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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Dark”

Welcome back, everyone! Can you believe it's been six weeks already? I can't. Something something the uncomfortable passage of time during a pandemic as emphasized by a web-series.

But we're here to talk about RWBY the fictional story, not RWBY the cultural icon. At least, we will in a moment. First, I'd like to acknowledge that shaky line between the two, growing blurrier with every volume. A sort of good news, bad news situation.

The bad news — to get that out of the way — is that we cannot easily separate RWBY from its authors and those authors have, sadly, been drawing a lot of negative attention as of late. This isn't anything new, not at all, but I think the unexpectedly long hiatus gave a lot of fans (myself included) the chance to think about Rooster Teeth's failings without getting distracted by their biggest and brightest production. There's a laundry list of problems here — everything from the behavior of voice actors to the quality of their merch — but as a sort of summary issue, I'd like to highlight the reviews that continue to pop up on websites like Glassdoor, detailing the toxic, sexist, crunch-obsessed environment that RT employees are forced to work in. A lot of these websites requires a login to read more than a page of reviews, but you can check out a Twitter thread about it here.

Now, I want to be clear: I'm not bringing this up as a way to shame anyone enjoying RWBY. This isn't a simplistic claim of, "The authors are Problematic™ and therefore you can't like the stuff they produce." Nor is this meant to be a catch-all excuse for RWBY's problems. If it were, I'd have dropped these recaps years ago. I'm of the belief that audiences maintain the right to both praise and criticize the work they're given, regardless of the context in which that work was produced. At the end of the day, RT has presented RWBY as a finished product and, more than that, presents it as an excellent product, one worth both our emotional investment and our money (whether in the form of paying for a First account, or encouraging us to buy merch, attend cons, etc.) I'll continue to critique RWBY as needed, but I a) wanted fans to be at least peripherally aware of these issues and b) clarify that my use of "RT" in statements like, "I can't believe RT is screwing up this badly" is meant to be a broad, nebulas acknowledgement that someone in the company is screwing up, either creatively (doesn't have the skill to write a good scene) or morally (hasn't created an environment in which other creators are capable of crafting a good scene). The real, inner workings of such companies are mostly a secret to their audiences and thus it's near impossible for someone like me — random fan writing these for fun as a casual side hobby — to accurately point fingers. Hence, broad "RT." I just wanted to clarify that when I use this it's as a necessary placeholder for whoever is actually responsible, not a damnation of the overworked animator breaking down in a bathroom. Heavy stuff, but I thought it was necessary (or at least worthwhile) to acknowledge this issue as we head into the second half of the volume.

Now for the good news: RWBY has reached 100 episodes! For any who may not know, 100 is a pretty significant number in the TV world because, when talking about prime time programming, it guarantees syndicated reruns. Basically, networks don't want audiences to get burned out with a show — changing the channel when it comes on because ugh, I've seen this already, recently too — and 100 episodes allows for a roughly five month run without any repeats, making it very profitable. RWBY is obviously not a television show and doesn't benefit from any of this (hell, modern television doesn't benefit from this as much as it used to, not in the age of streaming), but the 100 episode threshold is still ingrained in American culture. Beyond just being a nice, rounded number, it is historically a measure of huge success and I can't imagine that RT isn't aware of that. Regardless of what we think of RWBY's current quality, this is one hell of a milestone and should be applauded.

All that being said... RWBY's quality is definitely still lacking lol.

Our 100th episode is titled "Dark" — keeping with the one word titles, then — and I'd like to emphasize that, as a 100th episode, it definitely delivers in terms of plot. There's plenty of action, important character beats, and at least one major reveal, everything we'd expect from a milestone and a Part II premiere. The animation also continues to be noteworthy for its beauty, as I found myself admiring many of the screenshots I took for this recap. There are certainly things to praise. The only problem (one we're all familiar with by now) is that these small successes are situated within a narrative that's otherwise falling apart. It's all good stuff... provided you ignore literally everything else surrounding it.

But let's dive into some examples. We open on Qrow starting, awoken by the thunder outside. Robyn has been watching him and makes a peppy comment about how none of them will be sleeping tonight, followed by a more serious, "Sounds bad out there." Yeah, it does sound bad, especially when they all know — thanks to Ruby's message back in Volume 7 — that this is due to Salem's arrival. I think a lot of the fandom has forgotten that little detail because people often discuss Qrow as if he is entirely ignorant of what is going on outside his cell. Even if we were to assume that he's forgotten all about the pesky Salem issue (the horror of Clover's death overriding everything else, perhaps) he still knows that Tyrian is running loose in a heat-less city with a creepy storm going on and, from his perspective, the Very Evil Ironwood is still running the show. So it's bad, which begs the question of why Qrow (and Robyn, for that matter) hasn't displayed an ounce of legitimate worry for everyone he knows out there. Thus far, their interactions have centered entirely around Qrow's misplaced blame and Robyn's terrible attempts to lighten the mood, despite the fact that a war is raging right beyond that wall. It's another example of RWBY's inability to manage tone properly, to say nothing of balancing the multiple concerns any one character should be trying to juggle. Just as it rankles that Ruby and Yang don't seem to care about what has happened to their uncle, Qrow likewise doesn't seem to care about what might be happening to his nieces. When did we reach a point where these relationships are so broken that someone can be arrested/chucked into a deadly battle and the others just... ignore that?

So Robyn's otherwise innocuous comment immediately reminds me of how badly the narrative has treated these conflicts and, sadly, things don't improve much from here. We are thankfully spared more of Robyn's jokes when Qrow realizes that what he's hearing can't be thunder. A second later, Cinder blasts through the wall — called it! — and Qrow instinctively transforms.

The only downside to this moment is that the whole ceiling falls down on Qrow and the others because APPARENTLY these cells don't have tops on them. Seriously. As far as I can recall we don't see the stone breaking through the forcefield somehow and this looks pretty open to me.

If it is... you're telling me these crazy powerful fighters who practice landing strategies and leap tall buildings in a single bound —

— can't just hop over this mildly high electric fence to get out? Qrow can't just fly away?

We're, like, two minutes in, folks.

We transfer to Nora's perspective as she wakes up, seeing Klein giving her the IV. He tells her not to worry, that "you and your friend are going to be just fine." What friend? Penny? Klein went upstairs prior to Weiss hugging Whitley or Penny crash landing outside. I had thought them bursting through the door with another unconscious friend was the first time he learned what the big bang outside was, but apparently not.

Penny is, obviously, a mess. While I now understand the choice to make her blood such an eye-catching color when that's crucial to the Hound's hunt, I still think it looks strange visually. Like someone has taken a copy of RWBY and painted over it. It doesn't look like it fits the art style. More than that, it implies some rather complicated things about Penny's humanity, especially in a volume focused around her being a "real girl." Real enough for Maiden powers, but with obviously inhuman blood that isn't even referred to as "bleeding." Penny "leaks" instead.

Toss in the fact that she's literally an android who is made up of tech — recall the running gags about her being heavy, or it hurts to fist-bump her, to say nothing of keeping things like multiple blades inside her body — yet Klein says that her "basic anatomy" is the same and he can "stitch up that wound."

I'm sorry, what? Whatever Penny looks like on the inside, it's not going to resemble a human woman's anatomy, and Klein might be able to stitch the outer layer of skin she's got, but that won't do anything to fix whatever metal bits have been broken underneath. Penny isn't a human-robot hybrid, she's a robot with an aura. Penny has knives in her back, rockets in her feet, and a super computer behind her eyes. When our clip introduced that Klein would be the one to help Penny, my initial reaction was, "Seriously? He's a butler and a doctor and an engineer?" But RWBY didn't even try to get away with a Super Klein explanation, they just waved away Penny's very obvious, inhuman anatomy. Yeah, I'm sure "stitching up" an android wound is just like giving Nora her IV. I hope the surgical sutures he used are extra strong!

In an effort to not entirely drag this episode, I do appreciate that Whitley is allowed an "ugh" moment about the non-blood covering his shirt without anyone calling him out on it. That felt like the sort of thing the show would usually try to make a character feel guilty about and I'm glad that, for once, he was just allowed to be frustrated without comment.

Then the power goes out and May calls, which raises questions about what state the CCTS is in and when scrolls are available to our protagonists vs. when they're not. But whatever. She's checking in because she just "saw another bombing run light up the Kingdom" and —

Wait. Bombing? Salem is bombing the city? I know we've seen explosions in the sky, but I'd always just attributed that to evil aesthetic. Why does this dialogue sound like it's from a World War II film and not a fantasy sci-fi show about literal monsters launching a ground attack?

May looks pretty against the sky though. I like her hair color against that purple.

I'm admittedly grasping at positives here because we finally return to her "You have to choose" ultimatum and — surprise! — May has pulled back completely. Ruby says that once they've helped Penny, "We'll...we'll do something!" which is once again her avoiding making a decision. Ruby still refuses to choose, instead falling back on generic, optimistic pep talks. They'll figure out how to stop Salem later. They'll think about the impact of telling the world later. They'll choose who to help later. Ruby keeps pushing these problems into the future where, she hopes, a perfect, magical solution will have appeared for her to latch onto. When that continues to not happen, others pressuring her to actually do something and stop waiting for perfection — Ironwood, Yang, May — she panics and continues stalling for time. Wait an episode and the narrative supports her in this.

Because initially May was forcing Ruby to decide. Now, May enables her desire to keep putting things off. "Don't beat yourself up, kid. At this point, I don't know how much is left to be done." That's the exact opposite of what May believed last episode, that there was still so much work and good to do for the people of Mantle. This is precisely what the show did with Yang and Ren's scenes too, having people call Ruby out... but then return to a message of, 'Don't worry, you're actually doing just fine' before Ruby is forced to actually change.

None of which even touches on May calling her "kid" in this moment. That continues to be a convenient way of absolving Ruby of any responsibility. When she wants to steal airships or Amity Tower, she's an adult everyone should listen to, the leader of this war. When the story wants to absolve her of previously mentioned flaws, she becomes a kid who shouldn't "beat herself up." I said years ago that RWBY couldn't continue to let the group be both children and adults simultaneously, yet here we are.

So that was a thoroughly disappointing scene. Ruby gets her moment to look sad and defeated, listing "the grimm, the crater, Nora, Penny" as problems she doesn't know how to solve. Note that 'Immortal witch attacking the city I've helped trap here' isn't included in that list. Ruby is still ignoring Salem herself and no one in the group is picking up where May left off, challenging her to do more than wring her hands over things others are already trying to take care of: Ironwood is fighting the grimm, May has gone off to help the crater, Klein is patching up Nora and Penny. Ruby, as one flawed individual, should not be expected to come up with a solution to everything, but she does need to stop acting like she can come up with a solution to everything when it matters most (office scene) and rejecting others' solutions when they ask for her help (Ironwood, May).

If it feels like I'm dragging the flawed, traumatized teenager too much, it's not in an effort to ignore those aspects of her identity. Rather, it's because she's also the licensed huntress who wrested control from a world leader and violently demanded she be put in charge of this battle. Ruby, by her own actions, is now responsible for dealing with these problems, or admitting she was wrong and letting others take the lead, without purposefully derailing their plans. She doesn't get to suddenly go, "I don't know," cry a little, and get sympathetic pats.

But of course that's precisely what happens, courtesy of Weiss.

During this whole scene I kept wondering why no one was celebrating Nora waking up, especially when Ruby outright mentions her. Have they just not noticed given all the Penny drama? Because Nora absolutely woke up.

Aaaand went back to sleep, I guess. What was the point of that POV shot? No worries though, she'll wake up again in a minute.

Willow arrives and announces that they can fix the power (and Penny) using the generator at the edge of the property. I'm convinced RT doesn't actually know what a generator is because the characters are acting like it's some super special device that only richy-rich could possibly have. Whitley says that it's the SDC executives who have their "own power supply" and that it's "extremely unfair." Now, don't get me wrong, a good generator powering large portions of your house can run you 30k+, but you can also get one that plugs into your extension cord and powers your fridge for a couple hundred. There's absolutely a class issue here, just not the one Whitley and Weiss seem to be commenting on. They make a generator sound like the sort of device that only a politician-CEO could possible have and it's weird.

Likely, it sounds weird because it's a choppy way of getting Whitley to bring up the wealth disparity so he can then go, 'That's right! We're crazy rich with a company housing tons of ships! We can use those to evacuate Mantle.' Awkwardness aside, I do like that the Schnee wealth is being used for good purposes, but... evacuate where? To the city currently under attack by a giant whale? In a RWBY that wasn't determined to demonize Ironwood, this would have been a great plot point during the office scene instead, with Weiss offering her services to Ironwood, even if the group decides that a continued evacuation still isn't possible.

Instead, we get it here from Whitley. Do I need to point out the obvious? That Whitley is the MVP of this episode? He's done more good in an HOUR than the group has managed in a year. Give this kid some training and make him a huntsmen instead.

We're given a (very pretty!) shot of the shattered moon because it wouldn't be RWBY if we weren't continually reminded that gods once wiped out humanity before destroying part of a celestial body... and absolutely no one talks about that lol.

Blake's coat might not make any sense for her color scheme, but it does make her easy to spot as she and Ruby run across the grounds. Oh my god, they're actually doing something together! It only took eight years. They even get a lovely talk where Blake admits how much she looks up to Ruby, despite her being younger, and once again I'm struck at how much more I would have loved this scene if it had appeared elsewhere in the series. It is, indeed, as sweet and emotional as all the RWBY GIF-ers are claiming... provided you overlook that this is the exact opposite of what Ruby needs to hear right now. She doesn't need to hear that she's more mature and reliable than her elders when she's functioning under a "We don't need adults" mentality. She doesn't need to hear that not knowing what to do is totally fine, not when that led to her turning on Ironwood, despite not knowing how to stop Salem. She doesn't need to hear that "doing something" — doing anything — is a strength, because Ruby keeps avoiding the big problems for smaller ones she's comfortable with, like standing by Penny's bedside instead of deciding between Mantle and Atlas. Blake's speech is heartfelt, but it's a speech that suits a Beacon days Ruby who is having some doubts about her leadership skills, not the girl whose impulsive — and now lack of — actions is having world-wide repercussions. Everyone is babying Ruby to a staggering degree. It's like if we had a med show where the doctor is standing by the bedside of a coding patient, fretting between two treatments. 'Don't worry,' their colleague says, patting their shoulder. 'I've always looked up to you. You'll do something when you're ready' and then they continue to watch the patient, you know, die.

Also: who does Ruby look up to? Everyone talks about how much they depend on and trust Ruby, but who does Ruby look to for guidance? A number of her problems stem from the fact that she has rejected the advice of everyone who has tried to help her improve: Qrow, Ozpin, Ironwood, even Yang. Ruby is presented as the pinnacle of what to strive for in a leader, rather than a leader who has only been doing this for two years and still has a great deal to learn.

Anyway, they get the generator on and the Hound shows up.

I am begging RT to just make RWBY a horror story. All their best scenes the last three years have been horror I am bEGGING —

Anyway, while Ruby waits to be eaten we cut to Willow and Klein, the former of which is reaching for her bottle, pulling back, reaching again, all while her hand shakes. This is good. This is what we should have gotten with Qrow. Which isn't to say that their (or anyone's) addiction should be identical, but rather that this is a far more engaging and complex look at addiction than what our birb got. Willow tells us that she doesn't drink in the dark despite bringing the bottle with her; tries to resist drinking when she's scared and ultimately fails. Qrow just decided to stop drinking after decades of addiction, seemingly for no reason, and that was that. Why is a side character we only met this volume written better than one of the main cast?

Blake manages to call Weiss about the Hound and she asks if Whitley can handle the airships without her. I mean, I assume so given that Weiss is looking at the bookshelves while Whitley does all the work lol. He makes a teasing comment about how he can if she can handle that grimm and she comments that they still need to work on his "attitude."

No they don't. Weiss stuck a weapon in her kid brother's face. Whitley made a joke. Even if Weiss' comment is likewise meant to be read as teasing, it's clear that we've bypassed any meaningful conversation between them. That hug was supposed to be a Fix Everything moment even though, as I've laid out elsewhere, it didn't even come close.

We cut back to Ruby getting thrown through a wall into the backyard and the Hound creepily coming after her. She's freaked out by this clearly abnormal grimm and Blake is weirdly... not? "It's just a grimm. Just focus!" Uh, it's obviously not. Have we reached the traumatized, sleep-deprived point where the group is sinking into full-blown denial? I wouldn't be surprised. They've been awake for like... 40+ hours.

Because the Hound knocks Ruby out with a single hit. Just, bam, she's down. "Focusing" is not the solution here.

Weiss calls to warn the others about the grimm, telling them to stick together. Willow (understandably) starts freaking out and flees the room (classic horror trope!). Klein is left alone when Penny wakes up with red eyes. Oh no!

Don't worry. You know nothing meaningful happens.

She shoves Klein before (somehow?) resisting the hack, her Maiden powers going wild in the process. Just when it looks as if Penny might cause some serious damage, Nora wakes up, takes her hand, and says, I kid you not:

"Hey... no one is going to make you do anything you don't want to do... It's just a part of you. Don't forget about the rest."

Okay. I want to re-emphasize that I love hopeful, uplifting, victory-won-through-the-power-of-love stories. Istg I'm not dead inside, it's just that RWBY does this so badly. I mean, what is this? It has similarities to the character shouting, 'No! Resist!' to their mind-controlled ally, but this is not presented as a desperate, last-ditch effort by Nora. She just speaks like this is the most obvious truth in the world. If you don't want to have your mind taken over... just don't! It's that simple. The problem definitely isn't that Watts has changed her coding and has implemented a command she can't override, it's that Penny has forgotten about the "rest" of her personhood.

And this works. Granted, not for long, but we leave Nora having successfully calmed Penny down and until her eyes unexpectedly go red again scenes later, we're left assuming that this is a permanent solution. That, imo anyway, is taking the Power of Love too far, overriding the basic reality of Penny being hacked. It’s not a personal failing she must overcome, it’s an external attack. I would have rather had Nora react to the scars she saw on her arm, or have a moment with Klein, or get some love from the group. Not a wakes up, falls asleep, wakes up again to save Penny with a Ruby level 'Just ignore reality' pep-talk, then back to sleep again.

So Penny isn't attacking her allies, or mistakenly hurting her allies with wild Maiden powers. Not that the group doesn't have enough to deal with, but still. Weiss arrives to help with the Hound and attempts a new summon, only to fail when two minor grimm burrow up into her glyphs. I really enjoyed that moment, both for the wing visual and the knowledge that Weiss' glyphs can fail if you break them somehow (which makes sense). Also, I just like that she failed in general? Weiss is, as per usual now, about to demonstrate just how OP she is compared to the rest of the team, so it was nice to see her faltering here.

The Hound tries to make off with Ruby and Blake does an excellent job of keeping it tethered. Ruby finally wakes, only to realize that the grimm is actually after Penny since it's staring at her power up through the window, no longer trying to escape. Moments like this remind me that there's someone on RT's writing team that knows what they're doing, at least some of the time. The assumption that the Hound is after Ruby as a SEW, the surprise that it's actually Penny, realizing it holds up because Ruby is covered in Penny's blood and Blake is not... that's all nice, tight plotting. More of that please!

The Hound drops her and Ruby's aura shatters when she hits the ground. I want everyone to remember this moment as an example of how strong the Hound is. The group may be tired, but unlike YJR they've been sitting around in the Schnee manor for a number of hours, regaining strength. We saw the Hound hit Ruby twice — once through the wall and once to knock her out — and then she falls from a not very high distance for a huntress, yet her aura is toast. That's the level of power and skill the Hound possesses. Decimating YJR, knocking Oscar out, same for Ruby, avoiding Blake and Weiss' hits, soon to treat Penny like a ragdoll. Just remember all this for the episode's end.

Blake tells Weiss she'll take care of Ruby, you go help the others. Yay breaking up the duos more! Bad timing though as the new acid-spitting grimm pops out of the ground and Blake is now left alone to face it.

Weiss re-enters the mansion, knowing the Hound is somewhere nearby, but not where. Suddenly, Willow's voice sounds through her scroll with an, "Above you!" which... doesn't keep Weiss from getting hit lol. But it's the thought that counts! Willow has accessed the cameras she's set up throughout the manor, watching the Hound's movements, and I have to say, that is a WAY better use of her separation from Klein than I thought we were getting. I legit thought they'd have Willow run away in a panic, meet the Hound, die, and then Weiss could be sad about losing her mom.

It does say something about RWBY's writing that this was my knee-jerk theory, as well as my surprise when we got something way better.

The Hound runs off, uninterested in Weiss, and she asks Willow to keep tabs on it. It heads for Whitley next (also covered in Penny's blood) and very creepily stalks him in the office with a, "I know you're here." Whitley is seconds away from being Hound chow before one of Weiss' boars pin it against the wall. He runs, then runs BACK to finish deploying the airships, before finally escaping assumed death. Goddamn this boy is pulling his weight.

I assume all these ships are automated then? I hope someone takes a moment to call May. Otherwise it's going to be super weird for the Mantle citizens if a fleet of SDC ships just show up and hover there...

I don't entirely understand how Weiss saved him though. She's nowhere to be seen when Whitley leaves and he runs a fair distance before he and Willow encounter Weiss again. We know her summons don't have to keep right next to her, but are they capable of rudimentary thought, attacking an enemy — and an enemy only — despite Weiss being a couple corridors down and unable to see the current battlefield? I don't know. In another series I'd theorize that this was a deliberate hint, a way to clue us into the fact that Willow, someone who we currently know almost nothing about, had training in the past and summoned the boar herself. Weiss and Winter certainly didn't get that hereditary skill from Jacques. Hell, we might still get that, Weiss reacting with confusion next episode when Whitley thanks her for the boar, but I doubt it. That scene with Ruby and the Hound aside, the show isn't this good at laying groundwork and then following up on it.

Case in point: Weiss says, "I didn't forget you" to Whitley after he gets away from the Hound, the moment trying to harken back to her promise to Willow. Key word is "trying." Because she absolutely forgot him! Weiss threatened and ignored Whitley until he proved his usefulness. I also shouldn't need to point out that, "Don't forget your brother" does not mean, "Don't let your brother die a horrible death by abnormal grimm." Weiss acts like her saving him is a fulfillment of her promise, rather than just the most basic of human decency. And also, you know, her job.

So that part is frustrating. The entire Schnee dynamic is a mess, from Weiss making a joke of her father's arrest, to Willow (presumably) fixing their relationship by putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder. Okay.

Then Weiss cuts off the Hound by summoning a giant wall of ice. My brain, every time this happens:

YOU COULD HAVE FIXED THE HOLE IN MANTLE'S WALL.

Moving on, Blake's fight against the acid... thing has some great choreography, including Blake using her semblance which we haven't seen in AGES.

I really like the fight itself, just not what Blake is shouting the whole time. "I need you, Ruby! We all need you!" This has really gotten ridiculous. Ruby is presented as everyone's sole savior despite failing time and time again. It's not that I don't think Blake as a character should have faith in her leader, it's that I don't think the writers should be crafting a story where everyone puts their unshakable hopes in an untrained, disloyal, impulsive 17 year old. I mean, Ruby is currently unconscious, yet Blake is acting like if she doesn't wake up — she, as an individual, if Ruby Rose does not re-join this fight — then all is lost. If Ruby doesn't save them, no one can. Which is, of course, absurd on numerous levels. Blake doesn't need the passed out, aura-less Ruby right now, she needs the still very healthy Weiss pulling out multiple summons and an ice wall! Use your scroll and call for backup again.

But of course, Ruby wakes up and kills the new, terrifying grimm with a single hit. It's a preview of what's to come with the Hound and it's just as ridiculous here as it will be there.

Speaking of the Hound, am I the only one who thought this was... cute?

I can't possibly be the only one. That head-tilt is exactly what my dogs do and my brain instinctively went, "Aww, puppy!"

Murderous puppy.

The Hound realizes none of the Schnees are who it's looking for and runs off. Penny, meanwhile, has been fully taken over because, well, that's just what's convenient now. She resists long enough keep Amity up, then succumbs, then resists to apologize to Ruby, then succumbs, then resists because Nora asked her to, then succumbs once it's time to knock her out. If RWBY was willing to commit to consequences, Penny would have been taken over and that was that. The characters would need to deal with whatever outcome happens as a result. Instead, the show very carefully avoids any of those pesky consequences by having Penny successfully resisting at key moments, despite no explanation of how she's managing that.

She shoves Klein again (Klein is having a Bad Time) and starts walking down the main steps. When Whitley wants to know where the hell she's going, Penny mechanically responds that she must "Open the vault, then self-destruct." I suppose the change Watts made was the self-destruct order? Ironwood obviously wants the vault open, though not necessarily Penny's death. Think what you will of his moral compass, she's a damn powerful ally — a research project, perhaps — and a Maiden to boot. At the very least, her death may give the powers to someone even worse.

God, please don't let them have brought Penny back and made her a Maiden just to kill her again.

The Hound arrives though and, as said, knocks Penny out. We're back to square one with her, then. Note though that this attack is near instantaneous. She grabs its hands one second, is hanging limply the next. Wow, the Hound sure is a terrifying antagonist!

Not for long.

"That's enough," Ruby says and one-shots it with her eyes.

Now, I want to talk for a moment about the implications of that line. "That's enough." Obviously Ruby is #done with this situation and emotionally unwilling to let the Hound kidnap Penny (congratulations, Nuts and Dolts shippers), but there's a meta reading here as well. Not intentional, but glaring to me nonetheless. Basically, the idea that the Hound has, from a plot perspective, done enough. It has served its singular purpose. It kidnapped Oscar and now it dies. Never-mind how insanely powerful we've established the Hound to be, never-mind how Ruby's eyes also work or don't work according to whether anything of actual import is on the line. From a plot perspective "that's enough" and the Hound can be disposed of instantly. It got Oscar and gave us an episode of filler creepiness. Move along now.

The idea behind Ruby's eyes isn't bad, but the execution absolutely is. RT has undermined a huge portion of the stakes by giving their protagonist an instant kill-shot that always works precisely when she needs it to. Starting with the Apathy, we have yet to get a moment where Ruby's eyes fail to save the day when she really needs them to, no matter how incredible the challenge. The Hound was very intentionally written to be a grimm outside of the group's current power level. It thinks, it talks, they literally can't touch it. This creates the expectation that the group will need to grow stronger — or at least become smarter — in order to surmount this new obstacle, yet Ruby's eyes undermine all of that. The group hasn't grown in years, the show just makes enemies weaker as needed (Ace Ops), or has Ruby pull out her eyes as a trump card. It wouldn't be that bad if we'd at least gotten a good battle out of it, one where the group gets close to defeating the Hound on their own, but needs Ruby's eyes to finish it off. Instead, she literally walks up without any aura, announces to the audience that this antagonist's time is up, and blasts it out a window.

Granted, Ruby's eyes don't completely finish it. The Hound pulls itself to its feet and we see this.

Yup, that's a guy and yup, those are silver eyes.

I would like to issue a formal apology to the "It's secretly Summer!" theorists in the fandom. I mean, I still think it would be ridiculous (and at this point highly improbable) that Ruby's dead mother has actually been a grimm mutant this whole time, just hanging out in Salem's realm while she waits for the plot to start before attacking the world, and then sends some no-name faunus dude after the group instead of their leader's mother for extra, emotional torture... but you all were definitely right about the “It's a person” part! I... don't know how I feel about this. Admittedly, it seems to be a logical continuation of the other grimm-human hybrids we've seen — namely Cinder and Salem herself — and it finally explains why Salem wants Ruby alive (even though it actually doesn't because WHY did she want more SEWs for Hound grimm when she wasn't even attacking back then? And already has all these other insanely powerful tools??), but at the same time, it feels like it's complicating a story that doesn't need further complications. The group fights monsters and has an immortal enemy. You don't need to add 'Some of those monsters are secretly human' to the mix.

It doesn't hurt that this twist is giving me Attack on Titan vibes, which, ew. A dark time in my fandom life, folks.

The Hound staggers a few steps before Whitley and Willow dump a suit of armor on it. That's all it takes to kill the most dangerous grimm we've ever seen: a single flash of silver eyes and some heavy metal. This also wreaks havoc with the implication that Salem wants SEWs alive because they create such powerful grimm. Obviously not. I mean yeah, normal huntsmen are going to have serious problems, we’ve seen that this volume, but any other SEWs nearby will take a Hound out instantaneously. For a villain with so many other powerful abilities — immortality, magic, endless normal grimm, her nifty soup — Salem would be much better served just killing SEWs straight out. Clearly, creating Hounds isn't worth the effort.

The Hound leaves some bones behind and Ruby collapses to her knees, overcome with the knowledge that this was once a person. Again, uncomfortable Attack on Titan parallels.

We finish our premiere with Cinder clearing away rubble to reveal Watts. Honestly, I like that we ended on this because her rescue is hilarious. She just slings him over her shoulders like a sack of potatoes and blasts off with her magic fire feet. Fantastic.

Note though that with this scene we've seen almost everything from the clip and the trailer. What's to come in the rest of Volume 8? No idea. Outside of Winter leading the charge with the bomb, we got it all here.

Time to update the bingo board!

I'm crossing off "Introducing new grimm that are quickly abandoned." Between the Hound and acid-dude both falling to a single blast/cut from Ruby, we've more than earned this square.

It doesn't look as if we'll get another Watts-Jacques team-up now that he's left, but you never know.

Maria's got me worried. I feel like her Yoda fight against Neo is the one thing she'll be allowed to do this volume, but given that we didn't see anyone except Ruby's group this episode, we don't yet know whether the story is now ignoring her and Pietro, or if they'll re-appear in another episode like YJR.

Qrow is free. Will he get a drink before trying to murder Ironwood? Perhaps.

Still no bingo :(

All in all, the episode was by no means horrible. I think there were lots of horrible parts, but also some legitimately well executed moments, fun action, and scenes that I can easily imagine as squee worthy if you lean back and squint. Everything is comparative and in the growing collection of bad RWBY episodes, this one isn't securing a top slot. Which doesn't mean I think it's good, just... not as bad as it could have been and primarily only bad due to long-running problems, not things this specific episode has done. That's my bar then, so low it has officially entered the underworld.

Still, RWBY is back and a part of me is eager to see where this volume takes us, for better or for worse.

Until next week! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #mymetas #rwby recaps #rwby dark

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bold-writing · 4 years ago

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The One With Whiskey Eyes || 2 || Black Words and Silver Scars

Summary: Soulmate AU Split 2016. Not everyone had a soulmate, there were many in the world who were unmarked. Iris Mayfair, however, has been forced to hide her skin for nearly thirty years. She doesn't have just one or two soulmates-even three would make people sneer and judge; no, she has twenty-three legible marks on her skin; with a blurry, unfinished twenty-fourth blooming across her flesh.

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, descriptions of abuse, swearing.

Words: 3000

Previous || Next

~2~

Opening her apartment door only enough to slip through, Iris immediately locked the deadbolts behind her as a long sigh blew passed her lips. “Why did I think that was a good idea?” she muttered to herself as her head fell back against the door with a barely audible thud. “I’m insane.” Pushing off the door and stepping into the tiny space of her apartment, barely enough to be called that since it was one large room with a tiny washroom behind a door in the corner, Iris carefully unbuttoned her coat and moved to the closet to hang it up.

Even the closet was just an open alcove with a bar that she’d hung—nearly taking her finger off because she was not a handy person.

Ducking into the kitchen portion of the apartment to make herself a tea, Iris hoped it would be enough to calm her frayed nerves before she had to go to work that evening. When speaking with Dr. Fletcher on the phone, she’d decided that it was best to meet with the woman before she had to go to work instead of taking up her next day off. Of course, now she wished that she had not gone to the building at all but if she had she really should have done so on her day off.

Her hands trembled when she filled her kettle with water and placed it on the stovetop, causing some of it to splash out onto her hand. Immediately shaking the water off of her mark, Iris flinched like she’d been burned. The thinness of her hand meant that when she spread her fingers out to look more closely at the mark, her tendons lifted beneath her skin and rippled the words.

Even after everything that she had been through when she was younger, up until she had finally had enough and ran away from home, Iris did not hate her marks. Many times she had sought comfort from them, and even strength. They had withstood so much from her parents; she figured that she could as well. If they were strong enough, deep enough, that her parents couldn’t ruin them or destroy them then she could survive it as well.

Tracing over the neat writing, with the ring finger of her other hand, Iris smiled faintly.

The smile didn’t last, however, as the reality of what had happened returned to the forefront of her mind. She had met her soulmate today—or one of them, at least—and she had been absolutely horrible to him. Not only were her first words to the poor man those of rejection, but she had run away from him as well. None of her marks were rude or aggressive, so she could only imagine what he must have felt by her reaction to hearing what he said.

That was not how she expected meeting her soulmate to go.

Whatever had made her say those words only caused regret and despair to claw at her insides now, wishing for nothing more than the chance to take those words back.

A few people she had met over the years had told her stories of their marks, some of which were a statement of rejection. That rejection wasn’t always sorted out and they were left disconnected from a soulmate that didn’t want them. A friend she had in her early high-school years, prior to running away, had the mark that said ‘come on, of all people it had to be you?’ on her leg. Iris couldn’t remember ever seeing her friend in shorts, keeping her mark covered just like Iris’s.

“I’m a horrible person,” she whispered to the mark on her hand, clenching it into a fist.

Abruptly stepping back from the counter, Iris pulled off the sweater she had thrown on before she’d left earlier, followed by the long-sleeved undershirt, and soon stood in her bra as she looked down at the scratchy writing on her bicep. Stroking her fingers along the skin, thankfully one patch that didn’t hold scars from her parents.

The sudden ring of her cellphone jerked her out of her thoughts so abruptly that she leapt in place, hand clutching at the mark on her arm as though desperate for it. Abandoning the small kitchen in favour of snatching her cellphone from the pocket of her coat, relieved that she’d set it on ring otherwise she never would have remembered where it was, Iris pulled it out and glanced briefly at the lit screen.

Karen Fletcher

“No,” she mumbled, staring down at the phone as her heart began beating quickly in her chest. Would that man still be there? Was he having the doctor call Iris?

Hating the thought of ignoring him or the doctor again, Iris tapped the accept button and lifted the phone reluctantly to her ear.

“Hello, Dr. Fletcher.”

“Miss. Mayfair, are you alright? I’m sure that today was not what you expected…”

Sighing softly as she moved to sit on the edge of her bed, the closest thing to sit on, Iris leaned her forehead in one hand while the other clutched at the cellphone. “I’m sorry for running out like I did…and for running away. I…I hope…”

“Barry understands that it’s overwhelming, to meet a soulmate,” Dr. Fletched offered, the name of the man making Iris lift her head as her hand fell over her lips, the pain and guilt returning. Why was it easier when he didn’t have a name? “I know that it takes a bit of time to adjust to knowing you met your soulmate, especially with how afraid you seem to be of yours-”

“I’m not afraid of my marks,” Iris interrupted. “I love my marks. But…I never thought that I…”

The other line remained silent for a moment before Dr. Fletched began again softly, “Iris…there are many things that need to come to light. And I want to assure you that things will work, but I cannot do that if you don’t talk to me. Barry wants to know you, and I’m sure your other soulmates do as well,” she continued to explain calmly.

“You…know you who they are, don’t you?” Iris struggled out, fidgeting in place as her attention drifted down to her exposed arms and the various marks and scars that were on display.

“I may,” Fletcher answered hesitantly. “But that is not up to me to say. For now, I want to speak with you again, if you’re willing.”

“I dunno, Dr. Fletcher. Even if you say he understands…what I said was awful. And to have to share me with so many others?”

Dr. Fletcher didn’t speak up right away, as though she was trying to think of how to phrase what was on her mind. “You and Barry need to discuss this, not you and I, but I do want to help you, Iris. I can see that you’re in pain, that you’ve struggled through your life, and it’s because of those marks. Those soulmates. I don’t want you to have to carry that pain around with you for the rest of your life.”

“I don’t think I could afford your services,” she argued, sounding tired. “And as I said, I love my marks. There is nothing from my past that changes that.”

“You may love your marks, but I can see that they have…caused problems for you, Iris. Please, just meet with me one more time, no charge, so we can discuss this.”

Knowing that someone could see through her so easily, especially someone that had insight on her marks—and her scars—made Iris’s skin prickle uncomfortably. She trembled in place as her scars itched faintly, her shoulders shaking with the motion, before she clenched her muscles and hunched forward with the effort to remain still and frozen.

“I can’t,” she struggled out, the crack in her voice feeling like a strike through her vocal cords. “I’m sorry.”

Hurriedly hanging up with a shaky thumb over the ‘end call’ button as tears burned her eyes, Iris tried not to think of the blue-eyed man that had said one of the twenty-four marks on her body. The phone clattered to the floor without further thought as Iris remained hunched at the edge of her bed, wearing only her bra across her torso as her pale skin pebbled against the cold air. Her nails scraped across her arms, leaving red welts in their wake, unable to control the urge to remove the itches.

Carefully focusing on her breathing and doing her best to remain as calm as possible, Iris was almost too far gone into her mind to hear a second call come through her phone. The upturned screen once more read Dr. Fletcher’s name, but this time went ignored and unanswered as the pale woman struggled to push aside the panic attack threatening to overtake her.

Dr. Fletcher sighed as her call went to voicemail, moving to hang up the phone in her office before she sat in front of her computer forlornly. She had done her best to assure Barry that she would talk to Iris again, knowing that he and the other alters were going to have their own ways of dealing with what happened today. She had hoped that speaking with Iris and helping her through some of the struggles of her past may prompt her to seek Barry out again, but Iris had no desire to dredge up what had happened.

That alone told the older woman that they were old scars, both emotional and physical, and Iris had dealt with them in her own way—no matter how unhealthy that way may be.

Typing out an email to Barry that she had not been able to get a hold of Iris, hoping to avoid telling him of her first conversation with the woman, she assured him that she would try again and keep him informed before then she signed and sent the email.

Iris Mayfair, if Fletcher was to assume, had been abused while growing up because of her numerous soulmarks. Whether it was by family or people unrelated to her, she was mostly unsure, but she was leaning toward it having been one or both parents. Knowing for certain would help her to formulate a way of helping Iris, but the first hurdle was to actually make Iris want the help.

The woman was so accustomed to dealing with her pain and problems on her own, she probably didn’t trust easily—if at all.

Barry had been the one to say the words, not Kevin. It had been one of his personalities that spoke the words of Iris’s mark, and if Fletcher was so bet she would say that Iris had twenty-three marks on her body—one for each of the personalities in Kevin Wendell Crumb’s body. Kevin’s case was special on its own, having as many stable personalities as he did. But to have a soulmate with a mark for each personality was something that she had been trying to find for years.

Iris Mayfair was an amazing anomaly, and a perfect match for Kevin and the personalities that had made their reason for being to protect Kevin. The young woman reminded her of Kevin, sweet and gentle and easily hurt by those around her with a past that left her carrying deep wounds.

Sitting back in her chair she tapped ring-decorated fingers against her lips in thought. Perhaps Iris had some kind of record that she could get her hands on, even just to better understand what she was dealing with.

It wouldn’t be easy to obtain if she did, but it was at least something to look into.

She only hoped that Barry was able to keep the alters in control for the time being. She knew quite a few would rather go out and look for the poor woman on their own, and that could be dangerous for an already tender situation.

She had not met all of them yet, but there were some she knew who would have different ways of handling the situation than what Barry had done just recently.

Deciding that it was best to let Iris be for the rest of the day, the woman more than likely uncomfortably overwhelmed, Fletcher rose from her desk chair and began preparing for her next appointment. Barry had shown up early, the sole reason for running into Iris, and they had decided to cut the session short when she had constantly caught him going silent and lost in his mind—it made her wonder if he had been speaking with the alters or just thinking on his own about what had taken place.

Beneath the Philadelphia Zoo, Barry was sitting in the small kitchen of the home that they had created for themselves, the rooms of the abandoned tunnels making up a home of twenty-three personalities. Eyes closed as he rested his elbows on the table, forehead on his fists—ignoring the reprimanding look that he got from Patricia when he did it—Barry sat among the others in their circle of chairs, the light at his back shoulders casting a shadow among them.

Kevin remained sleeping quietly in his chair, curled up comfortably as the others spoke softly alongside him.

“Well, well, well, who’d have thought that sweet, innocent Barry would get rejected,” Jade teased, but there was something in her eyes that told him she was sorry for what he had gone through. None of them had wanted to be the ones to hear those words, so even as relieved as she was to not hear them, she felt sorry for him to have been the one.

“At least it wasn’t him,” he answered, glancing over to Kevin. He looked much younger and happier in his sleep, where he was safe. They knew he couldn’t remain asleep forever, it was cruel to take his life from him, but they only wanted to protect him from the world.

“Well, that crosses one mark off,” Orwell pointed out, tapping the calf that he had crossed over his other thigh, where the mark lay beneath his pants.

Dennis remained silent, even though he wanted to mention how they had been so sure he would be the one to hear those words. It did, however, make him curious to know what was going to be said to him.

If they could ever find this woman again.

“What did you do to chase her away?” Hedwig asked innocently, rocking his chair to and fro, from front legs to back legs.

“Stop that,” Rakel ordered, reaching over to slam all four legs of Hedwig’s chair back on the ground. The nine year old pouted and crossed his arms, glancing away from the larger man as he looked over to where Barry was oddly silent. Normally he’d be trying to call them all to order, to bring some kind of conduct to their group talks like this.

“I did not chase her away,” he answered calmly, ignoring the small issue between Rakal and Hedwig. “Dr. Fletcher mentioned that she was timid and afraid the entire time they were speaking. She thinks something happened to her…something to do with the marks.”

Mary Reynolds sighed softly from across the circle. “Multiple soulmarks still cause problems for people…twenty-three of them? You all know the difficulty we faced with ours. Kevin had us to help him, we all had each other, she…probably had no one.”

“She has us,” Dennis finally spoke up, smoothing down non-existent wrinkles on his pant-leg, drawing the attention of the other alters his way. “We protect Kevin. We keep him safe from everything in this world that wants to hurt him…and we will protect her as well.”

Rare as it was, Barry was nodding his head in agreement. “He’s right,” he answered, getting some looks of surprise. He and Dennis did not see eye-to-eye often, they had such contradicting personalities and dominant mindsets that it often caused them to clash. “She is ours to protect now. She has been hurt and it won’t be easy…but she was meant for us. All of us. So that makes it worth it.”

“Let’s find her first,” Patricia interrupted calmly. “Then we will go from there.”

Barry looked over to Samuel, who he had already decided would be the one to next enter the light. Samuel was slightly older, in his early forties, so Barry knew that he wasn’t going to go rushing out to try and find her, probably just scaring her away in the process. Rising from the seat that Barry had claimed, Samuel stepped from the kitchen to go and change into his own clothing, more formal than Barry’s but not nearly as monochromatic as Dennis’s.

They all knew what Iris looked like now, thanks to Barry and his odd enjoyment with going to see Dr. Fletcher as he ended up running into their fleeing soulmate.

Now they were all left to wonder where they would go from there; Iris had run, and they had no idea where she went or how to find her. There was a chance that Dr. Fletcher would be able to follow through with her assurances and get a hold of the young woman, but they had their doubts after having lived through the life that Kevin was raised in.

If she was anything like Kevin, she would want to avoid the problem on her own. It was Kevin’s way of coping and they were born as a result of it.

Entering his bedroom and beginning to remove Barry’s clothes, making a mental note to drop them off in his room on his way passed, Samuel wondered what their little soulmate was doing in that moment. Was she thinking of them? How was she handling the knowledge that she had found one of her twenty-three soulmates?

Did she know that all soulmates were housed in one body?

Previous || Next

#Split #Split movie #Split 2016 #Barry #Dennis #Barry Split #Dennis Split #Fanfiction #Split Imagine #Soulmate #Soulmate AU #Barry/OC #Dennis/OC #Original Female Character #James McAvoy #The One With Whiskey Eyes

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bandaged-writer · 5 years ago

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gasoline - prologue || dazai

➤ Pairing: Mafia! Dazai x Ability User! Reader

➤ Genre: Action, fluff, angst, smut (maybe? idk yet), gore

➤ Warnings: character death, blood, language, physical abuse, maybe explicit sex but idk man

➤ Summary: What kind of father sold off their child? What kind of father was he? You only had him, after all.

➤ Word count: 1.3k

➤ Note: Starting this lovely series as a gift for reaching 100 followers! Please, let me know what you think. As this series is on-going, the warnings might get updated and will be individual for every chapter.

➤ previous || next

12 years prior..

Sceneries painted by the twilight were certainly a beautiful thing to look at. Many people would admire the sunset like a rose holding crimson petals, inhale its scent like it was the salty breeze of Yokohama’s air and bask in its beauty until it was time to go home to your beloved, family or roommate. Indeed, humans loved beautiful things, but failed to see the thorns hiding on the stem which would end up making them bleed; may it be their thumb or their heart, even. Perhaps, beauty blinded them.

It was no different for the father sitting down on the bench and watching his adorable 8-year-old daughter play with another child so carelessly like nothing could hurt the one he called his flesh and blood. It was a beautiful sight to witness. To see you bouncing up and down on the seesaw with the child whose name remained unknown to your dad. He could only describe the boy; short, brown hair a bit of a mess, twinkling brown eyes and bandages around his forearms. Worry had decorated your father’s face as the boy asked if it was okay to play with you for a while, because what had happened to the young child to be so bandaged up? He agreed nevertheless.

Maybe it was none of his business. Yes, he shouldn’t worry about the child of another person when his daughter had just come home after so many years. He breathed in the salty air, looked at his watch and noticed that it was almost time for dinner. 6 pm. Your father was about to get up and call out your name when a man approached him. The aura of the man was different than that of a parent; that much your dad could tell.

“Your daughter is quite gifted, no?” The man named Mori sat down next to your dad and watched you having fun on the seesaw with the child he had taken under his wing: Dazai. Your dad’s spine straightened, his facial features hardened. Of course, he knew of your ability which you had come back with after your time at the hospital - why? He didn’t know. “How do you know about my daughter’s ability?” The father asked, suddenly protective and not trusting Mori at all. However, Mori never answered that question. There were more important matters the black-haired doctor had to discuss and something precious to gain.

“Allow me to make a prediction for your daughter’s and Yokohama’s future,” Mori began, his gloved pointer finger tapping his temple in feigned thought just to build the suspense running through your father’s blood. “Your daughter’s ability is unstable, because the experiment done on her was neither a full success nor an entire failure, therefore she’s actually very likely to lose control over it,” your dad swallowed the lump in his throat. This was impossible, unbelievable, a lie. It had to be.

What was this guy talking about? What experiment? You’d been at the hospital due to pneumonia, so had your mother told him.

“She has the potential to destroy the entire city if pushed to her very limits. As someone who protects this place, I cannot allow for such a thing to happen and I regret to inform you of this,” Mori pointed his finger towards a bush which was a fair distance away and your dad saw something shimmering between the thick leaves. As he squinted his eyes, cold sweat ran down his spine.

A sniper hid in the bushes, scope fixed on you and probably just waiting for Mori to give him a sign.

“Don’t!” The father’s eyes went wide, realizing how very real Mori’s threat to take your life right then and there was. So many questions whirled within your dad’s mind such as why that doctor spat such nonsense, who the hell he really was and how he could dare to shoot someone in front of his own child - if it was Mori’s own flesh and blood, at all. But your life came before his curiosity. “I’ll give you anything you want! But please, spare my daughter’s life,” your father pleaded, eyes watery and flickering in anxiety. His hands shook, a stone in his stomach and a very bad feeling dawning on the young father. Mori tilted his head in faked innocence, lips almost pursed as he weighed his options.

“Anything you say?”

“Yes! What is it that you want? Money or perhaps-”

“Then I want your daughter.”

Taken aback, your father failed to formulate any words that would make sense. He was utterly speechless and desperate. Was he really to give you away to someone as shady as this doctor?

“Hand over your daughter in exactly 12 years and she’ll live. Refuse and her life will find its end right here, right now.”

A dead end. There was no room for negotiation, no mercy in Mori’s eyes nor any signs that this was a sick joke, an incredibly bad nightmare your father could wake up from. This was reality and it was worse than anything he could ever imagine. Your father’s eyes looked at your smiling, innocent self, his heart heavy with the decision he had to make, although he already knew the answer.

“..I’ll hand her over to you in 12 years,” your dad spoke in a defeated tone, his shoulders suddenly weighing more than the world’s sins combined. What kind of father sold off their child? What kind of father was he? You only had him, after all. Mori, on the other hand, was delighted at pleasant answer. Of course, no father would want their child’s life to be taken away. He clapped his gloved hands together, a genuinely delighted smile on his face. “I see you made the right decision,” he spoke and stood up, dusting off his coat and calling for the child named Dazai. “I’ll see you in 12 years, then!”

With those words being said, Mori left the playground along with Dazai and stepped into a matte black car which had just pulled up. As if this entire scenario had been carefully calculated beforehand. Defeated and helpless, your father buried his face in his hands, wanted to rip his hair out for making such a crude decision, but it was so that you could live.

Yes, it was only for you.

Gazing out of the window, Dazai sighed against the glass and watched it fog up with a bored expression on his face. “What’s so special about that girl?” He asked, not aware of the mafioso’s plan which was carefully planned out. Up to that point, everything had played into Mori’s hands but what would happen in 12 years? That was a gamble. Dazai’s mentor only smiled in response. “This is something for you to witness, Dazai-kun.”

His attention then shifted towards the driver, an incredibly skilled executive of the mafia. “Kouyou-kun. Please, make sure to send the girl a bouquet of orange lilies for her birthday, every year. He shall not forget his promise, after all,” Mori pushed some of his hair back and pulled out his phone as he seemed to be calculating a little gift for the dad. He wasn’t a cruel man. Of course, Mori would cover the expenses for a child until it reached its 20th birthday; one could look at it as a compensation for the emotional stress he had just put your father through. “Orange lilies?” Kouyou asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Don’t you think this is a bit harsh?” However, as Kouyou only received an effortless “no” from the mafioso, she couldn’t help but sigh into the sleeve of her kimono, her other hand on the steering wheel.

What a shame to stain a little flower’s petals so early on in her life, Kouyou thought.

#bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #fic: gasoline

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g-perla · 4 years ago

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The ACOTAR Series is a Romantic/Gothic Horror Stage and Only Nesta Got the Memo

Not even SJM knows what’s going on.

Ok, this is going to seem off the rails but bear with me.

So I'm a big fan of Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë (top 5 books and all that jazz) and I was thinking about it because it deals with themes of the Other and the supernatural, Nature as Character, the overlap of the animalistic and human, blurring of established binaries...fun, Romantic shit like that. Interestingly, this overlaps with how SJM illustrates her world and characters a lot of the time, hence why I was considering it while working on my Nesta project. I’ve mentioned before that Nesta really gives me Byronic heroine vibes and that’s a character construct of precisely this literary tradition.

I started thinking about Heathcliff and Cathy and how they're ridiculously extra and just feel the most intense emotions towards each other but also towards literally everything (nothing half-assed ever, this is a Romantic novel after all). I then remembered how so many people ship them, but like in earnest, in a totally aspirational way. It's not a #cursed ship to them at all. It's...romantic to them not Romantic. I even read often that people quote it at their weddings, specifically the infamous "two souls" quote.

Then I had an epiphany. I was like "wait, what if SJM is one of those people?? What if she has the energy of a Cathy/Heathcliff earnest shipper and that's why all her ships are messy??" Because if that is the case, my friends, oh boy oh boy would it explain so much. I will post some sections from Wuthering Heights:

Doesn’t the acotar series seem like a 1/50 dilution of that energy?? And that is barely a taste of all the spiciness this book has to offer. To illustrate further: SJM gave us the F/eysand suicide pact and the near-death battlefield Nessian scene. One is certainly more outlandish than the other, but both are the result of intense emotions. To that Emily Brontë raises the following: Heathcliff asking the sexton to dig up Cathy’s grave to see what’s up because her ghost has been haunting him since he personally dug up her grave 18 years prior and she has been haunting him ever since. He later demands to be buried in the same exact grave when he dies so they can decompose together. They both married other people though which only adds to the mess. (I am not lying to you the Romantic tradition really gave us these gems lmao. As an aside, Mary Shelley was also a writer of the Romantic tradition and she confessed her love to husband Percy Bysshe Shelley on her mother’s grave. Her mother was liberal feminist icon Mary Wollstonecraft by the way which only makes this even more amazing. Additionally, biographers believe that the Shelleys also had sex there. Talk about Romantic 😉.)

Then I had ANOTHER thought! (Dangerous)

If we read the series from the point of view of just another YA high fantasy things might get a bit boring because the world-building is honestly lazy and the magic system is pretty soft, which isn’t a pre-requisite in high fantasy (The Lord of the Rings has a soft magic system) but it's not the norm and it doesn't pay off in this series. Not to mention that the plot is pretty lackluster and derivative. To add to that the romantic and sexual relationships are questionable in their healthiness and consequently are the source of much argument in the fandom.

But, dear reader, if we think about the ACOTAR series as being a sort of thematic and ideological 21st century YA homage to the Romantic tradition of the 19th century (within which Gothic Horror also lives), things get REALLY, REALLY SPICY.

No longer do we just have a romance fantasy with messy, hyper-emotional, animalistic characters who constantly partake in morally grey situations rife with dubious dynamics. No longer does plot really matter. No longer do we require quasi-scientific descriptions of the world and the magical system. No! All that matters now are the characters and the mood. Now we have potential! Add a lot of Nature ambiance: expanses of dark woods, great mountains, the unknowable and sublime energy of the ocean, a violent rainstorm/hurricane/tsunami, an impending snowstorm whose intensity reflects the growing emotional intensity of the characters as the story goes along (I’m looking at you impending snowstorm in acofas that curiously matches the growing complexity of Nesta’s emotional state). Blur the lines between any imaginable category: life and death, human and animal, known and unknown, Self and Other, beautiful and monstrous, good and evil, masculine and feminine, the list goes on. Most importantly make your readers uncomfortable by frustrating their desires to sort things into easy binary categories and don’t apologise for making them question their assumptions about the world, morality, gender, and any other kind of previously constructed Order.

Basically write the story with Dionysus-in-a-Greek-tragedy energy and bring to us mere mortals artful Chaos.

Once that is done we can have a literal Romantic/Gothic Horror story. The Acotar series could have been this unapologetically, with the added element of being told through the eyes of the "Cathy" character instead of through the lens of a third person getting second-hand accounts about what went on. This whole series is honestly enough of a chaotic mess of Byronic-like heroes and heroines and cursed familial relationships that it could have been that. That alone is peak entertainment. The problem, however, and the main reason why I can’t really say that this series truly delivered this wackiness is that SJM committed the act of not fully committing to the bit (very un-Romantic of her, I know). Now, I am not saying that SJM actually intended this. I’m just saying it really could have accidentally been this genius with some tweaks. Unfortunately, she made the crucial mistake of trying to justify too much, trying to make things too neat, too tidy, too sensical (in other words: the reason we really can’t have nice things).

I could end this here, lamenting the potential of what SJM had set-up for us were it not for one element, one gift:

Nesta

OHOHOHO DO THINGS GET GOOD HERE SO BUCKLE UP

Most of the characters refuse to fully commit to the bit in their desire to satisfy modern sensibilities, by which I of course mean they want ridiculous things like political power, to conquer lands, to be a Girl Boss, to get married, have kids, celebrate holidays, converse about mundane things, be relatable, etc. You know, pretty pedestrian stuff that only requires a bit of genetic luck, a sprinkle of energy, and the right circumstances within the world of Acotar. I would like to reiterate the beginning of this paragraph: most of the characters.

Let’s say you’re stubborn and you decide to still read the series through the lens of the Romantic/Gothic tradition, what happens then?

The most hilarious thing (for the Nesta stans that is. The antis would probably hate this)

Nesta, based on what we know about her through Feyre and the limited amount of other scenes, is the only character who really takes the performance seriously. She's the only one that SJM hasn't managed to confine through justification. Nesta just shows up and simply refuses to make sense (her POWER what a queen 👑). She is endlessly fascinating because she just exists in her world on her terms, established categories be damned, and in this manner she frustrates not only the sensibilities of the characters in the stories but those of the reader as well. This double duty is, I suggest, the result of the other characters not fully inhabiting the nebulous world of Romantic characters and thus being a little too plausible and understandable even if they are not justifiable.

Ok, you may say, but I relate so much to Nesta. I do understand her. I don’t justify all of her actions, but I understand where she is coming from. (You’re not alone, friend. I like to think these things too. Alas, we are but plebs).

To that I reply; Nesta does things, certainly, and we can spend hours trying to explain through extrapolation, educated guesses, and personal experience why she did those things, but the fact is we really don't know why. We are never explicitly told. Our insight into who she is and her motivations comes predominantly from the understanding of her youngest sister and from our own interpretation of the actions she takes. I must make clear that our own interpretations are rooted in pre-established assumptions about what is sensical and orderly in our own world and in our own lives. We cannot interpret with the tools available to us that which may be, by definition, unfathomable. It is simply paradoxical. Nesta, as we currently know her, is a construct derived from a limited number of scenes and our interpretations and projections of these scenes. Even the scenes where we get third person narration don’t explicitly tell us her motivations and her logic. For all we know there really is no comprehensible reason for her actions and that is endlessly amusing to me in how utterly Romantic it is. Acosf may and likely will change this of course, but as it stands, Nesta is a whole Romantic character. Her divisiveness in fandom and in the narrative could be due in part to her refusal to fit the discrete categories available in her world and ours.

Isn’t that wonderful?

To illustrate this a bit more I will share some details SJM gives us about her/ elements she sets up that fit in with the characteristics of the Romantic tradition (these are not exhaustive by any means):

The absolute pettiness (and extra-ness) of being so angry at her father’s inaction that she is willing to starve to death to see if he does something.

How in Acowae she is described as shifting between emotions as if she were changing clothes and feeling everything too strongly (probably to the point of destruction)

She is constantly being compared to animals, even when she is still human. Granted, SJM compares everyone to animals, but that strengthens the blurring of lines between usually discrete categories. It is still most powerful when used as a comparison when she is human because it dehumanises Nesta.

Often, SJM describes her characters as forces. Forces of nature, for example. Acofas is full of details like this in relation to Nesta. There is a storm brewing leading up to the solstice party and it is in full swing when she arrives at the townhouse. The language used there suggests that Nesta herself may be the storm (against the onslaught of Nesta). It really adds to the Maleficent energy tbh.

She is often associated with death post her transformation

She is Other even to Others. She was Made like Elain, Feyre, and Amren in a sense, but the process of her specific transformation differentiates her greatly from the others. As it is, she doesn’t fit in anywhere

Her intense attachment to her femininity and its expression are at odds with the ideas and assumptions about the performance of womanhood and a woman’s role in her world and even in ours. She is unapologetically feminine in her physical presentation, but her character, her thoughts, and possibly even desires transgress the unwritten rules of acceptable femininity (unfortunately there still are abject expressions of femininity in our ‘”progressive” mileux

She displays in many of her actions a disrespect towards authority and to the status quo. This is particularly notable when her intensely polarised sense of right and wrong is aggravated.

Her self-destructiveness. This is referred to most strongly in Acofas, but I would say she was remarkably blasé about self-preservation in Acowar as well

She is described as intelligent, cunning, ruthless, attractive, and prone to debilitating extremes of emotionality. All of these are characteristics of Byronic heroes, a subtype of the Romantic hero

Here are a bunch of quotes that touch on many of the elements that I have discussed above:

“I looked at my sister, really looked at her, at this woman who couldn’t stomach the sycophants who now surrounded her, who had never spent a day in the forest but had gone into wolf territory...Who had shrouded the loss of our Mother, then our downfall, because the anger had been a lifeline, the cruelty a release. But she had cared--beneath it she had cared, and perhaps loved more fiercely than I could comprehend, more deeply and loyally.”

--Acotar, emphasis mine, note the strong emotions. This is a recurring element for Nesta.

“Cassian’s face went almost feral. A wolf who had been circling a doe...Only to find a mountain cat wearing its hide instead.”

--Acomaf, animal comparison

“Nesta is different from most people,” I explained. “She comes across as rigid and vicious, but I think it’s a wall. A shield--like the ones Rhys has in his mind.” “Against what?” “Feeling. I think Nesta feels everything--sees too much; sees and feels it all. And she burns with it. Keeping that wall up helps from being overwhelmed, from caring too greatly.”

--Acomaf, emphasis mine

“I knew that she was different [...] Nesta was different [...] as if the Cauldron in making her...had been forced to give more than it wanted. As if Nesta had fought after she went under, and had decided that if she was to be dragged into hell, she was taking the Cauldron with her.”

--Acomaf, Nesta had her own plans for the Cauldron what a queen

“Something great and terrible.”

--Acowar, referring to her eyes. Oooh, spooky Nesta 👻

“The day she was changed, she...I felt something different with her [...] like looking at a house cat and suddenly finding a panther standing there instead.”

--Acowar, a two in one here: difference + animal comparison. Boy does SJM really go heavy when establishing Nesta as Other.

“‘Not in flesh, not in the thing that prowls beneath our skin and bones...’ Amren’s remarkable eyes narrowed. ‘But...I see the kernel, girl.’ Amren nodded, more to herself than anyone. ‘You did not fit--the mold that they shoved you into. The path you were born upon and forced to walk. You tried, and yet you did not, could not fit. And then the path changed.’ A little nod. ‘I know--what it is to be that way. I remember it, long ago as it was.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’“

--Acowar, show don’t tell gets thrown out the window here, but it is useful for the present purposes

“What if I tell you that the rock and darkness and sea beyond whispered to me, Lord of Bloodshed? How they shuddered in fear, on that island across the sea. How they trembled when she emerged. She took something--something precious. She ripped it out with her teeth. What did you wake that day in Hybern, Prince of Bastards?

What came out was not what went in [...] How lovely she is, new as a fawn and yet ancient as the sea. How she calls to you. A queen as my sister once was. Terrible and proud; beautiful as a winter’s sunrise.”

--Acowar, who knew rocks, darkness, and the sea were such gossips, but look how many connections to nature! To be compared to the sea, a significant example of the sublime, is peak Romanticism. If any of you have read Moby Dick, think about what the ocean and the white whale might have represented there and how that might relate to Nesta.

“I think the power is death--death made flesh.”

--Acowar, Feyre referring to the possible nature of Nesta’s power. Alluding to her powers possibly being related to death is quite significant because that is something most of us cannot comprehend, nor can most of the characters. For Nesta, a “reborn” but very much living character to have death associated with her is a strong blurring of the lines. The case of her being labelled a witch is similarly significant as it solidifies the elements of the supernatural while simultaneously comparing her to pretty much the only exclusively female-coded monster in western pop culture. I will touch more on this when I do my study of Nesta through the framework of Barbara Creed’s Monstrous Feminine.

“I am not like the others.”

--Acowar, we love a self-aware queen.

“Nesta took in his broken body, the pain in Cassian’s eyes, and angled her head.

The movement was not human.

Not fae.

Purely animal.

Purely predator.”

--Acowar

There are a lot more details and quotes that support this interpretation, but I didn’t write them all down in my archived notes. This post is obscenely long, however, so even though there is more to be said, I’ll leave it for another day. If you made it this far you really are an MVP and probably love Nesta to a concerning degree like me. Please rest your eyes if you’re actually reading this 😂

I’d love to read about any other takes and thoughts that might have come to your minds after reading this monstrosity,

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ruddcatha · 5 years ago

Text

Broken

I do not own Inuyasha. Live would probably be easier if I did, or if i had the creativity to do something like Inuyasha.

_________________________________________________________

The last few leaves clung to the tree branches, their golds and crimson colors, so resplendent a few days prior, had faded, giving way to brown. A cold wind swept through the courtyard, forcing the leaves from the trees and into the air, dancing in the wind, a tribute to fading beauty and the beginning of winter. The wind gently spun its prize around the figure of a young woman as she walked from the main house through the courtyard towards a small structure in the distance. As she walked a leaf got caught in her hair, its fading crimson a stark contrast to her long dark tresses, the waves moving with the wind. The temperature was dropping fast, and the small woman shivered. She pulled her lavender sweater a little closer to her chest, her blue skirt hitting her mid-thigh as she walked. In the back of her mind she knew she should wear slacks, but she could not bring herself to stop wearing skirts in case *he* was able to come back through.

A soft smile ghosted over her face, as she thought about all the arguments about her clothes that were used to disguise the look of appreciation he had in his eyes as he watched her legs. Her chocolate eyes began to shimmer as she remembered the feeling of his fingers softly rubbing her thighs, a gesture she was sure he had never meant for her to feel, but now to her it was everything. Kagome Higurashi stopped just before the door to the well house, struggling with her tears. Every 5 days she made the same trek, praying to all the gods of the shrine and her ancestors that today would be the day they heard her desperate plea, her wish of all wishes.

2 years. 2 years since the day her hopes and dreams were taken away from her. She had been thrust back into a world she no longer belonged in, her purpose in the world she did was over. She lost control, and her tears streamed down her face as she recalled the horror of being back in the arms of her family while watching the one who meant the world to her fade from view.

“Inuyasha” she whispered, openly sobbing now as she walked into the doorway. When she first returned, she tried the well every single day, screaming in agony every time she hit the bottom of the well without ever feeling the time slip forming around her. When the pain in her heart became overwhelming, her mother, ever a rock, made her start waiting a day, then two, and now up to 4 before she tried again. For the first six months she woke up screaming every night, her dreams convincing her that she had missed her one window to return to her friends, to him, because she had dared to sleep. The nightmares had slowly begun to fade as Kagome felt herself becoming numb, hatred beginning to form within her heart. She stood in the doorway, looking at the well. If the infant were to find her now, it would have no difficulty in finding and exploiting the darkness in her heart, a darkness caused by time, separation, and despair.

Ever since she had been stranded in her era, she knew that part of her was missing. She had heard others talking about the bond between mates. Inuyasha had never told her how he felt, but after that kiss when they were in the Shikon jewel, she knew how he felt. She had loved him from almost the moment she met him, despite Kikyo and his own ability to stick his foot in his mouth. A sobbing laugh left her lips when she thought of all the times she used to “sit” him, just to watch him bounce right back up to yell at her. Through most of their time together, those had been the only times she knew that he was solely focused on her.

Why had this happened? Was she to selfish, seeking to keep his affection for herself when he already had someone to love and protect? Was it her own jealousy that was being punished now, her inability to love unconditionally and to fully trust her beloved Hanyou? That was what plagued her nightmares now, that she was being kept from Inuyasha because she was deemed unworthy of him.

Kagome forced herself down the staircase and stood in front of the well, staring down at the bottom, hoping to see the sky. She closed her eyes, almost giving in to her despair as she looked down, seeing nothing more than the bones she had seen every time she had looked down for the last two years. She lowered her head, then froze, not processing what she was feeling. A gentle breeze, almost warm, flowed around her… coming from the well. Her eyes flew open as she quickly jumped into the well, certain the gods had heard her prayers. She closed her eyes again, waiting for the familiar feel of the time slip…

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The well stood alone in meadow, no one in the village knew how it had gotten there or how long it had been there. All they had were rumors and theories about why a well that drew no water had been built near the Goshinboku, the sacred tree where their protector had been sealed for 50 years following a trick of fate. Where once the village had feared their protector, over the last two years he had lived up to the name, protecting them from demons and invaders alike. In the past the silver haired, golden eyed guardian would leave the village for months at a time, but for the past two years he never stayed away for more than a day. His routine had become common for the villagers, every three days they would see his red clad form dart towards the dry well, his ears twitching as if waiting for even the faintest sound from the well.

The villagers who had been there before he settled into his role as guardian could see the difference in him. Once, the tall handsome man had sparked with life and energy, sure he had been quick to anger, but he had also been quick to calm down and tease his friends. Two years ago, the strange miko he had been traveling with suddenly disappeared. While no one would say it in front of him, many worried that she had died, and her death caused the light in his eyes to fade.

Inuyasha, the solitary guardian, lost to the past, unable to move forward. There were only 4 people who could bring a semblance of light to his eyes, the monk with the small ponytail, his wife, the former demon slayer, and a kitsune kit. Slowly he was beginning to warm up to the two identical small humans that seemed to live for nothing more than climbing over him and tugging on his ears. Normally Inuyasha could ignore his sadness and loneliness when spending time with Miroku, Sango and Shippo, but today it was a blanket that threatened to smother him.

‘Kagome’ he thought, looking at the twins, his heart stuttering at the thought that his pup should have been playing with them, growing up with love and friendship in the family they had made searching for the shards. Unable to bear being around his friends and the loss it made him feel, he took off, running for the Goshinboku, leaping up into the branches until he was hidden from prying eyes. Sango sighed as she watched him streak past her, watching his form disappear. “It’s been two years…” Miroku said softly as he came to stand beside her. “I keep hoping that one day the gods will repay them for all they went through and let them be together.” Shippo looked up at the couple, his green eyes showing a weariness that was out of place in his young face His thoughts went to Kagome, who he had seen as a big sister before her disappearance. “She isn’t going to come back is she?” he asked, not seeking an answer. Sango softly tapped his head “don’t give up hope Shippo. If he has not given up hope, we cannot either.”

The truth was, Inuyasha was giving up hope. He missed her. Gods he missed her, her smile, her scent, hell he even missed her sitting him. In a sick way, the dreaded words let him know she was there, that she cared about him. The command had saved his life more times than he cared to admit, and a sad smile touched his tanned face as he thought of all the times he yelled at her just to see her get angry back at him. God, she was so beautiful when she was mad, her eyes sparking fire, and her cheeks turning pink.

It was not fair. He had lost so much in his life, his parents, Kikyo, his own mind at times. Surely, he was due some reward, a chance at happiness. What happiness did he have if Kagome was not there with him? He sighed. The scent of the forest, once a sense of comfort to him, now seemed empty and hollow. Without the scent of vanilla and roses that belonged to Kagome, the familiar scents just seemed…wrong… He kept her backpack near his futon in a desperate attempt to keep her scent near him, but after two years it had almost faded completely away. Two years ago, he had watched her beautiful face turn to fear as she faded out of his view.

“FUCK” he yelled, tears beginning to form in his golden eyes… “I never got to tell her I love her…” It was all his fault, he knew. He had spent to much time torn between a love that never was and the one woman who made life feel important. He was too afraid of his own feelings to acknowledge them until she was torn from him. He knew the gods were punishing him, the stupid Hanyou who dared to love a miko, but damnit, she was born to be with him, and he was born to be with her. He had told that to the demons in the jewel, and he meant every word. He could not bear the thought that the gods heard but did not care.

His left ear twitched, catching a soft, almost imperceptible sound, from the direction of the well. He held his breath, desperately trying to figure out if it was his imagination or if he really had heard a sound. Breathless, he leapt out of the tree, speeding towards the well, the unfamiliar feeling of hope building in his chest as he waited. He growled, impatient, when she did not emerge from the well. ‘Damnit, then this time I’m going to go get her… wherever she is I will be home.’ He leapt into the well, waiting for the feeling that would tell him he was passing through the time slip.

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

Their hands met on the same spot on the floor of the well, only separated by 500 years. They had each felt the connection, the possibility of being together again, to have it torn from them in an instant, the link being forcibly closed before they hit it. The two lovers, so close and yet so far apart, both lost the fight with despair, collapsing to the bottom of the wells. Sobs racked through both Kagome and Inuyasha as they felt all hope fade, leaving nothing but ice and sadness in their souls. It had taken two years, but the Shikon Jewel had finally had its own wish granted.

They both were broken.

**********************************************************************

I have been in a down mood for the past few days, and I have not been able to shake it. So, before I can continue with work and schoolwork, I needed to write something down. Maybe someday I will try my hand at something more positive, but I do not think that is today.

@smmahamazing @underwater0phelia @cyncyn981, @lemonlushff

not the next in the Destroying series but a one shot that I wrote. Any feedback and advice is appreciated.

#inuyasha fanfiction #inukag #inuyasha #angst #trying to write through depression #inukag fanfic

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anxiety-trademark · 4 years ago

Text

The week in review:

Raw 11/09 NXT 11/11 NXT UK 11/12 Smackdown 11/13

Raw:

Shayna vs Lana?? God poor Lana. Preemptive “rip”

Lmfao Lana is so damn extra.

Okay but WHY is Asuka facing Nia later? And where has Asuka even been the past few weeks?

Yikes. Lana is so friggin useless in kf.

Rofl Nia mocking Dana’s voice, I cannot with her.

Did Dana and Mandy actually save Lana from #8?? They got half a point. I get why they’re reluctant to help Lana, but they’re nearly coming off as the mean, popular girls, and I know that’s not their personas. I get she fucked them over, but it was inadvertent. Buy some goodwill guys.

Are they the Gucci girls now? Honestly flashforward to current times, Charlotte fits right in with them. If you were gonna have Charlotte head a stable, Dana and Mandy are the perfect people to put with her.

“We totally saved your butts... Lana.” :/ Dana. Dana plz. With all the work you put into your craft, HOW are you still the weakest promo in the division?

“Okay listen, thank you, you’re welcome,” just let Mandy and Dana practice wrestling cuz their promos are fucking painful.

Lana No-Friends.

Why is Alexa happily destroying flowers??

Lol has no memory of seeing Nikki the week prior. Yikes. Are we still sure it’s not drugs???

“Lexi I’m not playing.” “That’s too bad, Nikki.” What she means, Nikki, is there are 2 options: play or pain. You should just play. Actually side note; wasn’t that Nikki’s whole damn character when she debuted? ‘Nikki wants to play’? ‘Play with Nikki’??

Omfg Alexa is god damn stellar. Nikki tells her to choose either Fiend/Bray or [Nikki]. Alexa thinks about it for a moment, “okay. I choose... *blows the flower petals in Nikki’s face* him!” Then fucking claps, giggles and walks away. Imagine if you had a whole damn roster that could be this entertaining.

Also Nikki is really talented in her own right. Working with Alexa did wonders as far as promos and acting go.

Survivor Series team is supposedly at ringside because Asuka is about to go one on one with Nia. I’m not seeing the correlation.

Shayna officially playing the role of henchman now, I see. That’s interesting.

Asuka does a lot of things worth praising. Her Octopus is not one of them.

It’s always nice seeing Nia bump like she does for Asuka.

Oh that kickout into an armbar by Asuka was BEAUTIFUL.

Asuka said “fuck all y’all we’re busy rn”

I hate Shayna’s hammerfists SO much.

This Survivor Series team is a fucking disaster in kf.

aaaaand there’s number 8. Jeeeeze. “You don’t belong here, you’re gonna drag us down. Just quit.” This is a bullying story done right tbh. No personal petty bs insults, no body shaming. Just straight up physically assaulting the weakest link that has zero friends. It’s a good story. I feel sympathy for sure.

Highlight: Alexa & Nikki backstage segment

---

NXT:

See I don’t mind Shotzi’s backstage promos at all. She exudes passion. I can feel her emotions. But 9 times out of 10 she ends it in a howl and I want to scream.

Weak final thought though. There was really nothing better you could end it on? Okay.

So Xia calls out Raquel and then doesn’t show. Not sure if it’s for kf or meta reasons.

I like Raquel speaking Spanish while brawling. She should incorporate that more, especially with Zelina gone. We need more Latina talent (no disrespect to Bayley or Sasha, if they wanna start speaking Spanish then good on them)

“Everybody better take their-- my name out of their mouth.” SIGH can I get a non-awkward speaker that isn’t Nia? Anyone? Anywhere? Hello??

What the hell does any of this Xia stuff mean? Fine I’ll be patient.

So is Toni a face? I thought she was a heel. Did I misinterpret the heel turn pre-covid era? That’s even worse, she’s even more the same now.

Ugh rough day when I’m here cheering for Toni. God I hate Candice.

Do you really have the right to call anyone a ‘punk rock poser’ Candice? I mean... REALLY?

It’s not that I hate Toni’s headbutt, I just hate it when people take themselves out delivering a headbutt.

Anticlimactic sequence. Toni says fuck your second rope neckbreaker to Candice, then Candice says fuck your second rope leg drop to Toni, just to follow up with a mere kick to the jaw and a pinfall attempt. Missed opportunity to really get something going.

Sad attempt at putting her feet on the ropes by Candice.

Good let Toni be a “sore loser” fuck Candice.

So the masked figure is Indi, right? Why are they keeping her masked? What’s the purpose? Yeahhh that’s really not a surprise. Anyway.

It’s a damn shame what happened in 2020, the whole world has felt it. And it’s a damn shame that you didn’t get to show out in front of 80k people. I truly feel for you. Your loss, however? In kf I can’t feel bad because you sought HER out on HER show. In a meta sense? She did you a favor taking that title. You were 5 seconds from being called Charlotte 2.0, and you deserve better. You deserve the opportunity to grow and make a name for yourself without being handed everything before the age of 25, and you’re SO much better off for it.

The downfall of “nxt’s hottest new act” was a great story. It sucks to be her, but it was a great story. Rhea’s gonna be a fucking STAR on the main roster. She will thrive. She will exceed expectations. She will make a name for herself. She had to eat that humble pie first, though. Obviously I know how this match ends already, and rightfully so.

Highlight: I guess the Io/Rhea Prime Target

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NXT UK:

Kind of a bummer that there’s only ever one women’s match/segment every week on UK. I want to ponder whether it’d be different sans a pandemic, but I’m not certain it would be.

Xia Brookside is too animated in her moves, and her moves are always too slow for it to mesh well.

They compliment Xia’s “technical work” but she just comes off as someone who has learned the absolute basics and has no idea how to utilize them in a match.

Interesting to note that they seem to be building up 2 heels in Nina and Jinny, yet the champ herself is a heel. Not quite making me believe either of them have a chance at defeating her in the future.

Nice I always love a good codebreaker. Points to Xia.

That was a nice cartwheel off the turnbuckle using the ropes. One would assume the tweak to the knee was a farce.

Stupid small package. Stupid result. At least Nina got some heat back, but she should’ve won, lesbireal.

Side note: I see UK does in fact have a pc. No excuse for these women to get gassed so quickly then, get it together.

Highlight: The network exclusive video package for KLR vs Piper

---

Smackdown:

What a racy outfit. I don’t hate it, Sasha wears it well.

There’s like a million things you can do with Sasha that doesn’t involve a live promo in the middle of the ring. Explore them plz.

Carmella’s not a technical master by any means, but having her superkick and then finish with a facebuster is super weak.

What’s also weak: where the fuck did Bayley go?

What’s even weaker than that: Carmella had like the best theme music and now it’s gone. Tragic.

Lol why is Nattie stomping her feet like she’s throwing a tantrum? She’s hilarious tbh.

“If team Smackdown is going to win,” lmao let me cut you off right there. Imagine the SD women actually winning at SvS. Good joke.

Omg Chelsea is alive? We gave her a tag match in nxt with the women’s champion Charlotte Flair... Charlotte fucking Flair... and then kept her off tv for like 6 months for this? Is this her grand debut?? Is she even ready for the main roster???

Wait hold on. Back up. So Chelsea touched Adam’s shoulder and had some off camera conversation to make her way into this triple threat match? *sigh* okay.

I don’t quite remember who this team consisted of, but if I had to guess, I’d assume Liv wins this match since Ruby is already on the team.

Love Chelsea’s theme music, love that a giant picture of herself is no longer her titantron... HATE the flowy wedding dress veil that she wears on the bottom half of her outfit.

Should stick Chelsea with Nattie tbh.

What the hell was that by Liv? A fake out standing crucifix turned into a ddt? Fucking beautiful.

Nattie and Liv work together nicely ngl. Liv really does have a lot of potential, but she’s god awful on the mic. Tag team wrestling is best for her for the foreseeable future.

“This is a fatal 4way,” Cole reminds us, because Chelsea and Tamina have seemingly died.

Should’ve just made this a singles match between Liv and Nattie, jesus.

Lmfao Liv pinned Tamina. What took Chelsea out? A dropkick off the apron. A dropkick off the apron took Chelsea out for 3 minutes, and she got maybe 3 moves of offense. Yikes, what a debut.

So when does Bayley get added as captain?

Highlight: The match that totally wasn’t a singles match between Liv & Nattie

---

*Bad week in wrestling, but yet again, Raw shines the brightest because as small as their roster may be, they’re being utilized decently well.

#wwe #issa review #feel free to ignore these #cuz who tf cares lesbihonest #today's props goes to:#alexa bliss

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onedayiwillflyfree · 5 years ago

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When the Sun Begins to Fall Chapter 8: Royal Gardner

Chapter 8: Royal Gardner

(Chapter nine is the second half of this chapter!)

“I can’t believe you still have this!” Cole exclaimed as he held up a sketch that he had penned years ago. Gilbert smiled smally to himself, he had always loved the portrait of Anne. Her long fire braids gently over her shoulders and not a freckle was out of place. He had even managed to capture the sparkle in her eyes that always accompanied her smile. If he had that much talent as a teenager, it was no wonder his sculptures and paintings were taking the world by storm.

“Of course I kept it,” Anne smiled weakly. Despite Roys promise not to wake her, the moment she heard her friends step through the threshold of her room, her eyes shot open and her spirits lifted immediately. “You made me look beautiful when I was so homely.” Liar Gilbert thought. Anne had never looked homely a day in her life, not even now when she had been so terribly ill and hadn’t bathed in days. Diana held another forkful of eggs to Anne’s lips, who grimaced and pushed it away. She looked up pleadingly to Gilbert. “No more please.”

Diana looked to Gilbert for approval. He gave a curt nod as he stepped forward to retrieve the plate when Roy stepped in front of him.

“Allow me, Di,” he said as he grabbed the plate. Gilbert had known this man for all of five minutes but whenever he heard the sound of Roy’s accented voice, he instantly felt nauseous. And what was his problem with nicknames?

“Thank you Roy, that’s very kind of you.” Diana’s voice was sweet, genuinely thankful. This too infuriated Gilbert, because ever since her arrival, Diana had spoken to him with such malice despite everything he had been doing for Anne. Roy walked over to Anne’s armoire and placed the plate upon it, shooting him a wink only he could see. Gilbert clenched his jaw, grinding the back of his teeth together to fight off a scowl.

Cole cocked his head to the side, still entranced with his old sketch, before he pushed it away from him as if the sight of it disgusted him. “Yeah...that’s not going to do.” He reached into his bag, producing a sketchbook covered with black dust. It wasn’t until he pulled out his drawing utensil that Gilbert realized it must be charcoal. “Anne, can you sit up a tad more for me?”

Her eyes rolled to the side, peering at him through half closed lids. “Really?”

Cole nodded, flipping to a bare page. “Yes! The muses are speaking to me and they're telling me I need to update this sketch. Diana, help her please.”Anne groaned as Diana giggled and pulled her friend forward, arranging a bundle of pillows behind her so she could sit up without much effort. “Perfect! Royal, can you open the curtain just a smidge more? There is a shadow.”

As Roy slid the curtain open, Anne covered her face. “Honestly Cole, I look…” she coughed, causing hair to fly into her eyes. “I look positively frightful.”

Gilbert wanted to step forward, brush her hair from her eyes and tell her that it was impossible for her to look anything other than stunning. That she was sunshine personified. He almost took a step, not caring any longer who would hear. But Roy was quicker crossing the room, sitting down at the end of her bed and brushed a curl of fire behind her ear. Anne’s eyes rose to his, appearing shocked by his touch.

“My dearest, you and I both know you’re lovelier than autumn leaves, than the first blooms of spring, and the freshly fallen snow.” His hand gingerly lingered on his fiancée’s cheek, which were slowly shifting from a pale peonie to a deep scarlet. Anne’s eyes shot to Gilbert, who refused to meet her gaze for fear his heart would shatter. He still felt the burn from her gaze when he cleared his throat to remind the couple of the no touching rule.

Roy pulled his hand away slowly, eyes not leaving Anne. “Sorry, can’t help myself sometimes. My bride is just simply irresistible,” Roy glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. “Wouldn’t you agree, Gil?” Diana’s mouth sat agape as she looked in between the two men as Anne bit her lip, gaze not leaving Gilbert. Cole, who had become completely focused on his sketch, seemed oblivious to the tensions that were slowly building.

Gilbert smiled tightly, a piece of his scabbed cheek resting between his molars. Roy licked his lips, holding Gilbert’s glare for a moment when he let out a soft chuckle as he rose from the bed. “With your own bride to be, of course.” He took confident strides towards the aspiring doctor in the corner. “From what I’ve been informed, she is rival to that love goddess... what was her name again, dear?”

Anne looked down at her hands, her embarrassment becoming more and more apparent. “Aphrodite.”

Roy snapped his fingers as he closed the space between them further. “That’s it. Aphrodite. Tell me Gil,” He stood mere inches from Gilbert and smirked once more. “Is she truly rival to Aphrodite?”

Gilbert peered over Roy’s shoulder, eyes scanning for Anne. Her own eyes were still glued to her intertwined hands, out of embarrassment or exhaustion he didn’t know. He swallowed and spoke slowly. “Winnie is...”

Cole stopped scratching the charcoal against the page. “Anne, you can lay back now, but still try to keep your face towards me.” Anne looked relieved as she slid down deeper into her pillows, looking as if she could drift off at any moment.

Gilbert decided that she wasn’t paying the men any mind, he turned his attention back to Roy, who was grinning smugly. “Winnie is rather lovely.”

As the words left his mouth, he turned his gaze to Anne, curious to see if she was going to react at all. To see she was feeling any of the same jealousy he felt when Roy had taken her face in his hands. Despite her eyes fluttering shut, she still found his eyes and he could see it. The storm that was so often paired with her anger was brewing within her.

Their stares were broken when Roy shifted just enough to block them from seeing one another, an aura of protectiveness radiating off of him as he balled his fists. Gilbert wanted to chuckle, was Roy actually jealous? Was he trying to start a fight with him? Roy had a good few inches on him, sure, but from what Gilbert could tell, that was about all he had going for him. His hands looked soft, like a man who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was lanky, well kept, and in all honesty, appeared to be far too posh to have ever actually punched someone before. Gilbert’s anger was making its return, something that was becoming more and more frequent over the last few days.

“Roy!” Diana broke the silence. Roy glanced over his shoulder as Diana pressed her hand against Anne’s forehead. “Could you bring me that pitcher? I imagine Anne would like to wash her face, it has been a few days..”

Roy swiped a finger across his lip and clapped Gilbert’s shoulder with a smile. “Well, cannot wait to meet that girl of yours!” With that, he turned and reached for the water pitcher and basin resting on top of Anne’s armoire. He picked up the pitcher, looking into it sadly. “Looks like we need some more. I’ll...”

“I’ll get it.” Gilbert stepped forward, ripping the jug from Roy before exiting from the room. He needed to get out of the room, he didn’t want to lose his temper. Not in front of Anne, especially with her feeling so sick. Once he crossed the threshold, he heard a loud smack followed by an annoyed grunt.

“What was that for Diana?” he heard Cole ask cluelessly. Gilbert rolled his eyes and took a deep breath before making his way down the hall.

His mind wandered to what had just happened a few moments prior. Was Roy truly trying to pick a fight? What was that guy's problem with him?And why did he feel the need to protect Anne against Gilbert of all people? Gilbert hadn’t done anything to him, he had only just met him less than an hour ago. And as far as he knew, he had never done anything to hurt Anne, not intentionally anyway. If anything, Gilbert should hate him, for Roy held the one thing he had always desired. No, no, Gilbert, that is on you. You gave up that fight. He gave up the right to Anne’s affection the moment he slid a ring onto Winifred’s finger.

“Just be happy for them,” he whispered to himself as he descended down the stairs.

In the kitchen, he spotted Mrs Lynde sitting by the fire, still continuing on the same lavender scarf she was working on yesterday morning. He was unsure why she was still working on it, the scarf was surely longer than his entire body at this point, but he had no intention of asking her why she wasn’t stopping. Especially not after he saw Marilla on her knees with a bucket of water and a scrub brush, cleaning every inch she could reach and grumbling with each stroke.

“What’s happening? They aren’t bothering her too much are they? No, that’s silly, they’re her friends. Does she need more food? Drink? Tea. I should make tea.” She threw the brush into the bucket as she stood, droplets landing on Rachel and her masterpiece.

“Heavens sake, Marilla!” Rachel scolded, wiping the moisture from her face. Marilla ignored her, grabbing the kettle to fill from the spout and let out a small sob. Rachel sighed, looking sadly at her friend as she threw her masterpiece into her yarn bag and swiftly made her way to her friend and rested a gentle hand upon Marilla’s shoulder. “Marilla, you need to rest. I’ll make the tea.” Marilla opened her mouth to argue but was waved off as Rachel filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. “She is with her friends, they will fetch you if need be. Besides, Gilbert is up there. And we all know how that boy is when Anne is involved.”

He shifted awkwardly on the final step, it was strange to hear someone talk about him as if he wasn’t present. It also caused him to realize his presence could raise tensions and cause unneeded worry. He eyed the back door. Perhaps I can sneak out without alerting either of them, get water from the outside spicket. Yeah, that could work...

“Hey Doc! What’s taking you so long?” Roy shouted from the top of the steps, compromising his location. Both women spun, Marilla’s face falling.

“What’s wrong? Does she need me?” Marilla sputtered out, looking seconds away from bolting up the stairs.

Gilbert shook his head frantically. “No, no she’s...”

“No need to worry Miss Cuthbert.” Roy bounced down the steps. Gilbert resisted the urge to scowl as Roy bumped his shoulder hard when he joined him on the platform.“Anne just wanted to wash up a bit is all, so Gil here was coming to fill up the pitcher for her. Weren’t you, Gil?”

Call me Gil one more time… Gilbert smiled tightly, fighting every urge within him to not push Roy off the steps.

Marilla locked eyes with Gilbert. “So, she is alright?”

“Yes,” Roy and Gilbert responded in unison before they each shot a disgusted glare towards the other.

Roy cleared his throat, snatching the pitcher from Gilbert’s grasp and drifted towards the older women. What is with this prick? “When I left them to come see what the hold up was on the water,” Another glare over his shoulder. “The three of them were laughing over something Diana had said. I assure you Miss Cuthbert, Anne is well.” Roy gave a reassuring smile.

Marilla nodded, finding some comfort in the young man's words. Her eyes drifted to Roy’s hands. “Give that to me, I’ll fill it for you so you can be on your way.”

“Thank you Miss Cuthbert, you’re too kind.” The pitcher exchanged hands, Marilla stepping to the sink to fill it. Gilbert was surprised at how genuine the man’s voice was and that he had managed to calm Marilla so quickly. Roy flashed another bright smile as the pitcher made his way back to him. “Thank you.” Marilla gave a curt nod before he continued. “Also, I would like to apologize for our intrusion, I know Anne needs her rest.”

She smiled softly. “Think nothing of it Roy. Anne needs her rest, yes, but knowing her, she also needs you all here. We all know if she were alone with only me for company, she would be incredibly bored.” Marilla chuckled before glancing over to Gilbert. “It is so wonderful to hear these halls filled with laughter once more.” Gilbert smiled, fond memories flashing through his mind.

Roy looked between the pair. “Well, when Anne is feeling better, I would love to hear some of those stories. And later on, it will be wonderful to be apart of new memories.” He said the words in response to Marilla but his focus had fallen on Gilbert, their eyes locking and anger brewing.

Marilla smiled nervously, as if she could sense the rising tensions. “Yes. Of course.”

The kettle whistled from the stove and Rachel clapped her hands together. “Finally!” She went grabbed the kettle, oblivious to all the going ons in the room as she poured the water into a teapot. Roy and Gilbert continued their stares, tensions building higher and higher with each passing moment. “Boys, would you like some tea?”

“No thank you, Mrs Lynde,” Roy said smoothly, not breaking his gaze. “Gil and I should be getting back up to my girl anyway.” Marilla continued looking between the pair as Gilbert balled his hands.

“Come along, Marilla,” Mrs Lynde said, corralling her friend from the room. “We have many things to catch up on.” Marilla opened her mouth to speak but Rachel continued on, giddy to share the latest gossip. “You will not believe what I heard about the eldest Andrews girl! She’s trying to buy a farm up in Nova Scotia!” And with that, Roy and Gilbert were left alone, one smirking while the other was holding his fists so tightly that crescent cuts were beginning to form from his fingernails.

Seconds had ticked by when Roy cracked a smirk. “You alright, Gil?”

“I’m fine.” Gilbert mumbled. Roy’s lips dropped into a frown as he rested the pitcher on the table, stepping towards the platform.

“It’s alright Gil, you can tell me. We’re friends aren’t we?” Roy clapped his hands against Gilbert’s shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Gilbert yanked his shoulders away, for fear if lingered a moment longer he would lose control. “Don’t touch me...”

Roy held his hands up defensively, chuckling. “Woah Doc. What’s the problem?”

“What’s your problem, friend?” Gilbert spat back at him. Roy smirked and let out a dry chuckle as he cocked his head to the side.

“My problem? Hmm, let me think.” He tapped his chin as if he was deep in thought and began pacing in front of the stairs. “Well I have problems with quite a few things actually. The color fuchsia, chalk dust, messy hair and clothes, someone hurting people I deeply care for,” he peered over as he ceased pacing. “Oh, and poor little farm boys who are trying to pretend to be something they are not.” Gilbert felt his face flush out of rage and embarrassment as Roy stepped forward again, their noses almost touching. “Which, I’m pretty sure you share at least three of those things, don’t you Gil?” Gilbert bit down on the scab in his cheek, causing his mouth to fill with metallic tasting liquid. Don’t stoop to his level. Focus on Anne.

He swallowed, pushing past Roy to make his way to the pitcher. “We should get back upstairs.” Gilbert mumbled.

“You’re right. We should.” Roy stepped up the platform, ready to ascend the stairs before he quickly turned back. “Oh, one more question, Gil. Do you know where Anne’s soap is? She so enjoys when I wash her.”

Gilbert stiffened. “What did you say?”

Roy shrugged. “I know it's taboo to see each other before the wedding but...we simply couldn’t resist.” Gilbert felt his stomach fall to the floor, he felt as if he could vomit. He must have paled because Roy smiled wickedly. “Man to man? She has the softest breasts...”

Rage blinded Gilbert as he threw himself across the kitchen, taking Roys shirt within his hands and shoving him against the wall with such force he was sure he would push him through it.

Roy cackled. “So you do have feelings!”

Gilbert’s voice came out close to a growl. “Don’t talk about her like she is your goddamn play thing.”

“Oh? And why not?” Roy grinned maliciously, it was almost as if he was having fun. “She’s my bride to be. That makes her my toy to play with.”

The next moments passed in a blur. Roy being thrown from the steps and crashing into the kitchen table. Gilbert throwing a rage fueled punch into his opponent's cheek. Mrs Lyndes screams of horror as Marilla cried for Cole. Roy laughed as he caught Gilbert’s second punch and shoved him into the wall. Gilbert’s head bounced against the wall, dazing him for only a moment as he saw Roy beeline for the door.

He caught his footing, sprinting after the man who was trying to escape. Marilla screamed for him to stop but he couldn’t hear her. After days of feeling rage and keeping it contained, it had finally boiled out of the pot.

Roy was waiting just outside the door by the wall, holding a foot out as he ran through the door. Gilbert tripped, flying across the porch before crashing into Anne’s dormant daylilies. He rolled onto his back, gasping for the wind that was just knocked out of him. Roy jumped off the porch, smirking down at his fallen foe. “Well, that was easier than I thought.” He cocked an eyebrow, as if he was genuinely confused. “Still have no idea what she sees in you.”

“You don’t... deserve...her.” Gilbert panted out between each laboured breath.

Roy let out a hearty chuckle. “That’s real rich coming from you.” Gilbert ignored him and tried to reach for the standing man ankle. Roy pressed down hard with the heel of his shoe, applying just enough pressure to pin his hand to the ground. “Do you realize how many times you have broken her heart? How many times I heard her cry over you?” He pressed down harder with each question as he bared his teeth. Gilbert groaned, he felt like his hand was going to be crushed at any moment. “And now I come here and find out you’re nothing special. Nothing more than a…” He felt his knuckle shift, if Roy stepped down much harder, his hand would break. “Pathetic...little...”

“Royal!” Cole shouted as he threw open the screened door. Roy’s attention shot to Cole, lifting his foot just enough that Gilbert could pull his hand free. Gilbert rolled over, grabbing his opponents ankle and yanking him to the ground.

“Gilbert, stop!” Diana screamed, but he couldn’t bear her. All he could hear was ringing in his ears, hatred consuming his soul. Cole lunged forward just as Gilbert was about climb on top of the downed man and wrapped his arms around him. Roy scrambled to his feet and sprinted away.

Gilbert struggled in Cole’s grasp before he reared his head back, making contact with some part of Cole’s face. “Shit!” Cole yelled, releasing Gilbert. He didn’t hesitate for a moment before he dug his feet into the dirt and took off after the man he had quickly come to hate.

They were halfway across the yard when he finally began to close the distance between them. Gilbert’s lungs stung and is head throbbing but the pain was good, it made him push himself. It added to the rage.

Gilbert was a few paces away when Roy made the mistake of looking back, causing him to stumble. Got you. He smiled devilishly as his fingers curled around his opponents collar and pulled him back sharply. Roy crashed to the ground, winded just as Gilbert had been a few moments prior.

Diana and Cole screamed for him to stop. He wanted to listen, he knew he should listen. But every ounce of anger that he had suppressed, not only from this weekend, but the last two years since he proposed to the wrong woman, was finally out. Gilbert threw himself on top of the man who earned the affection of the woman he truly loved, the man who he thought he should be. Roy struggled beneath him but it was no use, Gilbert’s full weight rested on top of him and his arms were pinned. He raised his fist when Cole grabbed his arm. “Stop! This isn’t you!” he cried. Gilbert threw his elbow back, making contact with his friend's stomach. Cole stumbles back and Gilbert brought his fist down, making contact with Roy’s cheek.

“Jerry! Jerry!” Diana screamed towards the barn as a second punch came down, this one grazing connecting with his opponents lip. Where’s that smug grin now? He thought. His knuckles stung, he was sure that skin had broken on them but that didn’t stop him from pulling his fists back for another punch.

He aimed for Roy's nose, hoping to shift it just enough that he would have to breathe through his mouth for the rest of his life but was stopped when strong arms wrapped around him. Suddenly he was being pulled up and dragged away from his opponent.

“Get off of me!” he growled, thrashing wildly, hoping to break free. He wasn’t done yet. He wanted to hit him harder, he wanted him to ensure he would never disrespect Anne again.

“Calm down!” Jerry shouted. Gilbert thrashed, doing everything in his power to break free but it was no use. Jerry had become the caretaker of the farm since Matthew’s passing, which meant not only did he have almost a foot on Gilbert, but he had the muscles to match. If Gilbert had continued working at the farm, perhaps he could stand a chance but his months in Paris had made him weaker. He stopped thrashing, his fury simmering down. Jerry still held onto him in fear he would soon lash out again.

Cole dropped down next to Roy, who had somehow moved himself into a sitting position. He lifted a tender hand to Roy’s cheek, almost appearing like he was going to stroke it, when he quickly shifted it down to his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Peachy.” He mumbled, spitting out a glob of blood. Gilbert smirked in satisfaction.

Diana breathed a sigh of relief before she shot daggers to Gilbert, stomping furiously towards him. It was only then Jerry let go of him. He knew all too well of the wrath of the young Barry woman. She lifted a sharp hand and smacked him. “What the hell is wrong with you Gilbert?!”

Gilbert’s blood boiled again as his hand went to nurse his cheek. “What’s wrong with me?” He laughed dryly and pointed to Roy. “You should be asking what is wrong with him! He has been an absolute prick for no goddamn reason!”

“Oh, I have my reasons.” Roy said dryly as Cole helped him to his feet. “And all of them involve you being a selfish bastard.” Gilbert’s fists formed once again, begging to meet his face once again when Diana forced herself in between the two men.

“That is enough!” She boomed, looking between the two sides. “Both of you are being selfish bastards! Have you both forgotten why we are here? Anne!” They looked away from each other and to the ground, both feeling very ashamed. Diana’s voice shook as she spoke. “She is sick, so very sick. And she needs us.” Her eyes began welling tears and her knees were wobbling so intensely Gilbert thought she might fall over. “All of us are important to her…”

“Some more than others.” Roy said smugly and Gilbert couldn’t stop himself. He marched forward, ready to tackle Roy back to the ground when Diana screamed.

“They aren’t in love!”

Gilbert stumbled as he skidded to a stop, his heart racing. Did she just say what he think she said? He turned slowly towards her.“What did you just say?”

Roy raised a hand to his chest dramatically. “Diana, how dare you insinuate…”

“Enough Roy,” Cole placed a tentative hand back on his friend’s shoulder. “You just picked a fight with him and lost, don’t you think this charade has gone too far?”

Roy gritted his teeth, looking ready to argue with everyone. Cole shook his head gently and Roy scowled. “Dammit…”

The group stood silently, all exchanging glances that ranged from anger, sadness, and utter confusion. No one spoke. No one moved. It was as if time had stopped. A hawk screech overhead, indicating that time was still moving forward, that what Gilbert heard was in fact reality and not a strange dream.

“Well...this is awkward.” Jerry laughed dryly, hoping to ease some of the tension but it only earned him a glare from everyone. He nervously ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry.”

Gilbert finally began to process the words Diana had said fully. They weren’t… in love? He looked to Diana, hoping she would clarify on what was said but her eyes looked remorsefully at her two friends. Cole looked nervous as he held tightly to Roy’s shoulder, as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have... it wasn’t my place...” Diana whispered.

“It’s alright Diana.” Roy’s demeanor had changed completely. Instead the air of arrogance in his voice, it was soft, kind almost as he spoke. He looked up at Cole. “As usual, Cole is right. I went too far.” Roy brought a tender hand up to meet Coles, both smiling gently at one another.

Gilbert rubbed his temples, his head was really starting to hurt now. “Will someone please explain to me what is going on?” Three pairs of eyes found there way to his, a mix of embarrassment, anxiety, and what he could only guess was fear, filled each one. He turned to Diana, hoping that she would explain her words to him. “Diana, what do you mean Roy and Anne aren’t in love?”

She hesitated, ashamedly looking down at the ground. “It isn’t my place…”

“Gilbert, allow me to explain.” Cole stepped forward, positioning his body defensively in front of Roy. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “What Diana said, it’s true. Roy isn’t in love with Anne.”

“Ah merde!” Jerry mumbled.

Gilbert shook his head and pressed his fingernails into his palm. His anger was trying to make a reappearance. “If he isn’t in love with her...why would he propose?” He wanted to get his hands around the smug bastards neck but one glance at Roy, all forms of confidence had been erased. Instead his gaze was to the floor, almost cowering behind the blonde man. The mere sight of it almost made Gilbert laugh. “What? No fancy words now? No explanation on why you would want to marry someone you don’t love?”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” Roy mumbled. Gilbert pulled his fist back, ready to throw himself over Cole when Diana pushed him back.

“It was Anne’s idea!” She screamed.

Gilbert’s stomach dropped with his fist. Anne knew? “Wh-what? Why... would she do that?”

“She was doing it for us.” Cole’s voice cracked as he spoke, tears filling his eyes as he reached back and grabbed Roy’s hand within his own. Both of them were shaking. “To help protect us.” Gilbert was completely lost now. Why would two men over six foot need Anne to protect them?

”Mon dieu,” Jerry whispered from directly behind Gilbert. “You… two are...”

Cole and Roy both held their breath, waiting for Gilbert to finally place the final piece of the puzzle together. His eyes trailed down to their enlaced hands, realization dawned on him. His jaw dropped as he tried to form words. “Wait, you two are...?”

Diana quickly stepped forward to place herself in between the men. “Gilbert, you may not like Roy, but Cole is your friend. Don’t do anything rash.”

“Anne… you two...” Gilbert worked the words the best he could. His head was spinning, he wasn’t sure if he could walk straight let alone do anything stupid. “In love... but Roy is engaged to Anne... Anne knew…” Suddenly, a happier thought formed and he looked up. “Roy doesn’t love Anne?”

Diana opened her mouth but Roy stepped forward. He looked confident now, almost returning to the cockiness that Gilbert had come to know him for. “I think it would be best if I explained. But we should start making our way back.” He cast a glance towards the house, where Marilla could be seen standing on the porch. “I’m sure Miss Cuthbert will want an explanation of our… activities.”

#anne with an e #anne of green gables #awae #anne with an e fanfic #fanfiction #shirbert #anne and gilbert #anne x gilbert #gilbert blythe #anne shirley-cuthbert #diana barry #cole mackenzie #royal gardner #jerry x diana #jerry baynard

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breakingmllc · 4 years ago

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I Smell Hand Sanitizer Lots And Lots Of Hand Sanitizer Witch T Shirt

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erenthecoordinate · 6 years ago

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Eren’s Possible Endgame

For the whole of this arc, Eren’s motivations have been a mystery to much of the fandom. His words speak of freedom for the people in Paradis, while his actions provoke an all-out war charged by the rest of the world’s advanced forces. We’ve learned that Zeke’s big intention for getting himself and the Coordinate together was to rewrite Eldian DNA so they may never create future generations, a method to prevent their race from suffering any more harm from the oppressive world they reside. Eren has been aware of this since his first meeting with Yelena, and counsels with Zeke in Marley to enact this plan. Eren’s words to Zeke are everything he wants to hear. Mass genocide of their own race is the only path to freedom.

Or at least, Zeke and his followers seem to think so. But does Eren, one that had once vocalized the value of freedom is granted to those who are born into the world, that life and living are the only way to be free, that fighting to break those chains that others cast upon them will obtain that goal, really believe in Zeke’s solution? Is forcibly preventing future generations from carrying on their race’s existence the only way for them to be released from their figurative and literal slavery?

[If you want to skip the grueling hard work I put about an hour into because I’m getting tired of having to repeat this, like, all the time, every chapter, I have an in-summary at the end.]

I think when we visit the core of Eren’s morality, he certainly harbors a great deal of resentment to the situation he was placed in. He values his freedom, of course, and he’ll fight tooth and nail to obtain that. But with new knowledge, he’s learned that while what exists beyond the ocean is his enemy, the ones who are truly to blame are those who pass on their fears, their anger, their hate to their children, so that they may continue planting the seeds that keep the cycle of oppression spinning. It’s an inevitable happening. There is no way to stop it so long as people are ingrained with this mindset. Eren understands this, and that people cannot help if the environment they live in affects their ideas of other people. The world is cruel like that. He is no exception, of course.

That said, how can Eren commit the act of involving casualties of war, of any demographic, and deprive the choice of others to bring new life in the world, to force Eldians to die off? And if that’s not the case, what do his actions plan to achieve?

Chapter 118’s typeset recently released and while it’s no official translation, the context of the dialogue isn’t difficult to misinterpret. The chapter, among previous ones that question Eren’s motives, indicate that much of what Eren is doing is being forced upon him. Why else would Eren even agree to enact the Rumbling and genocide their own race? Armin, finally, persuades the 104th that the Eren they know wouldn’t do this. The decision was not Eren’s to make. Essentially, since many have presumably been consuming Zeke’s spinal fluid, it isn’t hard to imagine that there was an ultimatum here. I’ve mentioned this previously that this might be the case that explains why Eren so easily cooperated with Zeke and dragged his friends into a surprise-attack battle. I think Armin’s suppressed laugh in ch116 is his reaction to the concept, that there is no way Eren would actually agree to this.

Eren is, however, adamant about initiating contact with Zeke to do-- something. I think a lot of what was mentioned in terms of the Rumbling, the manipulation of DNA, the war of the worlds, Paths, etc. will come into play in the final climax, and I believe Eren’s intentions are to commit the small scale devastation with the payoff being a temporary “world peace.” Yeah, peace. Not just restricted to Eldians, this will involve everyone.

Basically, my theory is that the Rumbling is going to happen. Throughout the story, much of what Armin speculates using his logic, not personal feelings, tends to be right. He guesses that Eren will use the Coordinate to effectively destroy the world’s military forces that will arrive at their doorstep, using the wall titans in Shingangina to pose a warning and protect the island from attacks until they are able to fend for themselves. Only Eren can call upon any orders, be it awakening the Wall Titans, sterilizing the population, or both.

There is a fear that Eren is rage-filled enough to wipe out the entire world if he willed it. He says so himself that he is capable of destroying everyone. But Armin recalling Eren’s words when he first sees the ocean, that if they kill their enemies, they may be free, emphasizes the keyword enemies. He brings it up before he transforms in Liberio. However, in his conversation with Reiner prior, he admits that he thought everyone on the other side of the ocean were his enemies, then realized when living among them and experiencing their environment, that they were the same as anyone else.

Anyone can look like a bad guy. Anyone can look like a hero. There is empathy for those he once saw as “the enemy.” But it’s clear that “the enemy” is not the world, but those that oppress people’s freedoms. He has had this philosophy since he was young, but ending the world isn’t a viable option like killing the kidnappers were in his eyes-- in fact, despite the intentions, it’s often brought up as an alarming act by a child. But unlike before, those views aren’t so black and white, and he has grown beyond vengeance but rather sees the violence as an act of duty and necessity. He has to destroy his enemies because, sadly, diplomacy can’t bring their guns down if they still have guns in their hands in the first place.

So, the Rumbling will happen. They anticipated the world’s mightiest to arrive for their assault, and if they choose to attack even when the Wall Titans are mobile and near indestructible, then that’s their choice to risk their lives. And it’s more than likely that all forces will join together to stop a common enemy (this doesn’t mean they are forever allies, but I’ll get to that in a sec). They had already been motivated by Willy Tybur’s speech. That was the cog needed to rotate this in action. Had the world refused and not cheered for Willy upon his declaration, perhaps there would be no need to get the whole world involved. Or else Eren wouldn’t have waited for a queue to attack, why bother waiting until Willy officially declared war, finished his speech, prevent other nations from listening before they can agree. Willy was the ignorant adult to persuade every ambassador there, and the world proved themselves to be easily manipulated children. So long as a well respected person is to call someone the devil, that person will be the devil to their followers. Which is why the play, the Attack on Liberio, reclaiming the Warhammer titan was so vital.

But what of after that? Once this common enemy is destroyed, Paradis will become a land to conquer because of its resources. Hizuru, even as supposed allies to Paradis, lend their help with the trade of ice burst stones, which is a limitless energy source that can provide extended use of fuel. Resources are the reason why Marley plans to take the island eventually, because using Titans as their weapons will become obsolete. Other nations are advancing and the need for shifters and pure titans pose less and less of a threat with each war. With Marley now crippled, there is no stopping the world from fighting for that territory and those resources, effectively causing them to fight each other (which they have been already). The cycle of war isn’t stopping and perhaps it will never stop. Especially if those armies exist. Simply because they fought against their biggest enemies, it does not mean the world will come together in cooperation- this is brought up in the earlier chapters of the manga. Eren even says that it is basically ignorant (too optimistic) to believe humanity can be brought together as one even if they fight a common enemy. This wasn’t the case when Titans were their only antagonists, and it doesn’t apply to the rest of the world.

Eren may not be actively solving every crime imaginable when it comes to wiping nations, and he may not be doing this specifically to reduce the amount of war for an extended period for the world. He takes the survival of Paradisians as a priority, but dismantling militaries force nations to halt their fighting and to build up from the start. This gives Paradis more time to build their own defenses, while making fair connections with allies that won’t make them vulnerable if they cannot compromise on certain actions, and puts them at a level playing field whenever the world is ready to fight again. Which is exactly what Paradis needs. It is not an infinite “world peace” and it’s not even really “peace” but it is a semicolon to the chaos so that Paradis can catch up with modern technology. Specifically, without Titans.

That’s where the agreement with Zeke stops. Eren doesn’t want to sterilize his people, but he does want them free. And the only way to free Eldians is to get rid of the Titans, as he has always said. Except this time, he really means the identity of Titans. If rewriting Eldian DNA can be done to cure sickness, sterilize the population, become titans at all, literally healing shifters and pure titans from any injury, why wouldn’t the DNA be written to severe the ties the physical body has to the invisible Paths that connect Ymir to her people? True that this will be a big leap of chance on Eren’s part, but it isn’t illogical to come to that conclusion. The power of Ymir, the Founding Titan specifically, can stretch that influence to Eldians at any proximity. No matter where Eldians are, they are always bound to the curse, and therefore will always able to become a titan. The world cannot get over that fear because it’s simply true- Eldians can become cannibalistic monsters. It’s their fate and genetic makeup that chains them to that identity, and they have no choice in the matter. Even as Pure Titans, they are victims to only their subconscious, their intellect and morality suspended, not even aware of what they are doing. Shifters are pre-determined to die in 13 years despite their near indestructible and powerful bodies. Titans brought upon suffering in the world and caused a race of people, some who had no idea that they could become monsters in the first place, to be ostracized, enslaved, feared, despised, abused, and murdered for the misunderstanding that they are pre-determined to be evil people. Because, to the world, monsters are evil, even if in reality that is not always the case.

So if the existence of physical monsters are no longer present, and the world learns of this, Paradis is able to prove this and properly have the time to establish peace among nations, then the fear is at least partially diminished. Oppression will always be a thing, but the important thing is that the possibility of being a Titan will no longer be there and eventually that aspect from others’ minds will very, very gradually die as generations are less likely to hear this from their parents, or at least less inclined to believe it if there are clearly no more Titans around at all. Even the Walls may be broken. Even those in the frontlines in this current battle who may turn into Titans because of Zeke’s inevitable scream will revert back and no longer have to worry about it happening again. The ability to be a “monster” in personality will lie solely on choice, and not because it is predestined upon birth.

Breaking the Paths will likely also prevent an Ackerbond from being created. While Ackermans aren’t affected by memory manipulation and possibly not even DNA alterations, they are still descendants of Ymir by biology and their bonds are remnants of Paths taking effect. Ackermans perhaps have more free choice than Eldians themselves to create their bonds at all or perhaps break them, but as the bonds exist, they have a bias to follow their “lord” (or “master” as Eren means) and said lord’s motivations. It isn’t to say Ackermans cannot have their own dreams, but they are still inflicted with the Paths that can possibly affect some judgement. Breaking the Paths themselves will prevent that connection if you think about it logically.

Of course, this doesn’t quite align with Eren’s words to Mikasa. I think Armin’s important role in ch118 (and really his reason for existing in the story) is to remind everyone that Eren’s actions have a greater meaning, and had he not brought up potential lies that Eren made about the Ackerbond to Mikasa, it would have been more questionable that he’d lie at all than it is now. It’s possible that those words were to break Mikasa free on her own without simply severing the Paths. It’s also relatively fool-proof, as severing Paths would only be a theory in Eren’s mind, and not an absolute.

And finally it comes down to the pregnancy. Historia at this point already accepted shouldering the burden of carry children to pass down the Beast Titan, and the government was willing to see this through as cooperation with Hizuru to do this. Initially, Eren was opposed to this, but of course Yelena (or Eren) as part of the ultimatum with Zeke told Historia that her early pregnancy was to ensure Zeke’s safety for an appropriate amount of time to act. However, I also believe it could have been used as a backup plan in case breaking Paths did not succeed, or that he had no actual choice but to enact mass sterilization (which would probably only happen on terms of a massive threat). I’m not saying this was Eren’s initial intention, and that he very much is still against Historia’s forced circumstances, but if it was all going to happen for the sake of Zeke anyway, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume that once that plan is carried out, Historia’s unborn child will be unaffected by this DNA change.

Allegedly, when a shifter dies naturally, Paths dictate that the next born, not conceived, Eldian baby will receive power. This implies that Paths and therefore the Founding’s actions do not affect unborn children. In this case, the race will not die off, as it can be carried on by another. Even if this weren’t true, Historia herself would have to remain fertile (as well as someone else) to continue producing children until Eldians on Paradis are able to either A) stabilize their forces that make them formidable against large armies or B) Eldians gradually die off without war consuming them all.

While it’s not quite clear why Eren has not told anyone this, I think it’s basically what Armin expect as him being pushed to a corner and unable to tell them to truth. They were involved in war to show that the weakness he has toward his friends’ survival, which that he made very clear that he cares deeply about (and why would he have ANY reason to lie), would not interfere with Zeke’s plan. He trusted them to be able to survive, yet Sasha’s death proved that he couldn’t even do that-- he had almost no choice but to push them away and locked them up. He kept them at a distance so Zeke, Yelena, and the Marleyan allies are not suspicious. Ultimately keeping them in one place yet near enough lets him keep an eye on them so that they are still safe. Would they have understood? Maybe. But it doesn’t mean they would agree to a massive world war to destroy armies. There are a lot of risks involved and it won’t solve everything, but to Eren this would be the best method to defend against oppressors while removing the chains. He can’t have his facade broken like he broke down when Sasha was killed. He can’t afford that to interfere. And he, everyone, can’t afford to sit down and do absolutely nothing, as they have been doing before Eren, by Hange’s admittance, decided to be the one to act.

The theme of the story is to break free from the walls holding you back. It’s an experience Isayama has lived as a kid, that as he grew he envisioned to experience the world beyond his town. Armin and Eren are very literal when they are young, and Armin still speaks of freedom as a physical obtainment and knowledge, something global, but Eren projects his version of freedom to apply to the will of others in a general sense, more self-focused. That one cannot truly be free if they are bound by threads of fate, that truly free choices cannot be made if there is both an actual and metaphysical boundary preventing them from reaching whatever dreams they desire. Eren himself wants to be free, but that also means freeing his people. Ironically, he binds himself to the responsibility. He even emphasizes with Reiner’s confession that he wanted to be a hero and that’s why he committed to breaking the walls; Eren doesn’t necessarily want to be respected or seen as a hero, but he chooses to take on that responsibility to be that symbol, even if there are many that see him as a monster to do it. Because even if Reiner had the best intentions, he was still hated. Eren will be the same way and he accepts this.

But he must not become one to destroy all, but one to grant choices that will advance their existence forward. That’s literally what this manga is titled. That’s exactly the titan he harnesses. Choice is a word that has been nearly every character’s vocabulary at some point. Which is what the entirety of this series is based on and has been consistently presented by other characters, Levi, Erwin, Armin, Mikasa, Jean, etc. Eren severing the bounds and eliminating the threatening oppressors grant choice to his people, and to Eren, willpower and choice are what bring a person freedom.

In summary:

Eren will enact the Rumbling to fend off and effectively destroy international armies. This will put the world at a level playing field in terms of military buildup so that Paradis is able to make its connections and advance aka “obtaining more time.” Eren will not follow Zeke’s sterilization plan. He will severe Paths and effectively end “all Titans” (not Eldians) so that his people can be free. This may include Ackermans. Historia’s unborn child will not be affected by the sterilization so long as it remains unborn for the duration of the plan IF Eren is forced.

Thematically, it makes sense for the story’s direction. It makes sense for Eren’s direction. All the story’s morals about choices, free will, influence, war-- everything comes to relevancy here and all has a reason to be lesson exposed to Eren, specifically.

Eren’s character moral is to not become like the opposition, which is revealed to be Zeke and his ideology. He must fight against that. It has always been about fighting and breaking free. It’s completely ridiculous to believe otherwise. It is completely ridiculous to believe Eren would throw away his personal connections and beliefs in favor of listening to the people who slaughtered his comrades, who advocated for a continuous cycle that would ensure their containment, who think death is the only freedom, who will continue killing innocent people. His philosophy and love for his friends, both that he lives by to the fullest extent since the very beginning, contradict all of that.

I’m not sure if my theory will be completely correct, but as far as events are going in the manga, as well as the development of Eren as a character and the story’s symbol, to Advance, I think a lot of these outcomes are likely.

#eren yeager #eren jaeger #snk meta #snk chapter 118 #snk spoilers #meta #theory #analysis #mypost #erentag

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mxrcayong · 5 years ago

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the avatar series: 01.05

masterlist.

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It’s been four days since the awful attacks on the bending gyms. They’ve been closed since then, giving Doyoung nothing to focus on but his own healing. The government made a statement the day after, essentially saying the benders incited the incident – despite all the evidence and witness statements that said otherwise.

Tonight was the night they were all dreading. G-Dragon sent a message to everyone. Not only is he stopping the bending fights until it can be guaranteed safe, but they’ll be closing the theater down temporarily and leaving it empty with only the memorial for the bender who was brutally killed.

Once the clock struck 11:30, a sea of mourners wearing black filled the stadium. Usually, the abandoned theater would be full of people – everyone excited and thrilled for the entertainment. Cheers and conversations filled the room, bouncing off the walls. No one could ever feel alone in moments there; surrounded by family.

But that’s why G-Dragon insisted on having this here. Everyone here is family, and we must mourn family together. Tari may have not known the bender who passed away personally, but she recognized his face when she’d push her way through the crowds. It was so familiar; his brown eyes, his wide smile. She may not have known his name prior, but now she does, and she’ll never forget it – because after all, his blood was on her hands. It was because of her an innocent and bright life was taken away from the world.

The theater was silent. Anyone would be able to hear the simple cockroach who may be squirming his way to the other side of the theater or the smallest insect’s wings bat echo throughout the dome. Everyone came in wearing black and holding a candle to leave behind.

“I am so sorry for the reason we are here today,” G-Dragon apologized into the microphone as he stood beside a photo on an easel, surrounded by flowers. Behind him was the bender’s sister and his pregnant widow alongside his past pro-bending crew.

Tari saw the faces on the widow, on the sister – they both were puffy and red, looking like they haven’t slept in years. I’m the reason for that pain, she thought, holding the candle close to her chest for warmth. I’m the reason that child will never have his biological father, she thought, I’m the reason she no longer has a brother. They looked like ghosts, but Tari quickly turned pale as well. This wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t act up sooner.

She was uneasily biting her lip, lost in her guilt-ridden thoughts until she felt an arm wrap around her shoulder. It was Doyoung, who would even be more sad about this. The bender was a colleague of his, working at the fire bending gym just a street down. She knew the bender trainers would often having training retreats, so Doyoung would have exchanged words with him. Not only that, but Doyoung was there with him when he died.

Tari ignored her guilt and turned to face Doyoung. Like the widow, like the sister with a lost brother – his eyes were bloodshot. She noticed he hasn’t been sleeping and as a result, she has been staying up with him; not wanting him to be alone with his thoughts. Johnny has been too. It’s been the three of them facing the light from the midnight moon. Johnny and Tari would take shifts sometimes, especially if Johnny would have to go in early. Tari was just so lucky her bosses took over this week. She wouldn’t know what would’ve happened if they didn’t.

“Today, we are here to mourn him and remember him. Not only as a fire bender, but as a husband, as a brother, as a friend.” G-Dragon spoke into the microphone, “I hope you all will be leaving your candle here. We have a plastic candle that’s flame will never die,” He lifted up a plastic candle with an artificial light, “for his flame, his fire, and his memory will never go our.”

“Unfortunately, we lost him to an unnecessary war.” G-Dragon continued. “The government sees us as a threat, as a danger, as inhumane, as not equal. And they’re right about one thing.” He glanced around the hundreds of faces crowded inside the building, “We are to be feared. Yes, we have extraordinary abilities, but our main power – our main ability is our community. They riot on everything! But here we all are, a family with everyone having different relations to each other. We lost him on our physical world, but may he live forever in our hearts, in our minds, and in the spirit world.” G-Dragon continued. “We are a peaceful community, we love our city. But we cannot tolerate a city that doesn’t tolerate us. Let his legacy guide us through these difficult times and remind our government we are more than abilities, we are more than the powers we were blessed with. We are their community, and if they refuse to accept us, we are a community. Much more powerful, much more bigger, and much more loving than theirs.”

Everyone nodded in somber silence, cheering silently at G-Dragon inciting them. “But that’s not the reason we’re here today. Tomorrow, I will be taking my concerns to the media. For now, we must remember him for who he was.” G-Dragon started telling the story of the man; telling the story of how he came from a Northern Fire Nation tribe, about how he worked at a local hospital, about how he volunteers at the homeless shelter, about how he was a star. That I couldn’t save. “Now, let’s hear from his sister and his widow.”

Tari wanted to hold and squeeze Doyoung’s hand. She wanted to be reminded he was here. He was present during the fight, he was almost killed – but he is here. She wanted to do the same with Johnny. He risks his life every day trying to portray the truth to the world, but he’s here. He’s is here. That’s more than what the family in front of them could say. She could only imagine what they would’ve done for one more hug, one more greeting, one more word, one more ‘I love you’ or even an ‘I hate you’.

She could’ve given them that. If she only interfered sooner. If she didn’t get drunk and picked up Doyoung. If she only helped patrol the city. If she only did something. But those are only if’s. If’s that failed to become reality, if’s that failed to extend a man’s life.

Alas, the memorial was finished. Slowly and silently, everyone left the theater; leaving their candles where they stood. The photo of him was illuminated by the hundreds of calendars keeping his flame alive. His widow and his sister stood by the photo, refusing to leave just yet. G-Dragon had his arm wrapped around both of them, giving them some sort of comfort in the time they lost one of their biggest comforts.

Getting some fresh air, Tari gave each of her close friends who came a hug. She cried as she hugged Kilari, thankful the police arrested her before the protestors got too far. She was grateful Sonan was a non-bender who only knows the fighting techniques, so she wouldn’t be targeted. She was grateful Johnny was able to come home despite his dangerous days investigating corruption. She was grateful Doyoung was injured rather than arrested like the other benders who are still in jail or killed. She was grateful that she had them.

At least for now.

She needs to think, she needs to know what she can do as Avatar. She cannot continue putting her selfish desires to keep them in her life prevent her from following her role in society, to prevent her from inflicting pain on so many other families. Yes, she may lose her friends due to being the Avatar - but she may lose them if she didn’t do anything. Hell, she almost lost Kilara and Doyoung in one day. She rather save the world and lose them than lose them to something she could’ve prevented. It was like her family and she know what choice was inflicted upon her then.

As the group started to head home – all of them planning on sleeping in Doyoung and Tari’s apartment, which they covered with mattresses on the floor, Tari lagged behind.

To Sukiara: I’ll start training more seriously again. My life is their’s. Not mine.

Sukiara: Glad to hear you admit it. Will you be moving back in?

She needs to give them up, but she doesn’t have to make that choice until she’s physically and mentally ready.

Tari didn’t tell anyone that her bosses texted her, laying her off from her shift. Tari didn’t tell anyone that her bosses wanted her to not come to work for her own safety. In any other circumstance, she’d be devastated. But for now, she was just exhausted.

It’s been two days since she started training again and her days were much longer than they ever were at the café. She’d leave her home at four in the morning, go to the back of the port where no one could see them, and climb onto the White Lotus’s designated ‘Avatar’ flying bison. After an hour of flying, she’d arrive on Bak Mei island where she grew up. She’d be greeted by her animal guide (a wolf named Ani) - who is the main reason she’d come prior, eat breakfast, meditate for an hour, train for five hours, eat lunch, meditate, train, meditate, dinner, recap the day, and meditate. She’d be flying back home by eleven and then take the tram and get home by twelve.

If she had to work at the café on top of this work next week, she would’ve passed out. Or needed to be cloned. And since technology for that seems too far away, she’s glad she got fired.

It wasn’t like she was the only one who got fired. Thousands of benders are getting fired because the bosses are worried for the safety of their establishment. Signs have been going up saying ‘we don’t have any bending employees’, as if it was some sort of patriotic flag. She knew G-Dragon had the best intentions, but his inciting speech he made on the news outlet didn’t really help. It was inspiring and calling for a community to come together, but the anti-bending movement twisted his words into some sort of ‘call for an army’.

The once liberated Sooman City became a military state. Police would be marching on the streets more than usual, watching out for any threatening acts from benders. Bending isn’t illegal yet, but any action that could be seen as violent gets you the first seat to jail.

“Hey, you’re here late.” Johnny commented once the exhausted Tari came in, still dressed in something Johnny had never seen her wear something similar in. She noticed Doyoung was finally asleep on the couch, obviously knocked out from his last few days of staying up. “What are you wearing?”

When Tari is in the White Lotus training facility, she wears traditional water bender clothes. Like all the Avatars before her, she wore something reminiscent of where she was from. She was taught that as a the Avaatar, she may be connected to all four, but she must remain close to her roots. So, she wore a sea blue halter-neck top with high-waisted grayish blue baggy pants and short hiking boots. She had blue arm-warmers that matched the color of her top with traditional water tribe patterns. These blue arm warmers actually came from her father; one of the few things she was allowed to keep from her biological family.

“Oh, just traditional bending day at the café.” Tari quickly quipped, avoiding eye contact as she rushed into her room - far too tired to try and come up with more excuses and far too tired to stay up. “Why are you still up?” She asked to make conversation, feeling guilty for shrugging him off.

Johnny shrugged, “Doyoung fell asleep and I noticed you weren’t here yet.”

“Oh, don’t wait up for me.” She smiled, popping her head out from her door but still looking away from Johnny at all costs. “I’m glad to see Doyoung finally sleeping. Anyway! Long hours at the café, hah,” She awkwardly chuckled, her mind running miles a minute as she tried to come up with good excuses to cover up her lies to the same person who can read her like a book. “Going to sleep, you should sleep too.”

There were two things Johnny didn’t comment on. The first thing? Tari would’ve normally asked him why she wasn’t at his own home. The second thing? He went to the café today and Hendery told him she’s been laid off.

But he wanted to ask her before he investigated anything. But, she also left him no choice. Johnny didn’t want to be in this situation, but he had to make sure she was safe. A sense of disappointment was feeling heavy as he made his way to the bathroom, ready to get some sleep – which would be a futile mission, before having to investigate the person he thought he could trust the most in the world.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only person who would have a sleepless night full of unstoppable reckless tossing and turning. Especially as the exact moment Tari fell into her pillows – now dressed in cozy pajamas and showered from the dirt and grime from the temple – she received a message from Sukiara.

Sukiara: Tenzin and Lin are calling for you to come to the air temple tomorrow. 11am. Don’t come to BakMei. Will pick you up from the port but we’ll take the boat instead. Can’t have a flying bison around without attracting attention. Meet at 9am sharp. You still need to meditate before we go.

request anything for future parts / penny for your thoughts here

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fheythfully · 5 years ago

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TITLE: oh i beg you, can i follow (AO3 link) SPOILERS FOR ALL OF SHB The true question lies on the tip of her tongue, unwilling to be spoken: Is a tempered, light filled girl still mortal, Thancred? . . . The Crystarium is celebrating the return of darkness, but the guest of honour is nowhere to be found.

She’s nestled between a shipping crate and the cold steel of a resting cannon when the footsteps come to find her. Thancred’s, going by the purposefully heavy tread; there may be a gunblade on his back now but he was a rogue first, and his loudly telegraphed steps are an easily recognizable offer: withdraw further into her hiding spot and he will pretend to have never seen her, or remain as she is and make due with his company.

It’s a tempting thought, to be left alone in the night with only herself and her troubled mind. Her body tenses and she almost does it, but Ardbert’s face flashes before her eyes. He wouldn’t have wanted her to be alone in a time like this. He would have remained stubbornly at her side, staring out at the same scenery she was and offering his words of support. She can’t have him with her, not anymore, but she can easily imagine his disappointment if she were to push away the Scions after everything they had been through.

Her heart still hurts any time she thinks of the other Warrior and the hole he’d left behind. She feels both bereft of a dear friend and warm, an aching gap in her soul that is empty yet mended at the same time.

The footsteps draw closer and Lia forces herself to relax and remain as she is, sprawled out under the clear night sky blanketing the Crystarium. Out of the corner of her eye she watches Thancred make the corner and she turns, greeting him with one brow raised. It is a silent question of why he’d felt it was necessary to leave the on-going festivities of the Crystarium to come seek her out. Undoubtedly, there was much drinking and merriment to be had below; she had partaken in it for a bell or two before retreating to her spot. And after everything that’s happened, she had not expected to see Thancred until well past the dawn, and probably nursing a killer hangover to boot.

“Quite the place you have here,” he says in lieu of answering her. He glances about him—she’s hidden away at one of the highest points in the city accessible, unless one decided to scale the towering pillars and crystalline roofs. There is faint music from the markets and the Wandering Stairs where the heart of celebration is, but other than that, there is only the silence of the glimmering stars and the distant mountains on the horizon.

It is both peaceful and lonely here in equal measure.

It is precisely what she’d wanted.

Lia remains silent but shifts to make room for him. “Why’d you come?” She asks the moment he’s settled down. At some point in the night he’d lost his coat (possibly to Ryne; she wouldn’t be surprised to find the girl snoozing on a bench somewhere) and the bare skin of his arm brushes up against hers. She can’t help the shivers that come across her body at the thought of someone touching her so casually after she’d nearly become a Warden. The body Thancred now so casually allows beside him had nearly twisted into a cruel mess of limbs and flesh and light, eager to turn them just the same.

The thought of it makes bile rise to her mouth and her heart skips beats, terrified and distraught and ashamed.

She’s withdrawn into herself before she can even acknowledge the motions, body chasing her own warmth in lieu of someone else’s. It makes her wish once more that Ardbert yet remained with her, untouchable yet relentless and comforting.

There had been no running away from the man dogging her steps. It had irked her plenty when he first appeared in her inn room, and then again the second time; but as the weeks passed she had grown to accept it. She had grown to expect it, even; glimpses of him out in the field, and their conversations in the safety of the Pendants’ apartment. Unlike with the others, speaking with Ardbert did not make her feel judged or as if she was in danger of disappointing their perception of the vaunted Warrior of Light. When she spoke with Ardbert it was with a man her equal, one who had been just as responsible for his world as she has been with the Source.

By the gods, she missed Ardbert. She’d last seen this view of Lakeland with him at her side and now she was alone and one shard closer to a whole. It did not seem like a fair trade: a friend for a fragment of her soul. She would choose the former in every choice given, in every life lived.

“Well, when the guest of honour disappears from the reveleries, the attendees are bound to notice.” Startled, Lia drops her gaze from the horizon and to Thancred’s face. But he only smiles at her, amusement clear in his eyes. “I kid, I kid. We noticed though, and grew concerned.”

Ah. Y’Shtola must have sent him then. “Sorry to hear you got babysitting duty,” Lia grumbles, drawing her knees up close to her chest. She rests her chin on them and gazes once more out into the darkness of the distant mountains. Has Bismarck returned? She cannot help but wonder. Her mind does not let her rest from that time in Amaurot, of Emet-Selch and Hades and Ardbert. She knows that things are meant to be over, at least for now—but they never truly were . Somewhere, Elidibus was no doubt growing stronger in his hate for her; somewhere, the Empire was making ready to march.

And the Warrior of Light was sitting here, not even on her own planet , brooding about things she could not change. Things that had been left out of her control when she should have been down there celebrating her victory with the rest of them, instead of caving to her own fears and misgivings and grief over a man who had been both her and not.

She flinches in surprise when an unexpected hand makes contact with her arm and turns back to Thancred. “I’d volunteered,” he corrects her. The lingering smile on his face is soft in the starlight cast above them, and she’s almost managed to forget that his real body still rests in the Source. Too long hair and a face in need of a shave, with a bandana the others had teased him over; that is how she remembers him and had seen him last. But for him, it had been five years since he’s seen her last—and on the First his body had reformed alongside his soul’s image, in which he was young once more and untouched by the hands of Lahabrea or his trip through the Lifestream.

It was like looking at a memory with the First-hardened Thancred imposed over it. It was strange, but then again, what hadn’t been lately?

The hand on her arm sets Lia’s teeth on edge, having someone touch her so casually only days after she had white ichor running through her veins, burning up marble and wood whenever it spewed forth from her lips. She itches to shake it off.

“Did Ryne go to sleep?” She asks. The girl had energy aplenty in the wake of their success, but she was still young and tired from all she had done. The healing she had done on Lia alone, prior to their trip to the Tempest, had left her pale faced and sunken-eyed and the guilt and gratitude both bubble within Lia’s chest, adding on further to the maelstrom of emotions swirling within.

The hand is withdrawn as Thancred chuckles. His eyes find the stars above them and his posture is as relaxed as Lia’s seen him since—well, since a very long time. “She did. Fell asleep right next to the twins, though thankfully not for the same reasons.” At her pointed silence, his smile notches up into a grin. “I’m afraid those two are nowhere near as close to holding their alcohol as well as they think they are. Out like babes, and now safely in their rooms for the remainder of the night.”

“Where you should be,” Lia is quick to point out. “Your injuries from Ran’jit were surely strained in—well.” She trails off, unable to say the name dancing on her tongue. Hades . She has not finished processing yet, has not managed to file away the ghostly recreation of Amaurot or Emet-Selch’s genuine request at the end of it all. It will all fall away somewhere within her in time, laid to rest alongside all the other bones of things she does not wish to think about.

If Ardbert were here, he’d tell that she should. That it was unhealthy to bury them under the earth of her thoughts, where she only encountered them in the grips of a nightmare.

“I’m faring fine,” Thancred replies and she can feel his eyes on her again. His gaze feels just as heavy as his hand had been. “It is you, my dear, that should be the one taking her rest. It’s well-deserved, wouldn’t you say?”

The endearment is old and familiar and makes her want to curl up even further into herself, build walls of Garlean steel outside her body so as to not let anyone in. It reminds her of a hot desert too long ago, of a smile she hasn’t seen on Thancred’s face since. Of a camaraderie they haven’t had since she carried his limp body on the back of a stolen magitek from the blazing, crumbling ruins of a Garlean stronghold.

It’s enough to break her, out here in the lonely night with the both of them staring at the same stars and the faint sound of music coming from below. For so long she had managed to fare alone, to rely on no one but herself to shoulder her hopes and fears, and then Ardbert had come along and it was as if her soul had recognized its missing part, even before the mysterious words of the long-dead Amaurotine in the long-dead city. It had made her want to actually open up herself to someone, made her heart in her chest flutter with desire to not be alone, not anymore. For so long her mantra had been that the Warrior of Light does not get lonely, especially not in the wake of her victory; that the Warrior of Light is a woman of force and steel, of victory and surety.

And the deepest secret she’s been holding for days now, close to her chest and barely even shared with Ardbert—

That the Warrior of Light assuredly, did not, for the briefest of hours on a long, light filled night, wish to run away and die in peace as a monster.

“Is it?” Slips out from her mouth. The music from the markets has struck up a cheerful tune in stark contrast to the turmoil she struggles to contain from leaking into her words. “I nearly killed you all. Nearly became a monster myself. It was only luck that led to the light within me settling.”

Luck , by which she means, of course, the death of Emet-Selch. The moment between her last thought on him and the one right now has not afforded her the clarity she seeks on how it makes her feel. There is no satisfaction in it, not like there had been with Thordan or Zenos.

There should be. He wanted to Rejoin the First to the Source through genocide, she knows this, and yet.

Yet .

Something sad and old within her that she has no name for is grieving.

The hand on her arm is back again and she tilts her head to peer at Thancred. “Hey,” he says quietly, the smile gone from his face. In its place is an earnest appeal, a trust she feels is undeserved considering she was moments away from eating them all. “But you didn’t turn. You’re still mortal. You’re still you .” The hand on her arm moves to cover her hair in a move similar she’s seen both Urianger and him do with Ryne; a motion of comfort, and for a brief second she’s bitterly amused at being comforted like a child. But Thancred’s fingers do not linger in one spot and he smoothes back the flyaway strands around her forehead, then runs them gently over the thin skin of her ears.

For a heartbeat, she looks at him and lets herself be swallowed by the tidal wave of fear that has been cresting at the edges of her sanity. “Am I?” she asks. Uncurling herself she faces him fully and brings the hand he’s laid upon her to her face, not bothering for once to hide the trembling in her limbs. “Am I mortal, Thancred? Or am I—” the words tangles on her tongue, sharp and painful. “—Ascian? Lightwarden? Do I still look mortal to you ?”

The world has thrown so many things at her and she had bested them all, had overcome their attempts at taking her life. She’d chalked it up to Hydaelyn’s blessing before, but now with the knowledge that her Mother was a primal —and she’d believed Emet-Selch on this, the truth settling in her breast as if she’d always known—then what did that make Her Warrior of Light?

The true question lies on the tip of her tongue, unwilling to be spoken: Is a tempered, light filled girl still mortal, Thancred?

She’d only taken his hand in a moment of uncertainty, in a desire for someone else to feel her skin and tell her that the blood within was warm and not the sizzling heat of light. But he moves his fingers over her cheek and then to the corners of her eyes, gentle in a way she’s never seen before. “You do,” he says quietly. She’s trembling before him, heart beating like a bird’s and pupils blown wide in fear. “You’re still you, Lia.”

His fingers ghost over her lips and for a second it feels as if time stops, as if they’re the only two in the world awake in the new-old and brilliant night. She doesn’t remember the last time she’d let herself be this vulnerable with another, had let them see the fears which drew breath within the pit of her stomach and crawled through her bloodstream. It almost makes her sob in inexplicable relief—she swallows down the feelings rising in her chest and closes her eyes as a few tears fall anyway, caught only by Thancred’s other hand rising up to sweep them away.

He lets her collect herself in silence, until her eyes are open again and she’s staring into his own. Lia’s lips part beneath his feather-light touch and she can’t help the shaky inhale, the feeling that gets stuck somewhere between her lungs and her tongue. “Promise, Thancred?” She whispers against his skin, the calluses on his fingers rough against her lips. “Do you promise me that I am me ? That you won’t ever let me become a monster?”

She hadn’t had to speak the words with Ardbert. He had already known, had seen the thoughts through the emotions grappling on her face when she had woken up blinded and in light-fuelled agony. But Ardbert was gone—had never really been there—and she cannot expect those not of her own soul to recognize what she needs, to know the things to say when she hides her fears so well.

If she wanted the weight on her shoulders to lift—truly, eagerly wanted it—then she had to be the one to reach out. To bring down the walls of stone and steel around her heart and recognize the figures of the Scions burning bright around her, willing to walk with her until her last breath.

In the darkness and the starlight of the night, the expression on Thancred’s face shifts. He looks as serious as he did before they braved the fires of the ghostly Amaurot, when he thanked her for all she’d done for him and vowed to always have her back. “I promise,” he says and sweeps the pads of his fingers over her bottom lip, before moving to gently cradle her chin in a reassuring grip. “And if you ever doubt it—if you ever think that you are anything but the kind, brave person you are—then look to me.” His other hand cards through her hair now and the tears are coming again, falling fast over her cheeks and onto the stone beneath them.

“I will be right there at your side, reminding you again and again.”

Something in her chest breaks and she exhales, leans further into his warmth and grip on her. “Okay,” she says, closing her eyes and letting the tears fall freely now. “I will. I will .”

#HAPPY #THANCRED #APPRECIATION #LIFE #!!!#this is my second time ever writing thancred and the first time he was not so sad yet #click the read more to see Lia being sad and learning how to make friends #what else is new #my writing #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #thancred waters

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lexiseigneur · 5 years ago

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Part 2 Chapter 1: The disappeared

2800 B.C.

The queen fled through the trees and the cursed thing followed. She cried out in anguish when it struck, leaving a bloody welt on her shoulder. But she escaped its grasp and ran on. When a river blocked her way, she plunged into its tumultuous waters. On the shore, the thing screamed and paced. She swam fiercely because she had to live. For her people and for her unborn child.

----

Quinlan dreamt. It was obvious as soon as he stepped out of the trees’ shadows. They lined a familiar cobbled road. In dreams, the false sunlight never burned. It gently warmed his skin. On the horizon, the hills and vineyards were blurs, like an impressionist painting. Were he to explore further, the details of this imaginary world would solidify around him. He had done it at times, just to see how intricate it could become.

It had dawned on him recently that the ability to control one’s dreams was uncommon. After Lexi had asked if he missed Europe, Quinlan had explained how he often visited his native Italy and sometimes summoned people from his past to talk to. Her answer had been “You do WHAT?”

While she sometimes noticed she dreamt, she could not influence their course. But Quinlan could, for most of his long life.

Fifty years after their deaths, Quinlan met Tasa and Sura at will. They had been his first motivation at acquiring this ability. Then his pragmatism had taken over.

Mostly, he would use dreams to hone his skills in combat or war tactics. Training was training, whether in dreams or in body.

Quinlan picked up a stone which he rolled between his fingers. Looking, smelling or feeling helped stabilize his dream and assert his control. It had taken a great deal of time to achieve that level of proficiency. Still, the dream could slip away.

Today, he would practice opening his mind further. It frustrated him how he still lagged behind Lexi in that regard. He blamed peaceful times. His quest was over, and some of his drive for perfection had fanned.

For this practice, he elected to summon a guide. It was always the same person. It had been for two thousand years.

“Mother?” he called.

“Quintus.”

He turned around. Ancharia grinned. The intense sun reflected in her grey hair. When she appeared, it was always in the clothes she wore the night of their first encounter.

“You have neglected your training,” she said, surprised.

“I have. Would you like to know why?”

“I cannot imagine a valid reason behind such frivolity.”

This version of Ancharia did not know of his success. Her level of knowledge changed between her appearances. Quinlan failed to understand why. This time her ignorance was agreeable. Who did not enjoy sharing good news?

“Because the Master is dead. Defeated forever.”

Ancharia covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Her eyes turned shiny.

“Oh, my son! You did it! You slew the beast!”

Ancharia hugged him. Quinlan marveled at the warmth of her body and the scent of olive oil in her hair.

“We did. It’s over and we won.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much.”

“You taught me so much, could you help me once more?

“Anything! What do you wish to know, child?”

“I cannot open my mind as much as I wish.”

“I see.”

She took his hand and the countryside melted, replaced by a silver world. His own soul lied ahead and Lexi’s next to it. Everything shimmered with their light.

“Yours is brighter but captive. A firefly in a glass bottle,” said Ancharia with a nod.

Lexi’s soul rippled and danced, free. His was tightly enclosed within a transparent armor.

“How can I break the bottle?”

“You wished it here, simply wish it away.”

“If it were that simple…”

“Oh, but it is that simple. You haven’t done it yet because you are afraid.”

What could that possibly mean? She was part of his mind, so she couldn’t be mistaken.

“You let your light shine through and the feeling terrifies you. It feels like falling. You are scared of breaking once you reach the bottom. As she did.”

Ancharia gestured toward Lexi. Quinlan scowled.

“She is not broken.”

“I said she broke, not that she is still broken. Pay attention, child.”

The tone, soft but full of authority sent him into a whirlwind of nostalgia. Those dreams were wonderful. Those dreams were horrible. Her face turned gentle.

“You love her, don’t you?”

“More than anything.”

“Then why do you hide things from her?” she whispered.

A man appeared behind her. Sprawled on a concrete floor, his neck bent at an unnatural angle. Quinlan knew him because he had killed him. Ancharia peered at Quinlan’s face like a mother would look at a disobedient toddler. He took a step back.

He did not wish to continue this. Quinlan shut his eyes and the dream disintegrated. He awoke. It was not fleeing since this was not really Ancharia.

His Strigoi senses informed him that the sun was still high. Lexi slept deeply, undisturbed by his malaise. He preferred keeping it that way and attempted to fall back asleep. Her cell phone emitted a shrill sound. Lexi slammed her hand on the device then grunted when it rang on.

“This was not the alarm, someone is calling you,” Quinlan said.

She dragged the phone across the nightstand then her pillow. The glow of the phone made them squint. The screen was now shattered but still functional.

“Ha crap…not again,” she mumbled.

Gus’ name was barely visible between the cracks webbing across the glass.

“Gus? What’s happening?” she asked after taking the call.

She slurred her words from sleepiness.

“Yo…Did I wake you? It’s business hours ya know? Not very serious if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Screw you.”

He laughed.

“We’ve got a mission. It’s one of those collab settlements. Argentina this one. They had just started building stuff so it’s just a handful of people. They didn't give news for the last three checkups. This morning, their families went to find them. They cracked their car windows open, smelled ammonia and high gated the fuck out of there.”

Due to constant persecution, which had turned systemic after the passage of discriminatory laws, collaborators of the Strigoi regime sometimes chose self-exile. They built villages in remote areas with elaborate anti-Strigoi protections which required considerable preparations. Healthy and capable settlers arrived first and more vulnerable members of their families followed. Lexi looked at Quinlan and grimaced.

“Hey, Gus…I’m sorry but…”

“No,” he said instantly.

“I’ve got to be at the lab tomorrow…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s not something I can postpone.”

“Fine…fine. You gonna owe me for this one again. What about Q?”

Quinlan took the phone. Lexi buried her face in her pillow, and he stroked her back.

“The locals say there are caves nearby, a whole maze of them. We think they hide in there. A damn death trap.”

“Are those caves mapped?”

Gus had a sardonic snort.

“Not even a little.”

“I can still manage by myself and Eva can take Lexi’s team. When do we depart?”

“In six hours. See ya.”

He hung up which prompted Lexi to bury her face deeper.

“He will forgive and forget eventually. Not that there is anything to forgive. Having both of us for such a simple mission is redundant,” said Quinlan.

“He is so pig-headed…last time I missed a mission he called me ‘ma’am’ for a week.”

“Perhaps I should miss missions more often…”

Just a week prior Gus had called him a “snarky stuck-up party-pooper”. Whatever that meant.

Lexi looked at him with one eye and her cheek rounded from a smile. Of course, she would remember as well. It had been a source of great hilarity.

“I guess I should get ready and leave with you if I don’t want to run to New York,” she said and stretched out of bed. They had only one car.

“We still have plenty of time…if I drive.”

The mission might take anything from two days to a week. It sounded short and in the scope of his lifetime, it was laughable. But every second out of each other’s light felt like an eternity. Quinlan gently pulled her back to bed.

****

Raul was quiet and grave after he picked Quinlan up from Manhattan. He should have been sharing the details of the mission and the plans he had no doubt already devised with his cousin. Something was bothering him, and Quinlan detailed his face for a clue. Unshaven and dull-eyed, the Sun Hunter formed a sorry picture.

“You are distracted,” said Quinlan.

“Yeah, you can say that.”

Quinlan would not ask for more. It did not appear like the issue was relevant to the mission. It was likely a personal matter.

“Eva and I broke up. She wants kids and I don’t. T’was mutual but shit it still sucks.”

There was a moment of silence. Lexi would have described it as ‘awkward’. She also would have encouraged him to support Raul in this trying time. Humans liked to have their choices validated.

“It sounds to me like you both made a sensible choice. Procreation is not a subject that allows for compromise.”

Raul looked at him in complete disbelief then burst out laughing.

“Are you kidding me? You’re the one who actually gets it. Everyone from Gus to my fucking mailman thinks I’m an idiot, and I should just have a kid with her because I would end up liking it anyway.”

His lips rose in disgust.

“What kind of fucked up advice is that? Like what if I don’t end up liking it? I can’t return the kid, can I?”

“No, I do not believe there is such a thing as a return policy on offspring.”

“Thank you! They all act like I’m some kind of monster. And I want to scream at them that they are the messed-up ones.”

Quinlan did not want to encourage Raul’s ranting but this last point picked his curiosity.

“How so?”

“Those guys from Iceland…you read their report? Yeah, so they say we won’t get rid of the Strigoi at this rate. Except if we make a vaccine. And the handful of brainiacs left say it won’t happen. I’m not having a kid if there is a single chance they might end up infected and then they’d have to swallow a fucking pill and I’d have to hold their hand while they die. Or worse.

“They would not swallow that pill and they would turn and I would have to hunt them down and look in the face of my kid, with their brains too scrambled for them to understand who I am. Then I’d have to kill them. Like when Lexi killed Amir. I’m not doing that.”

“You think the others irresponsible for not having such considerations?”

“You bet your ass I do. But I’m not gonna tell them that. Would be social suicide.”

Raul shook his head.

“And I get it, you know? I love Angela, and I would die for her but she ain’t even mine and I worry all the fucking time.”

Quinlan worried about those humans as well. And above all, he worried about the Sun Hunters. But his fear was different. Humans did not expect to bury the children they loved while he lived with that certainty. He worried their ends might come too early or too painfully. Quinlan considered his fellow Hunter under a new light and with more respect.

“You know Amir would have been twenty-five tomorrow?” asked Raul.

Lexi had told him, but he found it too crushing to keep track of such anniversaries. Should he maintain that habit, his entire year would be spent grieving.

The airport was almost empty. Few New Yorkers were willing to leave the safety of their city. After the first checkpoint, Raul and Quinlan waited in the quarantine area for two hours. In that room, the walls were covered with various instructions and information. Posters gave advice on avoiding Strigoi abroad (staying inside at night, avoiding forests and countrysides etc…). In a corner, a smaller placard showed the faces of collaborators on the run, including the two doctors who had so far escaped their execution following the Manhattan trials. The larger posters encouraged travelers to report any person showing symptoms of infection to the dedicated hotline of their destination countries. Such telephone numbers were listed underneath.

Raul took this time to share all that he knew about the mission. Seventeen men and two women were missing and drone sweeps had found nothing. The locals would direct them to the caves but were instructed to remain put for the moment. Quinlan agreed with that order. It would be stupid to send humans to their deaths when this was a trivial task for him.

Nurses came with U.V. lights. Unsurprisingly, Raul was not infected and they did not attempt to check Quinlan for worms. The flight would last fourteen hours and to prevent Raul from opening up about his feelings once more, Quinlan extracted a book from his pocket.

“Watcha reading?”

“A Tale of Two Cities.”

“Dickens, huh? A bit modern for you, no?”

Quinlan looked up, mildly surprised Raul knew about that novel. Then he read on as Raul took out a familiar comic book from his bag.

“You read this drivel as well?”

“Lexi is right you know, this is tight.”

-----

Their New York apartment was small, but the simple decoration made it feel bigger. Though the population in the city had decreased dramatically after the Fall, real estate was still rare despite laws promoting their availabilities. Buildings close to the blast of the atomic bomb had been deemed too structurally unstable and were being demolished one by one. Other flats and houses still required thorough decontamination. No one wanted another plague because a worm had managed to survive in a carpet.

Lexi waited for opening hours by watching TV. Since Quinlan did not care for this form of entertainment, she took advantage of his absence to enjoy shows. Some of them had laugh tracks, and she could only imagine the judging looks Quinlan would have given her. It was soon time for her to go.

The neighbors often rushed to their doors to watch her leave. She pretended she could not hear their hurried steps and their breathing when she locked her door and made her way to the elevator. It was time to abandon this flat. Humans here had grown too curious. Perhaps this time they could find something more isolated. She would insist on it.

A delivery man grunted a hello without looking up from his phone when the doors slid open. Somewhere after they passed the tenth floor he must have looked up because his heartrate became deafening. She also ignored him.

A few years ago she might have attempted a nod or a smile, but she had since learned it was pointless. Adults stared or attempted too hard not to. Children old enough to have seen Strigoi sometimes cried and once a very old woman had fainted.

Fortunately, Lexi could drive from her building parking lot to the one in her office of her company, Lifeline. Her assistant welcomed her with a pile of papers to sign. The red circle logo of the company and its name, Lifeline, was printed on each page.

“Could you get me a replacement phone and send this one out for repair?” she asked.

She took her sim card and memory card out of the phone before handing it out to him.

“At this point, you might want to consider buying screens in bulk.”

“Or they could make them sturdier.”

“I doubt anyone is making anything of this brand at the moment. The prices increase all the time.”

“Thanks for the info. Look up if they are any companies making phones and get me one of those.”

It was a common problem. Qualified workers and infrastructure were used for essentials and as long as old electronics were available from the pre-Fall times, resources were rarely spared to produce more. For her own company, it had also been a struggle. Most of their equipment during the first year had come from local universities whose labs were deserted. Three-quarter of the staff working with this equipment had been trained on the job.

Things were finally running smoothly. Now they were producing blood locally in other countries. Today a German envoy had come to open another lab in Munich. They had the equipment and needed cell cultures and know-how.

Lexi stood behind a two-way mirror, a small microphone against her cheek. The receiver was tucked neatly in her employee’s ear and hidden by her thick dark hair. Her name was Claire. The prospective client entered and they greeted each other then sat on each side of a large desk. Humanity was not ready for a Dhampir selling blood.

“So you are interested in opening a production facility with us…” said Claire with an impassible face.

“I believe there’s been a mistake.”

The man smiled without any sign of confusion. Lexi decided she did not like him.

“You’re not interested in buying blood? We don’t sell anything else,” said Claire without returning the smile.

“We are interested in all of Lifeline. The entire company.”

He took out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and deposited it ostensibly within Claire’s reach. She didn’t acknowledge it.

“It’s not for sale.”

“My employer has the infrastructure to produce and distribute blood to half the world.”

Lexi rolled her eyes. The half of the world in question being the one that could pay generously for it.

“It changes nothing,” said Claire as she got up and pulled down on her blazer jacket.

“Your unwillingness to expand this enterprise kills people.”

Claire tilted her head and Lexi stopped herself from growling.

“What we’ve done so far has saved plenty, and we‘ll continue doing so by ourselves.”

“Make him leave. You don’t need to be polite,” said Lexi.

“By coming here under false pretenses, you wasted your time. Worse, you wasted my time. Security is on its way.”

Lexi chuckled. Unless Claire had telepathic powers, no one was on their way. The man shrugged, tossed a card on the desk and strutted out of the room. He did not linger in the building but he also did not rush.

Claire sat back down, undid her tight bun and kicked off her shoes.

“We were preparing for this extension for weeks. You should eat him.”

“I cannot eat people just because you don’t like them.”

“Not with that attitude,” she mumbled.

Lexi removed the earpiece and returned to the office.

“Let’s hope the next one isn’t a capitalist pig,” Claire said as she picked up her shoes.

“I’ll close the file and join you at the lab when I’m done.”

Lexi took the card and sat down. It was the man’s name and number as well as the name of his company, Axatus Inc. and its symbol, an infinity loop. She shoved it in a drawer on a pile of dozens of such cards. Lexi ground her teeth. Quinlan had gone on a mission without her because of a dick who thought he could make money on the backs of the sick. She opened her laptop and searched for the next flight for Argentina. Only the next day. At that time, the Sun Hunters would be at the mission site in the middle of nowhere. Possibly already finished. Today would be another day of boring lab work and phone calls. She held her head. It felt so empty. Of all days to be alone, this one sucked. Lexi took a deep breath and went to work.

***

The Belvedere Castle’s exterior had changed since the Master’s head had rolled on its terrace. The Mayor had converted it into a museum about the Fall. Or rather a warning that betraying one’s race would not be forgiven nor forgotten. The only “frivolous” spending authorized by the city’s administration.

With a handful of flowers bought from a nearby vendor, Lexi strolled the path leading to the open-air theater. As the sun set, the clear skies were more golden than ochre. Facing the pond, slabs of granite stood erect. The names of the fallen were etched on the stone. Those who had fought the Master but not lived long enough to see victory. The list was not in alphabetical order. On the first stone at the very top, she read the name Abraham Setrakian. Followed by Dutch Velders, Vasily Fet, Nora Martinez, and Ephraim Goodweather. Next to the names were holes just large enough to accommodate the stem of a flower. When she knew the name, even vaguely, she deposited a white rose. When she reached the last name, a stone weighted her stomach. She spoke to him in her mind, and she imagined the words forever lost in the silver place.

“Happy birthday.”

She could almost hear Amir laugh at her. Others were coming and she left before fearful humans could spot her.

Lexi needed to run an errand then she could return to Greystone. There was no way she would face Gus without an apology. And those worked better in the form of a gift.

Lexi seldom shopped in New York. She also took care to never do so with any regularity or discernable pattern. At every gate leading to the city and at the main exit at the airport once could read the city’s motto: “New York, safest city in the world.”

And it was true by any measure. Little to no crime, no homelessness, and above all, no Strigoi. But Lexi had not felt safe in the city since the Manhattan trials.

Only a handful of people roamed the supermarket when Lexi entered. She made a detour in the aisles to avoid them and reached the back shelves. Bright red and with random goods carefully displayed. Some were secured down with chains, others were attached to bulky anti-theft devices.

Lexi had noticed with the years that while Gus shared liquor or wine readily with other Hunters, there was a bottle he didn’t. In a state of drunken cheerfulness, he had shared how his mother had given him his first drink on his eighteenth birthday in the form of cherry liquor and coke. Of course, it hadn’t actually been his first drink but still. Every birthday, they toasted with it. By Lexi’s estimate, Gus had two birthdays worth of cherry liquor left, and the coke was long gone.

After calling half a dozen shops, this was the only one still stocked with those products. With a satisfied grunt, she grabbed the bottles. Finding the perfect present was always a thrill.

Only one person stood at the cashier’s desk and she waited with her head down. Under those lights even with her hood and her tinted glasses people would notice her skin if they paid attention.

“That’ll be 75 dollars,” said the cashier, a young man, with an empty expression.

“But no…I used my food card. This is all food.”

Lexi sighed quietly and took a step back. This would take a while. The cashier rolled his eyes and pointed at the groceries.

“Green labels go on food cards but not blue or red ones. If you put back the steaks and the pancake mix then you’re golden.”

“But…”

“Look, you can either pay for those or put them back. There is no haggling here.”

“Fine,” he said and tossed the two items toward the cashier. Then lower he added “stupid commie system.”

The cashier looked at him with the wounded pride of a New Yorker.

“You can go back to Chicago and starve with the rest of them.”

The customer turned bright red, almost swelling from his anger. Until the security guard walked by as if taking a stroll. After scanning the food card once more, the total fell to zero dollars but a warning appeared.

“Are you aware this will max out your card for a week?” said the cashier in a rehearsed tone.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Are you aware your choice of items lacks sufficient intake of a vital nutrient?”

“That’s ‘cause you took my damn steaks.”

The cashier clicked another button and a table listing vitamins popped on the screen.

“We advise you to consider switching to the iodine enriched bread or including serving of seaweed salad. Both those items are currently available here, for your convenience.”

“Fuck you,” said the man and left with his groceries.

“Charming,” whispered Lexi.

For a moment the cashier nodded in agreement until he looked at her face. He made a strange strangled sound, but still scanned the items.

“It’ll be 205 dollars,” he said. “Please.”

His voice was suddenly high-pitched. She paid and left quickly. With a stone in the pit of the stomach, she rushed out of the city.

-----

The situation perturbed Quinlan. Details stood out as soon as they reached the cave.

Its entrance formed a wound in a wall of sharp stone and bled a trickle of water. The Sun Hunters stayed behind and stared at the wet sand with similar apprehension. The soil stretched undisturbed, save for Quinlan’s boot prints. For good measure, he closed his eyes and focused. Sterile water and the mineral scent of old places. In the depth of the cave, the rushing of an underground river. Strigoi could not inhabit that maze and he would not risk venturing deeper.

“Is there another entrance?” asked Quinlan as he returned to the hunters.

“The locals say that’s the only one,” said Gus.

“They assumed the villagers were gone but I doubt they searched their houses thoroughly. If their first idea is that Strigoi are suddenly able to cross streams, I’d think twice about trusting their every judgment.”

Raul waved over their local guide and asked him in Spanish if they had searched the village. He looked at them with incredulity.

“Ni en pedo,” he said. He maintained a good distance between him and Quinlan.

“What did that mean?” asked Quinlan, unfamiliar with the expression.

“Don’t know but it doesn’t matter, we’re gonna check anyway,” said Gus.

Then he grumbled about “weird-ass vanishing Strigs”.

A dozen houses surrounded a hangar. The buildings nestled within the confines of high fences surmounted by U.V lights. The gate hung wide open. The Sun Hunters divided into units to search the habitations. Piles of beams, bricks and power tools stood by most. Half the buildings lacked windows. One didn’t have a roof.

Quinlan squinted despite his sunglasses and hood. Sunlight fell mercilessly on his head. In the distance, a chain of mountains appeared almost as blue as the sky. Not a trace of civilization as far as he could see. The vegetation was sparse but the settlers had had no intention of cultivating the ground classically. Even with more regular sunlight than up north, indoor farming remained more reliable.

The teams emerged from the houses empty-handed. Unsurprising. The ammonia scent was diffuse and he could not hear the savage sounds produced by Strigoi.

Only the hangar remained unsearched.

“Get the spikes,” he asked a Hunter.

For Strigoi hiding in soil, they used javelins coated with silver. The hangar reminded him strongly of the lowest level of the bunker. It smelled of wet dirt and fertilizer but not of sap. They had not yet planted anything. Soil filled half a dozen elevated beds deep enough to accommodate trees. And slumbering Strigoi.

Eva and Raul’s units had the spikes. It satisfied Quinlan to see them work together without a trace of awkwardness. When he glanced at Gus, he could tell he was making the same observation. Quietly, a dozen hunters spread and lifted the metal spikes above the black dirt. The rest stood at the ready with carefully aimed rifles. Quinlan also prepared, wounding up his leg muscles and drawing his sword.

Eva and Raul looked at each other, and she raised one finger, then two then three. At that mark, the Hunters stabbed down as one. The spikes pierced the soil. Quinlan tensed, his gaze sliding across all the visible earth. Nothing happened.

Strange.

Gus pinched the base of his nose and exchanged a look with Quinlan. He slashed at his own neck with his hand and Quinlan nodded.

“Listen up, guys! Pack all the gear except for the drones. Marcus, we do a last sweep, I’ll drive.”

The Hunters just as disappointed as their boss returned to the SUVs and loaded back all their equipment. Marcus tweaked with his drone by the jeep.

“You can smell them, right?” Gus asked.

“I do but only in the settlement and its repartition is unfocused. Rather unusual.”

“This shit ain’t right.”

“Agreed. I will investigate the houses.”

Gus departed with Marcus. The buzzing of the drone soon crisscrossed the clear sky.

The houses were Spartan and all identical. Merely blocks of wood and concrete built for safety without any regard for aesthetics. Inside each finished house, he found signs of struggle. Broken furniture, smears of dried blood already swarming with flies and the diffuse stench of ammonia.

Something about the blood also bothered him. He could not put his finger on the exact reason until he reached the kitchen of the last house. There had been a fight in there. The table was broken across the middle and the floor spattered with the remnants of an uneaten meal.

Quinlan ignored those distracting scents. He followed a faint trail and found his target under the fridge. Without much effort, he tossed the piece of furniture aside. Underneath, he found dust, more spilled food and a thin metal cylinder the size of a battery. It ended in a vicious barb covered with blood. The probe of a Taser.

Quinlan brought the object up to his nose. Now he knew. This was what he should have been smelling until now. Pure human blood, this one O negative. In the other houses, the blood had been what he expected from a bag. Old blood with the tinge of a mild anti-coagulant used for preservation. He had spent so long consuming such treated blood that his nose had grown accustomed to the perfume of the drug. Quinlan put the probe in his pocket and went back to the SUV. He hailed Raul.

“I need a UV lamp.”

Raul, without question, rummaged in one of the trunks and tossed him a heavy torchlight.

Quinlan returned to the kitchen and closed all blinds. He switched on the lamp and the purple glow filled the room. Fluorescent yellow specks covered the floors and the lower parts of the walls. Strigoi guano. Like a mist. It made little sense for a Strigoi to release its waste that way. It also made little sense for Strigoi to use weapons on their prey.

“Call Gus and tell him to come back,” he told Raul as he handed him the UV lamp back.

“You found something?”

“I found evidence that no Strigoi ever stepped inside this settlement. This is a simple case of human on human violence. Not our problem.”

“What the fuck?”

He showed him the Taser probe. Eva stared with keen interest.

“I don’t recognize the brand. Must be a new one,” she said.

“Someone sprayed Strigoi guano inside the houses as well as bagged blood. This was staged.”

Eva made a wry face.

“You think someone didn’t like the idea of collabs living the high life?”

“A highly trained and resourceful someone then,” said Quinlan.

“Yeah, so they won’t ever find them and if they do it’s gonna be in tiny pieces.”

“Possibly, but it does not involve us.”

When they informed their Argentinian guide, he was relieved.

“So there are no Strigoi here? It’s safe?” he said in Spanish with an accent that made it difficult for Quinlan to follow.

“Yes, but you might want to call the police since…” said Raul.

“Of course,” said the guide insincerely.

“Give them this,” added Quinlan and he handed the probe which the guide took reluctantly.

He held the object as if ready to toss it away as soon as he was free of their gazes.

“We’ll call in a few days to check that you do,” said Raul.

The guide waved impatiently and after more pushing from Raul, promised to inform the local authorities. Quinlan doubted the investigation would amount to anything. After all, who cared about a handful of missing collaborators?

***

Quinlan was not in a pleasant mood when they landed in New York. None of the Sun Hunters were. They dragged themselves out of the plane and toward the luggage retrieval area. No satisfaction of a job well done counterbalanced their fatigue.

“Maybe I should just retire,” Gus said after sipping at a cup of cheap coffee bought in the airport.

A few white hairs peppered his temples and looked away. By human standard, Gus was young, merely in his thirties. By Hunter standards he was well within his rights to quit and enjoy a comfortable pension.

Of the Sun Hunters who had celebrated the cleaning of New York, few remained. The crowd of Hunter attracted looks, friendly nods and a few cheers. Quinlan cared little for such attention but it helped his human companions.

When they made their way to the parking lot, they stood straighter. Quinlan took the wheel and Gus sat in the passenger seat while in the back Raul and another Hunter snoozed.

“Will you? Retire?” asked Quinlan.

“Dunno. I always feel like that when something goes to shit. Let me finish my coffee. When my brains start back up, maybe I'll know.”

He raised his cup and took another sip. When Quinlan pulled up in front of the Sun Hunter headquarters, he could not feel Lexi within the city. Quinlan checked his phone. She had gone back to Greystone as her work deal had come short. On the last line of her text, she wrote,

“If you focus I'm sure you would be able to see me from New York.”

He borrowed a car then left the city. The canals running through the streets had been decommissioned threes year after New York’s clearing. It was dark but the streets were bright and bustling with life. It was always jarring when they traveled to other cities. In most of the world, humans stayed inside their homes at night. Most shops opened and closed depending on sunlight hours.

New York was free of those concerns. While here humans felt safe, it did not change how hideous those buildings and streets were.

He stopped in a deserted road still hours from Greystone, cut the engine and used the silence of the countryside to look within himself. Dream Ancharia’s words distracted him for an instant but he succeeded in pushing them away.

Lexi had told him to find the door that would lead to the silver place. But its doorknob was round and smooth and slippery. The whole exercise frustrated him. Through this door, he would be able to see but most of the time he didn't. He simply attempted to relax until he felt warm all over. When he did that near her then he felt her as though touching her with invisible hands.

He tried both. Failed at the first then also at the second. He tried again until the frustration made him growl. It was pointless. Quinlan took the road again.

When he reached the familiar forest of Greystone, he still could not feel Lexi. He was surprised since at that distance the Bond should have been back. The deeper he drove, the more his surprise morphed into worry.

“Lexi?”

There was no answer because she was not there. But her car was. When he entered, her bag sat in the entrance.

The wooden floor of their bedroom creaked. He focused on that sound and found another. A heartbeat. Someone was in the house. He tried again to find the Bond and failed.

This was his home and someone had violated it with their unwanted presence. A burglar? Or someone with more nefarious intentions? His thought went to the terrorist who had almost blinded Lexi.

Quinlan growled lowly, unsheathed his sword and ran up the stairs. A body smashed into him and his sword left his grip. As they tumbled down the stairs in a mess of limbs, Quinlan noticed several things.

White hair, inhuman strength and the perfume of limes with a sweet finish. Their fall ended abruptly as they collided against a wall. Both jumped to their feet in a eerily similar fashion. She stared at him with wide eyes and he gawked back. It made no sense.

As thought in pain, she touched her temples and shook her head. She looked the same, smelled the same but she could not be here because the Bond was not. Their home, the real one, the only that mattered, was gone. If he had been able to vomit, he’d have done so.

“How?” whispered Lexi.

----

The woman tossed a piece of paper on the table. It was a police report in Spanish.

“They were sloppy. This can’t happen again.”

“If this new formulation works, there won’t be any need for more subjects,” said the man.

“You actually think we are going to find a formulation that works?”

“Well, yes…you don’t? Why the hell did you accept this then?”

“Because I was tired of hiding and if another rich idiot wants to waste his money on this wild goose chase, who am I to refuse?”

He shook his head.s

“If we manage we won’t need to run. It would dwarf the invention of vaccines or the discovery of antibiotics. We could help peop…”

“Shut up. Don’t give me the help people crap or I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Fine. But at least tell me you understand this is our way out of this mess.”

“I do, I also think it’s not the only way out.”

#Mr. Quinlan #mister quinlan #Quintus Sertorius #The Strain FX #The Strain #The strain fanfiction #part2

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toast-the-unknowing · 5 years ago

Note

Hey can you rec some of your favorite books? Especially books that you think dealt with your favorite tropes in a really great way? Love ur blog and your fics!!

Okay I have been sitting on this ask trying to come up with some kind of definitive list of favorite books I recommend and I had to admit to myself that whatever I can think up I’m going to forget some good stuff. But something’s better than nothing, probably! Going behind the cut because it got long, FUCK, I told myself it wasn’t going to get long:

I love Diana Wynne Jones so much, really all her books are good but particular favorites are Deep Secret, Dark Lord of Derkholm, and The Lives of Christopher Chant (although you should read Charmed Life first to just. really appreciate what a fucking diva Christopher is.) She does the most incredible job in all of her books of just raising complication after complication until it all comes together and everything’s happening at once and then it just. Resolves in incredible ways. Beautifully crafted plots, is what I’m saying. And I’m always in awe of how she has people in her books who are just…petty, or selfish, or close-minded, or weak; there’s something very real about a world that has Mrs. Sharp in it, even if there’s also a cat that used to be a violin.

I currently have three Nero Wolfe books on my bedside table and I’m pretty sure I’ve read each of them at least twice before; I just pick one up anytime I find one in a used bookstore, to slowly build out my collection. I love the mysteries, I love what a smartass Archie Goodwin is, I love Wolfe as the single most stubborn human being to ever live, I am really weirdly oddly soothed every time I pick up one of those books and fall into the rhythm of life in the brownstone on West 35th St. My life and home are a mess, but from nine to eleven every morning Wolfe is up with his orchids.

I am trying describe why and how I love The Last Unicorn and literally the words that popped into my head are it makes me quiet. It is just a book of incredible beauty and emotion, in a world that is every-fantasy-world except it actually feels lived in. Even the funny bits, or the weird shit, or Schmendrick as the closest you get to a comic relief, even those bits once you spend one more second with them you just sink so deep into them. That’s the kind of book I reread and then I need to stare out a window for a while and just not…do anything.

I am amazed and awed at the world that is created in Tana French’s Dublin Murder Squad, which is partly down to (I am sure) tons of research, smart observation, social awareness, it’s also partly down to that strange is-it-isn’t-it-magical-realism that’s going on. Mostly it’s just…the tone in these books is incredible, like the filter that’s on the lens of her story telling camera does such interesting things with light that I almost don’t care what she’s taking a picture of (to really really torture a metaphor), except that I do care because her characters are so real.

I cannot in good conscience recommend this series without giving, just, all of the content warnings, if you have any kind of trigger, just, do some research. I wasn’t even expecting it but Broken Harbor fucked me up bad, I barely slept for two nights in a row.

When Dublin Murder Squad, or literally anything else in life, bums me the fuck out, I pick up Jeeves. Literally the first I ever read P.G. Wodehouse was in high school when I was having a rotten day and my dad came in and gave me his compilation of Jeeves short stories and told me to read it. I got about four pages into the first story before I was smiling and laughing which I hadn’t even thought was possible five minutes prior. Wodehouse is another author who does a great job of bringing the different threads of a story together at the end in a really satisfying way. Besides just being hilarious. I think half the words my father and I say to each other are just quoting Jeeves back and forth.

There is a very specific kind of angry I get when I see someone doing something creative that I wish I had done, dammit, it’s so GOOD, and I think the very first time I ever felt that way was reading The Princess Bride when I was ten years old. I never really got into the movie the way most of my peers seem to have, don’t get me wrong, it’s fine, but if you haven’t read the book, it’s genius. FUCK! I’m still mad I didn’t write it.

I cannot imagine that anyone on this website needs to have Good Omens recommended to them at this point, I just also can’t imagine listing my favorite books and not including it. The first hundred pages might be the hardest that I have ever laughed at anything. Including the fact that I was reading it under my desk in class and I was trying so hard not to laugh and give away that I was reading that I ended up literally crying, tears pouring down my face, and my friend took the book away from me for my own good.

I similarly can’t think of Good Omens without skipping over to think of Discworld. More and more I think Night Watch is my favorite of the series. Many of them are brilliant, most of them are funny, I think all of them if you look for it have some anger deep within them. But Night Watch…I think when I first read it I liked the identity issues at stake; it’s very scifi, with the time travel and the man at risk of changing his own personal history. But more and more I am haunted by the sense of frustration and loss and not even persevering but simply surviving through madness and chaos and cruelty, Sam Vimes doing work he was never supposed to have done, except that someone had to do it, living through something again after he’d already gone through it once, something that even the first time it happened had just been the same old shit all over again…it speaks to me a lot, these days.

#oops I meant to talk about tropes more #my bad #books recs #Anonymous

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damnitdyna-blog · 5 years ago

Text

My Break Up Pt. II

I’ve stayed quiet and never addressed the issues that came directly after my initial Tumblr post back in November. I didn’t have the mental capacity for it, and needed time to let everything sink in. I slowly started writing this post at the beginning of the year. Unexpectedly, the world hits us with a pandemic and I became hesitant on sharing. Though I do acknowledge there are larger issues going on in the world and we’re in a place of uncertainty. The quest to continue the truth, my truth, is still the goal.

I live in a world where women are taught to use their voice and speak even if their voice cracks. When I finally found courage in doing so, I’m told some things I shared were lies by my ex-boyfriend. The same man who went radio silent on social media for a whole month soon after I shared my story but managed to send me a “cease and desist” letter via email demanding I take my post down or there will be legal consequences. To force a woman to remove her survival story is a scared tactic and a form of bullying.

I don’t need to prove anyone wrong for accusing me of lying. However, I’d like to clear the air on some claims he's made about me.

1.) It was brought to my attention that there are claims I knew about the nude photograph he took of me and that I immediately shared the image to the internet and Snapchat.

I’d like to elaborate on details I failed to mention in my initial post from November because I only highlighted the main points. I understand small details are just as important. But here's the full truth....

• I did NOT know nor asked him to take a photograph of me while I was showering.

• He did surprise me with the image after I finished showering. I laughed and called him a pervert for being sneaky.

• I shared a CENSORED version of the photograph to my friends via Snapchat to poke fun at him for being a “perverted boyfriend.” Censored as in, it was edited with a censored mark covering my body.

• Sharing a censored version on Snapchat does NOT give him permission to share the full raw image to a woman soon after it was taken.

• I do NOT know this woman and didn’t realize she’s been following and interacting with me through social media this entire time.

2.) I have legal documents signed by a judge of the Superior Court highlighting some of his response to my petition for a restraining order. "He was trying to set up a sexual tryst and seriously misread Petitioner's willingness to participate.” Claiming he “seriously misread” would indicate that a conversation such as was brought up at one point in time or place between the both of us. To my understanding, we were in a monogamous relationship. I was unaware he was having sexual relations with other people let alone exchanging nude images of me with strangers to initiate sex.

Half way into our relationship, I noticed a sudden change in behavior where he would decline sexual intimacy any time I would initiate it. There was always an excuse to avoid it that it began to worry me. I asked him questions, but he’d reassure me how happy he is to be with me and is excited about building a future together. I would then sweep it under the rug to prevent an argument. To say he “seriously misread my willingness to participate” in a sexual activity perhaps with a third party knowing his constant refusal to have sex with me is a bit of a stretch and a slap in the face.

3.) There's claims that I broke into his apartment after I gave up my apartment key to him.

It's OUR apartment in case there's any confusion. My name is included on the lease. He agreed to cover my half of rent + utilities February - April 2019. I ended up paying for our utilities each month including additional late fees while he kept our security deposit that we did not agree on.

April 30th, 2019 was the move out date.

April 7, 2019, I signed the document as stated below:

The apartment key “I gave up” was not a result of me no longer living there. On March 23, 2019, I was heading home to be with family. I specifically left the key with him to give to our guest visiting from Portland, Oregon for access to the apartment building without complications. I would have kept the apartment key if we didn't have a guest. Some of my belongings were still at the apartment so I knew I would return to pick them up. Here’s my DM with our guest dated Mar 23, 2019 soon as I left.

On Saturday, April 6, 2019, I “broke into” OUR apartment to pick up the rest of my belongings out of hurt and frustration when I found out his current girlfriend was continuously at our apartment while I was away with family for emotional support. I no longer had the key to our place, so I went into the property manager’s office to request a spare one. I first contacted his current girlfriend on March 28, 2019, through Instagram, when I learned she came over to our apartment. I was alarmed that my ex-boyfriend invited another woman into our home approximately 5 days after I stepped away to be with family. I believe every woman’s natural reaction would be emotionally distraught upon learning there is another woman in your home. In the message, I respectfully notified her explaining the situation she’s in which she claims she was unaware of. I did not create animosity and didn’t demand she leave my apartment; though I had every right to. I wanted her to make an educated decision on her own whether or not she feels comfortable to be in my home knowing she’s caught in the thick of our breakup.

4.) He claims I sent my Tumblr post to his associates and family members insinuating I was harassing them.

I shared it with 3 women whom I’ve already had prior interactions with. The first woman is a close girl friend who marveled over his excitement and happiness since he's been with me. The second woman is his best friend’s wife who gave me motivational advices to help me cope with the break up. The third woman is his ex-girlfriend of several years.

However, there's legal document that shows a screenshot text conversation between my ex-boyfriend and a gentleman whom I share mutual associates with. I read the gentleman telling my ex-boyfriend that he received my Tumblr post directly from me which is NOT true. It didn't take me long enough to figure out the conversation between the two of them were rehearsed or photoshopped. It's one thing for my ex-boyfriend to lie. But to create or photoshop a fake conversation because he needed an ally is wrong.

Through my healing journey, I’m learning that the way we respond to specific behaviors is a measurement of our character and the type of individual beings we are. I can only imagine when you’re caught in the heat that you’re bound to create falsified stories to protect your image rather than taking accountability. The fact that we’re even having a dialogue about a man I was in love with whom I trusted violating my privacy is beyond disturbing. Those were personal photos and moments between myself, him, and the four walls we were in. It’s disheartening that someone like him feels entitled enough to share something like that to the world. I have no clue what this woman has done with my photograph and who she might have shared it to. If my ex-boyfriend did something like this, I cannot imagine what else he’s done that I haven't yet discovered.

I don’t think people understand the magnitude of how traumatizing this is for me and how it’ll affect me in future relationships moving forward. It’s caused me emotional damage where I had to seek therapy. I never received an apology from him till this day other than a cease and desist letter demanding my post to be taken down to keep me quiet. Between finding not only the right lawyer but one I was comfortable with in handling a non-consensual pornography case and juggling both school + work full time, it became extremely complicated and overwhelming. It took a toll on me emotionally, mentally, and physically. I didn’t fully go through with pressing charges. Nothing can make up for the damage that’s been done. I just wanted everything to go away; the pain and heartache. Please understand that just because a case didn’t go in full effect, that doesn’t mean it never happened.

One may seek a new partner directly after a relationships ends to fill a void if it means to ignore accountability for the suffering of others. But their biggest punishment is that they are who they are. I think back to the conversation we had in our bedroom apartment when he opened up about his estranged older sister who went on his social media leaving a specific comment about him. Going through what I went through and knowing what I know now, I question if her claims are in fact true. If they are, may God be with his new born daughter when she arrives.

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