zealous obaa-sans with gusto, throwing elbows and using her grocery basket as a makeshift battering ram before they crowd close enough to him to trigger his anxiety. He helps her reach for things on the top shelf ‘to prevent her from scaling the grocery shelves like an overgrown teenager’ , he snarks. He’s worried his attempt at teasing lands wrong, but she snorts and thanks him good naturedly anyways.

On the weekends, they develop a habit of meal prepping for the rest of the week at her apartment. His kitchen lacks the fancy mixers and blenders that she has, and in all honesty, his dark, spartan apartment lacks the sunlight and warmth that spills into her apartment from the windows, so it’s only logical that they should spend the bulk of their time there. It’s an oasis of calm for him, chopping vegetables and chicken into small cubes, sautéing them for the week ahead, while she bustles around whipping eggs and flour and milk together to form another delectable cake that they always end up sharing at the end of the day.

He starts to dread matches away from home a little more than he used to. While hotel rooms are as spartan as his own apartment, he doesn’t have the option of heading over to her apartment to bask in her quiet warmth. His meals come in styrofoam boxes instead of the glass tupperware she stacks on her kitchen counter, and he turns up his nose at store bought cakes that his teammates offer him, only craving for those baked in her oven. He even starts looking up to the stands for a glimpse of her, only to remember that she can’t be there to cheer the team on.

‘Cheer up, Omi-omi! We’ll have a home match next week’, Atsumu tells him jovially.

‘It doesn’t matter either way to me’, he mutters resentfully, but the setter only grins.

‘Trust me, it matters a great deal to have the girl ya love cheering ya on, y’know?’

He stalks off to the changing room, ignoring the peals of laughter from the blonde annoyance he leaves in his wake.

The tight coil of loneliness only loosens when he sees her waiting for him at the station when he returns. She ignores his protests to snag his suitcase away from him, the case looking comically large against her small frame, but she uses it effectively as a tank to force a path through the crowd, and drag him back to her apartment in no time.

‘You need a home cooked dinner to make up for all those industrially prepared food you must’ve been eating this entire week’, she tells him, bustling around the kitchen, only stilling when he takes her shoulders in his hands.

‘Are you happy?’ he asks, when he cups her face to carefully brush the dusting of flour on her cheek away.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ She laughs, the sound fond.

‘Just checking in’, he tells her, closing his eyes as she pulls him down towards her for a kiss.

All in all, it’s a happy, uncomplicated relationship. He likes it that way.

If his heart were a compass, he’d suspect it’s broken because instead of pointing north, it starts to inch inexorably towards her.

But there are strange quirks he notices about her that niggles at his brain.

She refuses point blank to check out the planetarium when she attends an event held at the adjacent Art Museum as his date, professing to have an irrational dislike for stars.

‘They’re just balls of burning gas and light ’ , he points out. ‘What could you possibly have against them?’

There’s a flicker of irritation in her eyes that he does not miss. ‘I know it’s stupid but just humour me, ok?’ Her tone verges on a snarl, before she storms away, ostensibly to the bathroom to freshen herself up.

She returns later with an apology for her behaviour. Though he’s confused, he respects her privacy and does not push for an answer.

He’s at her apartment preparing meals for the week ahead when the doorbell rings and an enormous bouquet of white lilies are deposited into her arms. She stares dumbly at the flowers, their sickly sweet scent permeating the air.

His brow furls. ‘Today isn’t your birthday, is it?’

His words jolt her out of her trance. ‘No’, she answers, before inexplicably storming to the living room and dumping the bouquet with a vengeance on the coffee table. Pollen flutters to the floor, delicate white petals crushed in her hands.

‘It’s nothing’, she tells him as he shoots her a questioning look.

When she disappears to the washroom, he peeks at the card. There’s no name on it, just a simple message - ‘consider it, please?’

He doesn’t question her about it when she returns to the kitchen. She doesn’t offer him any answers either.

He finds himself wondering about them.

It was refreshing at first to have a relationship free of any expectations. She never asks for more than he’s willing to give, seems happy enough to slot herself into the pockets of time he offers, only attends his games when he gives her tickets, doesn’t get upset with him when he inevitably forgets to text.

But therein lies the issue, doesn’t it?

If she truly likes him, wants to pursue a relationship seriously with him, shouldn’t she be demanding more than the crumbs of affection and attention he shows her? They’re both past the age of thirty, shouldn’t she be looking to get married and settle down, maybe spawn a demon child or two?

He’s tried raising it with her once, but she responded with confusion.

‘I don’t have any expectations of you, Omi’, she’d replied. ‘We both have busy lives, so whatever you’re willing to give, I’m happy to take’.

There’s technically nothing wrong about her answer. It’s wholly considerate and kind - very much her.

Still, it makes him wonder - if her heart were a compass, would it point towards him?

He manages to hold his tongue until she gets another delivery of flowers.

This time he opens the door when the doorbell rings, assaulted by the heady scent of lillies, pollen smeared on his sleeves. This time, there’s a name on the card.

Oikawa Tooru .

It takes a couple of seconds for him to realise why the name is so familiar. It’s the same name Hinata and Kageyama used to buzz about every Olympics - the famous Argentinian setter who started his career as a schoolboy from Miyagi, a prodigious setter who never made it to Nationals in high school, refused to give up and forged his way to success in a whole new land, continents away.

‘How do you know Oikawa’? He asks her. ‘And why does he keep sending your flowers?’

‘He’s just an old acquaintance,’ she admits. ‘He’s just sending the flowers to persuade me to attend his wedding.’

His forehead crinkles in confusion, and he tries his best not to leap to conclusions, but since she doesn’t seem to be forthcoming with further clarification, he presses her further.

‘And why won’t you attend his wedding?’

Her shoulders slouch in obvious reluctance as she turns away, focusing her attention on the mixing bowl. But Kiyoomi isn’t easily deterred, so he firmly takes the mixing bowl from her and sets it on the countertop. He raises an eyebrow at her, clearly seeking an answer.

She huffs a sigh through her nose. ‘Because he’s getting married to my ex-boyfriend, ok?’

He blinks. That was unexpected.

‘It happened half a decade ago. Ancient history. I’m over it.’ She mutters to the floor.

‘Why didn’t you tell me about it?’

‘Because it’s none of your business’, she snaps, grabbing the mixing bowl again, beating the batter with a vengeance.

‘You’re going to ruin the texture if you whisk it too hard’, he tugs the bowl away from her again. She refuses to relinquish her grip.

‘Leave me alone!’ she snarls, yanking the bowl back. Confused by her sudden fury, he lets go of the bowl, only for her to stumble back, eyes wide as she loses her balance, knocking her head against the countertop.

He drops down onto his knees, not even noticing the batter soaking into his pants, combing through her hair, scouring the back of her neck for any sign of injury. It’s only when he’s satisfied that her fall has resulted in nothing more than a bruise that should go away by tomorrow that he notices her tears soaking the front of his shirt.

‘Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?’ he asks, wiping her tears away with a batter splattered thumb.

She hangs her head, body still shaking from her sobs. ‘I’ve already made such a mess of things – don’t want you to have to listen to my nonsense – am just bein’ stupid, that’s all - ’.

He patiently waits until her sobs dissolves into mere sniffles before speaking. ‘I want you to tell me what’s wrong. If you’re up to it.’

So through more broken sobs and hiccups, he listens to the tale of Iwaizumi Hajime, a boy who was her world, who only realised he was always in love with Oikawa Tooru, a fortnight before she and he were to wed. Her voice wavers as she tells him the full story of the white lilies, explains that her irrational dislike for stars stems from the reminder that she chose to give her world up to a boy-king burning brighter than the stars in the night sky combined.

He waits until her words run out, and she’s leaning against him, broken and pliant in a way that makes his heart ache.

‘I wish you told me about it earlier’, he tells her, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. ‘That you would trust me enough to tell me about the things that hurt you in the past. And I wonder about the state of our relationship if you don’t even trust me enough for that’.

‘That’s unfair. You never asked - ‘

‘How could I ask about something I didn’t even know about?’ He takes hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. Hurt and anger and shock simmer in her eyes, each swirl of emotion fighting for dominance.

‘I didn’t want to expect anything more from this relationship than you were willing to give’, she admits after a pause.

She’s scared of being hurt again. He doesn’t miss the subtext.

‘Shall I tell you what I want from you then? I have a list, if you’re willing to hear me out’ he asks, with a smile that’s growing more common the more time he spends around her.

She nods, but keeps her gaze stubbornly on the ground.

He takes his time to choose his words. He’s never been verbose - not like Atsumu or Bokuto or even easygoing Motoya, choosing to only say what is strictly necessary, using the precise amount of words, nothing more, nothing less. But this is a situation that requires more emotion rather than precision, so he inhales a shaky breath, letting it fuel the sentiment in his heart as he exhales.

‘First. I want you to trust that I’ll never hurt you like he did’, he says, and with a self-deprecating smile he adds - ‘I don’t have any childhood friends to be secretly in love with besides Motoya, and I’m hardly going to be pining after my flake of a cousin’.

That triggers the corners of her lips to tilt upwards, and encouraged, he carries on.

‘Second. I want you to be open with me about what you want - your dreams, your expectations of me. I want to hear them all because you’re important to me.’

That makes her flush pink, and she sneaks a glance up towards him.

‘Third. I want to wake up each morning with you by my side and come home to you every night. I want to watch you fight cranky old ladies in the supermarket in my honour, be the first person to taste test all your baking experiments - even the failed ones that are only fit to feed Atsumu. I want us to be happy together. Forever, if possible.’

He lifts her bodily into his lap, brushes his nose against her cheek. ‘Now that I’ve told you what I’m willing to give, is that too much for you to take?’ he murmurs against her lips.

Her blush blossoms into a deep scarlet, but her eyes are iridescent pools of startled delight. She doesn’t speak, sealing her answer instead with her lips.

His heart’s compass is irretrievably broken, the needle melted into place. It doesn’t point north any longer, no – it’s always going to point towards her.

They move in together after that.

He gives up his apartment, professing to prefer the warmth and light of hers. The Miyas help him move in even when he tries to refuse their help, Atsumu helping him to lug cardboard boxes up the stairs, Kaiyo helping him sort out his belongings, sorting them into his allocated cupboards.

When they’re done, they order pizza and she bakes a cake to celebrate. ‘An impromptu housewarming’ she says, toasting Miya Kaiyo with a slice of pepperoni pizza with a laugh.

Kiyoomi shares a slice of chocolate cake with Atsumu in complete defiance of their nutritionist’s advice, jostling forks over the very last bite. She and Kaiyo scold them teasingly, telling them to behave like they’re actually thirty and not teenagers on the cusp of adulthood. Atsumu pulls at Kaiyo’s ponytail in retaliation. He refuses to engage in similar tomfoolery, reddening instead when she reaches over to ruffle his curls.

‘This is nice’, he remarks to Atsumu later, when their significant others are out of earshot, gossiping and giggling about something or other.

‘It is, isn’t it’, Atsumu replies, a dopey smile on his face as he stares at his wife.

It truly is , Kiyoomi thinks, staring at her.

He takes over most of the cleaning, it clears his mind, he tells her. So to split the chores evenly, she insists on doing their laundry and cooking, and he doesn’t even nag her too much when she forgets to split the white and coloured clothes and stains some of his shirts once in a while.

Wedding invites printed on expensive cream paper and bouquets of white lilies start to litter their doorstep every day. He tries his best to dispose of them before they reach her sight, but every so often, he comes home too late, catches her wilt as she brushes white petals from their doorstep.

‘I don’t blame either of them’, she tells him, after he asks if she’d like him to call Iwaizumi and tell him to drown himself in a vat of batter, thank you very much.

‘You’re too kind to both of them’ he says plainly, as they share a pot of tea, his head pillowed in her lap. ‘I would’ve just set them both on fire and left them to rot.’

‘Hajime loved Tooru for almost all his life - I just wanted to see him happy in the end. Argh - I sound so stupid and sentimental like an old grandma, just laugh at me already’ she complains, hiding her burning cheeks in her hands.

‘You aren’t stupid for being kind.’ He hums, quiet and low. ‘It’s why I love you so.’

He relishes the soft light dawning in her eyes, captures her whispered affection with careful fingers, spins them into gold.

He has to turn off the stove to answer the door when some rude lout bangs on their front door far too early on a Sunday morning.

With his coldest sneer and thinking resentfully about his breakfast, Kiyoomi swings the door open, fully intent on looming over the disturbance with his full height, but takes a step back instead when he finds one Iwaizumi Hajime hanging off the door knob.

‘Hello’, Iwaizumi looks up at him confusedly.

‘Hi’, he nods a greeting back at his old Olympic team trainer. They stare at each other.

‘Eh - I think I’ve got the wrong house’, Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘Sorry about that, Sakusa-san.’

He’s about to close the door in Iwaizumi’s face when her voice chimes in, clear as a bell.

‘Who’s at the door, Omi?’

The shorter man shoots him a look of barely contained rage as he uses his bulk to push his way through the doorway towards her. Kiyoomi tries to stop him, protesting that he can’t barge into someone’s private property without an invitation like that, but it’s as futile an endeavour as trying to block the path of a raging storm.

Iwaizumi reaches her first, raising a hand as if to cup her face by instinct, before letting it fall back limply by his side. ‘You weren’t answering any of my messages or calls’, he says. ‘I was worried about you.’

She stares at him blankly for a moment. Then fire sparks in her eyes.

‘Well, as you can see, I’m completely fine’, she replies, jaw and fists clenched. ‘You don’t need to do a welfare check on me, we’re not involved anymore.’

The scorching pain in Iwaizumi’s eyes is evident, even from a distance away. ‘Yeah. Well. I thought we were friends. You didn’t even tell me you were dating again’. He shoves his hands in his pockets, tossing another heated glance in Kiyoomi’s way.

‘I didn’t think I needed to update my ex-fiance about my love life, especially not when he’s trying to drag me to attend his wedding that I already said I’m not going to attend’, she bites back.

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, then closes it with a resounding snap. ‘I’m sorry’, he says, with heartbreaking honesty. ‘I told Tooru that you probably didn’t want to hear from us, but he insisted and I got worried when I didn’t hear from you for months’.

Kiyoomi can see her glare soften into molten sympathy. The tension in the air crackles with electricity. He’s neither blind nor stupid – he can sense the years of longing and love not quite lost between them.

He thinks she loves him, Sakusa Kiyoomi – weird habits, cold disposition and all, but the doubt clogging up his arteries and veins is enough to make his heart seize – and if she’s going to break his heart, he’d much rather she not do it in front of Iwaizumi.

‘Hajime - ‘ she begins to say, and at this point he jumps in -

‘I’ll excuse myself so you both have the chance to catch up’, he says, waving aside her protests as he slips on his shoes. Even in his haste to leave the house, he clicks his tongue at the mess Iwaizumi left behind at their genkan , kneeling down to arrange their shoes, only standing up when he’s satisfied they’re neatly arranged back in place.

‘Omi, you don’t have to leave’, she says, holding the door open.

He shrugs his shoulders at her, nose and mouth already obscured by his usual face mask. ‘Let me know when you’d like me to come back’.

If she’d like him to come back. She doesn’t chase after him, after all.

It’s a beautiful Sunday morning, but the golden sunshine feels more like a taunt rather than a balm to his mood. His stomach growls, making him long for the scrambled eggs he was in the middle of frying before he was so rudely interrupted, but his growing sense of nausea keeps him from seeking out an alternative meal.

Instead, he makes his way to the park, sits on a relatively clean bench. There are couples a-plenty, strolling around hand in hand, families picnicking merrily around him, compounding the growing chasm of loneliness in his chest. He tries to count the seconds by his breaths, tries not to let the minutes expand the insecurities crawling, inch by inch up his throat.

He sits alone. Poised, yet short of breath.

He wonders if Iwaizumi Hajime has finally figured out that stars, for all their brilliance, cannot compensate for their lack of human kindness. And if so, he wonders which direction her heart would point towards if it were a compass - whether it’s as broken as his, and whether it points towards Iwaizumi or him.

He waits.

Then his phone buzzes.

Ah.

She’s asking him to come home. He does not dare to overthink the meaning of that single word. But he does not hide that his steps back home are lighter than when he left, though the key in his hand shakes so hard it takes him three tries to fit it into the keyhole. He does not try to suffocate the seed of hope budding in the soft earth of his heart when he realises Iwaizumi’s shoes have vanished without a trace.

“Omi?”

She’s waiting for him, slipping warm arms around his waist, tangling her fingers in his curls, ignoring his complaints about letting himself wash his hands first.

‘Am I silly for missing you, even though it’s only been an hour?’

He refuses to be distracted by the affection in her voice.

‘But what about Iwaizumi?’ he frowns, hesitation still poisoning the well of thoughts in his mind.

Perhaps it’s a testament to how well they’ve grown to know each other that she doesn’t need to read the silent subtext of his statement. She smiles, bringing his palm flat against her chest, does not answer until his pulse matches the steady beat of her heart.

‘I love you , Omi’, she tells him. Her heartbeat does not quicken, her smile does not waver. ‘You told me not to long ago to always be upfront with you about what I want so I’m going to be honest with you now - Iwaizumi is only ever going to be my past, and I want you from now on’.

If her heart were a compass, the steady beat of her heart tells him, it would point only towards him.

‘That is – if you’ll have me’, she adds, a shadow of doubt suddenly appearing on her face.

‘Don’t be ridiculous’, he scoffs, burying his nose to breathe in the familiar scent of vanilla in her hair. ‘Who else would I rather have than you?’

Who else would he be lucky enough to call his home – a woman with a heart large enough to fit a whole ocean within its depths, with kindness in her eyes and mirth in her smiles.

She laughs in spite of the salt in her throat and water in her eyes, leaning on her toes in a vain attempt to reach his face. He lifts her into her arms, laughs when she squeals indignantly as her feet only find air, toppling them both onto the couch where he can seat her between his legs, press kisses to her cheeks.

She’ll tell him later that Iwaizumi came looking for her because he’s never outgrown his overprotective streak, and he’s truly happy for her - for them, because they’ve both moved on with their separate lives. And she ended up agreeing to attend his and Oikawa’s wedding on one condition – that an invitation is extended to him, Sakusa Kiyoomi, to attend with her as his date.

He’ll tell her later that he’s happy to attend the wedding with her, just not to expect him to smile in any wedding pictures. And more importantly, he’ll tell her in his plain way that the list of expectations he has of their relationship has expanded yet again.

He’ll lay out his dreams of a pair of matching golden rings to bind them to lifelong companionship, of hellspawn of their own and a dog, maybe two.

He’ll ask her if it’s too much for him to ask of her.

She’ll tell him that she’s willing to give him everything he asks for and more.

It’s Miya Shino’s ninth birthday party.

He’s retired from volleyball proper, and is thankful he insisted on getting a business degree from Chuo University before going pro, because it comes in handy working alongside Kuroo Tetsuro at the volleyball association.

Miya Atsumu insists on inviting him to the party, though he supposes he’s invited not by virtue of being a former teammate, but because he’s also Shino’s uncle by marriage now. The thought that he’s related to Miya Atsumu, however distant and most definitely not by blood, still fills him with dread.

The birthday girl is a little less imbued with her father’s chaotic energy this time, though she still squeals when her birthday cake is unveiled – though to be fair it’s less a cake, more a tower of cupcakes with cream cheese frosting spelling out her name.

‘Thank you Auntie!’ Shino cries, flinging her arms around her. Kiyoomi flinches at the sight of anyone, even his nine year old niece, coming in close contact with his extremely pregnant wife, but a sharp glare from her subdues any complaint he dares to make.

He fusses over her the minute he has the chance to corral her away from the clutches of Miya Shino. ‘Are your feet hurting? What about your back? I don’t know why you insist on walking so much when you know the doctor said you should be on bed rest soon’.

‘Stop fussing, Omi! The baby and I will be fine’, she replies, exasperated. ‘This is the last social event scheduled before I pop and I’m determined to enjoy it while I can.’ Then she scuttles off faster than he imagines her frame allows, leaving him floundering in her wake.

‘Just let her be’, Miya Atsumu laughs, slapping his back. Kiyoomi is on the verge of pointing out - pot, meet kettle, reminding Atsumu that the last time Kaiyo was pregnant, Atsumu didn’t stop fretting until she went into labour and delivered a healthy baby boy. But then he remembers the grief etched into Atsumu’s face when Kaiyo miscarried in the stands during a game, so he holds his tongue and rolls his eyes instead.

‘I’m just worried she’s pushing herself too hard’, he admits in a rare bout of vulnerability.

Atsumu smiles, genuine for once. ‘Those crazy women, eh? They’re always gonna drive us up the wall, but they’re worth every minute of it.’

He looks at her, belly swollen with their first child, peach blossoms blooming in her cheeks. His past self would never imagine that he’d find this much joy and contentment in being a husband and a father, but then again his past self was satisfied coming home alone day after day to a cold apartment. He knows better now - life is so better when he has her, sharing stories of their day of over steaming mugs of tea at their kitchen countertop, listening to her hum as she bakes treats for the weekend, warmth and laughter and love abound in their cosy apartment for two, soon to be three.

So feeling vaguely drunk though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in the months since she whispered during their anniversary dinner that they were expecting, Kiyoomi laughs aloud.

Atsumu lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

‘She really, really is’, Kiyoomi says, breaking into an unguarded smile.

If you wanna know more about the backstory of the reader - check out The Astrophile, and if you wanna know more about Miya Atsumu’s relationship with his wife, check out Storm Chaser.

As always, reblogs and/or comments are so very appreciated <3

Taglist:

@snoozless @softsakusa @moondaius (yeon i’ll be shameless and tag you cos I know you’re an Omi stan!)

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vidalinav · 4 years

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Don’t come for me...

As much as Feyre sometimes is a lame character (IMO) I have to admit there’s something very sad about wanting your sister’s love more than anything and never getting it, even to the point where you don’t even know how to ask for it or where to look. In the whole series, Feyre always mentions Nesta, even more so I think then Elain. There’s so many instances of Feyre yearning for Nesta’s love or having a high opinion of her even with the harshness that she shows. She tells Alis to go across the wall if need be, because her sister will put aside her prejudice and shelter them, because that’s just the person she is. She argues in favor of her with Cassian in ACOMAF, telling him hey she really loves people, she just feels too much and she’s actually very thankful for your promise to protect her people and her family. She argues with Rhys even in ACOWAR at his insulting idea of her sister being unleashed to the city like a rabid beast when at that point they are still relatively new in their relationship. She asks Amren in ACOFAS if she’s seen her sister and is upset when Nesta chooses Amren to confide in instead of her or Elain. At the end of ACOWAR, Feyre is the one who is like stay out her, join this meeting, you’re the guest of honor when Nesta just wants to leave. Feyre is the one who keeps inviting her to many things that Nesta doesn’t want to be involved in.

This is sad in the way, that even though we know Nesta is traumatized, and we know that Feyre should probably be more understanding since she has also went through something traumatic, Feyre is still not completely loved by the one person she probably wants to be loved by the most. Let’s look at the fact that when Feyre mentions Nesta loving people, she always says that Nesta shows love to Elain, from the beginning to the end. Example in ACOFAS, “To say that to me, fine. But to Elain?” Elain is the number 1, the sister that Nesta puts above the rest. That’s the question she asks in the library in ACOWAR, “’Why do you push everyone away but Elain?’ Why have you always pushed me away?”

So, this is why I can understand why Nesta has to be accountable for her mistakes, because she’s made some. I think that’s a big enough reason for Nesta to have to be accountable, because you should never be allowed to make someone feel unloved. The argument of letting Feyre hunt is lame to me, because we all know they were all kids, and the dad should have stepped up in some way. But the fact that Feyre questions whether she’s really loved by her sister, I think is enough to say that Nesta needs to learn something.

Others have made mistakes, for sure, but they don’t have to be accountable for their actions, because they are not the main character of the book and the one person who is, is the one who is hurt by Nesta and not the rest of the characters. I think if they had their own story told, then for sure, accountability. But this book series, is Feyre, and now Cassian and Nesta’s story, so you see where I’m going with this.

So at some point, I understand this idea that Feyre is wrong to send her to Illyria, to deal with Nesta’s trauma like that, to not be more compassionate, yadda yadda, and I don’t fully believe it was her own decision I feel Rhys probably had something to do with that, he was the one who was literally like “perhaps there’s some string to be pulled, webs to be weaved,” or whatever he said in ACOFAS. And don’t get me wrong, I love Nesta more than any other character in the ACOTAR universe, I just don’t see how you can completely dismiss Nesta’s actions, but at the same time accuse Feyre of villian-y. If Feyre doesn’t have a right to take away someone’s autonomy, then Nesta doesn’t have the right to make someone feel lesser than or unloved as I said before.

And, not to make this longer than it already is lol, in analyzing these characters and their actions, you really get to see how many people care about Nesta. The way she is for the most part. Like Cassian, you can tell he has so many feelings for her, regardless of whether he’s an a**whole sometimes, but she dissed him after they almost died together. Elain, she loves that girl, but she too is dissed. Feyre, read everything I wrote above. Even Amren, who sees her on regular occasion, even considers her a friend until that day they had an argument, which let’s be real was probably about her. And then ultimately her father, who came very late, but who showed he loved her, who said he loved her, who showed unconditional love really to Nesta who wanted to starve, and tried to starve them indirectly, and who used to put his cane far away from this disabled man because she was angry. So, I don’t buy this oh Nesta has nothing to apologize for. I hate apologies written in stories, personally, and Nesta is an action type of person anyway, but I do think that a healing arc that involves Nesta would have to have her be introspective and to really come to know that if people don’t love her, she pushed them away. People don’t have to put up with other people. Realistically, none of us can go through life as if we’ve done no wrong, otherwise there would be no growth, no maturing, no long-lasting relationships. We would suck and it wouldn’t matter if we were angry or harsh or had witty comebacks, we would suck as people because we do not show that we care about other people. So Nesta has to change, because she’s spent four books being like this. She doesn’t have to change completely; she doesn’t have to be Elain or Feyre or Mor or some other chick who’s happy-go-lucky or nice to a fault. Her personality doesn’t have to change. She can still be angry, but proper healing I think for her would mean learning that she must grow and improve, and that she has to take control of her own life, her actions, her past, that part that she played a role in, and everything else that involves her. Of course, people did her wrong, I’m sure people will still do her wrong, but at some point she needs to take back her life and open herself up to love and show people she cares. Because if her M.O. is that actions speak louder than words, her actions right now are saying she hates everyone including herself. And as we know, she’s not an island, as they say and she’s not sociopathic or a narcissist, so she can and should change for the better.

And, I certainly don’t say this to be like “you shouldn’t hate Feyre or the inner circle or Nesta or whoever, or none of them did anything wrong/right.” Hate them if you want, it makes no difference to me. It doesn’t affect me at all. I just think that as long as were analyzing things, we should analyze from all points of view. And I certainly think that ACOFAS is looking less, to me, like a list of sins that the mains are committing against Nesta and more of a web of their own trauma, their own pov’s of the situations, and the current climate of whatever their dealing with at the time. People are messy. Book characters even more so apparently.

#I'm just waiting for that one comment that makes me delete this watch #nesta #cassian #nesta archeron #nessian #feyre archeron #acosf #acowar #acotar #acomaf #acofas #vidalina #rant

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inkandpen22 · 4 years

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Otherworldly Kings and Queens (4/?)

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader / Prince Caspian x Female!Reader

Warnings: mentiones of violence, mentions of death

Word Count: 2.4k

Part Summary: As the group arrives at Aslan’s How, it’s evident that Caspian and Peter won’t exactly see eye-to-eye. When Peter

Masterlist

Arriving at Aslan’s How is truly like something out of a picture book. We stop just before the archway. I stand beside Peter, observing him as he watches the scene unfold before him. Centaurs line the path and draw their swords in honor of the Pevensies, their Kings and Queens of Narnia. Peter appears unfazed, as though this is normal life. Then I realize, this is normal to him. He starts to walk along with his siblings. When he comprehends that I’ve stayed put, he turns to me in confusion. I release his hand and urge him to go out with a nod of my head. I’m not a Queen of Narnia. An unfamiliar expression crosses his face before he snaps out of it and hurries to rejoin his siblings. I glance over Caspian and his head falls as the siblings walk ahead.

“Don’t worry, you’re needed here too,” I assure him quietly.

His eyes meet mine and I offer him a soft smile. After all, if it weren’t for him, the Pevensies would’ve never made it back here. I can tell he’s unsure of himself, worried about all of the pressure on him. Caspian and the Pevensies are supposed to lead a revolution. I can’t help but wonder if it’s truly feasible. We’re just a couple of kids.

I nod my head toward the How and the two of us start walking together with Trumpkin following along.

After a tour of the hideout and Caspian showing us the shrine to Aslan, there’s a war meeting. Peter and Caspian are butting heads, not much of a surprise there. The presence of a power struggle between the two leaders is evident as day. Caspian believes we should wait for the Telmarines to make the first move. Peter thinks it’s best if we attack first with the element of surprise.

I sit with my knees close to my chest against a pillar with Ed. I rest my head on his shoulder, growing tired of this back and forth tennis match between royals. Plus, I haven’t slept in two days.

“If we dig in, we can hold them off indefinitely,” Susan sides with Caspian.

“But if they’re smart, they could starve us out,” Edmund voices.

Centaurs give their unwavering support if Peter does decide to lead a raid. They guarantee that they will fight to the death. I shake my head, earning the attention of Edmund who feels the motion against his shoulder. He can likely predict what I’m thinking. Brotherly, he places his hand over mine, rubbing his thumb over my skin gently.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Lucy interjects under her breath.

Peter turns to her, “I’m sorry?”

“Well, you’re all acting like there are only two options, dying here or dying there.”

Again, Lucy is the youngest, but still the wisest. I’m on team Lucy.

“I’m not sure you’ve been listening Lu,” Peter dismisses, much to my frustration.

“No, you’re not listening,” she fires back uncharacteristically. “Or have you forgotten who really defeated the White Witch?”

Lucy has a point there. I raise my brows, suppressing a smirk. Out of my peripheral vision I see Edmund checking for my reaction. I glance at the youngest boy.

“You should say something,” he advice.

I shake my head, denying the chance. There’s no way am I doing that.

“I believe we’ve waited for Aslan long enough,” Peter states to his sister.

What happened to the Peter who spoke so highly of the Guardian of Narnia? He praised Aslan and now he’s losing faith in him.

“Y/N, what do you think?”

I’m pulled from my train of thought upon hearing Peter saying my name. I scan the room and everyone’s eyes are on me, even the squirrels.

“Me?” I laugh nervously, rising to my feet. “I’m not sure I’m the best person to talk to.”

“But you are the fairest,” Susan compliments.

“Definitely the most patient,” Edmund adds by my feet.

Rubbing my hands together anxiously, I steadily approach Peter. I know what he wants me to say, he wants my support. I do support Peter as an individual, no matter what, but I can’t condone war. He likely knows what I’m going to say, he knew when he asked for my opinion. Yet, he asked for it anyway, perhaps out of hope that I’ve had a change of heart in the circumstance.

The room falls silent as Peter and I study each other’s face, silently pleading with the other to comply.

“You know I don’t believe violence is ever the answer,” I reason with him calmly.

“But we’re at war!” He fusses, pacing away from me in frustration.

I scoff, pausing to processes his words. He can’t be serious right now? After the last three years, he doesn’t think I’m well acquainted with what war means?

I lose my temper. “You don’t think I know that?!”

Peter whips his head around furiously and murmurs erupt amongst the Narnians. I’ve just yelled at their High King.

“We’ve been at war in our world for years now!” I shout at ‘King Peter,’ more like self-righteous Peter. “I know war! I understand war! What I don’t understand is creating more damage than necessary! Miraz is your problem? Target him! Attack him, not the entire palace where innocent lives could be taken!”

Peter pants, his red with anger as he restrains himself from yelling. Peter and I have only argued like this perhaps twice in our lives. Even in those instances, the reasons were never as imperative as this one. We argued about childish things, jealousy, and sharing. Now, we’re arguing about war and the priority of life. I’m only a teenager, these are conversations for adults.

I shake my head and my face falls in disappointment as I continue to look at my best friend. His eyes shift from expressing overpowering aggravation to guilt. Silently, I rush to the hall leading to the rest of the hideout. Peter reaches for me as I pass him, but I slip my wrist from his grip.

“Y/N!” Peter calls pleadingly to which I ignore.

I won’t participate in this discussion further. Peter and everyone else knows where I stand now, no need to stick around.

____________________________________________

The sunsets over Aslan’s How and soon the starry sky hangs overhead. I’ve been hiding on top of the How on the patches of grass since the meeting. At first, I was fuming. Peter isn’t being reasonable! He’s trying to prove himself to the Narnians and Caspian that he’s still this great king from before. I can tell he’s guilt-ridden because of his accidental return to our world, all of the Pevensies are.

“Why are you awake so late?”

A voice pulls me from my train of thought. Caspian strolls over to me and sits down on the grass next to me, resting against the rocks of the fortress.

“I can’t sleep,” I mumble as I play with a blade of grass. “I haven’t been able to.”

“I can assure you you’re safe here,” Caspian smiles faintly.

It’s not that I feel unsafe here per se. It’s my mind, it won’t stop wondering. Whenever I close my eyes, I’m afraid of what I’ll dream of.

“I don’t doubt it. I just...” I release a deep sigh, looking out over the field ahead. “It’s all just overwhelming.”

One minute, I’m on my way to school as I do each day, nothing exciting there. Then the next, I’m in some foreign land surrounded by mythical creatures who I was led to believe only existed in fantasy novels.

I turn my head to Caspian, admiring his side profile. “What keeps you up?” I ask him quietly.

He shifts, relaxing more into his position, and turns his head to meet my gaze. His jet black eyes that match his hair glisten under the stars. Little specks of white glimmer in them like stars.

“I uh... “ he swallows hard, his eyes flickering to the bit of ground between us. “Whenever I close my eyes I see my uncle’s face. When I try to sleep, I...”

I place my hand over him without a second thought. His sight returns to mine with a hint of surprise. Yet, he still appears troubled. I offer him a comforting smile, hoping it will grant him peace of mind.

“Nightmares are perfectly normal, Caspian.”

He nods, coming to terms with it. “Would you mind if I stay here with you for a little while?”

My smile grows and ease of relief across his features. “Not at all.”

______________________________________

Chatter, the sound of pounding metal, and birds chirping increase at a rapid rate. I shift a little, groaning at the sudden surge of disturbing sound. I can see light behind my closed eyes, so I hide my eyes in my hands. Utterly exhausted, I grant myself five more minutes. I moan, stretching out slightly to get comfortable again. I feel a weight on my waist and it tightens around me. Then, I feel something against my back and hear a deep sigh as warm breath brushes against my shoulder. I relax, a faint smile appearing across my lips.

Similar to a blast, I fly up from my laid position. My eyes adjust to the bright light of day slowly and I frantically search the area around me. Caspian awakes beside me in a panic due to my sudden surge of movement. Oh no, this is not good!

“Oh no, by all means, don’t scurry on my account” Trumpkin makes himself known a few feet away. “I was just about to throw up!”

i growl at the dwarf and rise from the ground. “Must you be so crude?”

Brushing down my dress, I march off to the path leading down to the How’s entrance. I hear Caspian chase after me.

“Y/N wait!” He calls.

Ignoring him, I continue my hurried pace down to the ground. Peter is likely having a fit wondering where I am. Falling asleep with Caspian on top of the How was not on my to-do list.

Right as I reach the stone path leading into the alcove, Caspian grabs my wrist. “Do you think we can train together today?”

I laugh, does he think me to be Joan of Arc? I’ve never fought a day in my life!

“Me? Train with you? I’m no soldier, I would ask Edmund or Peter. They’re far better than me,” I suggest as I start to walk away.

The Prince jogs ahead and blocks my path, placing his hand gently on my arm. “Well maybe so, but then we can learn together.”

Peter wouldn’t like it, that much I know for sure. He hardly let me borrow Edmund’s Katana. Since then, I’ve never actually used it. I drew it in the woods when Caspian and Peter were fighting, but I don’t know the first thing about defending myself.

“Alright,” I comply, much to Caspian’s pleasure. Perhaps it is to my benefit to training. After all, I suppose there will be a battle eventually, though I’ll do everything I can to stop it. “But I don’t think we should do it here,” I add.

He frowns, “why not?”

I raise my brows at the boy. “Have you met Peter?”

He snickers, understanding my point. “Okay, maybe you’re right. We could try by the river!”

“Alright,” I nod. “We should go now.”

I cautiously check around us to make sure no one overheard before heading inside. Other than a few Narnians transporting supplies and weaponry, we’re in the clear. As long as none of the Pevensies find out, especially Peter, Caspian and I should be okay.

__________________________________

Caspian and I have been training all afternoon by the river. I’m actually better than I thought I’d be. Once Caspian taught me some basic motions, I learned I could build off of them. At first, he was going easy on me, changing positions slower than he really would in a fight. As I started to get used to having a weapon in my hand, I could imagine it as an extension of my arm like Caspian instructed. Soon, I was putting up a real fight against Caspian. I spin and swing my sword to meet his blade at an angle.

Face to face, Caspian laughs breathlessly. “And you swear you’ve never used a sword!”

“No, we don’t exactly need them in Finchley,” I snicker.

“What is your world like?” He asks as he changes our position and nearly knocks my katana from my hands.

“It’s not necessarily exciting,” I grunt as I drop to a squat to sweep his legs.

He jumps to dodge the move, landing on his feet perfectly. “Tell me about it. What do you like to do there?”

I snicker, stepping to the side to swing my blade down onto his shoulder. “Are you wanting to know more about my world or more about me?”

Caspian takes advantage of my uneven stance and grabs my arm. Swiftly he spins me around and yanks me into his chest. I accidentally drop my sword and his hand wraps around my neck.

“You,” he whispers in my ear.

I swallow hard, glancing down at my katana laying in the plush grass just a few feet away. Keeping the status quo, I play along. “I like the ocean, but your’s here is far prettier,” I distract him. “When I was younger, my father used to take my family sailing on holiday... but that was years ago.”

His grasp around my neck eases up slightly and I take the chance to slip from his hold. I fall to my knees and reach for my Katana. I grip it’s handled right as Caspian rolls me over onto my back and climbs on top of me. He pins my wrists above my head.

“Why did you stop going?” He pants, referring to my story.

“The war,” I answer softly, my breathing uneven. “He died in a battle in France.”

His face falters sorrowly and his pressure on my wrists subsides. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright,” I mutter, not seeking his sympathy. “But now you understand why I don’t believe in war.”

“I lost my father many years ago too,” he confesses.

The despair in his eyes nearly breaks my strong facade. No one should have to lose a parent, especially at a young age. Losing a father leaves a greater hole in one’s heart than most can predict. There are far more long-lasting effects deeply rooted in the experience than meets the eye. I’ve put on a strong face for my family and friends for so long that I’ve grown used to it. None of them understand. Yet here, I’m faced with someone who does.

“Then you truly understand.”

My words release in a whisper, the relief evident in my voice. Caspian nods gently, then his eyes flicker down at my lips. I bite down on the lower, tempted. No, I can’t do it. Peter’s face flashes across my mind. Yet, I can’t deny the alluring feel I have in Caspian's presence. At this moment it’s never been stronger. Caspian leans down, hovering over my face closer than before. My eyes uncontrollably fall to his parted lips. If he kissed me, I wouldn’t deny him. In fact, I find myself wishing he would. My eyes fall shut and his lips brush against mine.

“Y/N!” Peter’s voice booms over the otherwise peaceful wood.

__________

Masterlist

Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @rangergranger11 @hyperactiveravenclaw

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madam-melon-meow · 4 years

Text

Bisexual Kyoshi is something that can be so personal, actually

Panel edit by @flagellasturbation

[image I.D. : An edit of a comic panel of avatar Kyoshi. On the left in the image is a close-up of Kyoshi from the torso up, contained within an upside-down trapezoid shape. She wears her full battle uniform of olive and emerald robes, dark gloves and bracers, and a golden headpiece in a fan-like shape. Her eyes are the same emerald shade as her robes, she has black hair billowing to the left edge of the image, and her black eyebrows have been dramatically lengthened by black face paint. Her face and neck are artificially whitened with chalky makeup, she has black winged eyeliner, red eyeshadow that sweeps upwards to her temples and down the sides of her nose, and red lipstick outlined in black. This is the classic Kyoshi makeup. Her arms are crossed, the left arm behind her head pointing a golden fan away from the viewer, the right arm extended in front of her face, another golden fan pointed towards the viewer. She appears to be looking upwards and towards the right of the image. Above Kyoshi’s eye level and in the top right of the image is a comic text box. It reads in all caps: “even avatar Kyoshi- who by all accounts loved men and women- was unable to effect any kind of real progress.” The background art and color has been replaced with the Bisexual Flag, a thick horizontal line of pink on top, stopping at Kyoshi’s cheek level, then a thinner line of purple ending at her shoulders, and a thick line of blue that extends to the bottom of the image. End I.D.]

(If someone does not find my image I.D. sufficient, please let me know. This is my first time trying to make such a thing, as i am a lurker, not a poster)

Rise of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee, page 99 (text copy / pasted from the b&n ebook version)

““Are those . . . fire lilies?” he said, a wide, knowing grin spreading across his face.

Kyoshi flushed beet red. “Stop it,” she said.

“That’s right,” Yun said. “The Ember Island tourism minister brought a bunch when he visited two weeks ago. I can’t believe you simply shred the flowers once they dry out. I guess nothing goes to waste in this house.”

“Knock it off,” Kyoshi snapped. But it was too hard keeping the corners of her lips from curling upward.

“Knock what off?” he said, enjoying her reaction. “I’m just commenting on a fragrance I’ve come to particularly enjoy.”

It was an inside reference that only the two of them shared. Rangi didn’t know. She hadn’t been there in the gifting room eight months ago while Kyoshi arranged a vast quantity of fire lilies sent by an admiral in the Fire Navy, one of Hei-Ran’s friends.

Yun had spent the afternoon watching Kyoshi work. Against every scrap of her better judgment, she’d allowed him to lie down on the floor and rest his head in her lap while she plucked deformed leaves and trimmed stems to the right length. Had anyone caught the two of them like that, there would have been a scandal that not even the Avatar could have recovered from.

That day, entranced by Yun’s upside-down features dappled with the flower petals she’d teasingly sprinkled over his face, she’d almost leaned down and kissed him. And he knew it. Because he’d almost reached up and kissed her.

They never spoke of it afterward, the shared impulse that had nearly crashed both of their carriages. It was too . . . well, they each had their duties was a good way to put it. That moment did not fit anywhere among their responsibilities.

But since then, whenever the two of them were in the presence of fire lilies, Yun’s eyes would dart toward the flowers repeatedly until he was sure Kyoshi noticed. She would try unsuccessfully to keep a straight face, the heat coloring her neck, and he’d sigh as if to mourn what could have been.

Today was no different. With a wistful blush on his own cheeks, Yun stared her down until her defenses broke and she let out a giggle through her nose.

“There’s that beautiful smile,” he said. He pressed his heels into the floor, sliding up against the wall, and straightened his rumpled shirt. “Kyoshi, trust me when I say this: If it turns out not to be me, I’ll be glad it’s you.”

~~~~~~~~~

Rise of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee, page 210 (text copy / pasted from the b&n ebook version)

“You think you don’t deserve peace and happiness and good things, but you do!” Rangi yelled. “You, Kyoshi! Not the Avatar, but you!”

She closed the distance and wrapped her arms around Kyoshi’s waist. The embrace was a clever way to hide her face.

“Do you have any idea how painful it’s been for me to follow you on this journey where you’re so determined to punish yourself?” she said. “Watching you treat yourself like an empty vessel for revenge, when I’ve known you since you were a servant girl who couldn’t bend a pebble? The Avatar can be reborn. But you can’t, Kyoshi. I don’t want to give you up to the next generation. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

Kyoshi realized she’d had it all wrong. Rangi was a true believer. But her greatest faith had been for her friends, not her assignment. She pulled Rangi in closer. She thought she heard a slight, contented sigh come from the other girl.

“I wish I could give you your due,” Rangi muttered after some time had passed. “The wisest teachers. Armies to defend you. A palace to live in.”

Kyoshi raised an eyebrow. “The Avatar gets a palace?”

“No, but you deserve one.”

“I don’t need it,” Kyoshi said. She smiled into Rangi’s hair, the soft strands caressing her lips. “And I don’t need an army. I have you.”

Psh,” Rangi scoffed. “A lot of good I’ve been so far. If I were better at my job you would never feel scared. Only loved. Adored by all.”

Kyoshi gently nudged Rangi’s chin upward. She could no more prevent herself from doing this than she could keep from breathing, living, fearing.

“I do feel loved,” she declared.

Rangi’s beautiful face shone in reflection. Kyoshi leaned in and kissed her.

A warm glow mapped Kyoshi’s veins. Eternity distilled in a single brush of skin. She thought she would never be more alive than now.

And then—

The shock of hands pushing her away. Kyoshi snapped out of her trance, aghast.

Rangi had flinched at the contact. Repelled her. Viscerally, reflexively.

Oh no. Oh no.

This couldn’t—not after everything they’d been through—this couldn’t be how it—

Kyoshi shut her eyes until they hurt. She wanted to shrink until she vanished within the cracks of the earth. She wanted to become dust and blow away in the wind.

But the sound of laughter pulled her back. Rangi was coughing, drowning herself with her own tears and mirth. She caught her breath and retook Kyoshi by the hips, turning to the side, offering up the smooth, unblemished skin of her throat.

“That side of my face is busted up, stupid,” she whispered in the darkness. “Kiss me where I’m not hurt.”

~~~~~

I include both these quotes because i've seen a few posts about the “gigantic lesbian” avatar, and although i am glad my sapphic sisters feel connected to Kyoshi (as well they should!), that doesn't mean i wish to simply be quiet on the matter of her textual bisexuality. I understand that not everyone has read her novels, nor has everyone read legend of Korra comics, but Kyoshi is *textually* bisexual.

Kyoshi had a loving romantic relationship with her firebending friend Rangi, but this does not erase her feelings for her earthbending friend Yun, even if neither of them were able to properly express it due to their respective “status”. (For context if you haven’t read, the masters believed that Yun was the avatar, and though he was bodyguarded by Rangi, and though Kyoshi was his servent, the three of them were simiar ages and thus close friends until the discovery of Kyoshi’s true ability destroyed their former lives). Hell, Kyoshi and Rangi do not become intimate until after fleeing their former lives. Who is to say what would have happened, had Yun not been captured by father glowworm ?

I know that there is a chance you will scoff at this, will write this off as comphet, accuse me of disproportionately weighting an almost-kiss with a true relationship, but these above quotes (as well as the comic panel from “the legend of korra: turf wars- part 1”) serve as proof that Kyoshi, “by all accounts loved men and women” (see panel directly below)

[image I.D. : the same comic panel as the edit above, this one without the bisexual flag edited in. Directly behind Kyoshi, within the upside-down trapezoid shape, is an olive to lime gradient, darker around her head and lighter near the bottom. Around and to the right in the image, outside of the trapezoid, is an aerial shot of buildings within an Earth Kingdom city, and what appears to be the lines of troops on the ground far below. the text box in the image is the same, but I have underlined the word “men” in blue, the word “and” in purple, and the word “women” in pink, to reflect the bisexual flag. End I.D.]

I am making such a big deal over this because Kyoshi is a massive figure, her long shadow cast over Aang’s life alongside Roku’s, and even before her novels came out there were often jokes about her “bloodthirsty” nature. I implore you to read the novels and see why Kyoshi believed in deadly justice at times, but also so you can see what a dynamic, loving, and beautiful character she is.

Some members of fandom have taken a “step on me” attitude towards Kyoshi, who has, even if the 7 feet tall thing is more fanon than canon, been explicitly described as “exceptionally tall”, and “towering” over others. This “strong woman who will break me and I thank them” attitude is one that butch &/or physically imposing sapphics, as well as trans women with similar statures to Kyoshi have expressed discomfort when applied to themselves and characters like them. I would love for more people to acknowledge her flaws and multi-faceted nature, that she is more than a “warrior goddess”, just as Aang is more than a living relic. Flattening her out to the easily-fetishable parts erases the depth of her character and the complexity of circumstances that led to the instances of deadly force.

There are very few bisexual characters in media, especially women, and especially in children’s media. Bisexual women have often been caricatured as loose, promiscuous, good for a threesome and not much else. (This is mot to say that i think any lesser of my fellow bisexuals who are proudly promiscious, nor can an actual live bisexual person be considered a stereotype for living their life, but media’s portayal of us as obsessed with desire is incredibly harmful). Knowing that a strong, beautiful, and important character in the avatar universe is a bisexual woman is amazing, even more so to have her first lady-love described in the novels with such care. F. C. Yee, the author of these novels, has my eternal gratitude. I sincerely hope that the new generation of fans, whether they are drawn to the cartoon or even the hypothetical live action show, will pick up these novels and discover the kind of bisexual character that I wish existed in my early days as a reader, and if a small fraction of them resonate with Kyoshi’s reciprocal on Yun and love for Rangi, then the world becomes a little bit brighter for it.

I mentioned her importance for the simple reason that Kyoshi IS important with the text of ATLA. As one of the avatars, she is one of the most historically important figures in that universe, one of the few avatars that Aang knows by name, and one of the only avatars to speak through his body. The fact that she has two whole novels to herself testifies to that effect, making her bisexual representation all the more important than a simple background character might be.

If or when the ATLA live action tv show occurs, we can expect some mention of Kyoshi. After all, there is a whole episode dedicated to exploring one of her missions, and the way that the descendants of her enemy have recolored history. It is my sincere desire that enough discussion is made about her canon bisexuality , that fandom trumphets it from the roof with as much force as crackshipping zukka, that when she does make it to the screen, there is some subtle nod in her bisexuality’s direction, even if it is something as meta as casting a bisexual actress for her. Thank you for taking the time to read this.

edit by @flagellasturbation

[image I.D. : An edit of a comic panel of avatar Kyoshi. This is like the first image, Kyoshi and the text box of the comic panel untouched, the background color and art replaced with the bisexual flag. However, this version has the words “by all accounts” blown up large and placed diagonally in the image, directly under Kyoshi’s face and stretching from one side of the image to the other. The bottom third of the image is similarly obscured, the words “men” , “and” , “women” blown up large enough to fill the panel and cover most of Kyoshi’s torso, as well as the purple and blue areas of the background flag. End I.D.]

#Avatar Kyoshi #Rangi #Yun #The Rise of Kyoshi #The Shadow of Kyoshi #father glowworm #bisexual

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autumnslance · 3 years

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I've got a writing question that's been on my mind for a while: how do you keep your OCs from becoming self inserts? Every time I think of developing an OC I realize that it's attributes that I

Oops, you got cut off! But in general: all your OCs are going to have traits of yours; it’s inevitable. Sometimes big things, sometimes small things. It’s how we relate to them, and also just natural, I promise. We write what we know, and we know how we interact with ourselves and the world.

But there is a difference between sharing some traits with a character and making them a self-insert. It’s letting their life, their community and culture, their experiences, also influence their traits and thinking, in ways that might be different from how you would respond in a similar situation. Even if you share those attributes.

This is me so let’s go behind a cut shall we?

Dark Autumn is as introverted and solitary by nature as I am; she can and does interact in professional and friendly ways with people (as I try to do), but needs alone time to recharge. However, Dark also has a very different outlook and relationship with her family than I, since her family is large and supportive, very close knit. If family is a lottery, I got the $50 scratch off prize while she hit the Mega-Millions. So I take that into account when thinking of her relationships not just with family, but with friends and potential romantic interests; Dark sees things through a lens of positive, low-drama familial relationships that I can barely fathom. This also means she has a support network and resources myself and other characters don’t, so gets some wish fulfillment of working through issues with care and grace instead of remaining in unhealthy places. She is my “comfort OC” so gets a lot of good things I wish I had—which shapes how she responds to others, like taking care of a FCmate and becoming something of a big sister figure for him, or the responsible older sister figure of my group of OCs. Which is me, really, idealizing my own older sister tendencies into this giant woman who’s better at it.

Aeryn was written to be on the ace scale; not my first character to be so, but the first written that way as I began to realize where my own orientations lie and wanting to examine that through fiction. That she fell for a certain rogue in the process of playing through MSQ again was not at all intentional. I like Thancred as a character—he hits a lot of tropes I enjoy—but in my own mindset, he’s a frustrating younger brother. I didn’t think I’d do NPC x WoL shipping. But there it is, because in determining Aeryn’s own experiences and how those shaped her, it ended up working out that way (and I spent the better part of 2 years writing the characters separately to figure that out and if it could work before writing them together because it’s not something that comes naturally to me).

Aeryn’s internal anger is something I have a difficult time with; it’s outside my own nature to carry things like that. I have my angers, certainly, but they are different from hers. I tend to need a lot to set me off and then it burns out hot and quick. Aeryn’s more of a long boil she keeps bottled up. I’ve gotten a few things through various fics, I think, but it’s why I do things like reference arguments but rarely depict them. Being non-confrontational myself (I’m meek and have hangups thanks to my own life) it’s a challenge. Aeryn responded to childhood traumas (that I never dealt with), bullying (that I did), losses (that I haven’t yet), and the responsibility she’s been given (thank goodness I don’t) far differently than I. Maybe I’d be more volatile, too, if I had her life. But I understand where her anger comes from sharing some of the reasons, I just shape it differently than my own.

There’s a lot of things about Dark and Aeryn that are accidentally similar, just due to the timing of their character generation and other RP OCs made for other games along the way; “Oh I haven’t done X or Y in a character in awhile” sort of thing, but how each approaches those similarities and why—their quietness, their issues with using magic, their tendency to “adopt” others as family—all come from different places and resolve differently, too.

C’oretta comes from a part of me that doesn’t quite want to grow up. That wishes I had been more of the peppy, active, cheerful, risk-taking, live it up stereotypical party kid, that “popular girl” archetype I felt so often on the outside looking in about. As my second character, I wanted her to be different from Dark Autumn—visually, emotionally, mentally. Where Dark is steady, C’oretta is flighty. While Dark is people oriented, C’oretta’s a bit selfish (like I often feel). Dark’s introverted, C’oretta’s extroverted. Much of C’oretta’s attitude is a deflection against the hurts in her life, a way to fight back against some terrible things. It’s a way I could never react. But I also can’t get away from a character who loves to learn and wants to try new things—but where other characters gain the ability to stick with and see them through, C’oretta gets my easy frustration and boredom, and then the “ooh shiny” of a new interest. There’s a history of ADHD (or whatever the acronyms are now) and even autism and learning issues in my family; it’s possible I have some undiagnosed ND stuff going on, and people have noted these things in C’oretta that I’ve based on my own experiences and those of people very close to me.

Many of my characters have traits I wish I had, or were better at; patience, kindness, consideration, convictions, courage, thoughtfulness, and so on and etc. They’re good at skills I haven’t the knowledge in, or the ability to do. They’re certainly more active than I am, or could be! Because I can take the time to think and plan and research and write those things out better, and just maybe along the way not only learn something myself, but try to practice it better myself. I can even sometimes let them teach me what I can possibly do or be, not just imagine it as an ideal that’s out of reach.

I try to let my characters make mistakes I wouldn’t—or in some cases, have in my past, and that’s OK. Especially if I learned from them, but maybe the character does not. Maybe they do but it takes awhile, or repeated instances until it sinks in. Maybe I let them make errors I still make, as a way to puzzle out better solutions I should probably entertain for myself.

Character voice is something I’ve felt I struggled with in keeping my OCs distinct. Do characters ‘sound’ alike, in dialogue and prose? Having distinct ways of speaking helps; C’oretta’s breathless chatty run-ons are certainly different from Dark and Aeryn’s quieter tendencies. I have to remember to trim down Aeryn’s dialogue more often, say less aloud, add more gestures and facial expressions. I tend to be a talker, an over-explainer (if you can’t tell), while the only times she gets like that are specific. Dark’s somewhere in the middle of those two, like I am. A lot of the reason I like writing NPCs and try to keep them close to my interpretation of canon is to practice distinct character voice to get better at it in my OCs, so they don’t sound like me!

And something I’ve never admitted to before is that I think for me, it helps that from the time I was a kid watching various series of Star Trek, I always have had an in-my-own-head-only self-insert. She’s always a support character (that’s what I’m best at). She has cool and unusual abilities to help the actual heroes, cuz heck it’s my internal fantasy and that’s fun. She has traits I want to be better at or wish I had, developed over time with more energy and focus than I can actually muster in reality. As time’s gone on, she’s become more of a mentor and Mom Friend as I’m now older and see a lot of protagonist characters as “my kids” now. She appears in nearly every story I’ve loved over time, in one iteration or another. And because I have a headspace character where I can say “this is what I, ideally, would say and do and be capable of in this situation…” My other characters that I actually write about can vary between doing something similar (if it suits them) to doing something completely different (cuz darn kids never listen) as I can compare them to the self-insert and decide where to diverge.

So it’s a mix of myself and my traits and knowledge, but taking into account how each character would respond and use those same attributes differently than I do or would. Write what you know, write who you are—and then add in some wish fulfillment, some what ifs, some bad choices, some good choices, and shake things up. Give the characters tics and tricks different from yourself and let that shape them, too, by remembering to take those things into account (even if you have to tape a note to your monitor).

And finally, don’t be ashamed of your self-inserts; I’ve known some great characters that started as self-inserts and grew, through their experiences, into wholly different people than their writers over time. Heck, the epic romance my original WoW priest was part of was with a character that started as a self-insert; his player began the game knowing nothing of the lore or roleplaying, but as he learned the story and how to RP, and determined how his character fit into the world and how that shaped him, the character diverged over time, while still sharing some key traits (some endearing, some frustrating, as people are and all part of that friend). It’s not a bad starting point at all. The rest can come over time and practice, especially if you make a lot of OCs and try to make them different from each other while also being aspects of yourself.

#Writing #Blogging #About me #Lyn Prompts #Character Development #Self Inserts #Original Characters

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aiyexayen · 4 years

Photo

I haven’t known true peace since I realised that Wei Wuxian actually believes this. He’s not just saying dumb shit here, or oversimplifying things to be dramatic--he truly thought of it this way, even back then. Even though nobody else did.

This line has always confused me and maybe I just haven’t given it enough thought. Maybe it’s obvious. But everyone has such a different perspective at that section of the story, including the audience. And that’s part of the tragedy of it all, really, is how much the situation was twisted up--both on purpose, by the Jins, and by simple circumstance--to the point that nobody was on the same page. But the extent of Wei Wuxian’s didn’t really hit me until recently, when puzzling back over this particular scene.

(In my defense, it was easy for me to miss until now, because it’s mixed in with Wei Ying admiring Lan Zhan admiring the moon and followed by Lan Zhan calling Wei Ying out on his “I’m fine” bullshit before carrying him down the stairs.)

At first pass, all I could think was, “Wei Wuxian, are we even watching the same show?” He and Jiang Cheng were rivals as much as they were best friends as much as they were brothers, and frequently at odds.

They never really had a “them two against the world” vibe outside of their Twin Heroes of Yunmeng promise. Wei Wuxian loved the world, and making friends, and did so freely and gladly. He and Jiang Cheng really only ever stood together against really blatant enemies like the Wen before and during the Sunshot campaign, and by the time the Jins and the rest of the prominent sect/clan leaders were at their throats, things were definitely falling apart.

They not only had a fraught childhood together in that household to begin with, but they also haven’t been truly on the same side since the fall of Lotus Pier when it all came to a head; the slow dissolution of their close bond is a huge underlying theme of the story as we suffer through the emotional torture of watching their desperate love create a wider and wider chasm between them, littered with broken promises and unspoken words as they slowly forget how to know each other.

And they really never stood together against Lan Wangji?? Ever?

While Jiang Cheng was regarding him (and every other human being and activity) as a rival for his shige’s attention and proof of his own social ineptitude (a potential cause for worry in his earnest role as sect heir and representative of his clan), Wei Wuxian was utterly enamoured. By the time Wei Wuxian had his rounds of falling-out with Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng regarded him as an ally who stood by his side for months and kept his hope alive while helping him scour the land for all traces of his missing brother and was really confused why Wei Wuxian was being a jackass.

In-between all this, they travel and fight together--all three of them--on more than one occasion, and even go to war together.

We’re frequently shown glimpses, scenes, framing, setups, that show us Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji standing together without or apart from Jiang Cheng as well. Because reasons.

From Lan Wangji’s point of view, he was never not on Wei Wuxian’s side when it counted. He just had trouble communicating this effectively at times, especially while Wei Wuxian was in a constant push-pull with himself and everyone else about what he should be allowed to want and have.

From Jiang Cheng’s point of view, Wei Wuxian was failing to be on his side again and again, and it was never really about his own loyalty, because he was the only one still keeping their promise.

And certainly by Jin Ling’s one-month celebration, they both seemed to be on the same page that they were coming together as Wei Wuxian’s important people, if not actively friends by then, and that they were of one mind in getting Wei Wuxian back around his family and back into society. One of the most shattering things anyone has ever had the nerve to tell me straight into the void that once was my heart is that they (along with Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan) were probably so excited to see Wei Wuxian and proudly show him how well they were all getting along.

So I, humble viewer of episodes, watch all of this happening, and then narrow my eyes at Wei Wuxian in disbelief. Who does he think he is? Jiang Cheng, always at his side? With Lan Wangji, always opposite?

Why does this moment of self-reflection even exist? When he could have taken this opportunity to have some kind of flashback about Lan Wangji and the moon, as the rest of us are? Is it just to torment me, in particular?

But then I thought of three things. One, his point of view at the time. Two, his point of view in this episode. And three, the phrasing of what he’s saying here.

The phrasing feels important. Wei Wuxian simply says he thought Jiang Cheng would be at his side/on his side/by his side, and he thought Lan Wangji would be opposite. Opposite doesn’t necessarily mean a direct rival or enemy. It can mean standing for the opposing viewpoint, or having an opposing position.

Given that he’s directly comparing it to how he feels right now, it makes sense. As of this episode, he’s just had his real first encounter with Jiang Cheng, and it was pretty horrible. He had to deal with Jin Ling and his curse, between now and then, but that isn’t really going to be what’s on his mind.

I might be like, “Ah, yes, running away from Jiang Cheng to go fuck off with Lan Wangji, typical Wei Wuxian scenario, even if I support it especially in this particular instance.” Jiang Cheng might feel that way, too, right down to “Thank fuck he ran away like he always does and didn’t call my bluff about killing him a thousand times over because that would have been embarrassing.”

But to Wei Wuxian, the circumstances are completely different. He’s not running off on an adventure after which he absolutely intends to return home. He’s leaving with what he sees as confirmation (which he was trying to avoid) that Jiang Cheng truly hates him, and the knowledge/reminder that he may never see him again because he will absolutely try his hardest not to. And he’s returning to Lan Wangji, who is his adventure, but also, increasingly, his home.

He can’t really think of it in those terms, yet, though. So he thinks about it as sides.

Even though they and Jiang Cheng are never truly pitted against each other in the present any more than Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were ever pitted against Lan Wangji in the past (that is to say, one or two tense scenes and mostly a lot of wibbly gray areas indicating that there’s a lot more going on in everyone’s heads), Wei Wuxian sees Lan Wangji on the “Wei Wuxian Should Not Be Dead” team and Jiang Cheng sulking on the opposite shore.

Or, at the very least, the teams are “Leave Wei Wuxian Alone” and “Wei Wuxian Needs To Fucking Stop.”

Which reminds him how different it all used to be.

And even if we’re like, “Was it, though?” that’s not his perspective on it. He didn’t see all the pieces that the rest of us saw. He never knew the lengths Lan Wangji was going to in order to try and help him, the rules he broke. He never saw the punishment Lan Wangji endured for simply visiting him. Even Jiang Cheng saw Lan Wangji stand up for him publicly after the heart-wrenching scene in the rain. Wei Wuxian never did.

He only saw Lan Wangji trying his damnedest to get him to give up demonic cultivation. He only heard Lan Wangji’s attempts to convince him to get better that he never really understood. He only ever perceived resistance and disapproval.

Wei Wuxian was expecting Lan Wangji to come and personally try to stop him at Nightless City. Wei Wuxian woke up alive and took one look at Lan Wangji (and softly gayly smiled and took a second look for good measure) and took off. Wei Wuxian woke up again with all his memories and the knowledge he was loved and missed after sixteen years and asked if Lan Wangji had ever really believed him. Wei Wuxian has been slowly coming to terms with the fact that Lan Wangji wholeheartedly and unreservedly does, now. So, to him, it’s the idea that Lan Wangji has “switched sides” as it were.

And Jiang Cheng?

Wei Wuxian thinks he and Jiang Cheng were unquestionably on the same side right up until Jiang Yanli died.

Jiang Cheng was angry, was upset, was in pain. They fought. Promises were broken. But that didn’t mean they were on opposing sides, not really, surely.

They were on the same side about questionable cultivation methods not being questioned as long as it made Yunmeng Jiang strong where it was currently weak. They were on the same side about it not being anyone else’s business. Their fight was faked, even if the separation had to be real.

Wei Wuxian was still standing by Jiang Cheng’s side in prioritising Yunmeng Jiang’s political standing. Jiang Cheng was still standing by his side in caring about their home and their sister. He brought shijie, who brought soup. And something about their public break and Jiang Cheng’s account kept the other sects from piling on Wei Wuxian right at the start.

At Nightless City, while he expected Lan Wangji to be there countering him, he did not expect any of Yunmeng Jiang to be there to actually fight him. Of course Jiang Cheng was there--how could Jiang Cheng not show up? One of the great clans? And they’re not really supposed to have anything to do with one another anymore, right? Wei Wuxian was a traitor to Yunmeng Jiang, right? Of course Jiang Cheng had to show up.

But as long as Wei Wuxian was in control of the resentful energy and puppets, not a single Yunmeng Jiang disciple, let alone Jiang Cheng himself, was so much as looked at sideways.

Jin Zixuan had been killed. Jiang Yanli would never forgive him. His found family full of innocents had been slaughtered by power-hungry hypocrites. The entire cultivation world was after his soul. He was a dead man walking. He’d been hallucinating for hours. His mind was mostly gone.

And he thought, “Lan Wangji is here to put an end to me at last. It is time to fight.”

And he thought, “Jiang Cheng is not truly part of this. I must not touch Yunmeng Jiang.”

Both of these things wound me deeply. The first, because it’s demonstrably untrue. The second, because it might not have been nearly as true as everyone (including Jiang Cheng) wishes, though at least we’ll never really have to know, will we.

And then Jiang Yanli died.

We can see the story happening in stages, the various breakdowns and buildups and breakdowns again. And we always knew this ending was coming. But to him, that’s the moment everything truly, truly broke.

Though, I feel the need to point out, hysterically, he still wasn’t opposite Jiang Cheng even then. Because Jiang Cheng, he believes, wanted him dead (even if he couldn’t do it by his own hand) just as much as Wei Wuxian wanted himself dead. And Lan Wangji did not want him dead. So he stood in solidarity with Jiang Cheng one last time, did right by Jiang Cheng and Yunmeng Jiang and their family one last time, as he yanked his hand away from Lan Wangji.

Only now, in the present, are Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng truly in opposition. And only now are Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji on the same page. Supposedly.

One of Wei Wuxian’s particular character journeys post-timeskip is finally having the concept of interpersonal nuance smashed into his head in a way that still allows him to be himself and follow his own moral codes and build relationships in his own way. His assorted encounters with Jiang Cheng leading up to their reconciliation (as well as the juniors and the sect leaders and other characters) all demonstrate that nicely.

But in this scene, it really is that straightforward to him. Hell, it’s even presented such to us for a hot minute.

If for no other reason than the direct parallel of Lan Wangji finding out about Wei Wuxian’s fear of dogs and protecting him both physically and emotionally without question, and Jiang Cheng already knowing about it but using Fairy against Wei Wuxian until it triggered him into a panic-induced ptsd flashback seriously what a fucking dick move though.

So, perhaps it’s understandable, between Wei Wuxian’s misconceptions of the past and his current experiences in the present and the fact that these are the only two people left to him in all the world.

He believes the bitter irony of fate has dictated that he can never have them both. He was only ever going to have one of them and he never considered it would truly be this one.

And for just one moment, before he can be glad of his gain, he has to mourn the inevitable loss that comes with it. For that one moment, even seeing Lan Wangji so beautiful in the moonlight, so openly and invitingly waiting for him, that’s all he can think about.

It haunts me.

#wei wuxian always thought he knew better than lan wangji what was good for lan wangji #even when it was wei wuxian's death #his *trust me; you're better off without me* followed him over that cliff #lan wangji has since pieced all this together and come to terms with it #but jiang cheng is going to figure it out someday #and yell for like three solid hours #and then make fifty quarts of soup #as a side note #i love jiang cheng the most but i will never forgive him for that stunt with fairy #and honestly he'll never forgive himself for it either #by the time he works himself up to grovel about it though wei wuxian probably won't even remember #the untamed #the untamed meta #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #jiang cheng #jiang wanyin #wangxian #chengxian #parallels kind of #what was this post even about #i don't remember now #episode 35

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thetruthaboutbeliza · 4 years

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The Truth

A thread of Beliza’s innocence.

To start out the Pilot for The 100 was filmed in July of 2013 and Season 1 started filming in August of 2013. This would’ve been when Bob and Eliza first became friends. It IS possible they had a brief fling during this time, however there’s nothing to confirm or deny that.

It’s believed that Bob started dating a girl named Jane Gosden sometime in 2014 and they broke up sometime in 2015. I had trouble finding information about Jane originally and the only source I had found online said they dated 2014-2015 however, that is incorrect. They were together for a few years and broke up some time after May 2014. Jane actually still has quite a few photos on her Instagram of her and Bob together and her with his family. She still interacts with Bob’s sister on a frequent basis as well. I’m still not 100% sure when they started dated but, they were at least together from 2012-2014.

Bob and Arryn met in April 2015 at Supanova in Australia. We know this by photos of them at the con together. Below you can see Bob in the green hat in the back next to Arryn. Barbara is also in the center there in light blue. There are a few other photos of Arryn, Barb, and Bob hanging out during Supanova.

Arryn and Miles Luna were dating from 2010 until some time in mid 2015 (either May, June, or July). They wrote blog posts confirming their break up in August 2015 and stated they’d been broken up for a little while but didn’t want to announce it until after RTX. In Arryn’s post detailing their break up it is important to note she cited Australia as a reason for their break up.

Everyone wants to attack Bob and Eliza for “moving on quickly” from their exes, specifically Bob from Arryn but, Arryn literally left Miles for Bob. Did they cheat? I don’t know. No one does. But she clearly fell for Bob during Supanova and decided to leave her family/friends/boyfriend behind and pursue Bob and a life in LA. Now it is important to note that she said she wasn’t moving until the END of September 2015. At that point in time she was ALREADY traveling quite frequently out to Vancouver. Vancouver is where The 100 filmed. Some of the cast had photos with her during this time, she was being tagged in posts with them and Bob, her and Bob were talking often on Twitter, and in some of her photos that were more “cryptic” (ie. photos of her at a coffee shop with her and someone else’s shoes) she mentioned something about “Aussies knowing how to do it right.” Bob is Australian.

So sometime in July 2015 she started traveling often to Vancouver. August 2015 she officially announces her split from Miles but stated they’d been broken up for a bit but didn’t want to tell anyone until after RTX and that she’d be moving to LA to “pursue her dreams” by the end of September 2015. This pretty much confirms that the Anon Twitter account TruevFalse was correct in stating that Arryn still lived with her ex Miles for a brief time when her and Bob started dating. We don’t have the EXACT date/time of them officially starting to date but they were clearly talking seriously July-Aug 2015 if she was flying out that often to Vancouver where he was filming. At some other point she later specifically stated that she moved to LA for Bob. I’m not sure if this was in stream or where she stated this but, I’ve seen multiple people cite that she said that. Confirming she broke up with Miles for Bob. That alone should stop people from automatically attacking Bob and Eliza for getting together quickly. Was it quick? Yes. Even IF that had been cheating like Arryn claims - they wouldn’t have been in a relationship. Having an affair isn’t a real relationship and getting married a few months after officially dating is still fairly fast - cheating or not - but, that’s not for anyone else to comment on. Plenty of people have done something similar - hell some people get married weeks after meeting someone. When you know, you know. But if you’re going to attack them automatically for moving quickly, “Eliza stealing Bob”, or Bob leaving Arryn for Eliza - then you should be equally upset with Arryn for doing the same thing previously to be with Bob.

On to the abuse allegations. She states that Bob was controlling and isolated her from her family and friends and that she had no friends in LA. But that’s 100% HER doing. As I stated, she literally LEFT her boyfriend/friends/family/job to move out to LA where she knew no one to be with Bob. If you’re telling me he forced her to do all of that before they were even dating - you’re crazy. I do believe she left to pursue a better future in LA but, her main motive for moving was Bob. From there he then invited her into his group of friends (The 100 cast) and quite often she was out with certain members of the cast WITHOUT Bob present. Now I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a controlling/abusive relationship but, I have. Also doing any sort of research on the topic will come to a very similar conclusion: abusers/controlling partners do not want you to have ANY friends, they especially don’t want you hanging out with THEIR friends outside of them being with you, and if they don’t like someone they tell you not to be friends with them, associate with them, or hang around them. Arryn was with The 100 cast a ton, like I said, a lot of times she was with them without Bob around. She quite often did photoshoots when she was home in LA with a friend, and she was still constantly hanging out with Barbara. My reason for bringing Barbara up is a few. 1) Arryn claimed Bob specifically didn’t like Barbara and thought she was a bad friend. This *could* be true, who knows. But if we’re going by Arryn claiming Bob was controlling, then he would’ve told her not to be friends with Barbara. Period. Now yes, Arryn would’ve had to see Barbara on occasion for cons or while they were doing promotion work for RWBY but, he probably would’ve told her to limit her interaction with Barbara during those times and outside of that - not communicate with her. That is what an abuser/controller does. 2) My other reason for bringing Barbara into this is because of Barbara’s boyfriend Trevor Collins and his ex Emily. Emily has talked about the abuse she suffered from Trevor for years during their relationship. She was much younger than he was and when they started dating he was controlling/abusive. She specifically stated she was NOT allowed to be friends with his friends or talk to them unless he was around and that he cheated on her with a co-worker (Barbara) and that they manipulated her by calling her crazy while she had suspicions but they denied it. Now that sounds awfully familiar to Arryn’s story and it’s quite hypocritical for Arryn to know her best friend did this and then to hate Eliza for “doing the same thing”. Here are pieces of Emily’s statement/story. Did Arryn steal part of her story for her own? I can’t say for sure. It’s also important to note Trevor is part of RTX which Miles, Barbara, and Arryn were/are a part of and that the “friend group” Emily was referring to probably included Arryn but, I’m not 100% sure on that.

Another part of Arryn’s story was that Bob FORCED her to be friends with Eliza. So he can FORCE her to be friends with someone but can’t FORCE her to not be friends with Barbara even though she specifically mentions he didn’t like her? She said he forced her to be friends with Eliza even though he had told her he “hated” Eliza but, I’m not sure when he would’ve possibly hated her as Eliza and Bob have been friends since filming began. There’s never not been interaction/photos/hanging out of those two. They’ve always been adamant about being best friends/super close. And Arryn was often seen with Eliza, again, without Bob around. I could imagine Bob trying to force her to be friends/friendly with Eliza while he brought Eliza around but, it’s incredibly odd he’d somehow force Arryn to hang out with Eliza on her own.

On to the accusation of Bob being a biphobe and that he was not happy with her being bisexual. This one is just incredibly wrong for multiple reasons. Firstly, a few people defending Arryn have stated Bob has never shown any sort of support for Bisexuals or LGBTQ and that’s false. He’s actually been fairly vocal (to Bob’s standards anyways as he’s not very vocal on Social Media in general) about LGBTQ rights/support and has commented quite a few times about how proud he was to be a part of a show where they had a leading lady being Bisexual. Bob was also part of one of Australia’s first gay kiss scenes on tv. He went to Pride with Richard well before Arryn ever did and according to her statement she says “when he found out I was bisexual he was furious” but Arryn has always been openly Bisexual. She was constantly talking about it during on twitter during the time they were constantly tweeting each other back and forth before she officially broke up with Miles. There’s no possible way Bob didn’t know Arryn was bisexual before dating her. If he was biphobic, he simply wouldn’t have dated her, nor would he constantly be showing support for LGBTQ over the years. Arryn also frequently talked about being Bisexual still while they were dating. She was never not open about that.

Those above are some of the times he’s been vocal about Bisexual/LGBTQ rights/support. He’s also a fan of Tegan and Sara and has liked a few posts of theirs. Then we have the post from yesterday of Eliza talking about being proud to represent Bisexuals by playing Clarke and Bob taking the photo/liking the post.

With Arryn deactivating her Twitter I can’t go through and find all the times she was open about being Bisexual while with Bob but, here are two instances I could find. So she never stopped talking about her sexuality while with Bob.

One of the biggest holes in Arryn’s story is when she talks about how she got a rental property for her and Bob in Australia and after doing the paperwork and moving everything in, shortly after he dumped her to be with Eliza and that they stole the place from her and that he never intended for that to be their place. The first thing about that is there was never a place in Australia - the place in Australia that Bob and Eliza have was BOUGHT by them and is NOT the place Arryn is referring to. I was incorrect about this statement - I got confused and thought Arryn had said in her statement that the house was in Australia but, she said “The Hills” and I remembered seeing some fans attacking Bob for posting photos of their house in Australia on his cover on Facebook as “rubbing it in her face” and combined those in my head. So I apologize.

The place Arryn is referring to is the rental place in LA. I’m not sure how she made that error or why she didn’t correct it but, there’s that. So Eliza and Bob “stole” the rental home from her but, later on in her statement she confirms that she actually DID live in the rental house and that she left because she got spooked when fans found out she was looking for roommates since she couldn’t afford to live there by herself. She states that herself and plenty of fans have confirmed remembering seeing her looking for roommates during that time. Bob gave her the place originally, she couldn’t afford it and got scared, so she gave it back to him. That is the house where Bob and Eliza are currently staying at during quarantine in LA. Now according to Eliza’s story of when her and Bob got together she states that she had signed a one year lease with her friend Nina in Vancouver sometime in Feb. 2019 and in March 2019 when they were unpacking Bob came over and asked her on a date. Going back to Arryn’s story, this couldn’t be true since according to her they were having an affair for at least 6 months that she knew of and that her getting their rental house in LA in December 2018 was essentially for Bob and Eliza she just didn’t know that at the time. These photos from Nina’s Instagram/Stories confirm Eliza’s side of the story.

So Eliza was still with Nina until at least May 2019. It wasn’t until June 2019 that Eliza was officially living with Bob and they had gotten Panda.

If they stole this place from her, why did they not move in together until June?

Another part of Arryn’s story is about how she “caught” them together on camera while she was in New Zealand. That trip by the way, she was with her mother while Bob was home in LA recovering from knee surgery. She went on a trip with her mother (aka family that Bob isolated her from) while he was recovering from surgery. You’d think someone controlling would force her to stay and take care of them. Shortly after she “caught” them cheating, she publicly announced how much she missed Eliza and wished her a happy birthday via Instagram. So this was the “6 months” she was referring to, she “caught” them together, and then 6 months later in Feb 2019 he dumped her for Eliza. However, up until Jun 2019 (when they officially married/moved in together), Arryn was STILL friendly with them both on social media. Now I understand people want to say “well she was brainwashed by them, it makes sense”. Again, if you’ve been in a situation like this the moment you’re free from your abuser/s you cut the chord. It makes no sense she’d continue to be friendly with them both AFTER catching them cheating, AFTER he dumped her for Eliza and “stole” the house she got for them, and AFTER escaping her abuser. Giving her the benefit of the doubt and she did still feel the need to be attached to her abuser/s for a while after the break up, why was it that when she caught them cheating 6 months prior did she only claim she felt betrayed by one of her close friends and cut them off completely in June 2019 after Beliza announced their marriage? She had no problem cutting off the “betrayer” then.

The youtube video below is an interview featuring Barbara and Arryn May 14th 2019 where at she talks about the betrayal. She says she had a friend betray a huge amount of trust even though they thought they were close and the best way to deal with it was to cut them completely off. (This was clearly about Eliza and is around the 53:00 mark). Mind you, going back to her statement she claims Bob “forced” them to be friends. In this same interview she also talks about getting a therapist (around 10:49 mark) “for no reason in particular” and “doesn’t know what she even needs help with” other than her anxiety and feeling like she didn’t want to dump all her problems on friends and wanted someone to talk to. She talks very light hearted about it and in no way indicates that she’s seeking therapy for an abusive relationship or anything similar. While watching this interview, at (29:40) is where she actually confirms moving to LA with a significant other. Confirming earlier that she left Miles for Bob. She also says that she found most of her friends were through said significant other (Bob) and although she’s friends with them even though they aren’t together anymore, she doesn’t have too many friends outside of that relationship but, (again she’s very light-hearted talking about this) that it’s because she spent so much time around them that your friends become theirs and vise versa and that she “really doesn’t want to make friends because she’s comfortable being alone”. She later (around 42:00) talks about how pretty much ALL of her friends have been because of boyfriends.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvBtaCp_5Ro&ab_channel=RoosterTeeth

Now then, in her other statement she mentions her relationship with Miles briefly because people brought up that she cheated on him. She states “they were consenting adults in their relationship and he was okay with me being with a woman”. This is only true to a degree - he was technically okay with it, however she cheated FIRST, she started making out with a girl while drunk and he saw it and him and his friends thought it was “hot”. Afterwards she asked him if it was fine and he said “yes because I’m right here and it’s hot”. He also basically implies that he’d be “okay” with his girlfriend cheating with another girl but not a man. This is all from HIS mouth. Not only is all of that completely derogatory to bisexuals (I’m bi just FYI), it cancels out her statement of them talking about her being with another girl beforehand and him being okay with it because they did NOT talk about it before. He simply said he was okay with her being bi.

Here’s the video: https://twitter.com/klarkbell/status/1294995706906849281?s=20 In her statement she also claims that Bob cheated on his previous ex (Jane) with Eliza. How would she know this first of all? And secondly, Jane is actually still close with his family. I can’t imagine she would be if he cheated on her. Especially because they dated for a little over a year where him and Arryn dated for over 3 years. Bob’s family cut off Arryn but, not Jane. It’s also a bit odd to me that Arryn’s mother is still friends with Bob’s mother. Terry is Bob’s mother, Bev is Arryn’s.

Next we have the video that stirred Arryn’s statement to begin with where she was on stream saying “the last two women I dated were batshit, actually most women are batshit” and then proceeded to say that she has a history of dating “psychopaths and narcissists”. These are all incredibly gross statements and if you find yourself claiming that ALL of your relationships are either psychos, narcissists, and/or batshit - you should probably check yourself.

https://twitter.com/klarkbell/status/1302700329138565122?s=20

She says she’s terrified of Bob, always has been and still is. However, she never once claimed he was physically abusive. I don’t know a single person who’s been emotionally/mentally abusive who has ever used the term “afraid” when talking about the abuser. The ex I had that was controlling and the ex I had that was mentally abusive both had a lot of issues, they were assholes, toxic, and terrible partners but, I was never once afraid of them. I’ve dealt with a narcissist (actually the ex of my partner who has bullied/harassed me, not an ex of my own) and while being a pathological liar is a trait of a narcissist - it doesn’t make you automatically a narcissist to be a pathological liar and/or toxic. Nothing she describes = narcissist. So it’s not okay that she uses that term to describe Bob or any of her exes. Talk to anyone who’s been physically abused and you’ll get the statement of them being scared and/or terrified. However, you’ll also get a vastly different reaction from them compared to Arryn’s on how they speak about the abuse they endured and their abuser. If you’re scared of someone after being abused, you don’t call them names, you don’t laugh about name calling, or about the abuse you endured (no, not even to “break tension”), you’re terrified - you’re scared of speaking out extremely vocally because of “what they might do to you”. I’d also like to mention it’s extremely rare for the abuser to dump the victim. They’re controlling/abusive to KEEP you around, they SCARE you to KEEP you around. Not dump you to be with someone else.

Abusive people also don’t just magically change/get better. They have a history of being this way and more often than not continue to be that way to future partners. Arryn claims Bob wasn’t supportive of anything she did, didn’t let her sing/do music, isolated her from family and friends, refused therapy. Yet, with Eliza it’s incredibly different. She’s always with friends/family and he’s often with them as well. She sings/does music as well and he’s supportive of it and everything she does including her foundation. And, he’s in therapy. They both are so she can figure out how to be a better partner for him due to his extreme depression/suicidal thoughts. I’d also like to remind you that Bob bought Arryn a new keyboard for her birthday one year and was supportive of her being in a friend’s music video in 2018.

Arryn was told at some point in a stream I guess about Bob going to therapy and she said something along the lines of “good for him although I doubt he’s changed”. If she didn’t think it was possible he could change, why did she say she tried to get him into therapy and he refused for years? Why would he refuse therapy but, go into therapy within months of being with Eliza? Since breaking up with Arryn, Bob has been incredibly vocal on social media about his mental health struggles where when he was with her he was fairly silent. He occasionally posted support for mental health awareness but, nothing compared to what he does now. Almost like his mental health got incredibly bad while dating Arryn and he was hiding it from the public/not allowed to talk about it.

I want to say that the abuse and harassment Arryn apparently endured from The 100 fans while dating Bob and even after is completely uncalled for and I do feel bad that she had to go through that. No one deserves that. However, it’s important to also remember that there is absolutely NOTHING Bob could’ve done to stop that. Nothing he could say that would force people to stop saying shit. People are going to do what they are going to do regardless. True fans, should’ve been happy for him and supported his relationship. No celebrity can control their fans and the few times some of them have spoken out about their fans doing shit like this - nothing happened or it made the fans worse. Bottom line is fans have a problem of feeling entitled and that celebrities/their fav should listen to them. People didn’t like Arryn and nothing Bob said was going to change that. It’s incredibly naive to hold anyone accountable for someone else’s behavior. Much the same as Arryn isn’t able to control her fans doing the SAME thing to Beliza now. Bob and Eliza have both always been very open about how they don’t approve of bullying, harassment, and that you should “be kind”. That alone should be enough for fans to know not to harass/bully someone. They’ve both received hate mail, death threats, been told it’s good Eliza had a miscarriage and they hope she’s sterile, had mail sent to their house, etc. and they haven’t openly talked about that. They haven’t “told fans to knock it off”. Hell their marriage was literally found out by fans before they wanted to announce it because they found Eliza’s number and called her. That’s crossing a line too and harassing them but, they STILL didn’t say anything publicly. They instead announced their marriage and just said “we ask for privacy during this time”. So it makes no sense that you’d expect them or ANY celebrity for that matter - to have control over their fans, “force” their fans to stop doing shit, and blame them for what their fans do/have done.

I do not believe that Bob is completely innocent. I believe their relationship was incredibly toxic and bad for them both and they probably brought out the worst in each other. I don’t doubt they had yelling matches and probably said mean things to one another. However, I 100% believe it was a MUTUAL thing. Arryn is NOT innocent or the victim/survivor and Bob is NOT the animal she’s making him out to be. It sounds more like she, not only felt betrayed by Bob and Eliza getting together, but that she was tired of their fans harassing her for years and continuing even after they broke up/got together that the only thing she could think to do was release a statement and throw Bob completely under the bus to save herself. If she’s painted as the victim and Bob the villain then surely the harassment will stop. Especially with how people blindly believe any statement released in regards to abuse or rape. After experiencing years of harassment she only decides to deactivate her twitter after people poked holes in her story and she realized not everyone believed her and she was STILL getting harassment. Again, she doesn’t deserve the constant harassment. I believe that is what pushed her to this point. No, it’s not okay that she’s lied and done this by any means but, I think she felt backed into a corner and lashed out. I can understand where she’s coming from, even though it doesn’t excuse it or make it right.

One last note, something I remembered: she specifically stated Bob was the reason she deactivated Youtube and stopped posting/being on social media as much. However, she slowly stopped doing that while with Miles and in her statement about breaking up with him said she’d be taking a hiatus from Youtube but, would be back. However, I think she just decided against that because she wanted to unplug and live life.

Now one of the major things everyone says is proof of her statement is that Bob has been silent. I’d like to remind you that usually guilty parties deny deny and are vocal. Bob’s silence is more proof to me that he’s innocent. He knows no matter what he says - won’t matter. If he denies it, people will say he’s lying. The victim/survivor wants to move on, they want to forget the abuser, don’t acknowledge them and just want to be happy. All of the things BOB is doing, not Arryn. I’ve seen people say “if he’s innocent he’d sue her for slander” however, how is that any different than the countless rape/physical abuse victims that don’t come forward or call the cops/take them to court? They don’t want to relive all that. They want to move on. The damage has already been done with her statement, same way as even though Amber Heard was proven a liar in court - the damage was/is done. Johnny still isn’t going to be able to work with Disney again, certain people STILL defend Amber despite the court findings/evidence. What would be the purpose of him denying it? The man is in therapy because he incredibly depressed/suicidal and looks so much happier/healthier in his marriage with Eliza. He just wants to leave it all behind. Denying it/suing her will just continue the lengthy process of moving on from everything and re-stir the pot. I’d also like to throw in there the fact that proving emotional/mental abuse is incredibly hard so it’s not like taking her to court over slander would really do anything. Johnny was able to fight his case because it was physical abuse and there was countless amounts of evidence/witnesses/documents/photos etc. Most people don’t have any solid evidence against mental/emotional abuse because it happens in person/in the moment. Unless you’re recording everything, you won’t have proof. It’s just he said/she said. That’s why the majority of Arryn’s statement was about cheating and not the abuse.

#tw abuse #trigger warning #beliza #arryn zech #bob morley #eliza taylor

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years

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Anonymous asked: I really enjoyed your book review of Sebastian Junger’s Homecoming. Perhaps enjoyment isn’t the right word because it brought home some hard truths. Your book review really helped me understand my older brother better when I think back on how he came home from the war in Afghanistan after serving with the Paras and had medals pinned up the yin yang. It was hard on everyone in the family, especially for him and his wife and young kids. He has found it hard going. Thanks for sharing your own thoughts as a combat veteran from that war. Even if you’re a toff you don’t come across as a typical Oxbridge poncey Rupert! As you’re a classicist and historian how did ancient soldiers deal with PTSD? Did the Greeks and Roman soldiers even suffer from it like our fighting boys and girls do? Is PTSD just a modern thing?

Part 1 of 2 (see following post)

Because this is subject very close to my heart as a combat veteran I thought very long and hard about the issues you raised. I decided to answer this question in two posts.

This is Part 1 and Part 2 is the next post.

My apologies for the length but this is subject that deserves full careful consideration.

Thank you for your lovely words and I especially find its heart warming if they touched you. I appreciate you for sharing something of the experience your ex-Para brother went through in coming home from war. I have every respect for the Parachute regiment as one of the world’s premier fighting force.

Working alongside them on missions out in Afghanistan I could see their reputation as the ‘brain shit’ of the British Army was well deserved. They’re most uncouth, sweary, and smelliest group of yobbos I’ve ever had the awful misfortune to meet. I’m kidding. The mutual respect and the ribbing went hand in hand. I doff my smurf hat to the cherry berries as ‘propah soldiers’ as they liked to say especially when they cast a glance over at the other elite regiments like HCav and the guards regiments.

Don’t worry I’ve been called a lot worse! But I am grateful you don’t lump me with the other ‘poncey’ officers. Not sure what a female Rupert is called. The fact that I was never accused of being one by any of those I served with is perhaps something I take some measure of pride. There are not as many real toff officers these days compared to the past but there are a fair few Ruperts who are clueless in leading men under their charge. I knew one or two and frankly I’m embarrassed for them and the men under their charge.

I don’t know when the term PTSD was first used in any official way. My older sister who is a doctor - specialising in neurology and all round brain box and is currently working on the front lines in the NHS wards fighting Covid alongside all our amazing NHS nurses and doctors - took time out one evening to have a discussion with me about these issues. I also talked to one or two other friends in the psychiatric field too. In consensus they agree it was around 1980 when the term PTSD came into usage. Specifically it was the third edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-lll) published by the American Psychiatric Association in 1980 partly because as a result of the ongoing treatment of veterans from the Vietnam War. In the modern mind, PTSD is more associated with the legacy of the Vietnam War disaster.

The importance of whether PTSD affected the ancient Greeks and Romans lies in the larger historical question of to what extent we can apply modern experience to unlock or interpret the past. In the period since PTSD was officially recognised, scholars and psychologists have noted its symptoms in descriptions of the veterans of past conflicts. It has become increasingly common in books and novels as well as articles to assume the direct relevance of present-day psychology to the reactions of those who experienced violent events in the historical past. In popular culture, especially television and film dramas, claims for the historical pedigree of PTSD are now often provided as background to the modern story, without attribution. Indeed we just take it as a given that soldier-warriors in the past suffered the same and in the same way as their modern day counterparts. We are used to the West to map the classical world upon the present but whether we can so easily map the modern world back upon the Greeks and Romans is a doubtful proposition when it comes to discussing PTSD.

Simply put, there is no definitive evidence for the existence of PTSD in the ancient world existed, and relies instead upon the assumption that either the Greeks or Romans, because they were exposed to combat so often, must have suffered psychological trauma.

There are two schools of thought regarding the possibility of PTSD featuring in the Greco-Roman world (and indeed the wider ancient world stretching back into pre-history, myth and legend) – universalism and relativism. Put simply, the universalists argue that we all carry the same ‘wetware’ in our heads, since the human brain probably hasn’t developed in evolutionary terms in the eye blink that is the two thousand years or so since the Greco-Roman Classical era. If we’re subject to PTSD now, they posit, then the Greeks and the Romans must have been equally vulnerable. The relativists, on the other hand, argue that the circumstances under which the individual has received their life conditioning – the experiences which programme the highly individual software running that identical ‘wetware’, if you will – is of critical importance to an individual’s capacity to absorb the undoubted horrors of any battlefield, ancient or modern.

Whichever school one falls down on the side of is that what seems to happen in any serious discussion of the issue of PTSD in the ancient world is to either infer it indirectly from culture (primarily, literature and poetry) or infer it from a comparative historical understanding of ancient warfare. Because the direct evidence is so scant we can only ever infer or deduce but can never be certain. So we can read into it whenever we wish.

In Greek antiquity we have of course The Illiad and the Odyssey as one of the most cited examples when we look at the character traits of both Achilles and Odysseus. From Greek tragedy those who think PTSD can be inferred often point to Sophocles’s Ajax and Euripide’s Heracles. Or they look to Aeschylus and The Oresteia. I personally think this is an over stretch. Greek writers do; the return from war was a revisited theme in tragedy and is the subject of the Odyssey and the Cyclic Nostoi.

The Greeks didn’t leave us much to ponder further. But, with rare exceptions, the works from Graeco-Roman antiquity do not discuss the mental state of those who had fought. There is silence about the interior world of the fighting man at war’s end. So we are led to ponder the question why the silence?

This silence also echoes into the Roman period of literature and history too. Indeed when we turn to the Roman world, descriptions of veterans are rare in the writings that survive from the Roman world and occur most often in fiction.

In the first poem of Ovid’s Heroides, the poet writes about a returned soldier tracing a map upon a table (Ov. Her. 1.31–5):

...upon the tabletop that has been set someone shows the fierce battles, and paints all Troy with a slender line of pure wine: ‘Here the Simois flowed; this is the Sigeian territory, here stood the lofty palace of old Priam, there the tent of Achilles...’

This scene provides an intimate glimpse of what it must have been like when a veteran returned home and told stories of his campaigns: the memories of battle brought to the meal, the crimson trail of the wine offering a rough outline of the places and battlefields he had experienced. The military characters in poems and plays show a world in which soldiers are ubiquitous, if somewhat annoying to the civilians. Plautus, for instance, in his Miles Gloriosus, portrays an officer boasting about his made-up conquests – the model for the braggart in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum – and Juvenal complains about a centurion who stomps on his sandalled foot in the bustling Roman street.

Despite this silence, compelling works have been written that interweave vivid modern accounts of combat and its aftermath with quotes from ancient prose and poetry. At their best, these comparisons can illuminate both worlds, but at other times the concerns of the present-day author are imposed on the ancient material. But the question remains are such approaches truthful and valid in understanding PTSD in the ancient world?

So if arts and literature don’t really tell us much what about comparative examples drawn from military history itself?

Here again we are in left disappointed.

According to the Greek historian, Herodotus, in 480 B.C., at the Battle of Thermopylae, where King Leonidas and 300 Spartans took on Xerxes I and 100,000-150,000 Persian troops, two of the Spartan soldiers, Aristodemos and another named Eurytos, reported that they were suffering from an “acute inflammation of the eyes,”...Labeled tresantes, meaning “trembler,”. It is that Aristodemos later hung himself in shame. Another Spartan commander was forced to dismiss several of his troops in the Battle of Thermopylae Pass in 480 B.C, “They had no heart for the fight and were unwilling to take their share of the danger.”

Herodotus again in writing about the battle of Marathon in 490 B.C., cites an Athenian warrior who went permanently blind when the soldier standing next to him was killed, although the blinded soldier “was wounded in no part of his body.” Interestingly enough, blindness, deafness, and paralysis, among other conditions, are common forms of “conversion reactions” experienced and well-documented among soldiers today

Outside the fictional world, Roman military history tell us very little.

Appian of Alexandria (c. 95? – c. AD 165) described a legion veteran called Cestius Macedonicus who, when his town was under threat of capture by (the Emperor-to-be) Octavian, set fire to his house and burned himself within it. Plutarch’s Life of Marius speaks of Caius Marius’ behaviour who, when he found himself under severe stress towards the end of his life, suffering from night terrors, harassing dreams, excessive drinking and flashbacks to previous battles. These examples are just a few instances which seem to demonstrate that PTSD, or culturally similar phenomena, may be as old as warfare itself. But it’s worth stressing it is not definitive, just conjecture.

Of course of accounts of wars and battles were copiously written but not the hard bloody experience of the soldier. Indeed the Roman military man is described almost exclusively as a commander or in battle. Men such as Caesar who experienced war and wrote about it do not to tell us about homecoming.

It seems one of main challenges when we try to see military history through the lens of our definition of PTSD is to first understand the comparative nature of military history and what it is we are comparing ie mistaking apples for oranges.

The origin of military history was tied to the idea that if one understood ancient battle, one might fight and, more importantly, one might lead and strategise more effectively. In essence, much of the training of officers – even in the military handbooks of the Greeks and Romans – was an attempt to keep new commanders from making the same mistakes as the commanders of old. Military history is intended to be a pragmatic enterprise; in pursuit of this pragmatic goal, it has long been the norm to use comparative materials to understand the nature of ancient battle.

The 19th Century French military theorist Ardant du Picq argued for the continuity of human behaviour and assumed that the reactions of men under the threat of lethal force would be identical over the centuries: “Man does not enter battle to fight, but for victory. He does everything that he can to avoid the first and obtain the second....Now, man has a horror of death. In the bravest, a great sense of duty, which they alone are capable of understanding and living up to, is paramount. But the mass always cowers at sight of the phantom, death. Discipline is for the purpose of dominating that horror by a still greater horror, that of punishment or disgrace. But there always comes an instant when natural horror gets an upper hand over discipline, and the fighter flees”

These words offer insight to those of us who have never faced the terror of battle but at the same time assume the universality of how combat is experienced, despite changes in psychological expectations and weaponry, to name but two variables.

Another incentive for scholars and researchers is to turn to comparative material has been the growing awareness of the artificiality of how we describe war. A mere phrase such as ‘flank attack’ does not capture the bloody, grinding human struggle. Roman authors – especially those who had not fought – often wrote generic descriptions of battle. Literary battle can distort and simplify even as it tells, but if the main things are right – who won, who lost, and who the good guys are – the important ‘facts’ are covered. Even if one intends to speak the truth about battle, the assumptions and the normative language used to describe violence will affect the telling. We may note that the battle accounts in poetry become increasingly grisly during the course of the Roman Empire (perhaps owing to the growing popularity of gladiatorial games),while, in Caesar’s Gallic War, the Latin word cruor (blood) never appears and sanguis (another Latin word for blood) only appears in quoted appeals (Caes. B. Gall. 7.20, in the mouth of Vercingetorix, and 7.50, where the centurion M. Petronius urges his men to retreat). The realities of the battlefield are described in anodyne shorthand. In much the same way that the news rarely prints or televises graphic images, Caesar does not use gore, and perhaps for the same reason – to give a sense of reportorial objectivity.

Another element in the interpretive scrum is a given author’s goal in writing an account in the first place: Caesar, for example, was writing about himself, and he may have been producing something akin to a political campaign ad. Caesar makes Caesar look great and there is reason to believe that, if he was not precisely cooking the books, he did give them a little rinse to make him look more pristine. Given the many factors that complicate our ability to ‘unpack’ battle narratives, Philip Sabin has argued that the ambiguity and unreliability of the ancient sources must be supplemented by looking at the “form of the overall characteristics of Roman infantry in mortal combat”. Again the modern is used to illuminate that which is obscured by written accounts and the “the enduring psychological strains” are merely unconsciously assumed.

These legitimate uses of comparative materials have led to a sort of creep: because military historians have used observations of how men react to combat stress during battle to indicate continuity of behaviour through time, there appears to be a consequent expectation that men will also react identically after battle. This creep became a lusty stride with modern books written about the ancient world and PTSD.

After I finished my tour in Afghanistan I read many books recommended to me by family and friends as well as comrades. One of these books is well known in military circles - at least amongst the thinking officer class - as an iconic work of marrying the ancient world and the modern experience of war. I read it and I was touched deeply by this brilliant therapeutic book. It was only months later I began to re-think whether it was a true account of PTSD in the ancient world.

This insightful book is called Achilles in Vietnam by Jonathan Shay. Shay is psychiatrist in Boston, USA. He began reading The Iliad with Vietnam veterans whom he was treating. Achilles in Vietnam, is a deeply humane work and is very much concerned with promoting policies that he hoped would help diminish the frequency of post-traumatic stress. His goal was not to explain ancient poetry but to use it therapeutically by linking his patients’ pain to that of the Iliad’s great hero. His book offers a conduit between the reader and the experiences of the men that Shay counsels. In the introduction to this work he makes a nod to Homerists while also asserting the primacy of his own reading:

“I shall present the Iliad as the tragedy of Achilles. I will not glorify Vietnam combat veterans by linking them to a prestigious ‘classic’ nor attempt to justify study of the Iliad by making it sexy, exciting, modern or ‘relevant’. I respect the work of classical scholars and could not have done my work without them. Homer’s poem does not mean whatever I want it to mean. However, having honored the boundaries of meaning that scholars have pointed out, I can confidently tell you that my reading of the Iliad as an account of men in war is not a ‘meditation’ that is only tenuously rooted in the text. “

After outlining the major plot points around which he will organise his argument, he notes, “ ‘This is the story of Achilles in the Iliad, not some metaphorical translation of it”.

The trouble was and continues to be is that many in the historical and medical fields began to rush to unfounded conclusions that Shay, on the issue of PTSD in the ancient world, had demonstrated that the psychological realities of western warfare were universal and enduring. More books on similar comparative themes soon emerged and began to enshrine the truth that PTSD was indeed prevalent throughout the ancient world and one could draw comparative lessons from it.

Perhaps one of the most influential books after Shay was by Lawrence Tritle. Tritle, a veteran himself, wrote From Melos to My Lai. It’s a fascinating book to read and there are parts that certainly resonate with my own experiences and those of others I have known. In the book Tritle drew a direct parallel between the experiences of the ancient Greeks and those of modern veterans. For instance, Xenophon, in his military autobiography, presents a brief eulogy for one of his fallen commanders, Clearchus. Xenophon writes that Clearchus was ‘polemikos kai philopolemos eschatos’ (Xen. An. 2.6) – ‘warlike and a lover of war to the highest degree’.

Tritle comments:

“The question that arises is why men like Clearchus and his counterparts in Vietnam and the Western Front became so entranced with violence. The answer is to be found in the natural ‘high’ that violence induces in those exposed to it, and in the PTSD that follows this exposure. Such a modern interpretation in Clearchus’ case might seem forced, but there seems little reason to doubt that Xenophon in fact provides us with the first known historical case of PTSD in the western literary tradition.”

Arguably in the West and especially our current modern Western culture is predicated at baulking at the notion of being ‘war lovers” as immoral. But such an interpretation speaks more of our modern Christianised ambivalence towards war; to the Spartans and Athenians the term would not have had a negative connotation. ‘Philopolemos’ is, in fact, a compliment, and the list of Clearchus’ military exploits functions as a eulogy. There are points where his analysis does not adequately address the divergences between ancient and modern experiences.

For all the talk of our Western culture being rooted in Ancient Greece and Rome we are not shaped by the same ethics. Our modern ethics and our moral code is Christian. There is no such thing as a secular humanist or atheist both owe a debt to Christianity for the way they have come to be; in many respects it’s more accurate to describe such people as Christianised Humanists or Christian Atheists even if they reject the theological tenets of the religious faith because they use Christian morality as the foundation to construct their own. Many forget just how brutal these ancient societies were in every day life to the point there would be little one could find recognisable within our own modern lives.

Now we come to third point I wish to make in determining where the Greeks or Romans actually experienced PTSD. This is to do with the little understood nature of PTSD itself. As much as we know about PTSD there is still much more we don’t know. Indeed one of the most problematic and complicated issues is the continued disagreement around the diagnosis and specific triggers of the disorder which remain little understood. We have to admit there are competing theories about what causes PTSD but, in terms of experiences that make it manifest, there are essentially three possible triggers: witnessing horrific events and/or being in mortal danger and/or the act of killing – especially close kills where the reality of one’s responsibility cannot be doubted. The last of these was strongly argued in another scholarly book by D. Grossman, On Killing, the Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society (1995).

Roman soldiers had the potential to experience all of these things. The majority of Roman combat was close combat and permitted no doubt as to the killer. The comparatively short length of the gladius encouraged aggressive fighting. Caesar recounts how his men, facing a shield wall carried by the taller Gauls, leaped up on top of the shields, grabbed the upper edges with one hand, and stabbed downwards into the faces of their opponents (Caes. B. Gall. 1.52). As for mortal danger, Stefan Chrissanthos in his informative book, Warfare in the Ancient World: From the Rise of Uruk to the Fall of Rome, 3500BC-476AD, puts it this way: “For Roman soldiers, though the weapons were more primitive, the terrors and risks of combat were just as real. They had to face javelins, stones, spears, arrows, swords, cavalry charges, and maybe worst of all, the threat of being trampled by war elephants.”

Such terrors are regularly attested. During his campaign in North Africa, Caesar, noting his men’s fear, procured a number of elephants to familiarise his troops with how best to kill the beasts (Caes. B. Afr.72). It should also be noted that it was not unusual for the reserve line to be made up of veterans because they were better able to watch the combat without losing their nerve. Held in reserve, they had to watch stoically as their comrades were injured and killed, and contemplate the awful fact that they might suffer the same fate. This was not a role for the faint of heart.

However, while the Romans certainly had the raw ingredients for combat trauma, the danger for a Roman legionary was much more localised. Mortars could not be lobbed into the Green Zone, suicide bombers did not walk into the market, and garbage piled on the street did not hide powerful explosives. The danger for a Roman soldier was largely circumscribed by his moments on the field of battle, and even here, if he was with the victorious side, the casualties were likely to be light: at Gergovia, a disaster by Caesar’s standards, he lost nearly seven hundred men (Caes. B. Gall. 7.51). In his victory over Pompey the Great at Pharsalus, his casualties numbered only two hundred (Caes. B. Civ. 3.99).

So we are left with the disturbing question: were the stressors really the same?

This is the part where I also defer to my eldest sister as a doctor and surgeon specialising in neurology and just so much smarter than myself.

My eldest sister holds the view in talking to her own American medical peers that despite similar experiences in Afghanistan and Iraq, British soldiers on average report better mental health than US soldiers.

My sister pointed out to research study done by Kings College London way back around 2015 or so that analysed 34 studies produced over a 15-year period (up to 2015) and found that overall there has been no increase in mental health issues among British personnel - with the exception of high rates of alcohol abuse among soldiers. The study was in part inspired the “significant mental health morbidity” among U.S. soldiers and reports that factors such as age and the quality of mental health programs contribute to the difference between the two nation’s servicemen and women.

She pointed out that these same studies showed that post-traumatic stress disorder afflicts roughly 2 to 5% of non-combat U.K. soldiers returning from deployment, while 7% of combat troops report PTSD. According to a General Health Questionnaire, an estimated 16 to 20% of U.K. soldiers have reported symptoms of common mental disorders, similar to the rates of the general U.K. population. In comparison, studies around the same time in 2014 showed U.S. soldiers experience PTSD at rates of 21 to 29%. The U.S. Department of Veteran Affairs estimated PTSD afflicted 11% of veterans returning from Afghanistan and 20% returning from Iraq. Major depression was reported by 14% of major soldiers according to another study commissioned by RAND corporation; roughly 7% of the general U.S. population reports similar symptoms.

It’s always tough comparing rates between countries and is not a reflection of the quality of the fighting soldier. But one finding that consistently and stubbornly refuses to go away is that over the past 20 years reported mental health problems tend to be higher among service personnel and veterans of the USA compared with the UK, Canada, Germany and Denmark.

However my sister strongly cautioned against making hasty judgements. And there could be many variable factors at play. One explanation is that American soldiers are more likely than their British counterparts to be from the reserve forces. Empirical studies showed reservists from both America and British troops were more likely to experience mental illness post-deployment. It was also worth pointing out that American soldiers also tended to be younger - being younger and inexperienced as well as untested on the battlefield, service personnel would naturally run the risk of greater and be more vulnerable to mental illness.

In contrast, the elite forces of the British army, such as your brother’s Parachute Regiment or the Royal Marines, were found to be the least affected by mental illness. It was found that in spite of elite forces experiencing some of the toughest fighting conditions, they tended to enjoy better mental health than non-elite troops. The more elite a unit is or more professional then you find that troops tend to enjoy a very deep bonds of camaraderie. As such the social cohesion of these fighting forces provides a psychological protective buffer. Not for all, but for many.

More intriguing are new avenues of discovery that might go a long way to actually understanding one of the root causes of PTSD. According to my sister, recent research carried out in the US and Europe and published in such prestigious medical journals as the New England Journal of Medicine (US) and the Lancet (UK), seems to establish a causal link between concussive injury and PTSD.

One recent study looked at US soldiers that concerned itself with the effects of concussive injuries upon troops after their return from active duty during the war in Iraq.

Of the majority of soldiers who suffered no combat injuries of any sort, 9.1 per cent exhibited symptoms consistent with PTSD. This allows a baseline for susceptibility of roughly 10% of the population. A slightly higher number (16.2%) of those who were injured in some way, but suffered no concussion, also experienced symptoms. As soon as concussive injuries were involved, however, the rates of PTSD climbed dramatically.

Although only 4.9% of the troops suffered concussions that resulted in complete loss of consciousness, 43.9% of these soldiers noted on their questionnaires that they were experiencing a range of PTSD symptoms. Of the 10.3% of the unit who suffered concussion resulting in confusion but retained consciousness, more than a quarter (27.3%) suffered symptoms. This suggests a high correlation between head trauma and the occurrence of subsequent psychological problems. The authors of the study note that ‘concern has been emerging about the possible long term effect of mild traumatic brain injury or concussion...as a result of deployment related head injuries, particularly those resulting from proximity to blast explosions��

Although these results are preliminary, if confirmed they have profound implications for anyone trying to understand the nature of warfare in the ancient world, especially the Western world.

So why does it matter?

In Roman warfare, wounds were most often inflicted by edged weapons. Romans did of course experience head trauma, but the incidence of concussive injuries would have been limited both by the types of weapons they faced and by the use of helmets. Indeed the efficacy and importance of headgear for example can be deduced from the death of the Epirrote general Pyrrhus from a roof tile during the sack of Argos. It is likely that the Romans designed their helmets with an eye to blunting the force of the blows they most often encountered. Connolly has argued that helmet design in the Republican period suggests a crouching fighting stance (see P. Connolly, ‘The Roman Fighting Technique Deduced from Armour and Weaponry’, Roman Frontier Studies (1989). However my own view is that the change in helmet design may signal instead a shift in the role of troops from performing assaults on towns and fortifications when the empire was expanding (and the blows would more often rain from above) to the defence and guarding of the frontiers.

While the evidence is clear that concussion is not the only risk factor for PTSD, it is so strongly correlated that it suggests that the incidence of PTSD may have risen sharply with the arrival of modern warfare and the technology of gunpowder, shells, and plastic explosives. Indeed, accounts of shell shock from the First World War are common, and it was in the wake of that war that those observing veterans suspected that neurological damage was being caused by exploding shells.

For soldiers of the Second World War and down to our modern day, an artillery barrage is like an invention of hell.

As one American put it in his memoirs of fighting the Japanese at Peleiu and Okinawa, “I developed a passionate hatred for shells. To be killed by a bullet seemed so clean and surgical but shells would not only tear and rip the body, they tortured one’s mind almost beyond the brink of sanity. After each shell I was wrung out, limp and exhausted. During prolonged shelling, I often had to restrain myself and fight back a wild inexorable urge to scream, to sob, and to cry. As Peleliu dragged on, I feared that if I ever lost control of myself under shell fire my mind would be shattered. To be under heavy shell fire was to me by far the most terrifying of combat experiences. Each time it left me feeling more forlorn and helpless, more fatalistic, and with less confidence that I could escape the dreadful law of averages that inexorably reduced our numbers. Fear is many-faceted and has many subtle nuances, but the terror and desperation endured under heavy shelling are by far the most unbearable” (see E.B. Sledge, With the Old Breed at Peleiu and Okinanwa, 2007).

The psychological effect of shelling seems to result from the combined effect of awaiting injury while at the same time having no power to combat it.

There is another aspect that I alluded to above which is the psychological and societal conditioning of the Roman soldier. In other words a Roman male’s social and cultural expectations of his place in the world. Feelings of helplessness and fatalism were probably a less alien experience for most Romans – even those in the upper classes. In general, the Romans inhabited a world that was significantly more brutal and uncertain than our own.

This another way of saying that the Roman and 21st century combat are very different in a variety of ways that subject the modern soldier to a good deal more stress than the legionary was ever likely to suffer. And the Roman’s societal preparation – his life before the battle – was far more robust than that we enjoy today.

Take infant mortality. In the modern developed world, our infant mortality rates are about ten per thousand. In Rome, it is estimated that this number was three hundred per thousand. Three-tenths of infants would die within the first year, and an additional fifth would not make it to the age of ten - 50% of children would not survive childhood. Anecdotal evidence supports these statistics: Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi, gave birth to twelve children between 163 bc and 152 bc; all twelve survived their father’s death in 152 bc, but only three survived to adulthood. Marcus Aurelius and his wife, Faustina, had at least twelve children but only the future emperor Commodus survived.  

Then look at how that child grows up. The typical Roman child would be raised in a society that readily accepted ultra-violent arena entertainment, mob justice, frequent and bloody warfare as a fact of life. This was reinforced by religious and societal encouragement to see war as natural and beneficial, open butchering of food animals, a total lack of support structures for the poor and less able.

Compared to the legionary our modern soldier has been protected from such realities to a greater degree than at any other point in history, and will thus be far less well prepared for the horror of a warfare that contains far more stress factors than for a man who might fight a handful of battles in his military career, with long periods of relative calm in between, state of war notwithstanding. Modern special and elite forces training often emphasises the brutalisation and ‘rebuilding’ of the recruit in readiness for this step into darkness, but it seems likely that no such conditioning would have been needed two thousand years ago.

I would argue that we experience war very differently from the way the Romans did. Our modern identity is defined far more by our Western Christian heritage than our Western Classical roots. They are in fact world apart when it comes to ethics and morality. Consider the fact that when we talk of war and killing today we often do so through conflict between our civilian moral codes – which offer the strict injunction not to do violence to other human beings – and wartime, when men are commanded to violate such prohibitions. It is a terrible thing to try to navigate ‘Thou shalt not kill’ and the necessity of taking a life in combat.

It is sometimes the case that the qualities that make the best soldier do not make the best civilian, a point amply attested in Greek poetry by heroes such as Heracles and Odysseus.

The Romans, for their part, celebrated heroes such as Cincinnatus, who could command effectively and then leave behind the power he wielded to return to his humble plough. It is important, however, when evaluating combat and its effects in the ancient world, that we do not read our ambivalence about violence onto the Romans. They inhabited an empire whose prosperity was quite openly tied to conquest.

As M. Zimmerman writes in his academic article, “Violence in Late Antiquity Reconsidered’ (2007), “The pain of the other, seen on the distorted faces of public and private monuments, or heard in the screams of criminals in the amphitheatre, reassured Romans of their own place in the world. Violence was a pervasive presence in the public space; indeed, it was an important basis for its existence, pertaining as it did not only to victories over external enemies but also to the internal order of the state.”

Violence then was both the means and the expression of Roman power. The Roman soldier was its instrument. The Roman warrior then would have brought a different perspective to lethal violence, and would have had a far more restricted moral circle to his modern counterpart – his friends and family, clan, patron and clients, as opposed to millions of fellow citizens via the internet and social media.

Part II follows next post

#question #ask #PTSD #war #roman #greek #classical #legionary #spartan #mental health #depression #trauma #warfare #british army #mental illness #homecoming #soldiers #combat veterans #veterans

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citrusityy · 3 years

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Pride & Prejudice Chapter 15 - A New Challenger Approaches

Each week, Catherine shares her inane thoughts on Pride & Prejudice chapter by chapter until it’s done. Today : Chapter 15.

"Such doings discomposed Mr Bennet exceedingly."

Today’s chapter begins with Collins’s origin story - raised by the “illiterate and miserly” man Mr Bennet would quarrel with over the years, making him humble, or so Austen claims, despite depriving him of much education. Chance led him to Lady Catherine’s doorstep as a Rector and made him the mix of “pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility” that he is today. This juxtaposition of “pride” and “humility” suggests quite the storm of emotions guiding Collins, as those don’t tend to work together well.

We learn a whole paragraph before Mrs Bennet that his real motivation for visiting Longbourn was to choose one of the girls to marry as he now possessed the “good house and very sufficient income” you needed to get married back then. He thought this was an excellent way to make amends to their father for inheriting the family’s property - when Mr Bennet dies, now his estate can be passed to whichever one of his daughters the Reverend happens to marry. So much better than, say, passing the deed onto Mrs Bennet to do what she pleases, as well as ensuring all of the girls have somewhere to live regardless of their personal merit to him, I’m sure.

As the book says, “Mr Collins was not a sensible man”.

Less sensible, apparently, is Mrs Bennet, who takes this news with delight. Not only will she be able to partially succeed at her life’s sole mission (marrying her daughters off), she’ll also get the chance to rely on them having a happy marriage in order to live in her own home as a guest. Lucky her! (Of course, I say this with no knowledge on Regency Era inheritance practices, but that doesn’t mean those practices should have been there in the first place, whatever they are.)

Although “Miss Bennet” (apparently Jane) was the first to catch his eye, Collins easily switches his romantic interest to Elizabeth when Mrs Bennet hints at her possible engagement with Mr Bingley. It’s that easy for him to pick and choose which young girl deserves to inherit her home through a marriage to him. The eagle-eyed among you will note that the girls don’t appear to have much of a say in all of this. Those of you beyond hope will say it’s simply a story about getting married and that any analysis is overthinking it.

The next day, the sisters (except for Mary) go on a walk to Merryton and Collins joins them at Mrs Bennet’s prompting. Mr Bennet is far from sad to see Collins leave him in the library in peace for a little bit, having been bombarding the man with questions while making a show of trying to read a large book.

As they reach Merryton, one of the military men Kitty and Lydia are so enamoured with, Mr Denny, catches the girls’ eyes and introduces them all to his friend Mr Wickham, a new recruit to their corps. And with that, Collins has two rivals to the affections of the Bennet sisters, or to Kitty and Lydia’s affections at least. No sooner do they start talking that Messrs Darcy and Bingley veer around the corner on horses. At this rate, Collins would be lucky to settle for Mary by the time they get back home.

However, as Darcy does his best to avoid embarrassing himself with a long look at Lizzy, he notices Mr Wickham and they both change colour - one a pale white and the other a flushed red. They try to brush it off with a formal cap-doffing, but their mutual history is obvious. (Again, I know Pride and Prejudice is not the book to go to for accounts of the sordid adventures bachelors had in their youth, but I do hope Austen doesn’t leave us at “it was impossible not to long to know.”)

The gentlemen part ways with the ladies (and Collins) and they head to their aunt Mrs Phillips’ house for a surprise visit, as Kitty and Lydia had originally planned. She receives her beloved nieces and their strange, apologetic man warmly, but all she can tell them about the enigmatic Mr Wickham is that he was in the area “to have a lieutenant's commission in the ---shire”. It actually says “---shire”. I think this is Austen’s way of keeping her book out of a specific place and time, much like how so many classics are set in the year 17-- or 17??, but considering she went to the trouble of naming so many places already, she may as well have grouped them under a unifying Shire.

They spend the rest of the visit playing games and enduring another instance of Collins apologising profusely for something that isn’t an issue (this time it’s leaving the room). Elizabeth tries to tell Jane what she thought she saw happen between Darcy and Wickham, to no avail. They go home with the invitation to return the following evening, presumably for some kind of party. Another fine day ends with the Bennet matriarch pleased at report that only his dear, dear Lady Catherine could exceed Phillips’s elegance.

Thoughts

Every time “Miss Bennet” is mentioned in the book, it’s Jane. Is there something about being on the cusp of engagement that makes you a real woman?

Oh, to live in the ---shire countryside back in the ??ies!

Although I joked about it earlier, I would not be surprised if Collins ends up marrying Mary, since all of the others seem quite paired up.

Yes, I did forget to put a quote in last week and yes, I did decide to just leave it as it was for prosperity.

Thoughts? Feel free to give me feedback or recommendations based on this. I’m always happy to polish my prose. Come back next week for Chapter 16, where the Bennets take Mrs Phillips up on her offer.

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tmntgirlie · 4 years

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Saviors in a Half Shell Turtles x Fem!Reader Hinted Leo x Fem!Reader

!TW! Attempted Suicide !TW!

"All in a night's work, huh, guys?" Leonardo boasted. He would never tire from leaping rooftop to rooftop in that city. The adrenaline rush, the confidence boost- he ached for more.

"So much for the most powerful gang in the city! Looked like they were about to wet themselves," Raphael snickered, leaping one step ahead of his elder. "I'd wet myself if I were up against us, too, as a human."

Longing to blend in was a thing of the past. With all the good they did for the city, the four brothers learned that they preferred to be thankless heroes. April made sure they were barely even a shadow, no echoes of who they were or where they came from. Those that did see them were... Let's just say they would never wish to speak of them. They knew the consequences.

After all, four over six foot tall ninjas? You definitely don't want to be on their bad side.

It was seven years since their first experience topside. Seven years since they finally met the woman that saved them. Seven years silently fighting, growing closer with each mission, each victory.

To be honest, Leo wasn't sure if Mikey was happier with each new personal best or when he got to pick up takeout on the street corner. He treated both instances as the same.

“Scanner’s starting to slow down for the night, should we call it? There’s this Thai food place we could order from, I hear they’re really good!” Donatello said, easily taking up the rear of his brothers. He barely focused on the obstacles in front of him, instead looking directly into the screen of his glasses.

He swore he wouldn’t actually go blind using them all the time.

“Go ahead, then, what are you waiting for-?” Leonardo began to shout.

He stopped.

One by one, his brothers ran into his shell at full force, almost knocking him to his knees. “Watch it!” he whisper-yelled, shaking his head.

“Leo, what’s with the-”

“Shh!” He gestured to the nearest edge of the rooftop.

Like most rooftops in New York City, it wasn’t completely flat. It had air conditioning units, ventilation systems, some even boasted botanical gardens if they residents were daring enough. This one was rather plain, with only a small door leading to a stairway down, a few patio chairs, and a two foot deep lipped edge. Two feet of presumably concrete was all that stood between the rooftop and the city beneath.

No, this didn’t seem right. What was this girl doing standing on that ledge?

“Do you think she’s meditating? Should we leave her alone?” Michelangelo whispered to his brothers.

Donnie gave him a firm nudge. “No, people don’t just- just meditate on the edge of a high platform like this.”

“Is she looking at the stars?”

“No, she’s looking down, Mikey. Stupid.”

Leonardo felt his breath hitch as he realized what they were about to witness.

Crime fighting was one thing. It was becoming almost second nature to the mutant turtle family. As easy as breathing, essentially.

“Uh, Miss? Are you okay?” Leonardo called out after a brief moment of silence between his brothers.

“You guys should leave. You shouldn’t be up here.” Something about her voice didn’t sit right with Leo.

He quickly ushered his brothers into the shadow of the rooftop doorway. Even if she turned around, she wouldn’t see them. She couldn’t see them.

“Are you okay? You’re awful close to that ledge,” Leonardo said, choosing his words as carefully as he could.

“You should leave,” she repeated. The woman didn’t move, still looking towards the ground. It was such a long way down.

What on Earth was she thinking?

“What’s your name?” he asked, holding up a quick hand to his brothers. He didn’t want anything said that might set her off. She was so close to that ledge. One step and…

“My name?” the woman said, speaking quieter now. “Why would you care what my name is? What’s yours?”

“My name is Leonardo. I’d like to know your name.”

None of his training prepared him for something like this. What could possibly be on her mind for her to be this close to falling? All on her own accord.

The woman leaned back on her heels, taking in a deep breath. “Y/N.”

“Y/N? That’s a lovely name.”

“Thanks,” she said through grinding teeth.

Leonardo took quick breaths in and out. Think, Leo, Think.

He felt his heart jump out of his shell as she shifted her weight back on her toes, leaning more into the thin air. “Wait!” he yelled on impulse.

“You should leave,” Y/N said again, shaking her head, her hair shifting back and forth against her neck. “I don’t want company right now.”

“I can’t leave. I swore to myself and my family to protect the citizens of this city. That means you, even if it’s against yourself.” Leonardo felt like he heard the words he said out loud before he heard them in his mind. He hoped to all that was good that he could get this woman out of this situation.

“Leo, we should…” Raphael whispered, though at the look of his elder, he stopped his train of thought. No.

The woman on the edge forced a laugh. “Don’t you have Thai food to get or something?”

“Do you want some?”

“I don’t think I’ll need any, actually.”

That wasn’t the answer Leo had expected. He took a small step forward, on the edge of the shadow and the light from the moon. “What do you want?”

Y/N began to shift back on her heels, exhaling. Ten seconds went by, but it felt like an eternity. Leo was ready to jump forward. “What does anybody want? Really?”

This was a type of low Leonardo never thought he would witness. How was it possible that someone would be so close to the edge, quite literally, and just not seem to care one way or the other? How could that be possible?

“You know, I never really thought I’d make it this far,” she said suddenly. “In life, this far… This close. I never thought I’d make it.”

Leo took the smallest of steps forward as he could, light barely reaching his forehead. “What do you mean?”

“Here I am, in the Big Apple, making my way through life. I’m successful, I have a good credit score, I have my own place. Why does it feel like I still have nothing?”

Shit. What was he supposed to say to that?

“Don’t you have family?”

She scoffed. “Hardly. Dad’s dead, mother’s a narcissistic sociopath, and sister is a hotshot accountant in the Midwest. Words I never thought I’d say about her.”

“Friends?”

“Do you know how hard it is to keep friends when you feel like a prisoner inside your own head?”

Ouch.

Leonardo sucked in a breath. “Look, I’m not going to let you do this. If you jump, you lose.”

“What could I possibly have to lose?”

“Don’t you want there to be a chance that it will get better?”

“Wanting that chance has got me this far. I’d say ‘chances’ are pretty slim.”

Leonardo growled, shaking his head. When he opened his mouth to speak, he saw the tip of her shoe begin to slip. “No, wait-!” He had never felt his heart beat so fast in his life. Did he fail?

Before he could think, he felt his body run to the edge of the rooftop faster than he thought he could ever go. Leonardo reached out his arm to grab hers. “Y/N!”

He couldn’t fail. Failure wasn’t an option.

Leo had barely blinked when he saw red in his peripheral. As he grabbed one arm, he felt his brother beside him, holding onto the woman’s other arm just as tightly, her legs dangling beneath her.

The woman shut her eyes tightly. “I told you to leave! Why can’t you leave me be? I’m a nobody! You don’t even know me!”

“We don’t have to know you to care, miss,” Leonardo said quietly. “We care about all citizens. Well, most of them. And you don’t seem like one of the bad ones.”

Y/N opened her eyes and looked up at her two… Rescuers? Unwelcomed heroes? “You- You- What-”

“I thought you said to stay in the shadows, Leonardo,” Donatello whisper-shouted across the rooftop, keeping as far from them as possible. He didn’t want to think about what was going through Mikey’s head right then. It couldn’t be good.

“You- What-” Y/N stammered as the two mutant turtles pulled her from the rooftop’s edge. They sat her down gently against the pavement, away from the edge. The brothers exchanged glances with one another, only barely looking back to the two that completed the foursome. It was silently agreed that this was necessary.

“Who are you?” Y/N finally said, closing her eyes tightly just to open them again.

“Now, that’s a loaded question,” Raphael said with a small snicker as his brother elbowed him. He held nothing back. “Hey!”

“Right now, we are just strangers that care about your safety,” Leonardo told her, finally able to look this woman in the eyes. They were blue, like his, and almost a perfect match. “Do you think you’ll be okay?”

Y/N sucked in another breath. “I don’t know- Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

It took less than a second for Raph to fling the woman over his shoulder like a ragdoll. He shrugged sheepishly at his elder brother, who glared daggers. “Looks like we’re getting Thai for five tonight, boys.”

“Hey! This is kidnapping!”

“What are your other options? We send you to a mental institution? I don’t think so,” Donatello scoffed as he stepped out from the shadows. “Mental health facilities are not at all satisfactory in this country.”

“Think of this as ‘suicide watch’, miss. It’s for your own good,” Leonardo said. “We’re not gonna hurt ya. We want to help.”

For the second time that night, Y/N seemed to just give in. Her body lost its tension against the strange being holding her. She gave up. What else could really go wrong now? Suicide watch, huh?

“I’ll tell the Master we’re having company,” Donatello told his brothers.

Master? Who were these ‘rescuers’, anyway?

#tmnt #leo tmnt #raph tmnt #donnie tmnt #mikey tmnt #leonardo tmnt #tmnt leonardo #reader x tmnt #raphael tmnt #tmnt raphael #donatello tmnt #tmnt donatello #michelangelo tmnt #tmnt michelangelo #attempted suicide #saved by the turtles #fanfic turned x reader

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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Welcome back, everyone! Starting here in Chapter Six these recaps are doing double duty with my latest attempt at completing National Novel Writing Month. Granted, this isn’t a novel and yes, I technically started this project well before November, but there’s no way I’d manage 50,000 words of fiction in 2020, so I’m hoping to hit that with these recaps instead. You all get semi-frequent updates and I may get to finally say I completed this challenge! That’s a win-win as far as I’m concerned.

Quick reminder: new teams, CFVY was separated, everything is awful. There, done. Seventy-five pages in we’ve come back to Velvet’s point of view as she and the other students are carted off in airbuses. She’s experiencing the “same shock and dismay” that she saw on Yatsuhashi’s face before they were separated, thus I’d like to re-emphasize last chapter’s argument that though shaking up the teams isn’t inherently a bad idea, doing it in this way while your students are recovering from/still involved in a war is… not so great for their mental health. Yeah, yeah, Remnant is a hard place and these kids experience traumatic events on the weekly, but still. There’s a fine line between preparing students for that kind of life and simply traumatizing them further, because this is a kind of trauma when the teams so heavily rely on one another - fill every aspect of one another’s lives: friend, colleague, family, teacher, student, leader, follower, romantic partner - and you’re now uprooting them with no warning. Whether or not new teams actually happen, the students think they are and that’s messing with their heads. Basically they’re just:

This problem is highlighted when we get confirmation of what I stated last time: the teams aren’t merely colleagues turned friends, but family. These fighters have got all their emotional eggs in one basket. Velvet goes so far as to imply that she loves her team more than her parents, with the logic being that they (her parents) “never talked to each other anymore.” So… if Coco and Yatsuhashi stopped talking would that undermine your love for each of them as individuals? I get what the overall takeaway is - divorce is a nasty business and can leave lasting scars on kids caught in the middle, to say nothing of the fact that, as a young adult, Velvet is poised to start creating a family by choice, not blood - but it’s still an odd way to phrase the issue. Here we have another instance of me picking up on implications due to RWBY, the franchise’s, overall themes. When you’ve got a story so thoroughly touting a teens vs. adults mentality, having Velvet mentally reject her parents for her team reads differently than it otherwise would. Chock that onto the pile that already includes things like, ‘Ruby denies that Qrow ever helped her’ and ‘Yang is no longer a part of grieving for Summer’ and ‘Weiss seems to have forgotten all that Klein did for her.’ There’s a lot of uncomfortable details attached to our heroes and how they see the adults in their lives, parents included.

Velvet doesn’t get to worry for long though. A much happier voice sounds across the airbus and she spots Sun, classically hanging from his tail. Instead of hearing more about her fears we segue into - you guessed it - Sun bashing. The first thought to pop into her head is that Sun “wasn’t with the rest of his team, but knowing Sun, that might have been his decision.”

...Velvet, you just tried desperately to stay with your own team and were (somehow) swept away by the apparently overwhelming crowed (still ridiculous imo). But if you didn’t manage this, what makes you think Sun had a chance? Why is his separation suddenly a potential choice when yours was presented as nothing of the sort? That is some real insistence on thinking the worst of him. I dragged Sun for abandoning his team in Volume 4 because that was abandonment. It was a choice worthy of criticism. This? This was outside of his control and Velvet knows it.

Sun saw her, smiled, and waved. Velvet looked away.

Nice, Velvet.

He comes over anyway and (kindly!) asks if she’s okay. Velvet says no, specifically because “Yatsu and I were separated.” Here we have another example of how close the partners get even within each team. Blake and Yang are inseparable. Ruby talks to Weiss more than her sister (and the concept of her talking to Blake in any meaningfully way is hilarious at this point). Now, despite being separated from her entire team - everyone is in the same awful boat - Velvet frames the situation as just being separated from Yatsuhashi. Later she repeats, “Well, I still want to try to find Yatsu.” So would it be a disappointment to find Fox or Coco instead? It’s especially weird because in the main show we see Velvet and Coco interacting the most. I actually had to look up who Velvet’s partner was because I just assumed our two girls were a duo. Apparently not. I’m not really into the CFVY side of the fandom, but I imagine there’s a substantial ship community for these two based solely on how Velvet embraces RWBY partnerships in this book, outside of the always popular Velvet/Coco, of course.

That’s admittedly a ship I can get behind.

After Velvet unloads all her worries “Sun stared ahead, like he couldn’t quite manage to feel bad.” Attention, readers, this is an important lesson coming up! In fandom spaces I often see people analyzing novels (and other print media/visual media with narration) without taking into consideration the perspective. Unless we’ve got an omniscient perspective we need to take into account that our narrator might, simply put, be wrong (and even then, omniscient unreliable narrators are a popular choice). Often I see readers taking a characters’ thoughts - and words - at face value, which is understandable given that we’re meant to emotionally connect with them, but we have to keep in mind that this is their interpretation of events. We see the story through their eyes, how they perceive the world, but their perception of the world may not be accurate or, at the very least, is open to further interpretation. Sometimes this is used in an obvious, plot-driven manner - there’s a surprise twist for the reader, made possible because our protagonist was likewise kept in the dark - but it applies to our reading of more casual interactions too. This is a good example. Just because Velvet says Sun looks “like he couldn’t quite manage to feel bad” doesn’t mean that’s actually how Sun feels. As we’ve just re-established, Velvet is inclined to think the worst of Sun, or at least consider the worst as a distinct possibility. So if we’re asking the question, “Is Velvet’s perspective accurate to reality here?” weighing her previous assumptions against actions like Sun smiling, waving, and asking how she’s doing, AKA caring about her situation… I’d say no, it’s likely not.

At least she doesn’t outright accuse him of anything. Given that he’s not privy to these insulting thoughts, Sun chatters on about the test. He thinks it “isn’t a bad idea” because, as established, a lot of students lost teammates and are having trouble settling into Shade while still trying to live the life they had at Beacon. Changing the teams could be a “chance to really commit to our new school and our training, and learn from one another in a new way.” That’s what I think!

“Right… Or maybe some of us burned bridges with our team and might be looking for an easy way to avoid fixing those relationships.”

Velvet what the actual fuck. Can our cast NOT be assholes for five minutes??

Sun goes red at the accusation and calls her out on being harsh. “Tough love” Velvet calls it. Okay, no. Tough love is reserved for people you’re actually friends with and is meant to have them face a harsh reality they might be avoiding. Sun is avoiding an overt apology with his team, but we (and Velvet) have been given no indication that his thoughts on the test are a smokescreen to hide ulterior motives, which is what she’s talking about here. Sun clearly wants to make up with his team, he’s just struggling to accept what needs to be done to do that. Tough love would have been Velvet encouraging Sun to use this separation to reflect on what his team means to him and then, regardless of whether they end up back together, apologizing for how he unintentionally hurt them. Not… this. Plus, again, Velvet hasn’t exactly been friendly lately. She has little ground for dishing out “tough love.” You need established “love” before the “tough” part.

In addition, she’s not listening to what Sun’s saying. “If they want us prepared for an attack, breaking up teams sounds counterproductive.” When did Sun mention anything about an attack? That’s your assumption of what’s going down based on the illegal investigation you’ve been assisting with. Sun just said that changing the teams would provide some of them with a much needed clean slate, which is true. Just because that’s not what Velvet needs doesn’t mean it’s not useful for others. As she eventually acknowledges, they can get too comfortable in the roles they’ve been playing.

We get her line about wanting to find Yatsuhashi followed by, “Sun, you do whatever you want. That’s what you’re good at.” Velvet seriously? Then minutes later she’s hoping Sun sticks close to her if he can. Real talk: everyone deserves better than this. ‘Friends’ who constantly act like your presence is a burden, insult you whenever they get the chance, insist such insults are for your benefit (it’s just tough love), but then turn around and play nice when you have something they want... those aren’t friends. Note that Velvet is - both privately and overtly - mean to Sun while he’s just existing in the airbus, going through the same horrible test as her, trying to be nice, and holding an otherwise civil conversation. While trapped on the bus with nowhere to go, Sun is a nuisance despite his best efforts. When the floor suddenly opens up and Velvet is terrified of falling and surviving on her own though, then his presence is desirable. That’s not friendship and in another story I’d praise the author(s) for writing a compelling move from shaky acquaintances to a strong bond… but I’m honestly not sure that the relationship (any of them, really) will improve. Far as I can gather, Myers thinks this is friendship.

So Velvet accuses Sun of always and forever hurting others in his pursuit of doing what pleases him (after checking in on Velvet… literally minutes ago…) which is right around when Scarlet decides to make himself known. He agrees with Sun’s belief that this test will be harder than they assume: “I think you’re right… For a change.” Everything comes with a caveat. Apparently Scarlet has been listening in the whole time, but somehow manages to turn that into an insult as well with “I’ve been standing five feet away. Maybe I’m ready for a new team, too.” Wait, is the implication that Scarlet is further annoyed because Sun didn’t notice him? Do you all have ANY idea how many times a friend has stood right next to me and I didn’t notice them because I was caught up in something like work, a show… a conversation? I’m oblivious af. I get that Sun has things to make up for but at the very least these characters could keep their criticisms to what he’s actually done wrong, not crazy reaches like, ‘Sun probably abandoned his team when everyone was separated’ or ‘Sun was busy talking to Velvet and didn’t notice me eavesdropping, so I guess I don’t mean much to him, huh.’ I’m constantly torn between the presumed realism of this writing - people are unfair in their criticisms, teens do hold unsubstantiated grudges - and acknowledging that Myers seems to have felt confident writing (1) personality and just gave it to everyone. Velvet privately becomes as critical as Coco, who is as vocal as Fox, who agrees with Yatsuhashi, who echoes Sun’s team, and Sun himself often throws that attitude right back. Round and round we go.

As one might imagine, the three begin theorizing about what the test itself will be like. Usually Shade sets up initiation just like this. Students are transported in windowless airbuses, dumped in the desert, and told to find their way home. I’m interested in the bit about how teams are made up not only based on arrival, but also “the manner in which [the students] survived.” It definitely lends support to the assumption I’ve always had that the teams can really be random. At least not entirely. There’s strategy on the part of the instructors, thinking through aspects like, ‘Well, these two students used their wits in this manner so they’d pair together nicely.’ Or the reverse, ‘Put together the strategist with the student in love with blunt force, let them balance each other out.’ I certainly don’t think that Ozpin formed teams based solely on who ran into each other first. Not only do we have agency on the part of the students (Weiss leaves Ruby, then Jaune, then goes back to Ruby), as well as the fact that two sets of partners had to be paired together someway, but Ozpin was also carefully watching their whole performance. If the only thing that mattered was getting back to Beacon with a chess piece, why bother examining their choices? Shade appears to employ a similar setup of careful decisions portrayed as randomness, which would make sense given that Ozpin set up these schools. Though all the headmasters may not realize it (is Theodore a part of the inner circle?), or perhaps don’t agree with his methods overall, Ozpin’s influence is undeniably evident in each institution we’ve seen.

The only difference between normal initiation and this test seems to be that the students have to find a gold figurine this time around. Though as our trio points out, there’s likely to be other differences as well, otherwise the original Shade students would have a pretty significant advantage.

During all this Velvet remanences about Beacon’s initiation and we learn that Ozpin does, apparently, use the whole ‘Throw you into the woods where you’ll find some relic’ setup each year, as Velvet remembers being “thrown into the air” during hers. She also hits on another concern that hadn’t crossed my mind until now: what if a team includes a new student alongside the “more vocal in harassing recruits from Beacon and Haven?” It might do the Shade students some good to get to know the newcomers, but it’s not the newcomers’ responsibility to teach them some basic respect and kindness.

During all this Rumpole, via a screen, has been explaining how the test will go down. Her little info session concludes with her telling them to “Prepare for drop-off… See you back home soon.” I really like that she used the term “home” here. It says something about how she views the school and her students’ place in it, despite the tough attitude and tougher culture of Vacuo.

Turns out, when Rumpole said drop-off she meant that literally. The floor opens up and we get a mix of some students panicking while others just happily jump out.

Yeet.

Like I said, Ozpin’s influence.

I didn’t understand the panic initially - aren’t landing strategies a basic part of huntsmen training, something everyone (except Jaune) is expected to know coming into a school? Isn’t it at least partway through the year when everyone, even firsties, has had practice at this? - until I remembered Rumpole’s comment about how she hoped everyone remembered to bring their weapons this morning.

…that’s one hell of a lesson. Let’s break this down for a second. Yes, everyone at Shade is expected to carry their weapons at all times, but the meeting that started all this was early in the morning and, far as I can tell, entirely unexpected. ‘Supposed to’ is not the same thing as ‘will,’ especially when one is dealing with college-equivalent students who are still figuring expectations out. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that someone did leave their weapon behind. So now what? These buses are thousands of feet in the air, dropping students randomly as they jump/fall. If a student did need help how in the world would a professor assist them? Do they just expect other students to help like Pyrrha did for Jaune? It’s possible given that in a moment Octavia will help Velvet despite seeming to dislike her... but that’s not something I’d want to bank on. Whether a student forgot their weapon or has a weapon unsuited to a landing strategy, they’re going to die from this fall. Yeah, yeah, the test is supposed to be deadly, but what’s there to learn then? You’re dead! The lesson ‘Don’t forget your weapon’ or ‘Find a weapon more suited to landing strategies’ will never stick unless there are contingency plans in place to ensure that students survive their first mistakes.

It just all seems kind of flimsy, like everything works out because the plot says it must, not because I believe this in-world setup is geared towards keeping students alive and teaching them how to survive this world. (The reverse of the story conveniently not killing civilians off during a major grimm attack.) If landing strategies are so crucial to a huntsmen’s work - and we see them a lot - why are students allowed to have weapons like Yatsuhashi’s Fulcrum that, far as I can see, provide you with no way of slowing your descent? What if you don’t have a suitable semblance? Or it hasn’t been unlocked yet? What if your weapon would work, theoretically, but you haven’t taken any pictures of other suitable weapons lately (Velvet)? What if you never figure out that there are parachutes on the ship? Unless the instructors have a secret way of saving someone from getting splattered, this seems like a test rife with deadly mistakes, not just encounters. Why not teach your students to carry mini high-tech parachutes on their belts, with weapons and semblances as backups? Incorporate Atlas tech into standard schooling, then give us huntsmen who suddenly have it taken away with the embargo, resulting in a lot of problems. I mean, the students are legit scared in this scene, Velvet included. Having them face deadly grimm is one thing, but why test the odds with a thousand foot plunge when there’s absolutely no reason to? Far as I can see, the schooling isn’t built around ensuring they survive a fall like this - nothing like weapon requirements, or carrying additional gear if you semblance is something like Ren’s - which means making the fall a part of the test itself is... not great.

Which, to be clear, is the fault of the author(s) and how much thought (or not) they’ve put into their fictional school, not the fictional school’s fault because it’s, you know, fictional. Basically, the world building in this series kind of drives me nuts, in case you haven’t noticed lol.

Velvet does find the parachutes, oh so conveniently, and at least has the decency to give one to Sun. Also yeah, kudos for thinking to search for them in the first place. I do like the ‘survival is the only thing that counts’ theme. Cheating, lying, and the like is great when it’s used because the odds are already stacked against you. We get her agreement to try and stick close because remember, there’s nothing like a dangerous situation to remind you to be decent towards someone else. As Velvet magnanimously thinks, “Being with Sun would be better than being alone.”

Okay. Low bar, but okay.

So they fall and we get to hear a fair bit about Vacuo’s history based on what Velvet remembers about each landmark from history class. Honestly, I’m impressed at her recall. I wouldn’t be able to dredge up class notes while falling through the air. We get an abandoned city previously hidden by sand and the somewhat confusing sentence, “These were all that was left of the underground mines, the Drylands, the site of the old Paradise Oasis, long since dried up following Dust mining and the Great War.” Are these three separate places among the rock-less area pockmarked with holes? Or is this a single area of underground mines, called the Drylands (for some reason?), that includes the contrasting place called Paradise Oasis? I’m not sure. The takeaway though is that Velvet hopes Coco isn’t heading to that ambiguously named place because she’s incredibly claustrophobic.

What I find the most informative in all this is the description of the quarries as “physical manifestations of the wounds that still ran deep in the people of Vacuo.” The overall issue of outsiders coming into Vacuo, draining it of its resources, and then taking it back to their own kingdoms (while leaving their trash behind) is the sort of theme significant to our own lives and worthy of examination in fiction… Not saying that RWBY necessarily handles this theme well - especially given the messy conflation of that generational trauma and the awful treatment of any ‘outsider’ who wanders into the kingdom - but I do appreciate when I can see the series trying. Even if it fails, effort is (to an extent) still worth acknowledgement.

What I’m less inclined to praise is the strange follow up of “maybe that was why Rumpole was sending students there.” …what does this mean? Velvet just told us the quarries are the “wounds” of Vacuo, so are they being sent there because they’re dangerous? Because huntsmen will somehow fix this?? Neither of these make sense but I literally don’t know what point Myers is trying to make… which happens a lot. Again, there’s a whole lot of wise-sounding statements in this novel that, at the end of the day, mean very little - if anything at all.

Velvet eventually lands, nearly getting pulled into one of the openings when she can’t get out of her parachute. She’s saved at the last moment by Octavia Ember, a member of Team NDGO. You know, “One of the people she least wanted to run into.” We all knew the moment Velvet worried about running into one of the crueler members of Shade that it would happen.

Their conversation is filled with heartfelt gratitude and riveting greetings:

“Thanks?” Velvet said.

“Whatever.” Octavia sheathed her blade and started walking away. That was more like it.

What is wrong with all of these people? My kingdom for a kind, enthusiastic, non-team exchange!

You know the ‘enemies forced to work together’ conflict couldn’t end there though (a trope I normally love and would likely love here except having Octavia be another stereotypical mean girl was the least innovative choice possible). She and Velvet end up heading towards the same quarry, simply because there’s nothing else for miles around. Velvet displays some quick thinking when she explains that the instructors likely hid the relics in there to ensure they weren’t forever hidden under the sand. Velvet, unlike Yatsuhashi, has also realized that there’s more to the test than just their fighting skills. They’ll be graded on everything, “Including how we treat each other.” I’m always appreciative of characters who use their brains as much as their brawns.

Perhaps that not-so-subtle nudge resonated with Octavia because she opens up a bit. By this I mean she moves from “Whatever” to telling Velvet the traumatizing story of how she lost a third of her clan to Blind Worms in one of these quarries. Okay. That’s a complete 180, but I’ll take it. Velvet continues to have supposed insights about the Vacuans like, ‘Maybe they don’t cry because that’s a waste of water?’ and ‘Maybe they hate everyone on principal because of the past?’ and ‘I guess bullying is just something you’re supposed to survive out here’ (um… no.) In Velvet - and Myers’ - defense she acknowledges that none of these explanations excuse their actions… but I’m not so sure it explains them either. A few chapters ago we were hammering home how teens don’t have an emotional connection to their past, despite it not actually being that long ago (recall Coco’s conversation with Rumpole in class), but now we’re supposed to believe that all of these teens reject newcomers because of stuff that happened during a war they weren’t alive for? Also, I’m neither a doctor nor an anthropologist, but the concept of a desert people refusing to cry because it’s a waste of water - especially in an otherwise advanced civilization - seems suspect. I can buy someone being unable to cry because they’re currently dehydrated, but a whole culture denying themselves this outlet when most of them don’t actually lack water anymore is odd.

Granted, culture isn’t always logical. Case in point: memes. So let’s give that a pass.

However, we’ve still got the issue of continuity across paragraphs. First Velvet is smug because she’s a better climber than Octavia. Then Octavia is ahead and supposedly annoyed that Velvet was slowing her down. It’s unclear when, or if, they’ve finished climbing at this point and a second later Octavia is climbing a tree - why didn’t Velvet do that? Really, I lay little blips like this at the feet of the editors, not the author(s), simply because as an author I know precisely how easy it is to lose track of every detail you’ve introduced. It becomes obvious to the reader when things don’t quite align, but it will often go unnoticed by the writer - like typos. (RIP my own work.) Which is why you need that second perspective to not just catch the big mistakes, but tweak all the smaller ones too. RWBY is now a part of WarnerMedia and Before the Dawn was published by Scholastic. There’s a standard here I don’t think either is meeting.

As said previously though, Octavia climbs a tree because Velvet - with faunus eyes - spotted a trinket the others had missed. Octavia falls, Velvet catches her, and a whole swarm of Ravagers show up, which seem to be a bat-like grimm. Nice. My gothic, vampire, Stellaluna loving ass can get behind that.

Behold: my childhood.

They make a run for it and we - finally - get some solidarity as Octavia admits that the relic is technically Velvet’s and Velvet wonders in turn if they can share it. I offered my kingdom for a kind exchange and I got it! Hurray! More importantly, apparently that is an option because the airbus coordinates have shown up on both their scrolls. I’m not going to pretend that I understand how that tech works, but that’s a level of world building we don’t actually need. Not unless the hypothetical of students piggybacking on another’s relic is a part of the evaluation.

I love that Velvet used her camera flash to scare off the Ravager in their way. That’s a fantastic twist on the ‘Velvet will use her semblance and impress Octavia’ expectation as well as a great way to demonstrate that she is a formidable fighter, capable of paying attention to her situation/surroundings and responding accordingly.

There are more Ravagers though, incoming Blind Worms, an avalanche… and the airbus. A narrow escape indeed. Octavia drops that attention-catching, “Thank the Brothers” as they reach safety.

Going back to my earlier point about Shade seeming happy to kill its kids, apparently Velvet and Octavia were the last to reach the bus and Sun told the pilot to wait. That says good things about Sun, but horrible things about the test. If Sun hadn’t insisted on staying would Octavia and Velvet have had a way out? Why in the world wasn’t the pilot told to wait longer?? The whole timeline is confusing, with Sun and Velvet leaving the airship only a short time after everyone else, but it looks like the whole group was way ahead of them (the quarry is empty of both relics and people by the time they arrive), except Sun managed to get super far ahead of Velvet somehow, and their pilot was apparently working under an unspoken deadline… I’m just taking information at face value because if you try to piece it all together, good luck.

Also sorry, but I straight up laughed at Sun’s “You woke up the Ravagers. And you lived to tell the tale.” That is so unnecessarily dramatic. Oh no. Not the Ravagers. Literally the first thing I thought of was some B horror movie like

Coming only to a streaming service near your couch because we’re still living through a pandemic. Wear your masks, friends!

Back to this very entertaining reaction. Sun, you and Velvet have both taken out Atlesian knights, you fought a gigantic sea monster with Blake, and Velvet just bypassed a nest of Ravagers with a simple bright light. If RWBY is going to randomly try and make the grimm threatening again, do it with stuff that actually reads as a significant threat to these fighters. After you’ve got your first years blasting through (Yang) and riding (Nora) bear grimm at initiation, a couple of bat grimm just doesn’t cut it.

Moving on, Velvet’s iffy perspective rears its head once more as she thinks, “What if Sun had passed by the trinket in the tree, knowing it would be too dangerous to retrieve it? She and Octavia had not had that luxury.”

There’s a lot wrong with this theory:

How do you know Sun has better vision, even as a fellow faunus? As Volume 7’s Tyrian attack brought to the surface, supposedly not every faunus has that advantage.

Velvet straight up says that she wasn’t able to see the Ravagers, otherwise she would have warned Octavia about them. The whole point is that they startled her and she fell. So what, Sun not only has faunus vision but better than Velvet’s? (Do monkeys have better vision than rabbits? I have no idea, but this is the kind of stuff I would google if I wanted to potentially draw attention to it in my book).

If that trinket was too dangerous to retrieve, why did the instructors put it there in the first place? Fox mentioned things being unfair with his lack of sight, but that’s a pretty big difference: easy grabs in a supposedly abandoned quarry vs. a grab that wakes up the whole nest of grimm.

“She and Octavia had not had that luxury” why does this sound like another dig at Sun? Like it’s worth criticizing that he… got there first? Got lucky with the relics closer to the floor? Probably because everything is a dig at Sun in this book, including Velvet’s surprise that he might have “respect in his eyes.” Velvet! He was just asking about you, made the bus wait, and has always worn his heart on his sleeve! Sun’s respect/care is not in question, only how he chooses (at times) to display it.

Not that the story seems to get that. We can’t work through Sun’s questionable choices if we’re stuck in this never ending loop of ‘He’s so annoying/incompetent/willfully cruel’ into ‘Hark! is that a positive trait I see?’ and then back to ‘Never mind he’s awful.’ Maybe Velvet’s pride at his reaction to the Ravagers will finally move things forward.

Which is where we leave off. The airbus scares off the other Ravagers with its guns, the group heads back towards Shade (or a second part of the test? That did feel too much like a normal initiation to be fair), and Velvet ends with the equally dramatic line, “The initiation ritual had been hard and almost deadly, and even worse was yet to come: the assignment of the new teams.”

I have to say though, that is the most teen-accurate thought I’ve seen so far. An 18 year old would be more scared of their team social life than getting eaten by a monster lol.

On that note, drop a comment or an ask if you feel like being social yourself and I’ll see you during the next burst of NaNoWriMo energy! 💜

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#rwby #BTD Recaps #Before the Dawn #mymetas

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