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jacearthereal · 4 years ago

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Written panel of Guillermo Rojas (Dean Winchester’s voice actor):

Note: I’m not fluent in spanish, but my native language is portuguese and I could understand a lot from what he said. I hope this clarifies more things in this fandom, because everyday a new thing comes up and we try not to panic.

What it’s not here, it’s because I didn’t understand enough to write something coherent, but I tried my best. I hope y’all like it.

Ada: He's been a voice actor from season 12 to episode 15x18. He tells us that unfortunately he got covid in the last 2 episodes and he understands that he will have to record the [last] episodes again. Let's start with the easier questions, because I don't know if you guys know, but the Mexican dubbing ‘broke the internet.’

Guillermo: Yes, I’m sorry I couldn’t answer all your questions, but I was in the middle phase of covid, with a tracheal symptom that didn’t allow me to speak. Now I’m working with therapy. Apparently, I have two sequels. One is bad and the second is not. So I couldn't answer everyone I was looking on the internet. On insta, facebook, youtube — A channel that I never updated — on the situation that happened with Dean and this other companion, right.

Ada: but let's start with other questions. Because you've worked on a lot of series, live-actions and animations. And the first question is “how different is the process of directing live-action and directing animation and which one do you prefer?

Guillermo: The process for each other is somewhat similar. Because we have a quality that we have to respect and give in this case.

Ada (translating what Guillermo said): The dialogues are given by the production house or as we call “the client”.

Guillermo: And in this case we have to pay attention to the alignments that they ask us, which depend a lot on the production we are working with.

(Ada repeats in English)

Guillermo: Yes, none of them are the same. It would be lying because we could have two live-actions and they’re not the same alignments. These are basic points that we need to follow.

Ada: (speaks very similarly and says): When you're acting, that's when the change comes.

Guillermo: The big difference that I can tell you would be the technical points to follow in each one of them. The question would be authorial, in this case. And what gives 100% of each one of us.

Ada: Ok, next question. What is your favorite role you've played and why?

Guillermo: I believe that the first one I can tell you — today it’s not the most and I will say why — It remains Kiefer Sutherland / Jack Bauer 24h. First, because it has a very beautiful story of how I stayed with (Jack Bauer?). Basically, I was directing the dubbing in the country and the idea was that I shouldn’t do it because I had many directions, but in the end we continued to record through the years because the people listened to me. And then I worked extra hours.

(Ada says in english that they managed to organize themselves).

Ada: So they paid you more?

Guillermo: No.

Ada (About Guillermo): They pay me more because I work more, but not for extra hours. It was my first leading role. It was not worth losing it.

Guillermo: I have worked for 25 years with voice acting in all areas. I'm an audio engineer. I work as an audio engineer, as a post-audio producer, as a talent director and as a talent.

(Ada repeats in English)

Guillermo: [...] very complicated content because it was a lot. Record, edit, direct and be there.

(Ada repeats in english and congratulates him)

Guillermo: Yes, it will be many years for me. I do audio production and post production of audio and video. And a friend one day; and it was because one day we went to eat. I don't remember the day, and he said “You don't work, you play(?)—” and it's true, I like what I do. But if you ask me which character I liked the most, today, it would be the 911, the Fox series that is just being produced if I'm not mistaken for the fourth or fifth season. A team of firefighters, and just from recording, my tears fall with the empathy that the production brings, but the acting has an impressive ending.

He says something about authorial issues to feel empathy with Peter Krause.

And he talks about the director having an impressive drive not only to direct, but to adapt dialogues and there’s a synergy working on this TV show.

He says something about the director supporting him and giving him characters and that he really enjoy doing because the director gives him a certain freedom to act and that allows him to feel the character and that he loves to work with him.

Ada: In the dubbing process, do you try to get clues or directions of performance from the original script and if you do it do you feel limiting or try to get your own inspiration from the dialogues?

Guillermo: I think there is a bit of both in that last question. Original alignment would be to follow what we are seeing as performance. Remember that dubbing has been a part of it— we must make a parallel alignment with the language.

Ada (repeats): A parallel work with the original.

Guilhermo: So the initial alignments we try to expand all the possibilities and all the alignments that authorially they allow us to practically give 100% of us. So the limit wouldn't always exist, I mean here in Mexico, at least.

Ada (referring to what Guilhermo said): We follow the instructions, we follow the original voice, there are no limits, as long as we don't — as we say here in Mexico — don't pee outside the toilet. The instructions are very clear.

Ada: Since you mentioned the paths and as I mentioned at the beginning, I have a question. What was the guide in this latest supernatural dialogue that broke the internet?

Guillermo: It’s a curious thing, because no director or server had so much idea of the trend that was there because in the information they said previously, we didn't know that something like this could happen.

Ada says something about his birthday being last week because Guilhermo is eating a cake (?) and she asks us to say congratulations to him and he thanks her.

Guillermo: So it was sincere when we recorded. So we were like, "What happened?" We did that, but we saw nothing of the others in the production. (I think he's referring to nobody saying anything) and not even after the recording that this could happen.

Ada: And here I have to make a change because it’s obvious that we are referring to Castiel declaring himself to Dean after twelve intense years, but the question is Dean's answer, because everyone heard very clearly “Y yo a ti”.

Guillermo: Y yo a ti. Yes.

Ada: Where did that “Y yo a ti” come from?

Guillermo: The adaptation was entirely from my director. The adaptation lineup was his and I said what he asked me.

Ada (about Guillermo): I asked him about the “i love you”, I know that Tumblr was waiting for this moment. It was the director's adaptation, he gave me the instructions, it was his fault.

Guillermo: But we all love it. Everything enchanted us. We have never heard it come so directly. If we remember well, throughout all the seasons, we hardly see a story in which Dean finds himself really in love with a woman. It didn’t happen. Unlike his brother.

Ada: I will say more. A little bit ahead of his time.

Guillermo: Yes, but never able to separate from empathy in general. It never conflicted.

Ada (About Guillermo): It wasn't his [...]. We can compare Dean with his brother. We remember the relationship he had (Sam) the past two seasons. Eileen.

Guillermo: And it was quite intense and painful in the end. Dean basically didn't suffer that. (and he says something like the closest thing to Dean was when he lost his mother).

Ada: More than once. We have a question. So it’s not a rogue translator, but a rogue director?

Guillermo: [Adrian] Fogarty has a tendency, he has very intense skills. And one of them is to adapt dialogues. You see Fogarty's work when they translate it and you have time to do it. Even if you’re not directing [...] in spanish. And in the script, if I don't forget, it said “también yo” or something like that and then we changed to "Y yo a ti".

Ada (about what he said): Because of the movement of the lips and other things. I can explain as a translator, my absolute hatred for lip sync.

Guillermo: This part is an important topic, but nowadays with the speed of production we have, it’s difficult to pay attention to this part, but we should. And in that sense, specifically, we don't have this ability to adapt like that. When we put our skills together [...] Fogarty does his job. There’s a Fogarty in every company.

(Ada talks about her cat that showed up).

Ada: This is my cat. He's a huge Dean Winchester’s fan. But he gets irritated with Sam.

(Guillermo asks why).

Ada: I don't know.

She talks about muting (?) the episodes (in spanish and english) in Sam's parts or the cat gets irritated and that he already stole Sam's Funko arm. She talks about getting funkos for Guillermo. He didn't know about them.

Ada: They are asking a lot if you know what Dean said in the original script before Fogarty changed it?

Guillermo: It was something like that. It was totally correct, clearly. It was something “Yo también, también yo” something like that.

(My note: I have to say that I think Guillermo thought it was about the spanish script here).

Ada: Did you hear the original when you were dubbing?

Guillermo: Yes, of course.

Ada: And do you remember hearing in English "I love you too"?

Guillermo: No.

(Ada says that supernatural has a very intense and real fandom, as he can see).

Ada: What was your favorite dubbing episode?

Guillermo: With my short-term memory, the latter.

(Ada repeats in english)

Guillermo: It's because it says a lot. In one scene it said it all. So it’s impressively very beautiful. I will never forget.

Ada tells him that in the episode after Castiel, Dean finally has a dog. Guillermo is surprised and says "He finally has one" and Ada says that the dog is called Miracle.

Ada: We have a question. Before you started working with supernatural, had you seen the TV show?

Guillermo: Yes. Before I started working with supernatural, I was watching between season 5 to 7. I watched at midnight and I was scared. I lived in a house that was kind of an abandoned house so there were some strange noises.

(Guillermo says he heard the original Dean's voice actor from that time).

Ada: They’re asking if the original script said anything about Dean's feelings for Cas or was it all put up by Fogarty?

Guillermo: In the original we received there was no indication that Dean was in love, or that he corresponded, that I know of. That line was what launched the whole series. We didn't see it coming.

Ada (adding): It was the director because that was what made sense.

Guillermo: I looked on the internet so many questions about what happened. And yes, both the director and the writer decided to take a very hidden trend between the two of them in various takes and very sensitive dialogues, to satiate that ‘we’ have feelings for each other’, but it was so tenuous that they hardly noticed anything.

Ada says that it was the director in English, who took this sensitive and subtle path. And he says that this brings to the fact that he’s a heller.

(My note: Who didn’t notice? Warner? All of them? And I also think Ada said “in english” by mistake).

(Guillermo goes back to saying that he was taken by surprise).

Guillermo: Because all we saw was that to be a real man you have to be like Dean Winchester.

Ada: You’re going to break the internet again with this. (she repeats what he said and adds) And Dean Winchester is in love with Castiel.

Guillermo: And to me, it was beautiful. Because it's not about gender, it's about feelings. So it was a wonderful move by the writers. I didn't see it coming and still liked it.

Ada: I believe it was very beautiful. It was a play by the original american writers. That you didn't see it coming, but when you saw it, you liked it.

(My note: She said american writers, but why? Guillermo was talking about Fogarty’s script, wasn’t him?)

Ada: We have two questions. Was anything left out of the translation? (And Ada herself answers with) No. Nothing was left out of the translation.

Ada: Have you ever been called back to re-record the “Y yo a ti”?

Guillermo: No.

Ada: He was not asked to redo the dubbing.

Guillermo: It was clear to me that the director understood the perfect texture of this text.

Ada: I have a question. From experience, because at some point I wanted to dub, but also to translate dubbing, and I noticed a couple of very complicated dialogues [...]

Ada talks about how they had to change a line (the original was in Japanese) but they said it was for children so even if it was what the character said in the original, the company didn’t accept it.

Ada: So my question is, do you know if supernatural has quality control by Warner?

Guillermo: I would lie if I said yes. But I have worked for many years as a director and actor. Some materials like superheroes and things like that would fit in a title like this, but not supernatural. So the decisions and directions are all up to the director.

Ada: Did you act Dean like he was in love with Castiel all this time?

Guillermo: No. It was a surprise. I will be very sincere. For me to say to a very dear friend, to a very dear person, I’ll say "I love you."

Ada (adding): I have no problem.

Guillermo: So I didn't feel that way, I'm sincere.

Ada: You went that way, then said no.

(My note: Strange, uh?)

Guillermo (laughing): Yes, what happened?

Ada: Are you going to voice Jensen on The Boys?

Guillermo says nobody told him anything. That he’s practically being a month just virtually. So they don't have all the invitations.

(My note: I don’t know if this part is entirely correct, but that’s what I got).

Ada: He didn't receive the invitation because he had to spend a month away because of the covid. So he cannot speak to you.

Ada asks fans to write that they want Guillermo Rojas to dub Jensen Ackles on The boys.

Ada: You can do it. Start writing now.

Harlequin: Is Dean Winchester your favorite character to voice or is it another one?

Guillermo: No, no. [but] he's one of my favorites, of course.

(He talks about it being a spectacular job).

Ada: Are you on twitter?

Guillermo: Yes, but I don't use it very much. I like facebook more.

(My note: He scaped from us).

Ada: What is your opinion, now with everything you know, about Dean's declaration to Cas?

Guillermo: I love how they did it, because none of us saw it coming. And we recorded it. And I believe that of all the personality from what we have of the character, we can know that if there’s someone who keeps his feelings reclusive it’s Dean Winchester.

Ada asks about his coworker, Castiel's voice actor, if he knows his opinion.

Guillermo: I didn't see him. We don't see each other very much because the companies we work for don’t coincide much. He has already recorded with me in productions that I directed, but I haven't seen him in four months or more.

Ada says someone asked if he can do a “Hello, Cas” like Dean Winchester, to ease the pain of the finale.

Guillermo: Sure, why not. (he says “Hello, Cas”)

Ada: There you are, girls.

Guillermo says he has a friend who loves Dean, and she said he killed the character she loves most, because Dean has a thicker voice [in the original].

Guillermo says that if she doesn't like it, she should watch the original.

Carolina, friend of Guillermo, appears and Ada repeats the question.

Carolina says Dean Winchester is her boyfriend. And she says that after hearing the dubbing, she will never be able to see or hear Dean as her boyfriend anymore.

Guillermo playfully pushes Carolina off the screen.

Ada: Have you seen the end of the last episode?

Guillermo: No, I want to see it when I record it.

(My note: #PrayforGuillermo)

Ada starts talking about him recording a “Hola, Cas” and Guillermo asks “In what sense” and Ada says “When they meet after the declaration” Guillermo thinks it’s a spoiler and goes “They meet again?” and Ada says she will not give spoilers. Guillermo thought that Dean said "I love you" to Cas and Cas didn't come back from the empty and if Cas comes back, that's how he would say "Hola, Cas".

And Ada reminds him that in the first few seasons, Dean said to Cas “It's not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that, I got laid.”

Then she said that someone asked him to tell Cas the whole declaration of love, but Ada reiterated that they wouldn’t break the internet anymore.

Ada: They are asking you to be godfather of the fandom.

Guillermo: Of course.

Ada tells him that he’s the godfather now and asks him to leave a message for fans who are now discovering the mexican dubbing. He thanks us for being part of this. He says that they do this work with passion. And he thanked all the people from all countries who are watching this project.

Ada: With that in mind, as you didn't see the ending of supernatural, What’s your ideal ending for Dean Winchester?

Guillermo: I believe that for everyone, since they sacrificed their lives for their families once again, for the well-being and happiness of everyone, I believe that if someone deserves to be well, peaceful and happy, [it has to be] at least one of the three.

(Ada talks about Jack)

Guillermo: Jack has joined, but he can achieve his happiness at another nest.

They say goodbye. Guillermo wishes ‘Merry Christmas’.

The end.

#supernatural #guillermo rojas #panel guillermo #dean winchester #voice actor #destiel #deancas #spn 15x18 #Sam Winchester #castiel #jack #spn #spn 15x19 #spn season 16 #spanish dub

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florencecastlewritings · 4 years ago

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Writing Dialogue

Below the read more is a lesson on writing effective dialogue in fiction. As with everything in art, rules are there to be broken, so please do treat the below lesson as a guideline rather than a legal document, and remember that it is based on what works for me as well as advice I have received from other writers. It might not match your style, and that’s all right. It’s also a very lengthy blog post, but I have used headings to try and break it up and there’s a little contents of sorts at the start, so feel free to skim/skip where needed.

If you do find it useful, however, please consider helping me through a tricky time by sending a few pennies my way via ko-fi.

Dialogue is the written speech of your characters in your story. For some people, writing effective dialogue comes naturally, for others it feels almost impossible to master. It is worth considering, as well, the differences in dialogue for different kinds of media - in screenwriting, for example, a writer will be able to rely more heavily on actors’ expression, comic timing, body language and other effects such as music. However they will also be constrained by shorter time, more need for unnatural exposition, and lack of internal thoughts. The following lesson will focus on dialogue in fiction - for short stories or novels - although some rules will be applicable to dialogue in other mediums too, so they’re worth keeping in mind.

The Purpose of Dialogue

Dialogue should:

Progress the story

Deepen character and relationship

Have realism

Be embellished/supported with suitable dialogue tags and appropriate narration.

Easier said than done. Let’s take them one at a time.

Progress the story

As with most writing, the writer needs to be constantly asking herself ‘what is the point?’ Why am I having my characters say/do/notice this? It may be to deepen character and relationship (and we’ll get onto that), but for longer stories we must acknowledge that the dialogue needs to move the plot along as well, as much as we might want to indulge in a bit of pointless fluff now and then.

Dialogue can drive the plot in a more engaging and exciting way than plain narration. Narration on its own can be effective at building tension, but usually only in small doses, and having many pages of narration without dialogue or internal thought will feel more like a summary of events or a witness statement than the author would perhaps like. Consider the below:

Breakfast was tense that morning. They ate silently as they pondered what to do. Michael buttering his toast so aggressively that it was surprising that the knife didn’t go through it. Susan asked him to stop, but that only started the arguing again. He accused her of expecting him to get over the affair so quickly. She threw back that there was nothing left to say if he refused to get therapy, and she had warned him for years that things had to change, and that it had been one foolish night in twenty years of unhappy marriage. She, Susan insisted, had excused plenty of foolish mistakes on his part.

Compared to:

‘Will you stop that?’ she said sharply. Michael did not pause in the furious buttering of his toast. ‘I said I was sorry.’

‘What, you say the magic word and I’m meant to shrug it off?’ he replied. ‘Pretend it never happened? Pretend you didn’t-’

‘You’ve made your anger perfectly clear, and I understand, but you don’t need to be so aggressive with everything, I get it.’

‘Oh, here we go. Buttering toast is aggressive now.’

‘Well, yes, like that - I’ve tried to talk to you like a grown up, but-’

‘It really bloody winds me up when you just say insane stuff patiently and without emotion and think that makes it acceptable, d’you know that? I’m allowed to be angry, you cheated.’

I could continue. The first example can pack a lot more information in, but using dialogue to drive the plot makes for more interesting and deeper meaning. It turns it into a story, rather than an account of events that occurred. It allows the writer to layer the plot with character work and unlock the story a little at a time.

In this regard, it is good to have your characters talking. To each other, to themselves, to the reader - whatever your particular style demands. Having that personable voice is engaging.

There are a few “rules” to keep in mind in order to ensure you remain plot-focused with your dialogue:

Avoid small talk. Enter late, leave early. Naturally there are exceptions (if you want to emphasise the awkwardness of a relationship between two characters you might want to include some failed attempts at small talk), but the usual chit-chat and extended greetings that we are used to saying in every day life can normally be skipped or avoided. You don’t need to have lots of ‘hi, how are you?’ ‘I’m fine thanks, you?’ ‘Fine, cheers. Have you seen the rain?’ Your characters are allowed to just get to the point and your reader will thank you for it.

Have characters on their own thought trajectories. This is a great way of driving the plot, and though it can be tricky to master it can really help in making your characters believable individuals as well as creating some conflict. If characters know each other, or both know the topic, they will likely jump ahead, make assumptions, fail to answer each other directly - this can be a great way of showing that they’re on the same wavelength, but can also be a vehicle for miscommunications and misunderstandings, or deliberately misleading one another. In that vein, don’t have the characters telling each other things they already know, unless made to sound believable.

Similarly, don’t have characters say things solely for the benefit of the reader. This is called exposition, and while exposition is necessary, it can be clumsily handled in dialogue. It’s made fun of frequently in films where they have such limited time to get background information across. You definitely don’t want dialogue like ‘So, Michael, it’s been three years since your divorce, have you thought about dating again?’ Michael knows this, his insensitive friend knows this, the reader is not stupid and knows that it’s not natural sounding. If it must be said in dialogue, weave it into a more natural conversation - ‘I haven’t been to Ibiza in three years, and I don’t plan on going back any time soon. Don’t want to run the risk of bumping into Susan and Jorge.’

We’ll get onto weaving it in with narration and dialogue tags later, which makes that a lot easier, but, in short, use dialogue to drive your story.

Deepen character and relationship

This is my favourite thing to do, and why I often prefer to write shorter stories than longer ones. A writer can find great joy in bringing a character to life through dialogue, dragging them away from plot vehicles and making them people of their own.

Firstly, it’s important to remember that your character’s background and personality will affect the way that they speak. If all your characters sound the same, they probably sound like you! A well educated character will obviously have a different way of talking than a common street urchin, but everyone has quirks and patterns to their speech that you can use to say a lot. You might use long meandering sentences with lots of rhetorical questions for a character known to be boring, for example. You might use short, sharp sentences for a character that’s grumpy or distracted with some deeper internal struggle. You can use the way two characters talk to each other to say a lot about their relationship and power dynamic, especially if you remember that good dialogue should have subtext (what isn’t being said being important).

A good example of this is from the short story Hills Like White Elephants, by Ernest Hemmingway (CW; indirect discussion of abortion). Consider the short passage below.

‘It’s really an awfully simple operation, Jig,’ the man said. ‘It’s not really an operation at all.

The girl looked at the ground the table legs rested on.

‘I know you wouldn’t mind it, Jig. It’s not really anything. It’s just to let the air in.’

The girl did not say anything.

‘I’ll go with you and I’ll stay with you all the time. They just let the air in and then it’s all perfectly natural.’

‘Then what will we do afterward?’

‘We’ll be fine afterward. Just like we were before.’

‘What makes you think so?’

‘That’s the only thing that bothers us. It’s the only thing that’s made us unhappy.’

The girl looked at the bead curtain, put her hand out and took hold of two of the strings of beads. ‘And you think then we’ll be all right and be happy.’

It’s a really interesting story that is almost entirely dialogue, so it’s well worth reading to get a good sense of using subtext. I wasn’t aware of the abortion connotations when I first read it because I hadn’t heard of the very dated term ‘letting the air in’, but really the story is great at demonstrating the uneven power dynamic between the two even without knowledge of what the operation is. Without much description (though ‘man’ and ‘girl’ says it all really, doesn’t it?), you get a sense that a much older man is persuading this reluctant girl into this act by leveraging how hopelessly in love she is with him, though he does not seem to feel the same way. He speaks most when he is trying to persuade her - the rest of the time he is snappish and short with her childish and ignorant questions about the world around them. The above passage is the only time in the story where he refers to her by a name, and we can gather that it’s a pet one. The girl’s silence says as much as her dialogue, and when she does speak it is questioning - looking to him for authority.

Understanding character motivations and background is what makes this masterful use of dialogue. It would be tempting, for a novice writer, to have the girl argue. For her to say something like ‘what if we could be happy without it?’ But where that should be, there is silence, or repeating his thoughts back to him - because Hemmingway is not only driving the story but emphasising the imbalance of their relationship and her own naive nature. She would not argue with him, she can only wish that he will change his mind. This is all through dialogue and a tiny bit of narration, barely any dialogue tags, and really says so much without saying it at all. Show vs tell is about more than description after all.

That kind of depth when it comes to writing dialogue is... really hard. I haven’t picked Hemmingway to suggest that this is the quality all writing should be at, and I certainly don’t mean to intimidate anyone. But it really is a golden example of thinking about your dialogue within the context of the character, and how their background, situation, and goals will affect how they respond and react to those around them. Your character may not always be able to say what is convenient for you, the author, to tell the reader, because it may not be in their nature or sound authentic. But there are clever ways around that and it can make for more powerful writing, between the lines of what is said.

Have realism

If you skipped down to this bit, I understand. It’s the area that people most often struggle with. I find that people tend to fall into two traps here - either their characters sound like robots because they are over formal and have too much emphasis on being grammatically correct or over eloquent at the expense of natural dialogue, OR they swing in the other direction and try to replicate perfectly how people speak in day to day life.

If you do have a problem with stilted dialogue, it is a good idea to listen to how people naturally speak and try typing it out to get yourself out of the habit. But on the whole, the way people normally speak actually doesn’t sound that great in written format. In real life, we use lots of filler words, we get muddled, we go off on tangents, we trail off, we stutter and stammer and phrase things badly, we um and ah and say far more with our body language and expression than we realise. If you ever read transcripts, from interviews or courts, you’ll see how much of it actually doesn’t make a lot of sense. Our brains make sense of it when we listen to others, based on other parts of communication. Yes, sometimes adding in a ‘er...’ is beneficial and good, and you might have a really nice character moment of someone anxious trailing off when they realise no one is listening to them. Sprinkling those moments in can absolutely make your dialogue sound more authentic, especially when carefully used with character knowledge, but be careful not to over use it. In written dialogue, our characters can and should be more articulate and quicker to formulate their thoughts than in real life for the sake of the story. Striking that balance between overly structured and too real and easy can be really hard, but it only comes with practice - reading dialogue out loud can be a big help, as can writing the dialogue first with no narration or speech tags (more on that later).

Some common mistakes when it comes to dialogue:

Having one character speak too long without a break. Monologues are tough to get through as a reader and don’t come up often in real life in any meaningful way. They can end up cheesy or exposition heavy. Occasionally you can get away with it with very particular characters, but in general, avoid.

Over use of names. It’s really distracting as a reader if dialogue is constantly like, ‘what do you think, Harry?’ ‘Charlie, I just don’t know.’ ‘Really, Harry, you need to decide if you’re going to marry her or not.’ ‘I know, you’re right, Charlie.’ Use names to get someone’s attention and then don’t use them again unless you need to make it clear to the reader who the character is talking to.

Not using contractions. Even very formal people use contractions such as don’t and won’t, it is part of natural rapid speech. Save the ‘do not’ and ‘will not’s for when the emphasis is really needed.

Having characters speak in unison. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes this can be used to hilarious effect and can always be used for a bit of comedy. But on the whole people don’t do this, including twins.

Misuse of slang or dialects. If you’re going to use it, make sure you do your research. It’s also worth bearing in mind that if you over use it, it will be hard for the reader to understand and may break immersion.

Over explain for the reader. I mentioned this before but it’s worth repeating. If you went outside right now and saw a UFO, you would probably shout something along the lines of ‘wtf is that?’, and you would perhaps point or scramble for your potato to take a shaky video. You would probably not shout, ‘look at flying saucer! I’ve never seen anything like it!’ Think carefully about realistic reactions, even if they are not particularly convenient to you as a writer.

Over use of exclamation marks/caps lock. People aren’t that vibrant and it’s tiring to read. The less you use it, the more punch it packs.

Using narration and dialogue tags

First, a quick grammar lesson. Sorry.

‘This is some speech.’

‘This is also some speech,’ said the character.

‘Is this also speech?’ asked another.

‘Well,’ said the first, ‘yes.’

‘Brilliant,’ said the other. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’

I use single quotation marks because I’m British and annoying, the conventional double quote marks the Americans use (”like this!”) is also correct. The only important thing is that you pick one and stick to it. Quotation marks always surround the words that are being spoken aloud, and must be opened and closed. Where the sentence ends, you must use a full stop (period), or another piece of punctuation like a question or exclamation mark before closing the speech with the marks.

Where there is a dialogue tag (he said/said/replied, etc), the sentence is continuing, so a comma is more appropriate (but you can also use a question/exclamation mark and the sentence still continues), and again this must go before the speech marks close the dialogue. If you want to continue the sentence with the dialogue tag in the middle, you can continue by using another comma, or you can end the sentence with a full stop and continue the dialogue as a new sentence.

Use a new line for a new character speaking.

Phew, that’s over so you can pay attention again. But unfortunately I still have more to say.

Here is a fun little exercise. Take the below dialogue between two characters, A and B.

‘Do you love me?’

‘You’re drunk.’

‘Why won’t you answer the question?’

‘Sit down. I’ll make you a tea.’

‘I don’t want tea, I want an answer! Tell me!’

The dialogue alone already tells us a bit of a story - a picture is probably already forming in your head, perhaps of the characters, perhaps of the setting. As it stands it’s ok, and if you struggle with dialogue it can be effective to write only the dialogue out in this way (this tip from my writing teacher also helped me cut down on purple prose!). But now look at the scene:

It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that Alex was woken at 3am by repeated bangs on the floor and shouts through the letterbox. Nothing else would have made her rise from bed. If she had suspected even for a moment that it was anyone else, she would have called the police.

But as usual, it was Sam. Blonde, tousled hair a mess, eye make up smudged, pouting lips trembling as she swayed.

‘Do you love me?’

‘You’re drunk,’ said Alex, wincing as Sam’s grey eyes shone with tears. ‘You’d better come in.’

‘Why won’t you answer the question?’

Alex ignored her, pulled her in by her slender arm. ‘Sit down. I’ll make you a tea.’

‘I don’t want tea. I want an answer. Tell me!’ Sam’s voice was loud and high, and it pierced her.

So, we haven’t actually added that much narration or dialogue tags (t’s best, if you can, to avoid using them too much), but we’re able to give a clearer picture of these two characters. You may even now be reading the dialogue in a different tone to the one you originally did - picturing the scene with a different feel. Not convinced? How about now?

Yet again, as had happened dozens of bloody times before, Alex was woken at 3am by incoherent, slurred shouting through the letterbox.

‘Do you love me?’ was Sam’s immediate demand as Alex wearily opened the door.

Alex rubbed her hand over her bleary eyes and sighed. ‘You’re drunk. You’d better come in.’

Sam turned on the tears at once, mascara running in thick, spidery lines down her blotchy cheeks. ‘Why won’t you answer the question?’

‘Sit down,’ Alex muttered. ‘I’ll make you a tea.’ She stood aside and jerked her head towards the living room.

‘I don’t want tea, I want an answer! Tell me!’

Wincing once more at her piercing shriek, Alex closed her eyes.

The very same dialogue can be shaped by carefully worded narration and dialogue tags. It’s a fun exercise to do with writing buddies - all use the same dialogue and see how different the stories come out. It can also be a pretty nifty way to challenge writers block or shake up a scene you’re struggling with.

Some extra tips from my writing teacher - I fully confess that I am not always the best at following these ones, because my writing has been heavily influenced by JK Rowling who also doesn’t seem to set much store by them. But they are good, and since I’ve kept them in mind my writing has improved.

Avoid overuse of adverbs (’she said nervously’). Use action or dialogue alone to convey this information instead.

Avoid overuse of verbs besides ‘said’. The reader will skim over said and barely notice it, if every character is whispering and muttering and shouting all the time it stilts the flow of the scene - use sparingly.

Use tags when necessary to ensure clarity as to who is speaking, otherwise let the dialogue stand for itself.

Use internal thoughts in place of speech tags sometimes.

Use action beats (’he turned to stare coldly out of the window’) in place of speech tags sometimes to help set the pace of the scene.

I hope this very lengthy post has helped! Please do get in touch if you have any further questions or would like any elaborations on anything I’ve mentioned here, or if you have suggestions for future lessons!

Lastly, I hate to do this but times must - if you have even just a couple of quid to send my way it would be a massive help to me. If you did find this useful, please consider donating to my kofi.

#Writing advice #writing lessons #writing dialogue

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brain-jarred · 3 years ago

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Chapter 2 Pear

After the operation that ended in the two scientists parting ways for a bit, Dr. Hal finally left his room. He glanced around and saw that Dr. Param was still laying their body on the chairs outside the operating room, with a sad expression on their face. Dr. Hal sighed, and walked over to them. “Hey, Pear.” Pear was a nickname that Dr. Hal called Dr. Param sometimes. Mostly when he was being nice to them. “Sorry for snapping at you. You didn't do anything wrong.” He said, looking at his feet. Dr. Param smiled. “Thanks. I’m sorry too if I was a bit overbearing or annoying.” “You werent.” Dr. Hal sat next to his colleague. “You were just trying to be helpful.” He added, looking at a motivational poster. The poster had been there for sixteen years. It was a picture of a lake with a caption in bold white text that said “SERENITY” It was Dr. Hal’s favorite, because it was the least annoying of them all. “Yeah.” Param nodded. There was an uneasiness to their words, like they still wanted to bring up something, but did not want Dr. Hal to be mad at them again. They sighed and looked away. “Um. yeah.” They said suddenly very interested in the yellow carpet Dr. Hal took notice, and knew that Dr. Param wanted to bring up the work thing again. He didnt really know what to do about that, he really didnt want to talk about it again, because he knew he would get snappy again, but at the same time he also wanted to make Param feel comfortable, and this tension between them really sucked. “Look, pear, I’m just. I think-” Dr. Hal looked around, not sure what to say next. “I think i just need a short break. Like a vacation, and then maybe i’ll be less agitated all the time. I was wondering if you wanna take a vacation with me?” He asked. Dr. Param thought for a moment. “Sure!” They nodded. “Could be fun. Just like. Uh. A boy’s get away. Except that I'm not a boy, but you know what I mean.” “Boys can be gender neutral if you want.” Dr. Hal countered, draping his arm behind Dr. Param Dr. Param snorted. “Yeah, sure. Still not a boy.” They said, laying their hands on their lap. Or rather, hand and weird needle thing on their lap. They seemed to be more at ease with the vacation thing. This wasn't the first time the two of them had taken a vacation together. They never actually went anywhere for their vacations, that wasn't permitted. Mostly they just hung out in the green house. It was the nicest place in the campus. It was almost like being outside. Dr. Param stood up suddenly. “Let's go to the cafeteria.” They said to their colleague. They thought that Hal looked tense, maybe some nutrient solution would make him feel better? The two of them didn't exactly eat normal food, but they both needed basic vitamins and fuel for their human brains. Dr. Hal also got up “Sure.” He said. “As long as you don't repeat the yogurt incident again.” “Hey! I told you not to bring that up again!” Dr. Param playfully hit Hal. “Then don't try to put yogurt directly onto your brain, you idiot.” Hal laughed. “IT WAS A ONE TIME THING!!” Dr. Param retorted, not genuinely mad, but trying to act like it.

It was moments like this when the two scientists truly appreciated each other. Maybe things werent...ideal. Maybe being contractually obligated to remain in an underground space for the next 34 years wouldn't be great, but at least they had each other. And that was all that they needed. At least thats what Param told themself. They werent sure if He felt the same way. He did not in fact feel the same way. He was in fact very antsy to get out of this place. He just wanted to leave already, though he didn't allow himself to fully think these thoughts, always pushing them to the back of his head. But Dr. Param? He was content to just experiment on the subjects for eternity. As long as Hal was there, everything would be okay!

Everything was okay.

The two of them continued to walk down the hallways of yellow carpet and off white plaster walls. It was a familiar hallway, the two of them could probably go down it while blinded. As they walked, Hal decided to mention the vivisection, only to find out that Dr. Param had also been told about it. “Its rather short notice, dont you think?” Param remarked. “We usually have atleast 3 days of notice to prepare a strategy, and they usually give us information on how to best deal with them. When i asked Sarah who it was, she said we would be told tomorrow.”

Dr. Hal nodded. It was weird. “Well they did say it was high profile. Maybe they want to keep it under wraps. Heh. Maybe we are operating on the president or something.” The current president, Clair Vonyant, well...she was a controversial figure. A powerful psychic with the power to kill anyone just by concentrating really hard...That was pretty frightening to both of them. Not to mention her unconstitutional four terms as president.

“I mean, she does kinda suck though.” Param rolled their eyes. “And it would be easy for me to alter her memories, since shes such a public figure and we know a lot about her. Last one we had, we didn't know a lot about. But for her? Easy. You can just make her hallucinate her dead brother and i can alter her memories so that she thinks he never died. There wouldn't be any struggle then.” They said casually, as if they were just discussing causal workplace terms. Which in their eyes, they were. Hal didn't see anything wrong with this either. Just a normal wednesday. “Agreed.” Finally they reached the cafeteria. It was a wide and large room they came upon, the yellow carpet gave way to grey linoleum, but the off white walls were the same color. It had a glass ceiling that showed the sky. Tables were placed neatly around the room. It was always strangely empty for such a big room. Like maybe it was built for more people. There were only 10 people who worked in this facility, Dr. Hal and Dr. Param included.

There were three in the cafeteria now. Dr. Sarah was eating some lunch. She looked disinterested in the two who entered, more focused on her food. Dr. Hal was disinterested in her too, he walked around her to get to the nutrient dispenser. But Dr. Param took notice of Dr. Sarah, and they headed for her. “Greetings sarah. What are you eating?” They asked. It was some sort of soup. “Tuna soup.” She said after taking a bit to chew her food before answering. She had manners, she would have you know. Her soup looked kinda gross, but she wasn't complaining. Dr. Param nodded. “That's nice. I was wondering...well...I was wondering if there was any way that you could provide more information about the vivisection tomorrow?” Sarah looked at them with an annoyed expression. “I'm eating, Dr. Param. I would prefer not to talk about this right now.”

Dr. Param made a small noise of annoyance of their own, and sighed. “You're right, sorry.” They said as they walked away. They didn't understand what all this secrecy was about. Why would this vivisection be done on such short notice? Dr. Param didn't like it, they didn't like it one bit. This was unorderly. Something that interrupted and destroyed routine. They were soon roused from their annoyed vagaries when they saw that Dr. Hal was waiting for them.

“Are you done being a detective?” He asked, one arm on the machine, the other sat on his hip. “It's hardly detective work to just ask a simple question.” They retorted, taking a pack of nutrient solution out of the glorified fridge.

“You would be surprised, i’m pretty sure that's what being a detective is all about.” “So youre saying that I'm Sherlock Holmes now? That's nice of you.” Param smirked, popping the container open and inserting the needle that came with it into the back of their head. But they kept missing the hole. “Can you be like watson and help me with this darn needle?” They asked. “Sure just let me-” click, it was finally inserted into the right place. The juice poured into their brain, which was a pleasant sensation. “Thanks.” They said with a smile. “They should have made your body more streamlined for this kind of thing. Having the hole in the back of your head is a bit inefficient.” He huffed.

“I actually like my body, thank you very much. I am the sexiest cyborg here.” They said, smirking. “Yeah sure.” Dr. Hal rolled his eyes. He didn't have a mouth, but he was smiling too, with his eyes. Sarah audibly groaned. She was so tired of having to hear those two’s banter all the time. It was so incredibly annoying! She was just trying to eat some soup, she didn't need to hear these weirdos talking about their bodies or whatever. The two scientists looked at her when she loudly groaned, before looking away. The two had an odd relationship with her. She was one of the more friendly scientists, as long as you didnt get between her and her goals. She got up and threw her plastic soup bowl in the trash and walked over to the two of them. “So the vivisection-” She began. “I can't tell you very much about it, but I will tell you that the subject has a fear of the dark.” She looked at her feet, almost shamefully. She seemed to be really hesitant to talk about this, but she was friends with the two scientists, and she wanted to make what was about to come easier on them.

“A lot of people have a fear of the dark.” Dr. Hal remarked. “But I appreciate the morsel of help. Is there anything else you can tell us?” “Hm.” Dr. Sarah thought for a moment. “She also has a fear of being perceived as weak. At least that's what the psychiatric tests told us.” So it's a female then. Dr. Param thought. “Alright. Thanks for the help.” They said brightly. Dr. Hal nodded. He figured that they wouldn't get much more info out of Sarah, and it was getting late. Might as well turn in for the night soon. He tapped Dr. Param on the shoulder and gestured towards his quarters. “I’m going to go to sleep now. See you tomorrow?” Dr. Param blinked, and looked at a clock, surprised at how late it was. It was almost 10 pm. They nodded. “See you tomorrow.” They repeated. Hal walked away as Sarah and Param continued to talk for a little bit. Eventually Dr. Param said goodbye to Sarah as well. Dr. Param’s quarters were the same size as Dr. Hal’s. But they had no bed like he did. They just had a metal table in which they laid their body on. They couldn't feel cloth, so a bed was unneeded. A small pile of junk lay in the corner of their room. Bottlecaps, paper clips and pens that they had collected. They looked at it as they initiated their body to release sleeping chemicals to lull their brain to sleep. Dr. Param was painfully human, despite being unrecognizable as one.

#brainjarred #oc #oc story #chapter 2

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terrascookiejar-archive · 4 years ago

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Terra has a Chat with a REAL Moderator this Time

In lieu of my original post that gained a lot of traction, and me talking about being “contacted” by someone claiming to be a mod.

An ACTUAL mod from the Official Cookie Run discord managed to contact me and set the record straight on a few things, as well as discuss a few things regarding what happened. So it seems that this whole situation has indeed caught the attention of the mods of the Cookie Run Official Discord, and even MicMac himself. So what’s been done?

I do wanna talk about it in greater detail, so I’m gonna put everything in a cut, starting now. If you want the TL;DR version, skip to the second picture of Chestnut with Walnut at the end.

First things First, the person who I talked on the moderation team was someone by the name of Zayder, who contacted me on anon with their details. Using some help from friends We were able to background check and confirm, yes this person is actually legit. So I was reassured I wasn’t walking into some kind of trap.

(The photo given to me to prove authenticity by a friend. I blurred out their Discord number myself just for the courtesy of privacy)

What’s Being Done to Protect Artists on the Discord, Moving Forward?

I think this is the big question on everyone’s mind since I made my original post and all eyes are on the moderators and MicMac to make the change.

There seems to be a genuine admittance to the fact that the previous way fanart was moderated was ineffective and caused issues such as the theft and reposting to happen.

So they’ve gone ahead and added stricter measures to prevent this from happening again. Including preventing new members from posting until they get the “Cookie” role, a cooldown on the channel to allow for easier moderation and viewing of said artwork, and heavier infractions laid down for art theft.

I mentioned that the cooldown also allows for time for people to appreciate genuine artwork posted. So considering the magnitude of its members I’d say that’s a great first step in moving forward towards protecting community fanartists. I got confirmation from members in my own discord that the cooldown IS indeed already enacted and even increased from 10 to 30 minutes, so I have reassurance that what’s being told to me is true.

They DO have a report system on their bot, but it seems most people prefer just messaging mods so that system in itself is rather flawed, but only so much you can do there.

(^ This one’s my own artwork, btw!! ^) Zayder also asked me for my own feedback on what could be done to help protect artists, since I am an artist myself. It seems most of the moderation team are not artists and this probably lent itself to making moderation there so weak.

In summary my main suggestions that were noticed were being mindful of traced art, and a dedicated section or post explaining art theft and how it harms artists and the importance of crediting artists. As not everyone understands how it hurts us, some people genuinely are uninformed. Which Zayder stated he would forward to Mic Mac. (Not sure how I feel about my own suggestions going directly to MicMac himself, but you know!!)

Fawn’s Situation happened so Long Ago that most of it is Lost (or worst case scenario, was deleted by a member of the moderation team)

While the general consensus now is indeed “Yes, Fawn created Nutmeg Cookie,” there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of evidence towards who the perpetrator was (We had their username, hazbinalastor666, but not their ID and they’ve since changed it to cover their tracks) and the moderators involved with Fawn’s “Ban” to be found on the Official Cookie Run Discord. At least not anymore.

Zayder has confirmed that Fawn “left” the server in December of 2019, which lines up with Fawn’s own statements on the situation. However Zayder stated that whoever kicked her didn’t actually put her on the banlist. So either they kicked her manually, or they used the bot and then used it to erase all evidence of it and pretend nothing happened (which he certainly HOPES is not the case, and I do as well). It did not help that Trial Mods were not a thing yet by this time (They were not introduced until February of 2020), according to what Zayder told me. So things on that Discord were essentially pretty gun-ho. It’s not as simple as looking up a term and going to “Oldest” to track down stuff from the time. Plus a good chunk of it seemed to have happened through DMs so... Good Luck getting that evidence.

Zayder informed me that Fawn is welcome to come back at any time. Though speaking with her she’s chosen not to, and considering her situation I don’t think anyone can blame her. I would like to believe that the version of the Discord that Fawn had to go through is not the same as the one we have now but something like isn’t essentially going to wash away what happened.

As for evidence that Fawn created Nutmeg first? Yes I do have it. The original incident, hazbinalastor666 claimed that they created Nutmeg in November of 2019, However there’s evidence in our own discord showing Fawn creating Nutmeg as early as September of 2019.

As well as the day Fawn came forward on our discord about the situation after keeping quiet out of fear of backlash, ignited by seeing the thief get a commission of Nutmeg. However, I don’t plan to post that publicly unless I have Fawn’s okay.

Yes. The First “Mod” That tried to Contact Me was Pretty Undeniably Someone Posing as a Mod From the Official Discord

“I'm also really curious on what you found false on what the "moderator" said to you. Nobody on the mod team ever told us they were gonna contact you, so I wouldnt know who that is.”

So that was my first sign that clearly the original person who contacted me at least wasn’t doing so without the consensus of the other mods, and neither did they consult the mods afterwards... So very, very likely they were a fake from the start. Some of the things that were off that I told to Zayder, and that we found through conversation were as follows:

The first person contacted me on a throwaway and refused to disclose who they were. Zayder gave me the ID of his personal discord and we could verify who they were easily.

The first person blew off my own suggestions for helping improve the fanart channels with statements like “We’re already cracking down on it.” Zayder asked me for my own suggestions as an artist without even being asked.

The first person kept trying to get me to get Fawn to use a VPN in order to get back into the Official Cookie Run Discord. Despite being told repeatedly that’s not how a VPN works. That’s just fucking weird.

The first person couldn’t track anything down regarding Fawn’s situation years ago, Zayder was at least able to actually pinpoint the date in which Fawn was kicked, and rather quickly too I might add.

Zayder had pretty proficient knowledge on the bot the Discord uses for moderation and how it works. Which he explained to me a few times. The first person said to me at one point, and I quote, “For all I know the bot gives messages when infractions are laid.”

So seeing how talking with a real Moderator like Zayder was, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that someone was trying to dupe me here for some reason. Was it revenge? Did they want some sort of blackmail? Did they want me to proverbially “back off?” And if they ARE a mod why wouldn’t they give the info and such that I gave them to the other mods? Who knows.

TL;DR:

Long Story short, it does appear as if the Moderation Team and Mic Mac have heard the artists of the fandom and are going to be working hard to lay down stricture rules regarding posting and doing their best to make sure credit goes where credit is due.

Fawn’s incident happened so long ago there’s not much evidence to be found on the Official discord, but we DO have proof that Nutmeg Cookie belongs to UpsetFawn!

The First Person who claimed to be a Mod was a fake and talking with Zayder proved it.

Overall, my talk with Zayder was very pleasant and enlightening and I believe Zayder would say about the same! I never meant to cause such an uproar, but I’d like to think things will change for the better now that we’ve all spoken up on behalf of our fellow artist.

What we need to do now is watch how the Cookie Run Official Discord moves forward and if they’ll stick to their word towards protecting fandom content creators from theft and uncredited reposts. Though after my talk I’m certainly optimistic they will.

Always have your back for your fellow fandom artist, TerraTerraCotta

#Mun Updates #Mun Posts #Cookie Run #Cookie Run Official Discord #Cookie Run Ovenbreak #PSA #Signal Boost #Be sure to pass this along!!

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spill-the-milk-tea · 4 years ago

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My Thoughts On “A Whisker Away”

Warnings: spoilers, mentions of suicide/self-harm

A Whisker Away could have done better in a lot of areas, but it’s by no means bad, and the plot and overall concept make up for most of its shortcomings. Clearly Netflix is working hard to emulate the Ghibli formula, and while their attempts have all been misses so far, they have been gradually getting closer—and this is a big step away from the disaster that was Ni No Kuni. Better script writers and more time spent on animation is my only suggestion—scripts have always been a struggle for Netflix, which goes hand in hand with my second suggestion, because they’re focused on churning out new content.

Still, I think this would be a great film to show to children and young adults struggling with suicidal thoughts. Having this omen of destruction in the form of a cat, representing Miyo’s constant self-doubt, was actually very poignant. The first time we see Miyo’s mask fall and we see her real, bitter feelings is when she sees the first cat in the movie, which perfectly reflects her self-hatred. The way the Mask Seller speaks is clearly meant to represent Miyo’s inner dialogue, as she is hesitant to protest to them at first, but when they suggest going full-cat, she adamantly tells the voice to shut up.

While a lot of the other messages were sort of thrown in our face, I appreciate that some of the best symbolic ones were kept subtle rather than exposition-dumped on us. For example, Hinode only turning into a cat via his hands keys us into the fact that the cat transformation is dependent on self-hatred. Hinode feels like he’ll never be good enough to become a potter, thus he loses his hands. I actually like that they chose to go this route, as ridiculous as it was, because it subtly suggested to the audience that “becoming a cat” (aka suicide) isn’t a choice anyone can make just based on difficult circumstances.

I feel like the creep-factor on the Mask Seller could have been played up more, but I guess presenting him as this eccentric character that almost seemed to have the main character’s best interest at heart works better for the metaphor. He seemed mostly unassuming and non-threatening, and weird as he was, he made a convincing case. His concept as a villain is actually very cool. This idea that he steals the lives of those who don’t want them anymore, combined with his drug-dealer archetype is very unique. He preys on people who already hate themselves, luring them into thinking their lives aren’t worth living anymore, giving them a taste of freedom through his cat mask (aka self-harm). Once they’re hooked, he convinces them to make the full leap, whether they truly want it or not. The sort of momentary, but ultimately unsatisfying relief of self-harm to a suicidal person is captured very eloquently in the cat transformation metaphor. It’s actually quite dark how Miyo is so adamant about not transforming at first, but in a matter of days, after one particularly traumatic incident, she’s fully committed.

The connection between the feline and depression metaphor got a little messy near the end, but still nonetheless made an emotional impact. The cat believed that by taking someone else’s face, they could show their owner the love they deserved. Kinako showed a clear disdain for Miyo for not showing Kaoru the love she deserved, and sort of acted as this physical representation of Miyo feeling like she didn’t truly belong in the family. Of course, the owner loves them as a cat, not as someone else. The whole cat stealing human lives thing doesn’t play much into a bigger picture past just representing how as much as it may seem like it, becoming someone else or trying to take someone else’s spot won’t make us truly happy. And I think Kinako realizing it’s better to live out her own short life making Kaoru happy was a short but very sweet subplot.

The scene that really touched me most, surprisingly, was just seeing how Yori so persistently apologized to Miyo as she ran away from her. It so perfectly encapsulated the guilt that friends and family of suicidal ones feel when they see this person they care about clearly suffering. Yori clearly had Miyo’s best interests at heart and genuinely stayed by Miyo’s side through all of her troubles, and is a great example of how to be a supportive friend to a depressed person. She never coddled or pitied Miyo, but she was clearly worried when Miyo started acting “off”, and even then tried to stick by Miyo’s side and be supportive.

Muge is definitely eccentric and painfully cringy, but that in itself makes her a realistic teenage girl character (and a neurotypical adult male doesn’t get to paint her valid character flaws as failings on her or the writers’ part damn it.) Her feelings and thoughts start off as seeming very weird and childish, but gradually you come to understand her reasoning the more the movie goes on. Having been abandoned at such a young age, she pushes people away deep down in her heart, thinking that no one can ever truly love her. She was deeply damaged and never felt like she could really trust anyone again, viewing everyone as either selfish or irrelevant (represented by scarecrows.) This at first seems to just symbolize how other people seemingly don’t matter when she sees the guy she likes, but when she transforms her own parents into scarecrows, we see it represents her pushing people away from her. She tries to act like she doesn’t need other people to love her, when deep down, she really wants proof that someone can truly love her despite her eccentricities, as seen in her obsession to make Hinode confess to her.

One of the points in this metaphor I felt was lacking was that they didn’t really address how Miyo’s psychological reliance on Hinode as this perfect guy that would solve all her problems because of his apparent loyalty was sort of toxic? They definitely established it as over idealized and somewhat exaggerated with that whole Cinderella-transformation scene, where you can clearly see that she believes Hinode loving her will solve all of her problems. In the end I suppose it’s countered with her finally being accepted by Hinode and her accepting him in return, and her realizing that’s all she really wanted.

I did appreciate the background noise of Hinode telling the Mask Seller that it wasn’t Miyo’s fault her life was difficult, because it really puts things into perspective. The Mask Seller took advantage of Miyo’s trauma, just as it isn’t the fault of a suicidal person when their negative thoughts overtake them. That’s why we first see the mask seller when Miyo is at one of her lowest points—when she’s with her mother, attempting but failing to overcome her feelings of abandonment as she first begins to shut her out; and having just moved in with her stepmother, clearly overwhelmed with emotional burdens. I also thought it was interesting that they explained her not transforming back as deep down not wanting to be a human again. She still didn’t believe herself as being capable of being loved, and it took her realizing that she needs to love the people in her life first before she can truly start to heal. And it’s true, there’s a difference between not wanting to die and actually overcoming your depression.

In any case, Miyo’s thought process was almost painfully accurate. The way she lashed out at her parents for wanting her to stop smiling if she didn’t feel like it was something I definitely went through. It’s hard to explain, and definitely irrational, but in the most cold and logical sense, being told to give up your coping mechanism by the people who you feel are causing you to use said coping mechanism feels really offensive in the moment. She was using up so much emotional energy acting like she was okay for her parents, so she felt like it wasn’t their right to ask if she was okay.

It was a really brief, but sad moment when we saw the difference between how she perceived her favorite meal at her house as opposed to when Hinode gave it to her. It wasn’t meant to show that her feelings of depression were circumstantial so much as it highlighted her abnormal mood swings, as well as how the root of her depression, so to speak, stemmed from her home life. And while I don’t agree entirely with how their relationship played out, I cannot agree more that seeing a person you care about suffering from self-hatred snaps you out of your own dark thoughts so quick. Miyo was quick to see Hinode’s good traits and to rationalize that he didn’t need to hate himself, but she couldn’t do it with herself. It took the thought of Hinode also possibly losing his life for her to snap out of her suicidal state of mind. Most suicidal people rationalize that the people around them would be fine if they died, or even preferred it, so Hinode showing through both actions and words that he didn’t want her to “turn into a cat forever” helped her start to value her own life.

It was a stark contrast between me as the viewer, feeling like Miyo’s transformation was technically Hinode’s fault, and Miyo, who felt like she needed to transform for Hinode’s sake because she loved him so much. Wanting to die because of the boy she loved may seem like a stretch in the terms of the metaphor, but that’s the point. The things the Mask Seller says are inherently illogical, but he says them when the person is at their weakest emotionally, which makes it easier to convince them. In the end, both Miyo and Hinode were able to free themselves of their masks (aka their irrational self-hatred) when Miyo realized that Hinode genuinely wanted to get to know her, and Hinode stopped feeling like he needed to hold back so Miyo wouldn’t see he was a “nobody”. Essentially, being honest and vulnerable with one another.

Overall, I think having this “Mask Stealer” as this antagonist representing suicidal thoughts gives new meaning to the idea of one “taking away their own life” and is actually really eye opening to those who may be facing similar situations as Miyo. The message is cheesy, but the creative way in which they tackled adolescent depression and suicide is worth watching.

#a whisker away #tw: depression #tw: suicide #tw: mental health #tw: self harm #tw: self-harm

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syndianites · 4 years ago

Text

The After; The Athar: Chapter Two

Chapter 2/?

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 [Here] - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. Wag escorts Martha to Jordan's house and decides to have a day out with Sonja.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: The stuff about the Cult of Athar in here is canon! It was written by the Wizards, but never delved into. I did my best to represent it as accurately as possible.

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The duo had just started into Jerry’s Tree when they heard a call behind them. They turned to see Jordan hustling forward, an awkward smile on his face. Wag shared a look with Martha. Seems his suspicions had been correct.

He’d have to ask Jordan about that.

Jordan, meanwhile, had shuffled to a stop right in front of them. “Hey guys, glad I caught you.” He glanced between them. “What brings you to my abode?”

“You were looking for me yesterday, right?” Martha starts. “Well, I do have some free time now, I figured I’d stop by to see what you needed.”

He stopped for a moment. Hummed. “Oh!” Jordan jumped back in. “I wanted to talk to you about some godly related stuff. Spark’s been- uh, well, he’s been drilling in ‘how to be a perfect Ianite follower’ for-” Wag was amazed that neither of them reacted to the name anymore. Different goddess, of course, but that was still a festering wound. “- whatever reason, and I haven’t been able to escape him long enough to avoid the lecture. I honestly just want to talk to someone that’s more in the know-how that’s,” Jordan waved his hands, “not him. Give me another week of this and I might just turn from champion to missionary.”

Martha huffed, but a smile snuck up onto her lips. “He’s not that bad, I’m sure. But yes, I do have some time to talk about ‘godly stuff’.” She turned to Wag, hesitating a moment. “I’ll see you later then, Wag.” She reached out a hand to delicately stroke a cheek.

He gave what he hoped was a solid smile back. “Until then, love.” Wag took her hand, thumb stroking the back of it before he placed a parting kiss upon it. Reluctantly, he started to trail away, keeping her hand in his for as long as he could. When he was far enough, he offered Jordan a wave goodbye. Then he turned to walk back down the hill.

Shit. Now he had to figure out how to break up with Martha.

Yeah, these next few days aren’t going to be fun.

But what to do now? The day had only just started and there wasn’t much use in going back to being a shut in when the sun had hardly started up the sky. Well, hanging with Jordan, or Martha, was out. Maybe Tom? Or Sonja or Tucker? It was fairly hard to keep track of Tom nowadays, though.

Things were odd with Tom. Not between him and Tom, but with Tom in general. It felt like he was trying to balance who he was in this world and who he was in Ruxomar and not finding either. Like he was feeling pressured to merge the distant past with the recent past and come to terms with Dianite- both Dianites- and Mot.

What was up with them, anyway? Last Wag had checked, Tom and Mot were fairly buddy buddy and Tom and Dianite were pretty chill, despite the bit of tension when Mot showed up and when Tom’s penchant dumbassery was making its rounds. Now, it seemed like Tom was trying to keep a good distance from them.

Here he was getting distracted again. But damn if everyone didn’t have some issues skulking around. He wondered if Sonja or Tucker had something. What did they feel about the other Mianite? And his death?

Ok, ok, not the point. What should he do now?

Damn, did he really have no life outside of his tower that he was drawing such hard blanks?

Fuck it, he’d swing around Sonja’s and ask if she wanted to go flower picking with him. Sorry, gather floral ingredients for potions. With how many people were ordering luck potions, he was going to be stuck finding four leaf clovers in all his free time.

It seemed a pleasant stroll through town was in order, then. Maybe he’d pick up a muffin on the way. Perhaps a chocolate one. He would indulge in some more tea but he was looking for more of an on-the-go thing.

He nodded to himself, making his way through the streets of the town to the quaint little bakery settled just past the docks. The baker was a kind, younger lady who had told him that her dream was to open a bakery, and an island with few inhabitants that barely anyone had ever been to was free real estate. To be fair, she wasn’t wrong. No one else had tried to make any competition and no one was complaining about her being here. In fact, there would probably be a lot of hooting and hollering if she left.

When he wandered in the smell of warm bread welcomed him. Gretchen called a greeting from behind the counter, back turned to him as she kneaded a batch of dough. She was short, Wag towering over her, but she could take him out if she so pleased. Not just because she was finely muscled- she could give any seaman a run for their money- but also because a mere breeze could knock Wag and his gangly awkwardness over.

“How do you do today, dearest Gretchen?” Wag surveyed the items currently on display. The croissants looked heavenly, and next to them sat three eclairs. They appeared to have been recently chilled as their chocolate icing had drops of condensation beading along the top. There was a colorful display of macarons on the rack besides those, as well as a row of various muffins.

“Oh, I’m doing as well as one can when they wake at the crack of dawn,” Gretchen said over her shoulder, giving him a quick smile.

“So feeling shitty and barely functional?” Wag mused over the muffins, trying to spy a chocolate one. Unfortunately, though he was quite awake, his brain was struggling to spot the difference between what could be a chocolate muffin or a blueberry muffin. Or a morning glory. He wrinkled his nose. Why would anyone put raisins in a muffin?

Gretchen laughed. “Perhaps for a shut in, but I am feeling quite fine. It’s nice to watch the sunrise, y’know. Getting up early? Not so much. If not for the bakery I’d much prefer to sleep in.”

Wag scoffed playfully. “Me, a shut in? Preposterous. I’ll have you know I am, at worst, a friendly, magical hermit. At best, I am a magnificent wizard that lives in a tower nearby that oh so graciously helps out the townsfolk.”

“For a fee.” Gretchen was layering the dough now. If there weren't croissants sitting in front of him, Wag might say she was making those. Perhaps she was making danish pastries? It had been a while since he’d seen them on her display. It’d also been a while since he’d visited.

“A wizard’s got to make a living somehow.” Wag picked up a muffin, closely inspecting it. It looked like it was chocolate. He hoped it was chocolate. But if it was blueberry he would live. Both were good, especially from here.

“That he does.” She paused from her dough magic to take a look at him. “Blueberry muffin? Anything else?”

Wag clicked his tongue. “Was hoping this was chocolate. But yes, just one muffin to go. I wasn’t really anticipating being awake so early, but Martha was home and she likes to get up early, and Jordan wanted to talk to her, and I,” he waved his hands, “wanted to spend some time with her? So I walked her to his house. Now, I’m standing here. Then heading to Sonja’s.”

Yeah, it felt like he’d just recounted his entire life story to her. No, he was not going to acknowledge how painful that part of the conversation was to participate in.

Gretchen raised an eyebrow, plucking the muffin from his hand, replacing it on the rack and grabbing one from farther back in the line. This one, now that he saw it, looked much more like a chocolate muffin than the other. Nice.

“Funny you should mention Jordan.” It was Wag’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “He asked about you, oh, yesterday? The day before? About how you were doing. Seemed fairly concerned ‘bout ya. Asked me how you were doing when he came in for a treat.” She lifted a hand before Wag could interrupt. “He came here for the treat, but I guess he had you on the mind. This used to be one of your favorite places, I suppose it reminded him of you.”

Well if that didn’t make Wag feel warm on the inside, what would? It was nice to feel remembered. But wait, was that why Jordan had come over yesterday, then? Except he had been looking for Martha.

That put a frown back on his face. “He did swing by yesterday, but he asked for Martha. Are you sure he was concerned about me?”

Gretchen rolled her eyes. “Yes. It was very obvious even if he tried to hide it. I did tell him that Martha would know more about how you were doing than I would, so that could be why he asked for her.” She held out her hand and Wag dutifully placed some copper coins in it. “Mr. Sparklez doesn’t seem like the best with confronting people about their feelings, so it wouldn’t surprise me that he’d see you and balk at the idea of bringing up his concerns with you directly. Going to Martha would be way easier for him than going to you. If he actually ever asks Martha about you at all.”

Wag hummed in thought, ignoring the little ‘wuss’ Gretchen mutters under her breath in relation to Jordan. That much was true, Jordan was not much of a feelings guy. The dorky puns and trying hard to be the smart one guy? Yes. Feelings? You’d have better luck with Tom.

Actually, Tom was pretty easy on the feelings side. Kind of. You’d have better luck with Tucker than Jordan. And Tucker was not the most emotional sort of man. There we go.

“Well, when I left Martha with Jordan, he said he wanted to ask her about ‘godly stuff’. Do you think they’re actually talking about me?” Wag pulled a sliver off the top of his muffin and nibbled on it.

Gretched leaned on the counter with a shrug, dropping the coins into her apron pocket. “Maybe. Who’s to say?” She eyed him up and down, a contemplative look coming into her eyes. “Didn’t you say you were heading to Sonja’s? That’s good, you could use more time out of the house. If you weren’t naturally gray I’d say you were getting pale. Hard to tell like this, but you are getting more of the ‘I’m your friendly neighborhood ghost’ type look than ‘I’m your charming, possibly demonic, friendly wizard’ type look. Take one for the road,” Gretchen reached over to pluck another muffin off the rack, passing it to Wag.

“What if I just eat both myself?” Wag joked, taking the muffin in his other hand.

Gretchen tsked. “Sorry, I only give freebies to the pretty ladies. You sir, are no pretty lady.”

Wag gasped, “How dare you! My mother said I could be anything I wanted to be! If I want to be a pretty lady to get a free muffin, I’ll be a pretty lady!”

She pushed his shoulder with a guffaw. “Oh sure, princess. If you ever come in dressed to the nines as the most gorgeous lady I’ve seen, I’ll give you a pretty muffin. Be warned,” Gretchen bat her eyelashes. “I have seen quite the stunning women before.”

Wag rolled his eyes fondly, making for the door. “Just you watch, I’ll come blow your socks off!”

With a wave, he departed. He twirled the other muffin in his hand. Free muffin for a pretty lady, huh?

Wait, was Gretchen hitting on Sonja?

~~~

Wag didn’t end up making it to Sonja and Tucker’s house. Rather, he found Sonja sitting near the shore just in front of it, staring up at Mianite’s temple. He didn’t take Sonja for much of a morning person, but it seemed like the temple would have a nice view during sunrise.

Settling down next to her without a comment, he offered her the muffin. Sonja was surprised to see him, her eyes searching his face, but wordlessly took the muffin. They ate them in silence.

The temple had changed a lot, but that was to be expected. It had been razed to the ocean floor, after all. But from what he had heard there had been a big effort in rebuilding it. Though the work would have taken years, it apparently had taken mere months.

Mianite, according to word of mouth, hadn’t helped rebuild it at all. Rather, he didn’t expect anyone else to move to the island. Hell, neither did Dec, who had been making plans to move elsewhere. It made Wag wonder why the gods, why the priest himself, had shown up here. Why had the wizards? He drummed his fingers against his leg, dismissing the thought for another time.

The wizards, before the heroes had even left, had refused to help. Wag remembered this well. They hadn’t wanted to step on Mianite’s toes, so to say, as it was a gift he had sent the world and had been crafted by the god’s own hand.

Actually- again- Ianite had played a part in rebuilding it. It was almost strange to think about, the Goddess of Balance rebuilding the temple of another god. Except, it made sense. She didn’t rebuild it of her own power. Rather, she encouraged the common folk to rebuild it and helped a great deal along the way. She invited people from far off lands to come restore the temple and, with the assistance of Spark, set up the town that had been cultivated as a solid landmark. Ianite used the restoration of the temple as a way of connecting the island to the rest of the world.

Though, when asked why she had chosen to help rebuild the temple, Ianite had responded, “It’s my way of thanking Mianite and his champions for helping to save me. It is the least I could do for such a tremendous task.”

Maybe that’s why she rebuilt Jerry’s Tree, too. To thank Jordan. Or to honor him.

Wag’s favorite part of this story- as it was only a story to him, he’d never had any real confirmation on this- was what Ianite had said: Mianite and his champions. Plural. That meant Ianite acknowledged Sonja as Mianite’s loyal follower and champion just as much as Tucker. Sonja deserved it for all the effort she had put into this world and the last. She deserved a lot more than she got.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Wag startled at the sound of Sonja’s voice. He turned to her, but she was looking at the temple still. She inclined her head towards it, saying nothing more.

He had been looking at the temple without seeing it, he realized. Thinking too hard.

She was right. The sun was still low in the sky, giving it a faintly fiery hue. It couldn't have been too long since sunrise, yet the color of dawn still remained. Perhaps that was just the effect of the ocean.

But the effect made the temple light up. The eagle, standing mighty and proud once more, was burning in the light, smoldering and strong, wings raised up to the sky with an open, shrieking cry. It was the symbol of strength and sureness, of justice. The sun was a halo around it, blindingly bright.

That’s how the future felt: burning and bright, impossible to grasp. But it was there.

The rest of the temple held much of the same vigor. The majority of the original details were kept, but they were also exaggerated. The pillars had been built double the size, a subtle comment of ‘no matter how many times you knock us down we will return stronger’, the garden fuller and more organized, filled to the brim with blooming blossoms. The walls were filled with more gold than before, and more detail. Each column was carefully carved to perfection, but at this distance he couldn’t make all the details out. From what he remembered they ranged from majestic creatures running amok, to people dancing in celebration, to the retelling of great battles. The arches that served as the entrance had been decorated to the fullest, lavish silks and jewels hanging from their edges along the dutifully crafted gold lining.

The best part were the guardians. They stood tall and proud, just as regal as before but now with more life, more color. Rather than the same straight white they had been they were adorned with golds and blues. Shimmering prismarine and lapis lazuli. Their swords were colored to appear like the finest, purest gold- though Wag knew that they weren’t made of real gold, as that would have been more than expensive. To top it all off, each featured a set of wings raised high to the sky, like the very eagle that sat in the middle of the temple.

Another important detail was the fact that the back of the temple was open as well, likely for passing boats to see. On the other side stood dual lighthouses that burned bright in the night with mystical fire that would neither go out or be moved from their place. The area to drop prayers had been moved to the eagle’s feet and the hidden room supposedly not implemented. Supposedly.

It was truly stunning. Where the change in Jerry’s Tree felt like a rebirth, this felt like getting beaten down only to get up again. Like healing. Growing.

“It is.” He’d left her in silence long enough. “I still remember when it first appeared. It was glorious. Now?” Wag turns to her, maybe trying to make a point, maybe trying to say something deep, or just maybe just thinking out loud. “After being destroyed? It’s come back better.”

Damn, who the hell turned on the philosophy today? Next thing you know he’ll be wondering aloud what existence is and if there is a purpose to life.

Fuck that shit.

Isn’t this the exact thing that had been haunting him as he stowed away in his tower? His thoughts falling over themselves to derive meaning out of every little thing that’s changed? To make sense of it? The temple looks better because it's not a pile of rubble. Jerry’s Tree is different because it was practically a pile of ash before. Why does this all need meaning?

Sonja seemed to share his sentiment. She laughed at him. “Hey now, that’s trying to be too deep for so early in the morning. Come back better? Ha. It's just,” she pauses, giving it a wistful glance before shaking her head. “Different.”

Wag nods. “It is. It all is. Feels like everything’s changing, like we got plopped in a world just adjacent to ours.”

“Too deep!” Sonja decreed. Standing up, she brushed the back of her legs free of stray grass and sand. “Things are going to change and that’s that. I wasn’t expecting the world to wait on us, and it didn’t. That just means we have to catch up or get left in the dust.”

“Who’s too deep?” Wag chuckled to himself, taking the hand Sonja offered him.

“Alright, enough sitting around.” She sent a sly smile over to him after she jammed the rest of her muffin in her mouth. Wag watched in amusement as she chewed hastily, tried not to choke, and spluttered a little as some went down the wrong hatch.

Recovering fast, she gives him a pained grin. “What brings Mr. Tower Wizard out of the lair today? Something good, I hope.” She poked him in the ribs teasingly.

“Well,” Wag starts, ignoring the dig, “Martha happened to be home last night and I had the pleasure of walking her over to Jordan’s to chat about something. Which is why I am both awake before lunch and currently standing outside. I figured it’d been a while since I bothered you, so here I am, bothering you.” He finished with a wink.

Sonja frowned for a moment, focusing on something he said, before deciding to let it go. For now, at least. Knowing her, she’d find a way to bring it up later. Wag wasn’t quite looking forward to whatever she had latched onto.

Filling the silence, Wag added, “I was thinking we could go plant hunting. Specifically for four leaf clovers, but also for any other potentially useful plants. You know, for potions.”

He tried for a smile while Sonja looked him over. Her eyebrows rose. “You go plant hunting in that? Your typical robes and all? It’s, like, the middle of spring.”

Wag shrugged. “It’s not that big of a difference. Just gets the cloak a bit dirty.”

She scoffed. “Just gets the cloak a bit dirty,” Sonja muttered. “I bet you don’t even bring any food or water with you, do you?”

He looked to the side. “Of course I do!” That wasn’t a lie. He always brought at least a snack and a water skin. He wasn’t that stupid.

“I’ll believe you, for now.” She assessed her own outfit. Her typical hoodie over a white t-shirt, some lounge pants, and bare feet. “I, for one, need to get dressed. I would recommend,” she drew out the last word, giving him a look, “That you change into something more suitable for romping around the countryside. I won't force you to, but I won't be helping you if you get hot and sweaty and pass out like an idiot.”

He wanted to retort that he wouldn’t. That he was a wizard with powers that came close to the gods’ themselves. That weather was no issue for him.

But it had been in Ruxomar. The trip to Urulu had been sweltering. The Nether felt like it had been trying to slowly boil him alive. Whenever he’d come out of water, clothes damp as a rain shower, he’d felt frigid.

It still felt like he was in Ruxomar, powerless and startlingly mortal.

He bit his tongue.

Instead he shook his head, and started to wander back to his tower. He stopped as Sonja called after him. “Meet right here after you get dressed. I’ll round up some food and shit and then we can leave.” She turned to head back into her house. “If you thought I was going to trek up to your tower up in the sky you were wrong!” Then she shuffled up the hill with a laugh.

~~~

They convened later at the shore as told. Sonja looked at Wag with a little glee, having convinced him to actually change.

Athar knows how long it’d been since he’d changed.

… why did he swear on Athar’s name anyway? He helped kill him. Shouldn’t he swear on his own name? Wag shrugged mentally to himself. Better to swear on a dead guy's name than his own.

Anyway. Sidetrack.

Wag, instead of his usual cloak, was in surprisingly adventure-ready getup. Long sleeve hooded shirt- Sonja rolled her eyes at the hood- thick, but breathable, pants, and hiking boots. Actual hiking boots. That spoke volumes about how much Wag had tried to look like he knew what he was doing. Oh, and he had one of those handy dandy belt satchels? Utility belts? A belt that had neat pouches on it for carrying flowers and clovers. Hell yeah.

Sonja, on the other hand, had dressed much more like her usual outfit. To be fair, though, her usual outfit was both light and what she fought literal battles in. However, instead of short-shorts she had knee-length shorts. Her socks fit nicely underneath. Somewhere along the line she’d found black, fingerless gloves as well. Wag had a sneaking suspicion that she’d stolen them from Tucker.

“Alright, now that we’re all ready to go-” Sonja made a point of jostling the backpack she had slung over her shoulders, likely filled with food and drinks she had raided from her own kitchen,”-we can commence our dainty flower picking session. If you don’t find me the biggest, bluest flower the world has ever seen to leave for Mianite then this trip is a failure.”

Wag nods sagely. “It will be the most magical of flowers ever seen.” With a sweep of his arm, he motions for Sonja to lead the charge into the wilderness. Which wilderness? The Wilderness.

Basically they were going to go wander around out past the old FyreUK Castle. Why there? Where Wag has to look at the castle and remember everything that used to be? Easy: there’s a lingering magic that lurks about the castle that makes it more likely for magical flora to sprout and grow. Also because no one goes over there.

Mostly because no one goes over there.

It took them roughly a half hour of trailing up and down hills, through dry grass and loose dirt, and a few quick hops through water to get to the Castle. Good old FyreUK HQ. Still standing.

They were on the bridge, stopping to take a rest. Wag took a sweeping glance of the Castle and then looked away. Sonja tactfully didn’t ask about it. Instead, she waited while Wag poked around the trees sitting in the circle part of the bridge, watching him prod at the vines and undergrowth that had gathered there over the years. At one point he took out a pair of clippers, untangled a flowering vine from one of the tree’s branches, and politely snipped part of it off and curled it into a pocket.

Then they were off again, back down the bridge and further into the country. Not too much further, actually. The end of the bridge was just a hop, skip, and jump away from an oak forest, which was a breath of fresh air compared to the endless savanna and desert motif of the island. It was also right next to a nice little plains area.

Which made it perfect for Wag’s plans. Plains for the clovers and cool flowers, the forest for any other interesting stuff. He remembered chilling there in between building sessions for FryeUK HQ itself. It was always much cooler than the area around it.

“Well, darling dearest, here we are.” Wag gave a little twirl. “Here we shall find you the most magical of flowers for your pretty, pretty princess, Mianite himself. And maybe one for his maid, Tucker.”

“Ha!” Sonja turns her head away to snicker to herself. “If anything his fairest maid should be giving me flowers!” Her laughter dropped into a small, wistful smile. “Maybe I will.”

Wag gave her a description of some of the regular flowers and plants that he normally went for, then sauntered off into the woods.

Classy.

Sonja followed with a fond eye roll, eyeing flowers as they passed. True to Wag’s suspicions, -which weren’t suspicions so much as things he already knew from before, but who was keeping track?- there were some strange, magical flora laying about. Not magical in the ‘consume it to get temporary fire powers way’, but more magical in the ‘these colors aren’t something flowers can pull off on their own’ or ‘this shouldn’t ever have been able to get this big’. Like if they were subject to radiation, except this world had no concept of yellorium as far as he knew.

The first thing Wag collected was something of a marvel. Not because it was beautiful, but because it was weird. It looked like a flower. But instead of growing leaves along the stem, it grew petals. They were a soft pink, like the flush of skin, and soft to the touch. Not a trace of leaves remained on the flower. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a failed daisy. Or a successful one?

There weren’t many magical flowers, in all honesty. For all the magic the wizards had done, most of it was just absorbed into the earth as per normal. The world was teeming with magic, but that was what made it function. What made the gods gods was the fact that they could use this magic. Or, rather, that they, too, were filled with it.

It showed up in a lot of ways. Witches, potions, the way you could grow anything from any environment you wanted to, so as long as you gave it what it needed. Well, that last one wasn’t impossible, but what other world could you go to a desert, with minimal rain and the sweltering sun, and plant something that relies on constant water to thrive and have it live for months upon months?

He was getting sidetracked again.

The point was, this was just a small, insignificant place where a little bit of magic overflowed because of the proximity to the wizards. It used to have more weird things happen, but now the wizards were gone and Wag was… yeah. So he’d sometimes stumble upon a flower with a gradient from purple to red and have to puzzle out whether that was a normal mutation or a magical one. Then the flower would shimmer and the gradient would shift and he’d decide, yeah, that was a magical mutation, he was right!

Flowers were weird on their own, what could he say?

His favorite were the cornflowers. Not because they were beautiful- they were!- but because, by some manner of magic, they migrated over here on their own. You couldn’t find them in the savannah, or the desert, or even near the coastline. But here, in this tiny blip of forest and plains, they surfaced. He had half a mind to wonder if they weren’t a result of two different flowers populating, then the offspring mutating. Cornflowers, however, were a real flower. They just shouldn’t be real here. Which was cool.

So maybe Wag had become something of a flower nut over the past few weeks. Who was going to judge him, the gods? Well, fuck them! Not literally, though.

The cornflowers before him, however, were something special. From what he knew, they weren’t supposed to be this big, nor were they supposed to grow in such small units. They should be something more like a bush, with multiple stalks sprouting out and huddled together. The ones he found, Sonja poking at some poppies behind him, were very much trying to act like tulips. Less group-y and more individual.

He suspected magic was involved.

The buds alone were about the size of his palm, and those that had flowered were almost bigger than his hand! They were marvelous. And blue!

Wag snuck a look at Sonja, who was blissfully unaware of his sudden bout of mischief. He plucked a stalk- which was as thick as a pencil- and twisted around to carefully tickle the tip of her tail with the broken end of the stem. She didn’t notice, face scrunched up in thought as she appeared to be trying to decide if the poppies were out of the ordinary or not. They weren’t. Just good ole regular poppies.

Fighting back a snicker, he gently and slowly trailed the stem upward. It took the stem going from white to orange fur for Sonja to suddenly startle, ears shooting up and back going ramrod straight. She took a swipe at the flower, but Wag hurried out of the way. Clutching the poor, innocent cornflower to his chest, he mock gasped.

“Sonja! You almost destroyed the biggest, bluest flower I’ve ever seen!” He brought the back of his hand to his forehead. “Could you imagine if you had? We’d have to return with it crushed! Or worse.” Wag’s eyes widened comically. His voice dropped to a stage whisper. “The second biggest, most bluest flower.”

She gasped in shock. Her voice was but a mutter. “No, we can’t have that. Imagine! Bringing home something second best! T'would be not only a shame, but a disrespect to his name. I could never.”

Wag nodded sagely. He cradled the blossom between his hands, reverently offering it up to Sonja. “Treat it well. Though it may seem insignificant in the grand scheme of your life, it holds value untold. The gods themselves tremble beneath its weight, the tremors of the earth quake for its life. Hold onto this and you hold onto what men are willing to go to war for.”

Sonja delicately grasped its stem, a serious look on her face. “I will, O’ great wizard. I will guard this to my last breath, travel across a thousand seas, five hundred miles of land, to bequeath this to the god of which I hold most dear.”

Her lips twitched as she tried to keep her laughter in. “Ianite, of course.”

Wag, however, burst out laughing. “Oh yes, the god you follow, Ianite herself. Mianite who?”

Facade breaking, Sonja joined in the laughter. Placing the flower down, she held onto her stomach, curling around it. Wag tried not to fall over from his dramatic kneel.

They took a second to calm down, smiles still firm on their faces.

“But yes, this will be satisfactory as a gift to Mianite.” Sonja appraised it, looking past him to eye the bush it came from. “What are these flowers? I don’t think I’ve seen them before.” She looked back to Wag. “And I dabbled in Botania in the other realm.”

Wag stood up, turning his attention back to the flora. “Cornflowers. They live in more temperate climates; plains, some forests, and such. It’s strange to have found them here, all things considered.” He gestures around vaguely. “We do live in a mostly savanna environment. I’m not even sure how they made it to this little patch of paradise, never mind the fact that this area exists as it does.”

He shrugs. “It is what it is. They are rather pretty. They are most typically associated with hope, devotion, and remembrance.”

“And,” He places a hand on his heart, “According to some good ol’ folk tales, men in love would carry them around. If the color of the flower faded quickly, it meant their love was not returned. So,” Wag picked it back up, “If you wanted to listen to superstition, if the color lasts that means Mianite cares a whole lot about you.”

Sonja scoffed. “Oh please, he is far too regal and orderly to fancy anyone, never mind a human. Or, well,” she flicks her tail, “someone mostly human.”

“Imagine if he actually did, though! Tucker would be in for quite the competition. Champion of Mianite? Try Queen of Mianite.” Wag winked, holding the flower back out to her.

Except it seemed that was the wrong thing to say.

She held her breath, wilting before him “Yeah,” Sonja mumbled at the flower, “Tucker would really be in for it.”

There was a pause.

Wag eased back down towards the ground, getting comfortable. He tugged on Sonja’s sleeve to bring her down as well. Setting the flower aside, he pondered his next words. If he was going to pull out any wisdom, it better be now.

“Things aren’t going too great between you two, are they?” Wag started, giving her the option to push the conversation aside.

Sonja was silent for a second. Her ears flicked back and forth, agitated. Then she let out a sigh, deep and heavy.

“No.”

Wag nodded slowly. “It’d help to talk about it.”

He wanted to help, wanted to know more, but he didn’t want to press. He wouldn’t dare push the boundaries when it felt like he was already on the brink of losing someone else he cared about. A two for two special on failing relationships would hurt.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he reminded himself that this was about Sonja. Not his life problems. Hers!

“It’s…” she cast her eyes around them. “Kinda heavy. Would you be ok hearing about it? I don’t want to bring your mood down.”

Wag gently bumped shoulders with her. “Of course. I’m all ears if you ever need it.”

Sonja opted for a smile, though it fell more towards a grimace. “Thanks.”

She went quiet again. Wag could see the thoughts churning in her head, gears clicking and turning along.

“I was.” She stopped. Started again. “I used to be.” Biting her lip, she took a breath. “There was a brief moment of time that I worked for the Shadows.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

She couldn't meet his eyes, which is probably a good thing because he didn’t know what to say. ‘Sorry that you used to work for the people who wanted to kill all the gods and take over the world, or some stupid thing like that’? ‘Yikes’?

‘Cause yikes.

“That’s, well, not what I was expecting.” He suppressed the urge to crack a joke. “And yeah, that’s pretty heavy.”

Sonja drooped a little beside him, and he had to rush in the rest of his words.

“But that’s not the end of the world. You aren’t working for them anymore, and even if you were you have been my friend and helped save so many people that I feel that it wouldn’t matter. Your actions say more about your character than who you follow does.” He hoped that curbed her fear and doubt, if only for a moment. And, because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “Hey, look at Tom. He’s a little chaos rat who followed a real evil guy and we still love him. The standards can’t get lower than that.”

She huffed, and Wag counted that as a win.

She took a peek at him. “You took that a lot better than Tucker did.”

Suddenly, it clicks. She told Tucker, the ultimate devotee of Mianite, who had been willing to follow an evil version of his god just because he had the same name as his actual god. Tucker, who held strong to his beliefs and only turned on the Other Mianite when he went too far. Tucker, who’s devotion to Mianite came after little else, if after anything at all.

Tucker would not only have been appalled that she faltered in her devotion to Mianite, but felt down right betrayed that she would work for someone who wanted to kill his god.

Tucker wasn’t Tom. He wasn’t willing to work for a god that was near unanimously seen as chaotic, destructive, and evil. But he would also be easily blinded by the misdeeds of his god after seeing only the good in him for so long. He wouldn’t kill his god for his friends, he wouldn’t save his friends from his god. If Mianite told him to kill, he would.

He had killed the Ianitas under the Other Mianite’s command.

So Sonja, regardless of how much he loved her, telling him she had been part of the Shadows?

Wag could only imagine his reaction.

Instead of making much comment on Tucker, Wag offered her a smile. “The Shadows don’t mean as much to me.” That got her to look up. “I’m- I was a wizard, remember?”

Meeting her eyes, he saw the start of understanding. Then it struck him- he never told her how he became a wizard. “Sonja.” It was his turn to look away. “Do you know about the Cult of Athar?”

She mouthed the words, face scrunching up. Silently, she shook her head. “The Cult of Athar was formed in the name of Athar, who was a god. Or close to one. They weren’t sure of that, at the time they formed the Cult, but he was. Instead, they thought he was a godly power that existed and was given to those who were worthy. In a way, they weren’t wrong.”

“Was?” Already she was picking up on the ending.

“We’ll get to that.” Wag picked at the grass in front of him. “The Cult was made of four mortal people. They studied, they trained, they crafted, they worked their assess off to get a glimpse of the Athar. Nothing worked.”

Sonja nodded, eyes searching Wag’s face. Connecting dots. Her gaze lingered on his dark skin and endless tears of blood. It wouldn’t be long before she pieced it together.

“One day, they found an ancient scroll.” Sonja scoffed at this detail. “Look, I know it’s cliche but this is my story I’m telling and you will suffer through any cliche moments in it. I will add a magical girl transformation scene in here just to spite you.” They held each other’s gaze for a moment.

Then both burst out laughing. With a fond shake of her head, Sonja shoved him gently. “Who’s to say you won't anyway?”

With a mock offended gasp, Wag dramatically clutched his heart. “How could you. I guess you don’t want the story of this freaky, weird cult of absolute dorks.”

“No, no, I do. Please continue, Mr. Extravagant Storyteller.”

Holding back a smile, Wag started back up. “In this scroll was a ritual. According to the scroll, if you performed the ritual you could summon down the god that possessed the power of Athar- who was actually called Athar so really calling the ‘godly power’ Athar was redundant. By calling him down you could duel him for the right to hold that power and use it yourself.”

He trailed off now. It seemed, now of all times, that the reality of what he had lost sunk in. “By defeating Athar, who was a selfish, greedy god, they themselves could become gods among mortals. But they vowed to be benevolent, loving gods. Gods who would help humanity unlike that who came before them. They wanted to make a change in the world, to help build it up in the name of peace and prosperity.”

“So they killed him?”

Wag nodded.

“You were one of them, weren’t you?” Sonja pressed gently. “And the rest of the wizards, too?”

He nodded again.

When he made no further comment, she spoke again. “I always wondered how you guys became wizards. I just figured you guys were born from, I don’t know, dragons or something. Something badass like that. Or maybe just one day you guys popped into existence all like, ‘Golly gee, there’s an open plot of land here, and I sure do feel like making something. You guys want to build? I want to build.’”

Wag laughed despite himself. “I wish we were dragons. That’d be so much cooler than waltzing up to a god and telling him you’d be better at his job.”

“No, I think that’s still pretty badass.” She slowly leaned over to rest on his shoulder.

The sun was just starting to fall from its highest peak, making it just past noon. They still had a whole day ahead of them, if they pleased. But there was something settling about sitting here, with a friend, letting your secrets loose.

“The point is,” Wag rested his head on hers, “That I’ve actually killed a god. I formed a cult with the intent of becoming godlike. You joining the Shadows? For whatever reason? I’m not that phased. Sure, the Shadows wanted to kill all the gods, even the nice ones, but I’m not about to go cherry picking which gods can and cannot live. You guys didn’t kill Dianite until he almost killed Ianite. Eye for an eye, y’know?”

They were silent after that. Just sitting there, looking out into the mix and blend of savanna, plains, and desert. This didn’t fix anything for Sonja, he knew, but at the very least she knew she had an ally, a friend through all of this.

“Thank you,” Sonja blurted. “It’s. I feel better knowing someone won’t ostracise me for my past.”

“No one is going to ostracize you!” Rolling his eyes, Wag turned to look at her. “And if they do they’re a bitch and you didn’t need them in the first place.”

“I don’t know. Tucker was really upset. I think I’ve burned any relationship we had.” She pulled her legs up to wrap her arms around. “I’m afraid that he won’t even be able to look at me. What would Jordan think? What would Tom? Or Dec or Champ? What would the gods?”

Wag wrapped an arm around her. “It’s going to be a shock, for sure.”

But the thing was, she was still their friend.

“Jordan will take it with suspicion and unease, which is usual for him. But, for all that he will be wary, he will still be your friend. Honestly?” He squeezed her arm. “Your situation isn’t new to us, not exactly.”

An ear flicked against his cheek. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Wag blew on it and it flicked again, “There’s Tom’s whole thing.”

She lifted her head at this. A frown tugged at her lips. “What? What do you mean by that?”

Ah, Wag had a feeling that she hadn’t thought about this.

“Tom was the loyal champion of this world’s Dianite.” He was trying to lead her into the connection. It’d be easier for her to relate if she figured it out on her own.

“So?”

However, that meant she had to figure it out.

“I suppose it’s a little harder to see from your perspective. Tom, the friend you guys all love despite his love of chaos, stealing, and murder,” He stressed the murder part, “was the champion of the god you had to kill to stop from killing Ianite.”

Sonja blinked at him.

Maybe it wasn’t as obvious as he thought.

“Tom was loyal to Dianite above all else. He’d kill for him, he’d die for him, he was practically a lapdog at points, eagerly wanting to please him. Even when he failed him and was punished.” Wag shook his head fondly. “He would have killed Ianite if Dianite asked. He would have killed Ianite.”

Tom would have done a lot of things for Dianite. The Shadows wanted to recruit him for his burning loyalty to who he followed and his willingness to kill and destroy.

It was starting to click in Sonja’s head. Her frown became less confused and more thoughtful.

“Maybe it was hard to see, since you were much closer to him than I was at the time, but Tom was set against all of you. Yet he still wanted to be your friend. He still wanted the best for you- when it didn’t involve him stopping his own chaos and fun- because he cared about you guys. In fact, he repeatedly stole from you and killed you, and he’s still your friend.”

She was there. So, so close. Right on the edge of a breakthrough.

“But Tom was,” she waved a hand, “Tom.”

And there it was. The thing that she held her back. The thing that pulled at her conscious in this whole debacle.

“So?” Wag wasn’t going to pull any punches. “Why are you holding him to a different standard than yourself? If he gets a pass, if he can follow someone who’s intent was destruction and death, just like the Shadow’s was, in a way, why can’t you?”

Sonja was silent. She opened her mouth. Then closed it. Her eyes went wide.

Gently, he squeezed her shoulder. “Jordan is still friends with Tom. Tucker is still friends with Tom. They both suffered at his hands, but they’re still friends. They still care about him. Just because you served, for some brief time, an entity that was just as evil as Dianite had been, at one point, doesn’t mean they’ll stop caring about you.”

“What about Tom, then?” She straightened up, something stirring in her eyes. “What would he think?”

Wag held back a laugh. “He wouldn’t care? Remember Nadeshot? Remember Cronus? He was friends with both.” Sonja gave him a look. “Oh come one, this one should have been obvious. Nadeshot told Tom he joined the Shadows, and what did Tom do? He had the us- the wizards- build him a fucking castle. The last person who would give a shit about you being part of the Shadows- having used to be part of- would be Tom!”

Sure, she looked like she was about to punch him, but it was a little ridiculous to think that Tom would give a shit about something like that.

Wag turned his head away. “Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing. This is a very serious situation and I should try my best to stay serious.”

“Yeah, you should.” Sonja gave him a light punch to the arm, “Asshole.”

“But the thing is, we’re still going to be here for you. We’ve been to a whole other world, we fell through the void together. You’ve had our backs from day one. We’ll always have yours.” He ended with a gentle smile.

Sonja settled back down, head on his shoulder once more. “That does make me feel a little better. But things won’t be the same. Nothing will, really.”

That was true. They would probably look at her different, in a new light. They’d reconsider some things, rethink what image they had of her. But at the end of the day, they’d still be together.

As Wag set his head back down atop hers, she whispered, “I guess things haven’t really been the same in a while.”

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laufire · 4 years ago

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@thepawnhits asked: I was wondering if you could go into further detail about your comment under the murphystartedthefire about murphy stans who hate emori?

(I hope you don’t mind that I answered over here; it’s just that this post got long enough to merit a read more and I’ve seen tumblr mess up with those in ask posts as of late smh ¬¬)

I know this might come across in ways I don’t intend to-- I’m not here to tell anyone how they define their fan experience; this is specifically about how I see the fandom spectrum. If someone wants to call themselves a Murphy stan and hate on Emori I’ll simply assume we have a different definition of the term and that they have remarkably bad taste xD and move on.

On that vein: according to my vision of what a stan is, I would never see someone that hates Emori as a Murphy stan.

There are wildly different ways to love a character, and stanning is only one of them, and the rarest one at that, IMO. Sometimes we think we love a character (or like them, or have “come around” to them), to discover later that it wasn’t so. I know it’s happened to me a few times (and I take pride in knowing myself quite well, overall, lol), that looking back I ended up thinking, well --in hindsight, I didn’t love them that much. For example, I would’ve count Daenerys as one of my favourites in the ASOIAF books, maybe even number one at some points, and I did like her on the show whenever I tuned in (not that often). However, I’m not enraged about her ending, and in fact I appreciate quite a lot of what the GOT finale did. Because though I like Daenerys, I was willing to trade her for other characters and other developments that mattered more to me when it counted --at the very end. Because I liked Daenerys, maybe loved her even, but I did not stan Daenerys (that I reserved for Cersei lmao).

Stanning, to me, is something quite unique and nebulous to define, but it more or less comes down to this: you nterpret the story through that character, other characters & how they affect them included (you will ship different ships if you stan a character vs. if you merely like them, IMO); they’re your number one priority to the point you’d “betray” your loyalties to other characters you like (if you’re capable to even like them in the first place, if they’re in the way of your fave. I happen to be, which creates a lot of conflict in my fannish life until the endgame comes and all bets are off lmao, but not everyone is and they probably have an easier time of it xD); and you want them to have the BEST, richest storyline, to get everything they say they want and more (and the keyword here is “say”, because if you stan a character you will take what they say at face value; you won’t doubt their POV, you won’t think they’re ~misguided and need to be “taught a lesson”, that they need to fundamentally change who they are at their core. You’d love them as they are because stanning is a fucking ridiculous state of being), even when it looks like it’s way beyond their reach.

Stanning is also very self-centered of us fans. All fannish love is, I guess. We don’t love characters the way we love people (not the ones we love genuinely, beyond ourselves, at least). It goes through a filter of what WE think and want too, because characters aren’t real people and their well-being only matters in-so-far as we’ve latched onto them. Fannish love is different from person to person, but one thing that’s true for my type of stanning is that “happiness”, as in the character being easily “content” matters a lot less to me than them winning. So whether or not a most interesting ship from them happens to bring them heartbreak once in a while... so what, as long as it brings real, tangible benefits to their storyline? With second-rate characters I like I might say “oh, that ship is nice, it makes them happy, it’s convenient for them”, etc. With my OTPs and my faves that’s not even in my radar. I want victory, not contentment, ffs.

Another thing it’s important to take into account and that I rarely if ever see fandom mentioning is that where a character is positioned in the narrative conditions how you love them. It’s not the same to start out the show with Clarke as your number one fave (even if boy, did she took a few hits in the meantime), or even Octavia and Bellamy (... same with him), than if you latch onto Raven, Murphy, etc. They weren’t quite at the bottom of the barrel, there were always characters way below them, but they were positioned explicitly below other characters in their introductions.

Fans adjust their expectations when they love secondary characters like that, whether they’re able to admit it or even realize it. We expect them to get less than the leads, because that’s how hierarchies work. Most of the time we’re right, but sometimes there are ~shakeups, and The 100 is one of those times, IMO. Because of that, Murphy got a lot more of what would’ve been expected in s1. Faced with that, fans need to reajust, but some can’t. Depending on how risk-averse they are, they might fear that their fave is getting something that’s not their “due” according to the initial structure, and that means they’ll be “punished” for it and have it, at the very least, taken away. The bigger they are, the harder the fall, etc. Personally I happen to like the risk --no risk, no reward--, and this ~timid way of loving your number one doesn’t align with my view of stanning characters at all *shrug*. Like, what the fuck is the point if you’re gonna settle for mediocrity xD

Now, wrt Memori specifically.

I have alluded to this in several post in the past; here I talk a little bit about Memori as a narrative that uplifts Murphy, for example. That, to me, it’s the gist of it. Memori is AMAZING for Murphy’s storyline. AMAZING. It’s THE romance of the show, period. It does wonders for his character, it’s made him The Romantic Hero (which is the most flattering way a male character can ever come across IMO), it’s made him pull outstanding stunts. Memori brings the most of Murphy, and as someone that loves Murphy, I love Memori for it (among other many reasons, like the fact that it’s very much My Type of ship).

Somehow people claim that because she was “mean” (...) to him in s5 that’s a bad relationship for him and... lmfao. EVEN if I thought they said that in good faith (ha!); EVEN if I agreed with them in their reading of the ship (ha!)... MEMORI IS NOT A REAL RELATIONSHIP.

MEMORI IS A FICTIONAL PAIRING. I don’t give a fuck about “healthy”, and I don’t see the vast majority of fans do either; not when push comes to shove, not about the ships that truly matter to them, their OTPs, and not just their ~casual pairings. I don’t want Memori to be a conflict-free storyline, because I think it would be an objectively worse ship if it was. Sometimes the conflict will be Memori vs. the world. Sometimes it’ll be Emori vs. Murphy. I think both have merit and both had done a lot of good for the ship.

So then, I question: why would people who love Murphy (or claim to, or genuinely think they do but), hate on Emori and think she’s the worst thing that’s happen to him, in the face of the overwhelming proof of the contrary?

One option is that, like I say, they find Memori to risky, to beyond Murphy as he was introduced in s1 (this fandom is even more stuck in s1 mentality than most I’ve encountered, and that’s saying something). It could be, though I haven’t seen clear examples of it.

What I have seen are examples of people that, for a variety of reasons, aren’t being quite truthful about their priorities, tbh. This will sound presumptous on my part but I can’t bring myself to care because I’m quite tired of this fandom; it’s repetitive af, even if I weren’t to take into account that I have been in several fandoms, even if often as a mere lurker, and I’ve seen all of this before, over and over again. I’m TIRED people xD

I’ll be blunt: this attitude, comes from CLARKE’s stans, not Murphy’s. People whose priority is Clarke, and that think she should be centered in the show (usually with Bellamy/Clarke as the ship they use to channel it --the ones that go for Lexa don’t seem as keen on invading Emori and Memori’s tags but they might be out there too). Potentially I could see it from Bellamy stans too (though frankly, on the vein of this post, my definition of a stan wouldn’t ship Bellamy with Clarke lol); so far Memori and Bellamy aligned quite well in canon, but all the s7 could change that and turn into resentment.

Because that’s what I think it is in a lot of cases: resentment. Resentment that Murphy and Emori get a Romance, capital letters, while their own ship is... well. While their ship isn’t. I’ve seen this happen in other fandoms and that’s all there is: petty jealousy. Why can’t my fave enjoy this?? Which, btw, is a sentiment I can sympathy with? It’s the way they try to pass it for something more that annoys me LOL.

And tbh I think that’s what a lot of Murven “shipping” comes from (and even that short moment of Murphy/Echo shipping I remember from s5 lol): it’s not genuine, passionate shipping; it’s convenience shipping that doesn’t own up to it. Now, I think there are Murven shippers out there that are passionate about it; I myself like it a little, even if only in a fanon context (and preferably in a thruple lol), but a.) I’ve happened to see those more often than not multiship Memori too either way, and b.) you can tell a lot of those shippers aren’t genuine by their reactions to the Murven scene in late s6 IMO: they HATED it, not because of the admittedly cringy dialogue lol, but because they were there for each other in a way that didn’t account for Clarke. That scene, which by all accounts should’ve been shipping fodder, was derided and hated on, because to a lot of Clarke stans the ship is just a way to get Murphy into a less potent ship, with the added benefit of keeping those women they feel threatened by away from Bellamy. Win-win.

This is a tangent, but hell, if anything I think having getting canonically paired with Raven would’ve been potentially terrible for Murphy’s narrative. Remember when I say stans take their fave at their word? It’s similar for writers: when writers truly respect a character, they take them at their word. In male characters especially, there’s one way this manifests, and it’s in their romantic storylines: the lead guy (or any guy with real narrative capital) loves One Girl, and One Girl only (if he hesitates between more he’s a no good wishy-washy and weak-willed jerk and the writers can even come to dislike him for it). There’s no version of his story that can look truly victorious if she doesn’t love him back and they don’t get their endgame, period. So when writers “stan” that character, in the particular way writers do, they give him just that: Peak Romance.

If the writers had pulled from Memori to write him with Raven, two things could’ve happen: either it’d happen humiliating Raven for Emori, or the other way around (yes, as fandom we can imagine other scenarios. In actual canon F/M/F triangles almost invariably go like that, sadly). If it’d happened before s6, I would’ve said Emori getting the short end of the stick was a more likely option, though now I’m not so sure. Either way, both scenarios would make Murphy Look Bad for hurting a girl’s feelings (yes, Murphy has killed people. But like I’ve said, Romantic Hero is what looks best and you CAN’T be a romantic hero if you seriously spurn a girl, even if it’s not your #1 girl. Writers are ridiculous but this pattern holds over and over smh). It would’ve been even WORSE if said girl was Emori, because it means the writers no longer respected Murphy’s POV and his priorities. It would change the core of Murphy’s character because Memori was written into his DNA, no turn backs, the way Bellamy as Octavia’s Big Brother was on his, for example.

Aaaaaanyway. I hope this has shined some light on what I meant lol. But I guess it can be summarized with: in terms of pure narrative, Emori has been consistently great for Murphy’s character. Why would you hate her if you love him, in the way a stan loves?

#memori #the 100 #john murphy #emori #thepawnhits #t100 thoughts #replies #talking to the void #my thoughts #favourites: the powah of lurve #you WISH your faves could ever

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years ago

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WHY I'M SMARTER THAN CASE

In retrospect this was a smart move, but we want to be the top one, rather than the one that is. Not quite so dominant as it had been a book.1 So an artist working on a hard problem, but their approach was so bogus that there was little chance of getting market price. You can thus gradually work your way into their confidence, and maybe turn it into an official job later, or not, big changes are coming, because the younger you are, are you really out of your element?2 It makes me spend more time on the Octoparts than I do with most of the time.3 I've noticed for a while before starting a startup generally. Certainly it can be used in painting: this is our site, not yours.4

I just wanted to keep one foot in the art world. Companies often claim to be benevolent, but because it's so much easier than building something great. They seemed wrong. Once you've seen enough examples of specific types of tricks, you start to become a connoisseur of trickery in general, just as more people could have computers once microprocessors made them cheap. But you have to do well on tests. So being hard to talk to? How to Win Friends and Influence People.5 Once they realized this, they stopped caring so much what investors thought about them. If you've heard anything about startups you've probably heard about the long hours.6

They're not part of the conversation.7 Rockefeller said in 1880, The day of combination is here to stay. You may find you'd prefer the quiet guy you've mostly ignored to someone who seems impressive but has an attitude to match. But though it was evidence that there was, somewhere, a world that wasn't red delicious, I didn't find it till college. Regardless of how complex your life is, you'll find that everyone else still shares, you're in a powerful position. But it was nearly as bad at Cornell.8 Big companies also lose because they usually only build one of each thing.9 Why hadn't I worked on more substantial problems? Sam Altman did. Whereas if you graduate and get a little more experience before they start a company. In fact, the whole concept of a good effort.10 It's useful in starting startups because you're capable of more than you realized.

Get into the habit of thinking of software as having users. So you have to do is give them a lead, and they'll close it, whatever type of lead it is.11 That last one is a big problem. So presumably that's what this brainstorming session was about. Since there's such a thing as good art.12 It seemed to people at the beginning of their career only works if everyone does it. At the bottom you'll find the subjects with least intellectual content. A sales force is worth something, I'll admit. That scariness makes ambitious ideas doubly valuable. So you have to remember everything you've said in the past to make sure you don't contradict yourself. Don't be evil.

So the downhills of the roller-coaster are more of a self fulfilling prophecy than the uphills. But you have to charm them.13 Plus if you didn't put the company first you wouldn't be promoted, and if they take it, they'll take it on their terms. Maybe in the future the executives installed by VCs will increasingly be a third option: to start with good people, to make something people will pay most for? Not at all. I didn't find it till college. It sounded serious and difficult.14 I solve?15

In fact, one of the O'Reilly people that guy looks just like Tim.16 Most companies, at least at first. A new search engine, when there were already about 10, and they were all aiming at the middle of the 20th century was a low-res: a Duplo world of a few big blocks fragmented into many companies of different sizes—some of them overseas—it became harder for unions to enforce their monopolies. Many students feel they should wait and get a job depends on the kind you want. That's their secret. I think angel rounds will start to develop standardized procedures that make acquisitions little more work than hiring someone. It's not so much that adults lie to kids about this as never explain it. Let's look at our case. Art is man-made.17

Notes

The Duty of Genius, Penguin, 1991.

They act as if the value of a startup. One year at Startup School David Heinemeier Hansson encouraged programmers who wanted to than because they believe they have wings and start to go to a study by the Clayton Antitrust Act in 1914. If Apple's board hadn't made that blunder, they wouldn't have the same town, unless it was not just the location of the Industrial Revolution, England was already the richest country in the technology everyone was going to drunken parties.

They hoped they were just getting started. Two customer support people tied for first prize with entries I still shiver to recall. Users dislike their new operating system.

There may be underestimating VCs. If I were doing more than others, like a later Demo Day or die.

Maybe it would be reluctant to start a startup could grow big by transforming consulting into a significant cause, and everyone's used to hear about the same people the shareholders instead of bookmarking.

The best way for a startup is rare.

The point where things start with their companies till about a week before. If you're sufficiently good bet, why did it. I think the company. They're common to all cultures with long traditions of living in a band, or can make offers that every successful startup?

This must have seemed shocking for a smooth one. The Nineteenth-Century History of English Studies.

Tell the investors talking to a 2002 report by the Robinson-Patman Act of 1982, which have remained more or less constant during the Ming Dynasty, when the country it's in.

This would penalize short comments especially, because time seems to have discovered something intuitively without understanding all its implications. Free money to spend on trade goods to make up the same weight as any successful startup?

I think lack of transparency.

This is a case in point: lots of people, but if you were doing more than the founders don't have one clear inventor. This is actually a great idea as something that would scale.

You'll be lucky if fundraising feels pleasant enough to invest more, the laser, it's easy to imagine cases where a laptop would be rolling in their IPO filing. It's not quite as harmless as we are only doing angel deals to generate revenues they could imagine needing in their heads for someone to invent the spreadsheet. 8%, Linux 11.

If they agreed among themselves never to do this would give us. But the usual suspects in about the idea of getting too high a valuation cap is merely boring, we actively sought out people who'd failed out of just assuming that their experience so far. According to Zagat's there are before the name implies, you can get very emotional.

Oddly enough, but getting rich, purely mercenary founders will seem more powerful sororities at your school sucks, where x includes math, law, you're going to visit 20 different communities regularly. Not startup ideas is to start a startup. Price Bubble? When companies can't simply eliminate new competitors may be underestimating VCs.

Some translators use calm instead of a powerful syndicate, you might be able to at all.

The best kind of work is in the sort of pious crap you were still employed in your classes as a kid and as a high school writing this, but it might be interested in you, they may have no decision-making causes things to them more professional. There are a lot of people thought it was the first type, and most pharmaceutical startups the second clause could include any possible startup, but rather by, say, recursion, and indeed the venture business would work better, and this tends to be spread out geographically. This is one way in which case this behavior at least try. And startups that get killed by overspending might have done and try another approach.

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cat-with-a-tie · 5 years ago

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A DenNor analysis of sorts

Hello, sweet chirping crickets! I’ve been shipping this ship for literal years now but have never plucked up the courage to actually interact with anyone or anything, so I’ve no idea why I’m doing it now, in the year of our Lord 2019, but hey, it’s never too late to get dragged back into aph hell.

I plan on posting a series of long ass rants that absolutely no one asked for in which I attempt to discuss the dynamics of DenNor and the Nordic characters in general, drawing mainly on Himaruya’s portrayal, historical facts, and my own headcanons, so welcome to the first installation of Stuff Nobody Really Cares About that I Wrote in a Fit of Boredom and Self-indulgence!

Before we start, if anyone’s reading this at all then please bear in mind that this is mostly just IMHO. And since there’s no correct way to ship a pairing (this cannot be stressed enough), my interpretation is just that—my personal interpretation, and it is by no means impartial because there’s definitely a healthy dose of my own preferences in there. Actually, I haven’t got any mutuals to talk to at the moment, so if my interpretation’s terrible, by all means go on and yell at me, I will love you to death for it.

In this post I’m going to rant about Norway’s personality (or his lack of it, thereof; don’t worry I’ll get to it later), with just a tiny segment on Denmark thrown in the mix, because hey, I do need to sleep.

“Anko” and its implications for Norway’s character

So, as most people probably already know, in the Japanese version Norway calls Denmark “anko”. In the Northeastern dialect he speaks, this is something like a diminutive form of “big brother” or “boss” (yes, Norway calls Denmark big brother!). In East Asian cultures, it is commonplace for younger men to address older ones (related or not) by honorifics ranging from super courteous to super casual, such as “aniki” in Japanese, “hyung” in Korean, and “da-ge” or “ge” in Mandarin. “Anko” also falls under this category, although it is still more casual than the more ubiquitous “aniki”. I struggle to convey its exact denotations in English, but all you need to know is that this is an affectionate way of addressing a man older than you.

But here’s a funny thing: Himaruya once stated that Denmark and Norway are “like classmates” （同級生）. Now, the Japanese term actually has a somewhat different meaning from the English one; “doukyuusei” does not strictly refer to people who are/were in the same class, but to people who belong in the same school year and therefore, in most cases, share the same age. This actually makes sense, because if we consider history, up until the 14th century or so the three Scandinavian kingdoms developed at much the same pace, so it would be reasonable to assume (despite Himaruya’s being abominably vague on nation mechanism) that the characters are of similar ages as well.

Why, then, does Himaruya have Norway refer to Denmark, who should be about the same age as he is, as “anko”? The thing is, aside from denoting age difference, this sort of honorific can also denote a difference in status. Even if someone is not significantly older than you, you may still refer to them with an honorific if you feel their status is above you or wish to pay them respect in an affectionate way.

So, consider this: Norway does not disrespect or look down on Denmark at all, in fact, he respects him enough to call him something akin to “boss” or “older brother”. Bear in mind that this is Norway we’re talking about, Norway of the onii-chan obsession! There’s no doubt that he sees a great deal of significance in this sort of thing, otherwise he wouldn’t be so bent on having Iceland address him as such. And he calls Denmark “big brother”. Just… just take a minute to let that sink in, will ya.

So this brings us to the main subject of my essay, and that is that Norway, for all his sass, is a bit of a doormat.

Now, before anyone starts yelling at me about how his people are perhaps the most fiercely patriotic out of all the Nordic countries, please let me finish my theory. You don’t get independence after centuries of being a glorified trophy bride and not feel the need to vent all that pent up frustration, after all.

First, if you look at strips such as the Denmark vs. Sweden frozen lake fiasco, you’ll see that Norway basically goes along with anything Denmark does, even when he’s actions are outright harebrained (and, to be fair, they often were). He might nag, and he might throw in a word or two of complaints, but at the end of the day Denmark calls the shots, and Norway seems pretty content to let him do so, even when sometime it’s him who has to bear the consequences of Denmark’s brashness (historically, during the many conflicts between Denmark and Sweden, many of which Denmark initiated, Sweden would often bypass Denmark and invade Norway instead, since its lack of military prowess meant that Norway could be used as leverage to force Denmark into accepting all sorts of outrageous conditions; meanwhile, any sort of military action Denmark engaged in was exceptionally taxing—no pun intended—on Norway due to its small population and frequent food shortages).

Also keep in mind that compared to the strips set in modern times, Norway’s treatment of Denmark was considerably milder in the medieval era. My theory is that his attitude towards Denmark only soured after the chain of events that eventually lead to his independence in the 19th century, buuut that’s an essay for another time! Right now I’d like to discuss a personality trait of Norway’s that fascinates me a lot and directly ties into his tendency to be pushed around: his standoffishness.

This is a character inclined to keep on the sidelines and just watch things unfold, even when said events concern his very own person. He doesn’t seem to give a fig when Denmark and Sweden are fighting to the death—hell, not even when they are fighting over him, something that happened a lot in history.

Now, I can think of two main reasons for this passiveness, the first being that Norway, unlike Denmark, probably knows his own limitations to a degree that I believe must have been painful for him at times (not that he shows it, anyway). Although of course being able to see and communicate with magical creatures could result in one being a little less interested in the mortal realm, I find it unlikely that he was always this disengaged. He was once a Viking, after all, and up until the 13th century his kingdom was arguably the most powerful and expansive in all of Scandinavia.

But then, of course, came the Black Death. Norway’s decline in the late Middle Ages was in fact facilitated by a myriad of factors including civil war, incompetent politicians, and either a shortage or a surplus of kings, but having three quarters of its population decimated by the plague was perhaps the heaviest blow of all, and by the time the Kalmar Union took place the prospects of competing with Denmark or Sweden were pretty bleak.

From there on was what 19th century Norwegian nationalist poet Wergeland dubbed the “four hundred years of night”. Although most modern historians agree that Norway was far from destitute under Danish rule and may even have benefitted considerably from it, in terms of Norway’s development as a character, I reckon it could be said that he was, in fact, shrouded in night. The night in question, however, as opposed to being a symbol of Danish tyranny as Wergeland probably intended it to be, would be more of a metaphor for Norway’s own willingness to “fall asleep”, thereby shutting out a world in which he knew he has no say. In this way, he turned a blind eye on Denmark’s ill-fated endeavors, on Sweden’s budding ambition, on the animosity brewing between his two friends, and probably even on Denmark’s mistreatment of him.

During the Kalmar Union, he must have known that he was the weakest of the three kingdoms, and that it was better to just let things take their course instead of joining the fight for hegemony along with Sweden and Denmark. During the union with Denmark, he knew too that life would be far easier if he just went along with things; after all, he knew Denmark, he knew he was stubborn and that he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. He also knew that Denmark meant well and that, despite everything, he cared a great deal for his family, as shown in the tax raise strip where Norway tells Denmark that “[it’s OK] because you’re trying your best”.

It’s possible that Norway also derived some degree of consolation from Denmark’s affection, in that even though as nations they stood on uneven ground, as friends and as people he could still trust Denmark to have his best interests at heart. Also, by telling himself that he and Denmark were “in this boat together”, Norway could avoid the sense of relative deprivation that arose from being a nation in an unequal union, and subsequently avoid feeling resentment towards Denmark, whom he’s always cared for and perhaps even looked up to despite everything. His referring to Denmark as “anko” despite being roughly the same age as him can perhaps be interpreted as a sign of this (arguably unwarranted) trust.

So in short, a prolonged sense of powerlessness led Norway to become emotionally detached as a form of defense mechanism, while affection for his childhood friend made him reluctant to put his foot down when Denmark’s arrogance and blind optimism threatened to get out of hand. All this serves to expedite the standoffishness I mentioned earlier that is typical of his character.

Thus, if we accept the theory (note the italics) of Denmark once upon a time being abusive, I personally find it plenty believable that Norway would just, well, lie back and take it. In part because he cares deeply for Denmark and is dependent on him in a bit of an unhealthy way (there’s already a wonderfully insightful post right here on tumblr addressing Norway’s shyness and how his trust in Denmark sometimes manifests as crassness, so I’m not gonna go into that here), and in part because he knows being submissive is the path of least resistance. Taking whatever Denmark the person inflicts on him would still be far more ideal than going to war with or losing the support of Denmark the nation. So yeah, lie back and think of yourself, I guess.

In this regard Norway’s mentality is drastically different from that of Denmark and Sweden’s, which is that one should always fight a losing battle if the alternative is being trod on. He acts more according to strategy, while the other two act more according to pride and passion. The upside is that, being more pragmatic and knowing his limits, he knows better where and how to deploy his strengths; the downside is that he can at times come off as a bit of a pushover.

Incidentally, this is why I find WWII history to be so damn interesting in terms of the Nordic’s characterisations, because we get to see the Viking Trio seemingly go against everything that had until then defined their personalities. To be fair, this is way after all that fucked up shit with the treaties of Fredrikshamn and Kiel, which I consider a major turning point (or mental growth spur, if you will) for all five Nordics, so I reckon it all still kind of makes sense because of the wonderful mechanics of character development? But then again, that’s an essay for another time!

A bit on Denmark

I like to think of Denmark’s behaviour during his youth as the result of a misguided desire to “play house”—out of love for his family (arguably for Norway in particular) he wishes to keep them safe, and what better way to do that than keeping them all under his wing? Sure, I’m ready to believe at least some part of him was fueled by bloodlust and a thirst for power, as is often the case with nations, but in general he simply didn’t know better.

In the mean time, Norway’s docile compliance did nothing to curb this misconception; worst case scenario, it only served to fuel it, make Denmark feel like he really was the leader and that it was his obligation to be in charge for the sake of them both. I consider their relationship in this time period to be quite toxic, even though related strips show them to be closer than ever.

For me, a significant part of Denmark’s character development is him realising that the happiness of his loved ones should not have to depend on him, and that one can be loved without being needed (in terms of DenNor, it’s him learning to love Norway as an equal and not just someone to be protected/coddled).

For Norway it’s the opposite—he learns to regain control over his own life, to stand up for himself and to love Denmark without taking any bullshit from him.

#dennor #aph #hetalia #aph nordics #aph norway #aph denmark #rant

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the-rebel-archivist · 5 years ago

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OC Interview: Raynda Lavellan

NAME ➔

Raynda Lavellan. Or, rather, Rutherford, but you don’t have to use that, it’s still pretty weird to me too. It’s sort of like giving up part of your identity, right? But it’s also so comfy and homey.

[‘Raynda’ doesn’t seem like a traditional Dalish name, is there a story behind that?]

No.

ARE YOU SINGLE ➔

No, quite the opposite, as one might gather from the whole name thing.

ARE YOU HAPPY ➔

[She smiles and turns away before answering]

Ridiculously, stupidly happy. For such a long time after I… lost… my arm, I wasn’t.

[She traces the pattern engraved on the metal arm on her left without looking down]

It’s easier when you have someone looking out for you.

ARE YOU ANGRY ➔

I mean, I try not to be. It’s a remarkably unpleasant emotion and I’ve had enough of it. So many people in my clan were fueled by it; even I was to a large extent. I still have a short temper.

Sometimes I get angry when I think of former friends who turned out to be different from what I thought they were. Ultimately I think that people see themselves as good and try to do what they think is right, it’s just that that can conflict with what someone else thinks is good, so it’s important to look from their perspective before blowing up in anger. I don’t really know if I even believe in an objective good, you know? Sorry, I’m a little off topic.

ARE YOUR PARENTS STILL MARRIED ➔

Yes.

[She has an impassive look on her face, interrupted by amused flashes of what looks like her thinking about whether or not to say what’s on her mind.]

They’re also dead, so there’s that. But they died married, so I’m not a bastard, which is cool.

EIGHT FACTS BIRTHPLACE ➔

Somewhere in the Free Marches, I’m not really sure where seeing as I wasn’t in a state to remember the location at the time. We moved around a lot. I know we’d recently moved away from Wycome, where my father had disappeared, but I don’t know where the clan went.

HAIR COLOR ➔

You seem to have a working pair of eyes - they’re a nice colour, by the way - so you tell me. And don’t give me any of that ‘ginger’ or ‘’auburn’ bullshit, it’s just straight up red.

EYE COLOR ➔

Alright, I’ll give you this one, because people tell me that they change depending on whether I’m inside or outside. When I see them they’re blue, but I’ve heard green a lot as well. Because Cullen is fancy he sometimes goes with ‘aquamarine’ or ‘sea green,’ but I’m not particularly pretentious so I usually say ‘greeney-blue.’

BIRTHDAY ➔

Sometime in Drakonis, I don’t know the exact date. I’ve always liked it because it happens right when the snow is melting and spring is in the air and the birds are flying back after winter. When I first started celebrating birthdays I picked the 15th because it’s smack dab in the middle of the month.

MOOD ➔

My mood right now or generally? Right now I’m really pretty neutral. Generally I’m… also pretty neutral.

GENDER ➔

Well this should be self-evident, or are you trying to insult me? Don’t… don’t mind me, I’m just going to be in the corner weeping.

I’m a girl.

[She laughs]

SUMMER OR WINTER ➔

Oh that’s a tough one! They really do both have so much to recommend them. I think I have to go with winter, even though I do so love the sun in the summer, since winter means curling up in blankets and drinking hot tea in front of a fire. For some reason Cullen never joins me in the blanket, but oh well, his loss, more blanket for me, and he seems content enough in the freezing cold wasteland that is the blanketless living room.

MORNING OR AFTERNOON ➔

Morning, easily. The sun is just coming up and it’s lovely. Plus you feel like the day is so much longer! EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE ARE YOU IN LOVE ➔

Very much so.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT ➔

You know, I do. Although I’m not entirely certain that it was love at first sight as much as attraction at first sight. Helps when the person you’re falling for is easy on the eyes. Love at first speak, maybe? We had a great conversation about bows and it was the most engaging and delightful conversation of my life.

WHO ENDED YOUR LAST RELATIONSHIP ➔

I’d rather not discuss it, but me.

HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART ➔

This isn’t really a line of questioning I’d like to pursue. Probably a lot of people’s, probably not all romantically.

ARE YOU AFRAID OF COMMITMENTS ➔

Of the concept, no, but I haven’t really been in any place long enough to get committed. Not even to an asylum, though Creators know sometimes I think I belong there.

HAVE YOU HUGGED SOMEONE WITHIN THE LAST WEEK? ➔

So many people. What can I say, I’m a hugger. Do you want a list? Because I can’t remember a list. If there’s a person around I’ve interacted with I’ve probably also given them a hug. Do you need a hug? You sort of look like you do.

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A SECRET ADMIRER ➔

When I was about fourteen, someone kept leaving me these really ridiculous love notes in my quiver. I still don’t know where they were from, I used to find them and laugh about them with Tam. They were the dumbest things, stuff like we can run off together, your eyes shine brighter than veilfire in the dark… He always said that we had to burn them after, I didn’t quite understand why.

It was Tam, wasn’t it.

Damn.

Well, now I feel bad.

HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN YOUR OWN HEART? ➔

How about we change the subject? SIX CHOICES LOVE OR LUST ➔

Why not both? If they must be separate, then love, but the best love has some lust mixed in there.

LEMONADE OR ICED TEA ➔

Tea is hot, isn’t it? I like hot tea, though I’m not sure about how it would be cold. I should try it! So, uh, lemonade I guess.

CATS OR DOGS ➔

I like them both! Cats have a special place in my heart though, the way they’re social but on their own terms. They seem solitary, but can be so good at keeping one company.

A FEW BEST FRIENDS OR MANY REGULAR FRIENDS ➔

A few best friends. I’d rather have a smaller number of real relationships with people who actually care about me.

WILD NIGHT OUT OR ROMANTIC NIGHT IN ➔

Night in, hands down. Although I do enjoy a good party, especially one that isn’t too crazy so that I can hear the people around me speaking.

DAY OR NIGHT ➔

I like them both - I mean, have you looked at the starry sky at night? Gorgeous. It’s so sparkly. But the sun is warm and bright, like a hug from the universe, so day. That’s my final answer. FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS BEEN CAUGHT SNEAKING OUT ➔

Oh, fuck yes, do you know how hard it is to sneak out of an aravel? Pretty freaking hard.

There was this one time at the last arlathvhen I went to when I went to meet a boy in the woods and… well, maybe I shouldn’t tell this story. It was a pretty good time until the rabbits.

Tam’s mom was so mad. She wanted to make me sleep outside, but, well, that wasn’t much of a punishment so for the rest of the arlathvhen I had to sleep closest to the wall. It was hot.

[She laughs and looks down]

Good times.

FALLEN DOWN/UP THE STAIRS ➔

It’s really embarrassing, but both, more times than I can count. It got so bad that Cullen insisted we find a house with only one floor. I had a permanent bruise on my shin from falling up the stairs at Skyhold. What, they were an awkward length and I kept trying to go up two at a time! Think of all the valuable seconds I saved. When I didn’t trip like an idiot.

WANTED SOMETHING/SOMEONE SO BADLY IT HURT? ➔

I don’t know, can you get me my arm back? Haha, I’m just kidding. Or am I.

WANTED TO DISAPPEAR ➔

Wouldn’t you want to if everyone kept asking you what to do and you had no sodding idea what the best path was? FOUR PREFERENCES SMILE OR EYES ➔

Smile. A smile brightens up someone’s whole face. It’s also so much fun to make someone who doesn’t smile much burst out laughing, it’s like a ray of sunshine.

SHORTER OR TALLER ➔

I like people to be taller than me, with at least a good five inches of clearance, but honestly it doesn’t matter much. If I truly care about someone height isn’t important.

INTELLIGENCE OR ATTRACTION ➔

Oh, intelligence. I can appreciate a pretty man well enough and they’re good for some things, but for anything deeper I need someone who can make me think, you know?

HOOK-UP OR RELATIONSHIP ➔

Relationship. I’ve done the hook-up thing enough and it only leaves you lonely. Plus you can work on really tailoring your in-bed experience to your preferences in a relationship, constantly iterating on concepts and what not. Lots of iteration. Yup. FAMILY DO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY GET ALONG ➔

I assume you mean my clan, not my dead parents, but either way the answer is no. Cullen’s family is great though, they’ve really adopted me. They’re so… warm. I thought it was normal for families to be distant. But Mia’s more of a hugger than I am!

WOULD YOU SAY YOU HAVE A “MESSED UP LIFE” ➔

Maybe once I would have.

HAVE YOU EVER RAN AWAY FROM HOME ➔

Slept in the forest, yes, but I wouldn’t have run away. When you only have familiarity with one small group it’s hard to break out of that. Like, money - what do you do when you know how to barter but barely know the value of a coin?

HAVE YOU EVER GOTTEN KICKED OUT ➔

Let’s just say learning the value of a coin was the easiest part of a pretty rude awakening. FRIENDS

DO YOU SECRETLY HATE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS ➔

Absolutely not, if I hated someone I wouldn’t be friends with them. Sometimes people can get on my nerves, I’ll admit.

DO YOU CONSIDER ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS GOOD FRIENDS ➔

Yeah, I really do.

WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND ➔

Definitely Dorian, he’s persistent and won’t let me not be his friend. He makes me laugh so hard, and my fashion sense has really gotten an upgrade from being around him. Sometimes I look in the mirror at an outfit and just think, ‘Thanks, Dorian.”

Also did I say he’s funny? He’s uproariously funny.

Sometimes I want to twist his moustache just to annoy him. I do it, but I want to too. He hates it. But I think he also secretly loves it.

On a more serious note, he has a unique perspective and I’m pretty sure he’s the smartest person I know. He probably should treat me like an idiot in comparison, but he doesn’t.

WHO KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU ➔

Cullen. If there’s anything he doesn’t know about me it’s because I’ve forgotten about it or it’s just never come up, but he knows me like nobody else does.

#raynda lavellan #my OC #dragon age fanfiction #cullen rutherford #cullen x lavellan

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bloodsworn-marshal · 5 years ago

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The Investigation

The Seventh Umbral Calamity.

An eye opener for all. Each nation afflicted by the aftereffects of Bahamut’s brief bout of freedom in some shape or form. The land had been scarred by the dragon’s prison, broken up into shards—countless souls lost in the tragedy that was Carteneau and what little remained of the grounds. Ul’dah arguably suffered the most, as they were both invaded by monsters and imperials alike… as well as rife with riots in its wake. What peace they had was all but lost.

And yet, the Sultana herself would stay the people’s fears and put a swift end to those riots. With only the help of seven willing, they busied themselves onto the streets and calmed the masses. Ended their turmoil for the time being and brought an end to a bloody night. Thus would they put themselves on the right track for recovery and restoration.

During the chaos of the Calamity however, a few particular faces put on display their true colors. Such as the High Priest of the Order of Nald’thal and current Master of the Thaumaturgy Guild, Mumuepo. He who cared not for the people of his nation by locking them out of the Ossuary and threatening to bring harm to any who neared.

Under the Sultana’s command and permission… would Pipin Tarupin carry out an investigation to rid themselves of Mumuepo after seeing as much. And where better to start than by speaking with the other members of the thaumaturgy guild who happened to stand side by side with the Sultana on that day?

“Cocobuki Lolobuki.”

“Vice Marshal. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

It was at this time that Pipin had called Cocobuki into an office of privacy where they might speak freely. Plenty of space to go around as the troops had yet to return homeward. The two had never exchanged words up to this point beyond working together during the riots, only now getting the opportunity to speak casually.

“I presume you already have any idea as to why I called you here.” Pipin went on to say, regardless of how obvious the reason. “That I would have your account of High Priest Mumuepo and what you know of him… as well as cooperation, should you be willing.”

Cocobuki already had a sneaky suspicion for Pipin’s approach of course. But was by all means prepared to lend his assistance. Beneath his bandages, it was difficult to make out what expressions might lie beneath. Though eventually he offered an understanding nod.

“By all means. You know well my merits and those of my brothers. More than glad are we to further throw our lot by the Sultana’s side… and long have we known that our High Priest is not all that those outside the Ossuary think him to be. His actions during the riots told you as much.”

“That it did.” Pipin agreed. “And for that, I will go the lengths to find out what exactly he hides behind his shelves that are so precious to his person.”

Cocobuki was surprisingly very cooperative indeed. For he went about detailing the strange occurrences that not only he and his brothers have witnessed as of late, but also what many other servants of the Ossuary have noted to him. The man had begun to take on some lucrative orders in the guise that it would help fund the order in procurement of much sought after texts. He was spending more time keeping himself locked to his studies, or meeting with influential leaders like the Monetarists in secret. As to the contents of these meetings and just how much the High Priest was pocketing, one could only guess.

Most importantly… Mumuepo had yet to take notice that he was being investigated for any wrongdoing, so time was of the essence that they took advantage. Having expected someone or another would have approached eventually, Cocobuki had already surmised a little evidence in advance… but could only go so far without official help for further digging around.

“If we are to find what you seek, it will be in Mumuepo’s private studies.” Cocobuki crossed his arms, lightly tapping his fingers against them. “I will be able to procure a short amount of time for us to investigate, and only that. The High Priest will be called away on the morrow with Prelate Yayake in tow… there in lies our opportunity.”

“A small window of time.” Pipin mused, nodding along. “I have an idea as to what I’m looking for, but with your person present I will be able to investigate with swift precision.”

After all… he could only assume a thaumaturge’s study to be swarmed with countless books. And if Cocobuki was there to narrow down the possibilities, then by all means.

“If either Mumuepo or the Prelate return early, I will have my brothers keeping tabs on their whereabouts. We will know full well in advance when to make our leave.” Cocobuki went on to add. “By then… one hopes you will find what you’re searching for.”

“I’ll find any and all evidence. That I can promise you.” Pipin assured the other in a determined tone. “Tomorrow then. Call me the moment they take their leave and I will be on my way.”

…

Such words were typically easier said than done. But regardless of Cocobuki’s expected call or not, Pipin prepared himself early. Disguising himself in a dark cowl much like any other thaumaturge’s where only the tiniest sliver of his face was easy to see upon close inspection. And beneath his robe was a bag for him to stash whatever he may find.

The moment the call came, Pipin was swift to move out and make way for the Ossuary. Very quietly entering with a book in hand so as not to draw any eyes as he hurried towards the back area. Occasionally he did catch a cursory glance or two, but most assumed him to be a simple adventurer or another.

Before long he found Cocobuki, who merely waved him over wordlessly. Pipin joined beside him as the thaumaturge led him down numerous narrow corridors. Many rooms were labeled with terms that had to do with the magics, each filled to the brim with books and tables for study work. The deeper they went in, the more forbidden and locked away the rooms seemed to be.

Cocobuki came to an abrupt stop eventually before yet another locked door. Silently staring at it for a few seconds before turning to Pipin, pulling his sleeve down to reveal a key in hand… and a smug smile besides.

“Hopefully I’ll have the pleasure of returning this before any take notice. Only one extra key of this after all resides in Yayake’s desk… which means we must finish before their return.”

Pipin grinned at the other before nodding dully.

“Lets make sure this isn’t all for naught then.”

Once the two had entered and closed the door behind themselves, they had set to work. Cocobuki’s eyes were immediately on the bookshelves as well as any books on the floor that might catch his attention, on the lookout for loose bits of paper or another. Pipin had gone for the desk where he hoped to find documents or another, sifting through the drawers and the folders already present. Mumuepo was a messy man when it came to his files, but his books however were in the neatest of orders… Those he was currently in the process of reading stacked on top of one another.

“He certainly does respect his work, I take it.” Pipin noted the books briefly, still in the midst of his search.

“Aye. If there’s one thing that is true of the High Priest, is that he values knowledge of our magics before anything else. Before any other person or life… his focus has always been on that of the depths of thaumaturgy and black magic.” Cocobuki sighed as he continued. “A highly respectable teacher of the arts and with great wisdom… yet he has dipped too far by other means.”

“I see…”

As they continued in their long minutes of searching, Pipin eventually came across a suspicious document after much digging. Recent transcriptions and other damning information that could be sourced back to a Monetarist’s hands. The selling of priceless antiques, exchanges of favors, money exchanging hands for other means not related to the guild… he had managed to find it all.

“This is it.” He called to Cocobuki as he arranged it together in one neat package. His eyes narrowing in on the papers in disgust. “One dared to hope otherwise, but…”

“It is to be expected.” Cocobuki shrugged, inspecting the papers over Pipin’s shoulder. “Some of us were already catching on. Eventually this was going to happen… luckily sooner than later.”

“You have no qualms about turning in your master and mentor to the authorities?”

“None whatsoever. We of the guild are simply devoted to our arts and study. Anything outside of that should not be allowed in these halls. Much less consorting around with those of ill-begotten gains. Or showing preference to the texts over the lives in front of our very eyes…”

Pipin silently regarded the thaumaturge’s words as he took one last look at the papers. High Priest or not, the brothers had fully obliged in lending a hand to Her Grace in this endeavor. One that so few would take up without the promise of a reward in return. They were simply doing as what their morals dictated. To that end, upstanding citizens doing what they thought needed to be done.

“Well, I believe we have everything we’ve been looking for.” Pipin hurried to stuff the documents into his hidden bag. “Closer inspection will be needed for further proof of course, but with this I’ll be able to put together a case for Her Grace. Should it be enough, chances are the head priest will need to be replaced.”

“Which means next in line would be the Prelate… although she is also Mumuepo’s close disciple. Once word comes out, few in the order might be willing to allow her stand in his stead. Leaving little to no choices…”

Cocobuki spoke those words mostly to himself as he contemplated the repercussions. It wouldn’t be easy, whatever might have to the order. Internal strife over having to lose their high priest, to a scandal of embezzlement no less. Who would next be chosen… indeed it would have to be someone of great standing.

“After all is said and done, I’ll be certain to make mention of your contributions to Her Grace.” Pipin smiled. “Who knows what may come of it... but I wager you would make a grand guild leader should it come down to it.”

“Mayhaps.” Cocobuki chuckled. “Not that I’ve sought out to unseat Mumuepo, but I wouldn’t be against taking up the position should it open either.”

A short pause. Followed by Cocobuki raising a hand to his ear as he received a short link pearl message. Suddenly his expression turned to one of urgency as he gestured towards the door.

“Cocobani reports that they are on their way back. Let us away before they discover our ploy.”

Pipin nodded without any further prodding and hurried on after Cocobuki once the place was locked and left as it was… aside from missing a few papers. From there they hurried down the halls and back to the Ossuary’s main entrance. Luckily, the duo had yet to arrive… leaving the vice marshal a moment to steal away before anyone truly took note of his presence.

Without so much as a farewell, even if he would eventually contact Cocobuki in the later future…

…

Thus was the issue decreed shortly afterward that Mumuepo be stripped of all official titles and privileges by the Sultana herself. The evidence of corruption and embezzlement found damning enough for the harsh charge, where none could argue against her words. All thanks to Pipin’s clever investigation… along with a helping hand from the newly instated guild leaders, Cocobuki and four of his brothers taking the stand.

-----------

[[ This drabble ended up pretty long... oops. But! This is hopefully the start of many drabbles, as I further want to expand on Pipin’s relationship with Cocobuki and the thaumaturge guild in general. Please look forward to it~ ]]

#ffxiv #writing #drabble #pipin tarupin #cocobuki

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pintofteaforthesoul · 6 years ago

Text

Elorcan College AU Part 1, (edit: now called Stuck In My Head)

Hey guys, I know I owe you Bodyguard Part 9, but I’m reading Empire of Storms right now and I had to write some Elorcan. I love them so much. This may be something short depending on where I go with it, but I think you’re gonna like it.

Comment on this or send me a message if you want to be tagged moving forward!

~~~

Elide hated parties- truly. They only served as a place for students to get drunk and hook up, neither of which interested Elide. But Manon, her best friend and the one who dragged her to these things, insisted that Elide’s first year at college be the best one possible. So here Elide was, leaning against a wall in tight jeans and a hoodie that hid most of her curves, looking bored.

The party was being held by one of the frats on campus, some Sigma or Kappa amalgamation- not that that mattered. They were all the same, in their big houses on Terrasen Walk just outside campus (close enough to walk there but far enough away that they could do as they pleased without having to follow the college’s strict rules).

Elide glanced over the crowd with narrowed eyes. Some men had tried to approach her, but one glare and they passed on by for easier prey. It wasn’t that Elide didn’t like men, more so that she didn’t like these men. She watched the many bodies writhing on the small dance floor that had been cleared, packed so tightly that even looking at the clump made Elide claustrophobic. With half a mind, she looked for Manon but couldn’t see the white hair of her friend in the crowd. Elide rolled her eyes, assuming that the girl was probably off in a corner with whatever guy or gal she’d sunk her claws into for the night. Maybe it would be both and Manon would be distracted enough tomorrow not to drag her out again.

Elide’s skin burned in the cotton of the hoodie, but she didn’t dare take it off- not when she had only a tank top on underneath. Five more minutes, she told herself, then she would leave whether Manon knew or not.

“You look even less pleased to be here than I do.” The dark male voice had Elide whipping her head to the side. She hadn’t noticed him approach, which was shocking when she beheld his hulking frame. He was at least a foot and a half taller than her, tanned face shadowed by stark features and chin-length ebony hair. When Elide looked up at him, he cocked his head to the side but didn’t smirk at her.

Without missing a beat, Elide retorted. “Then why are you here?”

The man shrugged, leaning against the wall beside her. The heat from his body was enough to make Elide boil inside. “It’s my party technically, I have to be here. And why are you here?”

Elide was a little transfixed by him, how handsome the man was. He was maybe a couple years older, but it was hard to tell. Returning her attention to his question, she said. “My friend wanted to come.”

His eyebrows raised a fraction, but otherwise his face was practically unreadable. “Where’s your friend now?” He said the term delicately-without inflection.

Now it was Elide who shrugged. “Somewhere.” It was intentionally vague and Elide got a little thrill out of the spark that danced in his eyes. She could tell he wanted to know whether this friend was her boyfriend or not. Elide took pity on him. “She’s probably dancing with one of your brothers right now.” She jerked her head to the dancefloor, but the man’s eyes didn’t leave her face. Was that a touch of relief that smoothed the tightness around his mouth?

“I’m Lorcan.” The man said, extending his hand to her.

“Elide.” She replied, shaking hands with him despite how small her hands were compared to his.

“Elide.” Lorcan repeated, testing her name on his lips. The sound sent a small shiver up her spine that she quickly ignored. “Can I get you a drink?”

Not able to help herself, Elide quipped. “And I was starting to think you weren’t a gentleman.”

Lorcan’s laugh came out as a bit of a bark, but he stepped back to give her a dramatic bow. “What would the lady prefer?”

Elide realized, albeit too late, that she couldn’t refuse a drink now. “Something with vodka.” She murmured, content with the choice. Wouldn’t make her drowsy like tequila or make her look prissy like wine. Lorcan nodded, an edge of his lips curled up as he trudged off through the crowd.

~~~

Lorcan had been the girl- Elide- all night, perched against a wall as if the party was beneath her. Though her shortness and choice of clothes tried to hide it, he could tell Elide had more than enough curves to entice even a blind man let alone someone like him. As he found his way the kitchen to make her a drink, Lorcan puzzled over why he hadn’t seen her before tonight. Classes would start in less than a week, but he knew he’d have noticed her in years past.

She must be a freshman, Lorcan realized with a small pang in his gut. Not good, but not horrible either given that he was only a junior. He lightened up on the vodka in her drink before actually opting for one of the bottled Smirnoff beverages- the definition of a drink for lightweights. Lorcan wanted to make a good impression on the girl- not get her drunk. Besides, he’d yet to see a drink in her hand all night, meaning either she didn’t drink or didn’t drink often- aka a tell-tale lightweight.

Lorcan grabbed a beer for himself on the way out, but stopped dead when he saw Elide again- getting hovered over by a guy he didn’t recognize. An emotion he couldn’t identify but felt a lot like rage boiled through him as he started over.

~~~

Elide could barely breathe over the reek of the man in front of her. She’d pressed her body flat against the wall and glared at him, but the guy hadn’t felt deterred. He smirked down at her- oh how Elide hated how guys smirked at her, as if they knew exactly what she wanted. She idly wondered where Lorcan had gone as the guys mouth leered closer and Elide recoiled, not bothering to tune into whatever vile things his drunken mouth spouted.

Elide felt more than saw Lorcan return as he half-stepped between her and the drunk guy, holding out a bottle. “Your drink, baby.”

Elide’s face flushed with more than gratitude as she took it from him before Lorcan directed his attention to the drunk guy who’d taken a healthy step back from them.

“Piss off.” Was all he had to say, a heavy growl in Lorcan’s voice, before the guy scurried back into the crowd as if the beasts of hell were upon him.

“Thank you.” Elide breathed, twisting off the top of the bottle he’d fetched for her- Smirnoff Screwdriver, the label read.

Lorcan’s hard eyes followed the crowd before turning to her, and softening a tad. “You’re a guest in my home. Drunken fools don’t badger my guests.” Elide had to bite her tongue to keep from smiling, nodding instead.

~~~

It was the small smile on Elide’s lips that made Lorcan realize just how fucked he was. Oh, Lorcan was fucked- truly. They stood on that wall for another twenty minutes, something about Elide making Lorcan crave knowledge about her- something that had never happened to him before. Usually he found a pretty girl to tide him over for a couple weeks before they parted ways, both satisfied. Lorcan didn’t do strings or commitments- ever. It was his one rule.

But watching Elide sip, the alcohol making the tension in her shoulders ease, utterly carefree and yet alert- those dark eyes studying their surroundings. It made Lorcan doubt his rule. He’d learned she was indeed a freshman, working on a bachelors in public affairs, and lived in the dorms.

He was too busy staring at her to notice Elide’s phone vibrate. She dragged it out and glared at the screen. An inner part of Lorcan loved that narrowing of her eyes and scrunch of her eyebrows that left a v-indent in her forehead. “Typical.” Elide snarled, shoving the phone back in the pocket of her oversized hoodie.

“Hm?” Lorcan asked, still a little distracted.

Elide rolled her eyes, but not at something he’d done. “My friend, and ride, decided to leave without telling me. Now I have no way back to campus except to walk.”

Lorcan’s expression hardened at the thought of a girl walking alone on campus at night. “It’s nearly one am.”

Elide sighed, scrunching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t really have a choice. Gods, I’m going to kill Manon for this.” Her shoulders hunched, making her shorter still, but she looked up to Lorcan with a dejected expression. “Thank you, for the drink and the company. I should probably go.”

Elide turned to walk away and Lorcan found himself catching her elbow and saying, “I can drive you.”

She looked at him, shocked. “What? No, I’ll be fine.”

Lorcan lifted himself to his full height, not backing down. “It’s a thirty-minute walk in pure darkness. I cannot, in good conscience, let you leave alone. So, I will drive you to the dorm.”

Elide looked like she would refuse again, but pressed her lips together. “Fine.”

“Fine.” Lorcan returned. “Follow me.” He didn’t let go of her hand as they fought through the crowd that was still going strong. He couldn’t hold back the small thrill at spending more time with her. Lorcan led them through the back of the house to the parking lot that housed the nearly thirty cars of his brothers.

But when Elide caught on to where Lorcan led her, she stopped dead. “Absolutely not!” Her mouth a cute o-shape of shock, the little v in her forehead prominent as she beheld the large motorcycle. “I am not getting on there!”

Lorcan glanced at her sideways, already pulling the helmet our of the compartment for her. “It’s the only thing I’ve got so.” He held the helmet out for her.

Elide glared first at it then him. “And where’s your helmet?”

Lorcan grinned like a wolf and tapped the helmet before shrugging. “It’s maybe a ten-minute drive, Elide.”

Her scowl remained. “And this isn’t some hobby? You drive this for a living?”

Lorcan couldn’t help it as his eyes reached the stars above. “I’ve had her since I was eighteen and been driving motorcycles since I was legally allowed. You’ll be perfectly safe with me.” The bike had been a gift from his friends during graduation though how they’d all afforded it he had no idea. The Cadre was a weird bunch.

The tension in her shoulders released just a fraction, as if Elide finally realized it was her only choice. Eventually, she huffed and took the helmet out of his hands. “Fine, but one misstep and I’m walking.”

“Fine.” Lorcan had to stop his smile as Elide dragged the helmet over her head, trapping her long hair and hiding that beautiful scowling face. Lorcan stepped forward to fix it in places, not expecting the visage of her in his helmet to actually turn him on.

~~~

Elide stood in a parking lot with a stiflingly hot helmet on her head that made every tantalizing breath smell of him. Cloves and apple cider assaulted her nostrils as Lorcan gestured for her to get on the bike. Elide did, utterly nervous, but didn’t make a move to secure her hands around him.

Lorcan gave a soft laugh, a dangerous laugh, as he said. “You’ll fall right off if you don’t grab hold.”

She raised her head high and quipped. “Maybe I want to.” Lorcan just sighed and pulled her arms around him until Elide’s entire body was melded against him. She fought the soft gasp, but a small noise in her throat betrayed her. Lorcan said nothing, but she could feel the tension in his body as she clutched at his black t-shirt.

The muscle beneath was hard and unforgiving and Elide couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of him was the same. He surely looked it. Lorcan turned his attention forward and started the motorcycle, the roar making Elide jump.

“Is this how you impress all of the ladies?” Elide muttered, peeved that the Bad BoyTM routine was working on her.

She caught Lorcan’s shit-eating grin as he sped off, not bothering to check if she indeed was holding on. Elide yelped loudly, tucking her body even closer to his as she shut her eyes and focused on her breathing.

They cut through the college streets like a shooting star in the night sky and Elide had wonder how Lorcan wasn’t getting pulled over with how fast he was going. She could only hold onto him for dear life as he maneuvered the motorcycle with ease. Damn Manon for leaving her at the party and subjecting her to this. Though part of her knew she’d wanted to talk with Lorcan more- despite not daring to act brave and give him her number.

She was just starting to enjoy the ride and the wind whipping around them when Lorcan slowed. Elide dared to open her eyes, seeing the towering dorm building overhead. Numbly and awkwardly, she climbed off the bike and pulled off Lorcan’s helmet.

He watched her closely, shutting the motorcycle off and letting down the kickstand. He relaxed back, that large body somehow graceful. “Thank you.” Elide murmured for the third time that night.

Lorcan tilted his head in acknowledgement before they slipped into silence, neither quite knowing what to say or what to do. Eventually, Lorcan said, “Elide.” His onyx eyes roved over her, but not in the same way other guys did- wishing to devour her whole. No, Lorcan gazed her as if she were a fine wine he wanted to sip from. Elide’s eyes locked onto his mouth, not fully knowing the extent of the heat that coursed through her.

“Lorcan.” She mouthed back, her voice not quite working properly. She went to step closer, intending to hand the helmet back to him, but wound up in the circle of his arms. The helmet fell to the side in one her slack hands as Elide’s chest was pressed into Lorcan’s. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, his own darting between her eyes and her mouth.

“Eli-” She didn’t let him finish before she molded her mouth to his, one hand reaching up to the back of his neck and running through his silky hair. There was only a moment of hesitation and surprise before he responded, pulling her more tightly against him- almost back into his lap on the bike.

The kiss was both soft and rough, ice and fire wreaking havoc on Elide’s body as their mouths moved together. She’d never been kissed like this- she didn’t realize kissing could feel like this. Lorcan finally dragged his mouth away, both of them taking panting breaths nose to nose.

“Elide.” He said again, her name sounding like a prayer. For the first time in her life, Elide wondered what it would feel like to do more. To feel those lips on her skin. She was practically vibrating with need.

Wracking her brain, Elide wondered if her roommate would be back now- remembering that Aelin had said something about spending the night at her boyfriend’s. So the dorm would be empty. Not private with its thin walls and close quarters, but it was co-ed and practically half the hall was having sex every night. One more couple wouldn’t be noticed or cared.

Just as Elide opened her mouth to invite Lorcan upstairs, he said, “I’m not right for you.”

Elide jumped back, heart hammering in her chest. “What?”

Those onyx eyes were shadowed, barely lit by the streetlight several feet away. “I’m not a good guy, Elide. I’m not the one for you.” Lorcan’s voice was bitter.

Elide stepped back with a scoff. “Shouldn’t I be the one to decide that?” The words were scornful, but Lorcan didn’t cringe back.

Instead his expression turned to stone. “Let me make it easy for you. Save you the trouble of giving your virginity to a scumbag.” He smirked at her then, full of male arrogance.

Elide bristled, the fire now turning to ice in her veins as rage coursed through her. How dare he? “How considerate of you.” She ground out, turning to walk away. Elide made it three steps before remembering the helmet gripped in her hand. With a half-turn she chucked it at him, not wanting him to the see the tears that had begun to pool in her eyes. The sharp intake of breath as Lorcan caught it was all Elide needed before stomping off into the building, leaving the only man she’d considered caring about behind.

~~~

Lorcan hated himself. He hated every fiber of his being as he drove away from Elide. But it was the right thing to do, even if he would loathe himself for putting that heartbroken expression on her beautiful face.

Elide was too good- too pure if his guess about her virginity had been correct. She deserved a good man, which was far from what he was.

Lorcan pulled back up to the frat house, pleased that it seemed much less crowded than when he’d left. As he wanted was to lay in bed and forget the shit thing he’d just done. But passing through the kitchen led him straight into the path of Fenrys.

The golden-haired bastard stopped him in his path, the grin on his face annoying as usual. “Yo, Lorcan, where’d you disappear to?”

Lorcan scowled at him. “None of your business.” He tried to move around the brute, but it was like moving around a brick wall.

Fenrys’s grin spread. “Did you finally catch a girl?”

Lorcan ground his teeth, but it was Rowan who answered, a silver-haired bastard. “I thought you were with that girl Tia.” He stood at the entrance to the kitchen, shoulder against the doorframe and arms crossed.

Lorcan closed his eyes and counted to twenty. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Tia and I parted ways last week.”

“But what about that red-head…” Fenrys snapped his fingers as if recalling something. “Morgana!”

Rowan shook his head, a small smile on his face. “No, they split over a month ago.”

Fenrys shook his head. “Man, I liked her.”

Lorcan growled. “She’s all yours. Go to the library and you’ll find her. But I doubt she’d like someone who can’t read.” Rowan laughed while Fenrys scowled, but before they could say anything else Lorcan trudged past them and beelined for the stairs.

Fenrys called after him, “Hopefully this girl makes an honest man out of you!” Lorcan didn’t deign to answer, the slam of his door an answer enough.

#elorcan #college au #part 1 #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #fenrys moonbeam #frat #fanfic #elide x lorcan #manon blackbeak

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