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primrose-path-of-dalliance · 4 years ago

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jester began falling in love with caleb in episode 103.

not any earlier in my opinion, and not later, either.

there's two elements to why i believe e103 is the turning point.

(1) the first is caleb's actions and jester's responses to them during the night they all sleep by the waterfall—his support of her idea to sleep underwater, his conversation with her after her commune with artagan, and his casting of programmed illusion in the dome.

(2) the second is the way her behavior toward caleb pivots around e103. before e103 is a noticeably different beast to how she begins to treat him after e103—the attention she pays him, her efforts to hold more standout interactions with him, and a dramatic swell of emotion and thematic meaning in these scenes’ respective subtext.

the rumblecusp arc is the point in which jester’s character growth, and caleb’s efforts to unconditionally support her, really begin to shine. throughout the complex growing pains that jester and artagan's relationship was experiencing, the one person who truly takes a moment to offer her support without any agenda or judgment is caleb.

(e103, 1:22:55, bold mine)

CALEB: You okay over there?

JESTER: (tearful) Yeah, I'm fine. Just—I'm just drawing.

CALEB: Maybe didn't go as well as you were hoping?

JESTER: Um... In some ways it went better. But no.

CALEB: I can't speak for him. But you do have us.

JESTER: I know.

CALEB: So whatever you land on, Jester, we'll make it happen.

JESTER: (shaky laugh) I have to figure out what I want to land on.

CALEB: That is the, uh—sticky wicket, isn't it?

JESTER: Yeah. Everything's confusing.

CALEB: Maybe... Maybe we sleep on it, it'll make more sense in the morning.

JESTER: Yeah. Yeah. Thank you, Caleb.

CALEB: I didn't do anything.

jester confesses that her commune with artagan didn’t provide the answers she was hoping for—that he knew about the curse on the island—and caleb doesn’t remark on what that seems like. he deliberately avoids speculating on why artagan is doing these things because “he can’t speak for him.” he doesn’t assume anything about what she might choose to do and explicitly leaves that choice up to her. jester vents briefly about how difficult the choice is, and caleb offers her reassurance, a reminder that some time will make things clearer. he doesn’t suggest solutions.

unlike fjord or beau, caleb doesn’t ask her to voice outright whether artagan is being a good friend. he doesn’t continually question his character and imply any personal opinions to her or what he thinks she should do. instead, he asks whether she’s okay. he listens. and he offers unconditional support.

this is consistently the stance caleb takes in the rumblecusp arc. and it’s not discussed much, i think, exactly how monumental that was to jester.

(hold on, this is a long one.)

jester is a young woman who grew up sheltered and wants to define herself outside of that shelter. for her, this campaign has essentially been a coming-of-age journey (talks for e76-77, 14:12). she is deeply sensitive to whether or not she’s respected because she’s aware of how her personality and general lack of experience makes others think she’s naive, immature, or incapable (talks for e79, 31:51).

it’s also incredibly evident that her relationship with artagan is unique. in e105 (1:15:01), jester tells the m9, “he really got me through a lot when i was younger, you know? and he was all i had, really.” he was her best friend from childhood in a home where she spent most of her time hidden in a single room. when she was younger, the few times she left the chateau, she was bullied by other girls (e110, 3:34:59). her best friend, though? her best friend was a god. a god with an incredible sense of humor, an aggrandizing attitude, and adoring respect for a young girl in a difficult situation who had as wonderful a personality as him. in every way that matters, artagan’s friendship undoubtedly saved jester’s life.

and she is so, so aware of this. she cares for him deeply, trusts him unconditionally, and is determined to be there for the one person who had been there for her when no one else was, not even her mother.

the renegotiation of this friendship after artagan revealed his full identity was clearly extraordinarily difficult for jester. she was having to reevaluate her entire relationship with the being that pulled her through a childhood of isolation and misery, question his intentions with her and whether they could even remain friends at all. and this was amidst her arrival at a dangerous island with her other friends to help him clean up his mistakes.

asking her to make a judgment on artagan before she’s ready to do it on her own, while managing some high expectations at the same time—not only is it a lot of pressure, it’s frustrating and painful. jester did not want to judge artagan without giving him his fair due and a proper conversation. knowing that her new friends dislike her old friend, besides being hurt by it, distracted her. she had to both defend him outwardly and interrogate him internally. and if she tried to explain how important artagan is to her, a lot of vulnerability would’ve been necessary when she was trying to be a leader and seem competent and capable, instead of a child who needs patronizing guidance.

this latter point is exceptional. because jester lavorre is so vulnerable when it comes to how much she thinks her loved ones respect her and consider her a valuable, equal, and trustworthy individual. and it’s difficult to feel like you’re being valued and trusted when people are repeatedly questioning you about a person and a relationship that they don’t understand in a way that, despite genuine concern, comes across as them doubting your own judgment of one of the most intimate parts of your life.

in this precise moment in e103, caleb is the only person who acknowledges—to her in person, even—that he doesn't have any place in judging her relationship with artagan. that it’s not what she needs from him or anyone else. that he’s content waiting for her to reach a decision. that he will respect that decision.

and jester can believe him. caleb’s done nothing but remain consistent on this stance. he repeatedly supports her choices to run travelercon, trust artagan, and come to his aid.

when other party members question artagan's legitimacy, caleb is the one who almost always speaks up to support jester (some examples: e61, 30:43 / e77, 49:17 / e95, 1:09:17 and 1:15:24).

he actively and enthusiastically offers his magical talents to her to provide for the event preparations. he has a whole conversation with her in e91 (beginning 1:53:41) where he expresses his immense respect for her and her personality, explicitly validates her faith in artagan, and shows her a tangible example of how he wants to help her during the upcoming travelercon. when she suggests some ideas, despite their arguable silliness, caleb takes them at face value and openly admits his lack of expertise in this area (e91, 1:58:35).

when they first arrive at rumblecusp, he directly reassures jester about the ‘travelercon 3000’ banner she leaves on the wrong beach by mentioning that he can make her a new banner (e101, 48:18). once preparations begin in earnest, caleb expends spells very freely, including ones of higher-level, to produce whatever jester requests.

in e103, he hears out her idea of sleeping underwater and gives it equal consideration in spite of other party members trying to shoot it down. the first time she suggests it (36:23), caduceus comments against it and no other party member acknowledges her except for caleb, who agrees with her quietly while the others move on. the second time jester suggests it (46:08), veth comments against it and caleb steps in to openly agree that it’s a good idea, even after fjord and beau join veth in being dubious.

compare these active, consistent moments of support and validation from caleb to similarly active and consistent examples of the other attitudes that manifest during the rumblecusp arc, in contradiction to people’s apparent claims of trust (one such claim of trust: e95, 1:00:21).

plainly insulting artagan to jester as if it’s a given, such as fjord’s “he’s generally full of shit, right?” (e107, 49:42);

fjord, beau, and caduceus’s conversation about “not ruining jester’s big day,” yet distrusting artagan to the extent of planning to keep her from being alone with him, preparing to attack him should he try to sacrifice 200 people for some speculated unknown ritual and/or hurt jester, and discussing all of this behind jester’s back (e108, beginning 15:41);

caduceus’s said shift to distrust of artagan because of a semi-disturbing conversation that jester was equally a part of (e107, beginning 20:40);

and the discussion right before jester’s commune with artagan where beau questions if artagan sent them to rumblecusp knowing of the memory problems, without regard for their well-being (e103, 29:40).

the unfortunate assumption being made by these party members’ repeated questioning and protectiveness of jester is that she cannot be trusted to have good judgment. despite their familiarity with some of the context of her relationship with artagan (especially after e105), they disregard her repeatedly-expressed support of him. they indirectly disrespect her ability to judge for herself whether someone is dangerous to her or her friends. they don’t acknowledge jester’s own role in creating dubious situations and instead direct all their negative feelings and sense of fault to artagan, minimizing her agency.

the e108 conversation is a dense microcosm of how the party perpetrates these assumptions throughout the rumblecusp arc as a whole. without qualm, they discuss deliberately controlling jester’s time with artagan to ‘protect’ her and their willingness to kill the evil image they’ve constructed of him, and dodge jester directly asking them what they’re talking about—even though it is a known given that the m9 would defend her with their lives with or without any prior discussion. the purpose of holding this conversation isn’t to make sure that jester is safe. like caduceus near-explicitly says, it’s to “feel better knowing” that “anybody else was on board with this” (20:26 and 18:57)—to validate their unacknowledged distrust of jester’s judgment with each other, behind her back.

and as laura has said: jester, with her very high wisdom, tends to know what’s going on even if she acts like she doesn’t (talks for e79, 32:39).

in e103, when jester is crying because she’s found out that artagan did know about the island’s memory problems, caleb doesn’t show any sign of taking this as proof of artagan's ill intent. what he does instead: he offers compassion for her pain with zero judgment. he promises to support her, no matter what she ultimately decides to make of this information. these are offers of safety and trust, ones that jester desperately needed.

then—caleb creates a programmed illusion of the m9’s lives. and it’s beautiful.

in comparison to all the analysis prior, this moment is straightforward. jester is an artist. she paints, draws, and creates, and she loves doing it. moreover, she loves making art for other people. though she doesn’t get many chances to do so, the mural of a flowery meadow that she paints for yasha’s room in the xhorhaus is a perfect example. similarly, she enjoys the art she makes when defacing other people’s property—altered signage or statue of the platinum dragon painted in rainbow—in part because they’re gifts to the traveler. she loves making those she loves happy.

happiness and love to jester is overwhelmingly about emotional intimacy. i’ve talked about this to some degree in a previous post about jester’s jealousy. please refer there for in-depth explanation. in brief, though, she puts value on how deeply she knows a person; how often she’s been able to be there for them. this is the love she learned from her mother and from artagan, and how she continues to love once she’s older.

caleb’s arcane rendition of the m9′s lives floating around the inside of the dome is a display of exactly this kind of love. not only is it art crafted from his magic and imagination and love—it’s blatant evidence of how much he cares for every member of the party and where they’ve come from. he remembers their stories and hangs them in the air in hopes that it’ll help them resist the memory erasing. he moves the memory of yasha and zuala in a meadow over to yasha’s pillow-side so she can watch it until she falls asleep. he creates a memory for vilya of her, her husband, and her daughter, listening to and respecting the emotional gravity of what she’s confiding in them.

only a few minutes after jester’s disappointing commune with artagan and her conversation with caleb, she walks into the dome and sees this art. she laughs and stares in wonder at all the memories (e103, 1:46:08). when beau points out the humorous memories of fjord being attacked by turtles so they can all laugh, she tells caleb with equal awe and joy, “wow. this is amazing, caleb” (e103, 1:47:04).

...of course, as lovely and meaningful as these back-to-back moments were for jester, it's not quite evidence of her starting to fall in love with caleb around this time.

that’s where the following episodes come in.

[id: three screenshots of messages sent in a discord channel by the user “prim” (the op). all are timestamped to friday, august 28, 2020, the day after the live premiere of e107. the first has an additional timestamp of 12:53 PM, the second 1:03 PM, and the third 1:30 PM. they read:

honest to god though i don't know if it's just the shipper brain that is making me think laura is trying to roleplay jester beginning to reciprocate caleb's feelings [...]

like........ the golden dick hunt teasing is definitely on par with jester's past shenanigans, but the compliments have been Catching My Attention bc it's honestly not normal for jester to compliment caleb of her own volition like that, just as a one-on-one "i appreciate you" reassurance

and i'm thinking less about the spells from last night's episode (although how much jester was emphasizing the compliments made me go "awwwww") and more of the moments like jester telling caleb "that was impressive" after getting cad out of the tunnel with beau's help

but laura is absolutely a shipping troll with jester this campaign so i'm here like "I'M MAYBE 80% SURE I'M BEING FUCKED WITH BUT IT MAYBE HOLDS UP????" [...]

basically laura keeps doing things that make the alarm in my brain go off and i don't know if i'm picking up something legit or if i'm projecting my hopes, like the recent pattern of compliments from jester LOL

/end id.]

i’m not going to lie, if i try to list every single receipt like i otherwise prefer to do in these metas, i think we (and especially i) would all lose our minds. so while i’m about to provide a lot of citations, they genuinely are just a few possible examples that will mostly be within the dozen episodes after e103.

the more important detail that can be observed from this is that e103 is a turning point.

prior to e103, jester does not particularly go out of her way to interact with caleb. by and large, most of their direct interactions are either initiated by caleb or prompted by the context of a general party conversation. the majority of other moments that could be referred to as ‘widojest’ are of caleb’s evident feelings. beyond early campaign days, jester rarely teases caleb about sexual topics while insinuating things about her own sexual life at the same time.

after e103, laura and jester begin to go out of their way to interact with and intertwine jester’s time with caleb.

the rate of jester’s compliments and enthusiastic gratitude to caleb skyrocket (some examples: e104, 30:36 / e107, 16:49 and 1:11:28 and 1:12:15 and 3:10:39 / e110, 15:58 and 3:37:24 / e111, 36:15 and 38:41 and 50:58);

several mature jokes/flirtations she makes involve both caleb and herself (examples: e107, 1:16:17 / e110, 1:18:07 / e115, 1:52:53);

she deliberately and specifically engages caleb in full-blown interactions, such as the conversations during the tour of her childhood bedroom (e110, beginning 1:11:38), hanging out with him on the icebreaker ship (e112, beginning 3:45:29), and the reading of der katzenprinz (e115, beginning 1:52:43);

as well as the expansion of more extended ‘conversations’ like their motif of dancing (e108, 13:39 / e109, 2:54:14), their parental relationships (e110, 20:44 and 3:38:41 / e115′s der katzenprinz / e121, beginning 1:52:12), and polymorph shenanigans (examples: e107, beginning 2:58:41 / e117, beginning 1:13:55 / e118, 43:57).

thrown in are additional background details that further tie jester to caleb, such as her determination to recover caleb’s amulet after their defeat of vokodo (e106, 25:33), the knowing comments on his purchasing of paper (e109, 22:32 / e111, 1:25:49), her deliberate choice to ride whaleb during the avantika chase (e113, 2:32:28), her retrieval of caleb’s coat when he’s attempting to remove the necromantic emerald (e115, 1:30:56), and her deliberate reference to der katzenprinz to iver (e120, 3:05:14);

and simply everything about the tower. it’s another example of the art and creativity caleb produces with his magic to make his loved ones happy, which jester acknowledges at least twice (refer to the e111 compliments). contrarily, jester also makes note of the signs that this tower shows less love to caleb than she thinks he deserves, in keeping with her value of emotional intimacy (e115’s der katzenprinz / e122’s floor 8, room 1).

the reading of der katzenprinz in e115 is arguably the pinnacle of these examples. it’s intentionally initiated by jester. she both takes the step to visit caleb's room and indirectly requests him to read the story to her. laura’s implication that she remembered this subplot because of beau’s reading of a very romantic letter from yasha is particularly suggestive. the story itself incorporates many similar characters and themes that are present in jester’s backstory: the lonely, sheltered boy and his single working mom as jester and marion; the dubious cat prince who ultimately gives the boy freedom and confidence as artagan; and the deep love between the boy and his mother because of how they only have each other, which compels a powerful being to have compassion and thus set the boy free so that they can be together. very similar to both jester’s depth of relationship with her mother and her pleas on artagan’s behalf to the moonweaver’s celestial servant.

and the post-story conversation—caleb’s confiding of its importance to him because of his mother. jester’s open willingness to compare the cat prince to artagan, knowing that caleb respects their friendship and has treated artagan fairly. jester’s lingering, repeated looks toward caleb while smiling and holding her copy of der katzenprinz to her heart.

with all this dramatic expansion of the emotional and thematic intimacy between jester and caleb beginning to roll down the hill after e103—in brilliant contrast to their more muted, less reciprocal dynamic before this episode—e103 is more than likely the turning point of jester’s feelings. and based on the events and context, it was caused by the combined emotional appeal of caleb’s offer of unconditional support and his display of love for his family in the programmed illusion of memories.

#cr #critical role #cr meta #widojest #jester lavorre #caleb widogast #by popular demand #inb4 the wrap-up #prim post #prim says some things #readmore #long post

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jessehart · 2 years ago

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casino night pt. i

Jesse shut the screen of his laptop, putting it into rest mode and effectively shutting up the incessant notifications of incoming texts he had absolutely no desire to read. He’d been without a phone for weeks now and he had to admit, he kind of loved being hard to reach.

At least, in the one and only case of his father.

Who, if the last few days had been anything to go by, was absolutely the one blowing his shit up now.

Instead, Jesse sighed contentedly as silence filled the room, checking himself out in the full length mirror across from his bed. He tugged at the bottom of his jacket to straighten it out before moving to button his cufflinks. He’d decided the time for wallowing was done. He was bored and itching for a good night. Fuck, he deserved one, didn’t he? It’d been a rough go and no, he wasn’t interested in rehashing how much of it had been directly or indirectly his own fault.

No, he was in rare form tonight, so ready to let loose for one single night before the shitty shit that was his life could crowd him once more.

He ran a hand through his hair, nodding approvingly at his reflection, before he moved back to the cufflinks again. He paused, head canting to the side at the sound of knocking. He was fairly certain all of his dormmates had already left for the night— fashionably late was a choice and he’d made it— so he wasn’t expecting anyone now.

Still fiddling with the stubborn button, he shot himself one last approving look before he exited his room, pulling open the front door, and—

The stoic visage of Donovan Hart haunted his doorway, looking sharp in a perfectly pressed and tailored Armani suit. His hand fell from his unbuttoned cuff as dread lanced through him. “I thought pest control was included in the tuition.”

Donovan’s smile was wicked, obviously pleased at Jesse’s discomfort. “I was just as disappointed when I found out that education wasn’t either.”

“What are you doing here?”

A judgmental eye trailed down the length of him and he felt the gaze like pinpricks. “When my texts and calls went unanswered for weeks, I reached out to the dean. I was... concerned.” The way he said it made it clear he hadn’t been concerned in the least. Pissed, maybe, that he was being ignored. But never concerned. “Imagine my surprise when he filled me in on the goings on around campus. A girl you, apparently, were involved with going missing. Fights. Second interviews with the police.” He took a step forward, lithe movements that held a lethality in them to anyone who actually knew him. Which Jesse would venture was very few. “And then he was nice enough to invite me along tonight and I thought, it’s been such a hard year for my son. It sounds like he might be in desperate need of some... guidance.”

The threat was clear and a muscle in Jesse’s jaw feathered in defiance. “Well consider me guided,” he said, moving to close the door.

His father’s foot slid into the doorway, keeping the door from closing as he pushed back against it, pushing it back open and crowding Jesse in the doorway. His voice was low, uttered through clenched teeth. “I will not be made a fool of. You’re parading around this campus flashing my money like no one can touch you, but I encourage you to remember just how quickly I could make it all go away.” He waved a hand toward the dorm as a whole. “And then where would you be? What would you have? Would anyone be left?” His father smiled, taunting him, stoking the fire he could so clearly see in Jesse and daring him to rise to it.

Jesse didn’t.

Instead, he remained silent while he burned, feeling each word as they landed where he’d intended. Like shoving fingers into festering wounds, he could feel the serrated truth in them. If he had nothing, he would be nothing. He would have no one. It was the universal truth that stared him in the mirror everyday. It was in every swallow of every drink, in every hit, every bump, every tab. And now it was the shape of his own father, taunting him with the very thing he spent his life running from.

Donovan Hart smiled like he knew just that. He clapped him on the shoulder, the gesture condescending. “See you out there, kiddo.”

And just like a tornado, he was gone, leaving the wreckage of Jesse Hart in his wake.

#drug mention tw #alcohol mention tw #daddy issues tw #this was gonna be a lot longer but i didn't care to keep writing it

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mc-critical · 4 years ago

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your analysis of selim? i think he's hated way more than he deserves. hating him for valid reasons is fine but telling that he's gonna be such a bad sultan is really stupid [and especially because only now do they bring out history & say selim was bad which is historically inaccurate as well]. out of all of suleyman's sons, it was only mustafa who was loved by all & talented [show only cuz apparently mehmet was also extremely talented & selim wasn't a bad sultan] enough for the throne. bayezid was extremely hotheaded and you can't tell me that a prince who can't control his emotions, especially in front of state officials, will be a good sultan. everyone tells selim was extremely selfish & the instigator of all their fights, when they were younger & older. siblings are always like that?? mustafa obviously wasn't like that because he was way older than mehmet, mihrimah, selim, bayezid & cihangir to get into stupid fights w/ them. mehmet & mihrimah had frequent & annoying arguments because they were closer in age. selim & bayezid had frequent fights because they were closer in age. this is a thing with many siblings; the elder provoking the younger & the younger disrespecting the elder. why do people point out their sibling fights as evidence for selim's personality? i feel sorry for bayezid as a kid but i feel less remorse for him as he's older. i don't say he deserves execution, especially at the hands of his own father, but he did rebel against his father's order & then proceeded to flee to another empire; like, the punishment for that is execution, what did he expect after rebelling? i feel extremely sorry for all his sons though, they didn't deserve this fate when they were just victims of their father's rebellion. also, unpopular opinion but bayezid is lowkey overrated pls don't cancel me i love him but he's annoying at times like all characters & no one really acknowledges it back to selim, he was honestly very underrated. he was really slandered in the series and he didn't have any real support w/ him until nurbanu & sokollu. although hurrem did vouch for him to go to manisa, it was literally only because he was 'peaceful' [we can read that as untalented as well] and no harm would reach him because he wasn't a threat [i actually really liked this plan of hurrem's, tough & clever; only if she was actually supported in this]. even mihrimah, till the end, is quite unfair to him. he had a problem w/ alcohol & people telling him to just stop? like, it doesn't work that way? people have to suffer so much in order to stop their addictions & they're actually restricted from their addictions; selim was a prince, no one around him could restrict him [his parents could but they weren't w/ him in his provinces]. he did become politically active w/ nurbanu's growing ambitions & he took smarter, more cunning & dirtier measures than bayezid to win the throne. the battle for the throne was bloody; resorting to honour like mustafa did was obviously not the best decision & people insult selim for being cunning enough [or being influenced by cunning people] to win the throne. let's also keep in mind that selim didn't even have much of an interest for the throne until manisa & nurbanu. i also like his relationship w/ nurbanu. it paralleled suleyman & hurrem's w/ the concubine arcs but selim did end up being monogamous to her in the show. their chemistry was fantastic [props to engin & merve for their acting] and although i don't really enjoy the 'a woman makes a man strong & influences him in everything; good or evil' kind of take, i did enjoy their relationship [he also sometimes looked at her like she was this ethereal type miracle, appropriately so w/ her courage]. i like what the show did w/ bayezid's execution a lot, the whole scene was such a wonderful cinematic experience; the music, bayezid's agonizing screams, his sons falling one by one, selim crying because he didn't want it to end up this way, bayezid falling & his screams ceasing, selim's heartbroken face because he was always a soft person & he always loved bayezid;

ahh, what a scene, so much love for it. anyway, that's just my opinion; i think he's hated way more than he deserves, especially in comparison to other characters & he's actually one of my most favourite characters from s4 [but i honestly love all characters w/ their good & bad, mc has many complex characters & i live for it]. what do you think about selim? sorry if you got annoyed at the long ask, i can get really heated when talking about selim [especially in reference to his historical figure], hope you don't mind if❤ [if it is annoying i'll stop it]

(okay, I'll talk strictly about the show, since I don't feel like delving deep into historical waters. There is still stuff we don't know for sure and I do want to keep the line between show and history in my head, except for the similar themes.)

While he isn't particularly my favorite character, I appreciate MC Selim and he is a very interesting subject when it comes to analyzing him. I'm actually amazed with what the show did with him in the span of a season (and something, counting some S02B and S03B moments) - he was one of the most fleshed out characters in S04 and we could get a clear picture as to why he does what he does.

Some people consider his debut to be an insult, for it immediately showed some of his weaknesses, putting him in a bad light right out of the gate. But all I can see in this debut is a showcase of his predicament of the prince no one sees as a capable heir of the throne. It’s as if he sleeps with women and drinks as a coping mechanism he’s delved into, with Mihrimah having to do effort to snap him out of it. The Selim we see in the beginning of S04 is a hopeless person. He doesn’t have dreams and ambitions, it’s as if he’s a already a lost cause and he has no one to truly support him. Even Hürrem wanted to send him to Manisa not because she deemed him as worthy, but to use him as a shield in order to deceive her enemies and protect the actual favorite. That may seem like a clever plan, but in actuality, it failed spectacularly - not only did her enemies not get confused for a second and didn’t attack Selim at all, but she forgot to tell Bayezid why she did it and made Selim confused to the point of demotivation, because none of his brothers were truly happy with this decision and they were all opposing it, directly and indirectly. And while he may not show it that much, because of his more composed and pragmatic nature, Selim is sensitive to the opinions of his brothers and the people around him and their prevailing disapproval may be a part of why he became so different than the rest. It’s like no one wanted to get to know him.

Nurbanu’s entrance in Selim’s life is very cathartic in this aspect, for she actually worked with him and gave him the needed motivation and ambition to fight, awaking sides of him that were dormant for a long time. And yes, I do think that Selim’s pragmatism is something he always had, if the whole arrow incident in S03B where he sabotaged Bayezid’s arrow, which caused him to lose is any indication.

{I don’t think that the quarrels Selim and Bayezid had when they were little are so much indicators of Selim’s personality as they are foreshadowing of their future conflict. Right, these quarrels are normal for siblings and Mehmet and Mihrimah also fought like that (heck, even little Mehmet and Mustafa had a fight once in S01 and that fight was used as the conflict of the remainder of that one episode), but they weren’t as frequent as the ones of Selim and Bayezid. I don’t know, it’s just the atmosphere of these scenes was different and hinted at something more. It could be because we know the historical events and we could see every tiniest bit of early sibling rivalry between them as build-up, but still, I always felt there just was something else. Like the whole arrow incident I mentioned, a presumably harmless little situation gains a whole other meaning later on. It sets up neatly Süleiman’s opinions of both of them (his reaction to apparent disobedience and the making of a scene by someone he doesn’t expect to, by which I mean Bayezid), Hürrem’s retroactive ignorance of a possible bigger enmity and the roots of the whole conflict. It’s not Selim deciding to sabotage Bayezid’s performance as a last resort, maybe knowing that he surely won’t do better than his brother (doing a pretty typical ,,prank’’ for a little, naughty kid) that is exemplary of his cunning later, it’s his validation and him getting away with it that eventually becomes it, just like how he ends up getting away with stuff in the next season. Selim definetly isn’t the instigator of all the fights, especially because Bayezid, thanks to his more impulsive nature, is much more likely to start a fight in the first place and contrasts to Selim’s overall better composure. Provokations among them were mutual and both were consistently throwing darts at each other, one after another. Their conflict is a very nuanced issue: while people try to play right and wrong, both sides were at fault one way or another. The conflict between them is mostly caused by insensitivity, favoritism and ignorance and the desperation of both to try to prove themselves to their parents and win their support, at the end of the day. Why did they always calm down in front of their mother? Not only because of their joint respect for her, but also because of these same attempts to earn her support. Even Bayezid, who obviously had to be sure of her support, wasn’t completely certain of it after Hurrem turned it on Selim for a while. Selim, on the other hand, obviously never felt her support, it’s like something was missing right from the start. Combine that with their completely opposing personalities and the whole system encouraging competition for the throne and there you have the inevitable ultimate conclusion. That’s why I also love the set-up, the pay-off and the aftermath of Bayezid’s execution. It may be historically inaccurate that Selim, not Süleiman, executed Bayezid, but when you think about it, it was the most logical thing that could’ve happened, ending their conflict with a heart-wrenching bow. I love the scene of the execution itself, too - the action, the dialogue, the direction, the character moments, the themes... I don’t know whether Selim loved Bayezid by that point, per say, after all they went through, but it was clear that he knew that he had to do it, that it couldn’t have ended any other way, but he was broken over it. He was aware that it was, ultimately, a sin, which would continue haunting him. He couldn’t catch a break afterwards, he couldn’t stop. All was solved, but at what cost?}

I love his dynamic with Nurbanu - they balanced each other off so well, their chemistry was amazing, such a power couple. Nurbanu’s biggest contribution is hiding some of his flaws and mobilizing him to fight. Her cold pragmatism ,,grounds’’ Selim’s softer side, she’s there to always remind him of the stakes of the game and to shut off the last ounces of his vulnerabilities after Hurrem died. He sure is influenced by her, but that doesn’t mean that he blindly takes her word for everything - he is always ready to call her out when necessary and assure her that there are lines she shouldn’t cross. Despite of her pleas, he kept having affairs with other women (that is honestly a trend with all the men of the show, but still..), he got mad at her after what happened to Huricihan and most notably, after he found out that she possibly stole his mother’s ring. A part of why their dynamic works so well is precisely this strenght of character and their awesome compatibility.

I have heard affirmations that Selim doesn’t care about Mustafa, which... simply isn’t true? While they have the least scenes together and Selim is the one that considers him most as a rival and his most dangerous competitor for the throne (which would explain his startled reaction after Musti saved him from the janissary), it’s precisely Mustafa’s death that is the turning point of his character arc. He was upping his game slowly but surely and before then, but he didn’t do much in terms of attacks. Neither Selim, nor Nurbanu once considered attacking Mustafa, the supposed biggest danger to them, which I find respectable and admirable. The bomb with the death drops and then every hope about a fair game is abandoned. Selim gets the realization that being honorable won’t work. The only way to win is bend the system and play dirty. There’s no time for sitting around or looking nice. And even though Nurbanu realized this, too, as well as Selim, Nurbanu was always more inclined to act this way than him and now the righteousness of her methods were only getting confirmed. It was Selim that had to reach this end. Discovering that he is no longer allowed to show any kind of weakness. Every chance that appears on the horizon, he’ll take it. That brings him to his first true dirty plan - the trap he set through the fake Mustafa rebellion.

Speaking of which, the worst deed of Selim’s for me is connected to that rebellion. I know I may be very biased in this regard, since it affects my personal favorite character and isn’t as recalled as others, but I hated when, in Selim and Sokollu’s attempts to wash their hands from the pulled off stunt, Sokollu, his man, told SS that Mahidevran was giving money to the rebellion. Okay, it’s not said outright whether is this directly tied to Selim or it was something Sokollu himself came up with out of desperation or something (though it was hinted that both thought something through in a scene where both were saying that they should come clean out of this all somehow) and it’s not outrightly confirmed whether Mahidevran gave the money or not (I highly doubt she did it; not only because it would destroy her whole S04 arc and she would become, well... MCK Gulbahar, but also because after the messenger told her of her alleged blame in E129, her eyes widened in surprise.), but all it does is be the only explicit case where Selim indeed looks bad, for his proposal to return Mahidevran in the castle doesn’t seem to stem from genuine guilt and remorse, but rather a late and empty attempt to placate his own conscience. Oh, not to mention (for the upteenth time, sorry in advance) how the scene back in E58 where Hurrem tells Mahidevran that her kids will be there taking care for her when she’s alone, which was treated as some big foreshadowing in the show, as well, by both the voice of the S02B narrative and the fandom alike, loses its value even more with that framing, because Selim and Sokollu themselves brought her to this state in the first place!!! Despite it making sense anyway, it’s still such a disservice to Selim as a person both inside and outside of the writing.

One aspect of Selim’s pragmatism I find most interesting is his ability to turn his enemies into allies, knowing exactly how to amass them and get them on his side, be it through giving them more money and promising them the world. These alliances are all opportunistic in nature and may not be as loyal as those of Mustafa’s or of Mustafa’s people (like Atmaca) with Bayezid, but I think Selim knows this and wants to keep them steady enough for the common goal. As for what kind of a padisah he’ll be.... I believe that state matters would be the least of his concerns, since he was shown to not care so much about them, compared to his other brothers (but then again, the show itself doesn’t put the political capability of the princes at center stage - their personal virtues are always the determining factor of what makes a good padisah and what doesn’t, more of a psychological outlook, if you will.) and he perhaps won’t plan as many campaigns or conquer as many territories, maybe he won’t be that successful at all, but his cunning would bring him advantage in front of his people, he will be at least a bit careful of who he’s choosing and won’t simply lose it in front of everyone, compared to Bayezid’s impulsive temper.

[I love Bayezid as a character, but the shadier aspects of his personality sure tend to be overlooked. While his anger is directed mainly at Selim and Suleiman, it often reaches such extremes to the point it becomes destructive and affects everyone. He doesn’t deserve his execution at all and most of his actions stem from a very sympathetic place, given how SS never truly gave him a chance and he went on the inevitable path, because he, just like Selim, realized that honor won’t work in this war, but took the opposite approach from Mustafa, direct rebellion. And predictably, both approaches didn’t work since Bayezid, too, was taken advantage of. While he didn’t get justice, the lead-up to his execution is a character arc of his and there are many reasons and events linking it all together and showing us why it took place the way it did.]

Selim’s dynamic with Suleiman is proof of how you can be presumably favored, but you have to work to get there. The reasons Suleiman favored him are very telling and sad and we see that he also doesn’t favor him because of any and all capabilities he may have, but because of his self-imposed distorted view of loyalty Selim has to do a lot to preserve, actually. He constantly has to make it so it looks like he’s loyal and obedient and doesn’t work behind his back. He doesn’t get the fullest appreciation from his father, as well, and I certainly feel it impacts him, in a way.

I agree that Mihrimah could be unfair to Selim. They weren’t that close and she had this open preference to Bayezid. Most annoyingly is when, in their confrontation in E139, which highlights even more their parallel sins, Mihrimah doesn’t seem to face that sin of hers when Selim calls her out on it. She has a reason to deeply resent him after what he did to Bayezid, but was offended when he reminded her of the crime she also committed. More solidarity on that front would be a bit better, at least a hint of like recognizing like even for a moment. (but maybe then her scene with Mahidevran later wouldn’t be as impactful? Huh.)

And lastly, about his drinking - Nurbanu tried to restrict him, but it’s true that such habits aren’t easy to give up on, especially knowing how his drinking is a coping mechanism as much as it is something he enjoys. He knows he shouldn’t do it, he’s told he shouldn’t do it, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t drink when he’s planning or scheming, but he keeps on doing it more and more with every problematic action of his. It’s an attempt to supress his otherwise strong conscience to the max, seeing how after his brother’s execution he apparently always took a drink when he was alone at night, fighting an inner conflict with himself. I don’t think there was a way he could stop doing it permanently in the show. It was a part of who he was, unfortunately or not.

#magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhtesem yuzyil #sehzade selim #ask #mihrimah-sultan-can-rail-me

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moonknight-ep5 · 4 years ago

Note

Hello there! You mentioned in a recent post that you headcanon/interpret Caleb as having DID, and that thought never occurred to me but it is? So good? And I would like to hear more about it, if you have more to say on the matter?

i'd love to! this is a long one haha.. (@anonym-potato)

disclaimer

please note that i am only theorizing, and that i am a system host myself, so don't cancel me. also: please don't tag this post as anything relating to the DID/OSDD community in your reblogs! thanks!

key

for future reference in this post, i thought i'd need a key of some kind.

red = personal experiences

orange = scientific evidence

green = assumptions based on canon lore

blue = historical context

pink = minis

headcanons/interpretations

i'm basing this off of the assumption that bren and caleb alone are a system, but there could always be more.

• bren is caleb's alter, despite being the born identity. in my system, host-switches (the act of the title of "host" being given to another alter through constant fronting or a retire of position) are fairly common, one happening every few years. it's completely possible that caleb, through constant fronting (or forced fronting), has adopted the title of "host" from bren, leaving bren nearly powerless to take it back for himself.

• he went to the sanitorium for having DID, not for being insane. throughout history, it has been said that people that were seen as less than neurotypical were sent to asylums and sanitoriums (there's a difference!!) to be "fixed" and to churches to be "exorcised." in d&d, you play as characters in medieval times, where this practice was most prevalent. to medical professionals at the time, seeing a switch of any caliber could yield "unstable" behavior, which could've lead to his hospitalization. maybe he was insane when he left, but he definitely wasn't when he went in.

the eleven years. the time spent in the sanitorium is entirely blocked off from his mind, and nearly impossible, even with caleb's eclectic memory, to recall. DID has few requirements, yes, but arguably one of the most important symptoms is dissociative amnesia. this amnesia occurs during high stress situations that can constitute as trauma or while one isn't fronting, both of which are caused by dissociation (directly or indirectly). for the purposes of these theories, i'd say it's a mixture of the two.

the "cure." while caleb was recalling his time at the hospital, he remembered that there was a woman that helped him get rid of the "cloudiness" from his mind. DID is a trauma based disorder caused by amnesia. "getting rid" of his trauma would cause amnesia. keeping his trauma would cause amnesia. it's a paradox with no happy ending. as a result, all the woman got rid of, in my opinion, was his vegetative state. this is why there are still times where you could conclude that caleb is still unstable. there's many of these moments in c2 so i'd rather not sift through them all.

• DID and its causes. intense, repeated traumatic experiences during childhood/early adolescence (around 7-11, with a few years error) causes DID. according to the timeline of his backstory, he was approached by the representatives of the soltryce academy at around 9 years old, which means he started working with ikithon at 10. this puts him just under the threshold of the most apparent developmental stage for this disorder.

• "caleb widogast" seems like such a fake name, not even with alias standards.

• caleb has been seen dissociating for hours at a time. if you're new to the program: after fights where he gets a hdywtdt on a humanoid while using pyromancy, caleb has to make a wisdom saving throw to avoid dissociation. this dissociation could last for hours, whether it be active dissociation (blankness while doing menial tasks) or full dissociation (unable to move, talk, or think). only something intense could snap him out of it, whether it be a slap of the face or a kiss on the head (that scene lives rent free in my head).

• some of caleb's attributes are changed from time to time. caleb likes a lot of things: bread, the scraggly hobo life, books, and numbers, to name a few, though there are times where some of these likes get shifted into obsessions, where caleb likes spellcasting, but bren loves the idea of staying up late and working on a spell with no sleep (and that counts as a point of exhaustion for both of them, not just one, because they share the body and therefore have to take care of it). it's not either of their faults, its just how they were conditioned during the time of their trauma.

• caleb has canonically talked to himself in the third person.

• constant polymorphs and shapeshifting alters. in my system, there is a veth fictive that can shapeshift between "veth" and "nott." she has admitted to using this ability to stay "front-stuck" (where an alter physically cannot switch out) because she can't switch when out of her "true form." now think of it like this: caleb and polymorph, especially in recent history. there's a tag going around, reading "*polymorphs into a creature to stupid to be depressed*" in reference to caleb's now constant use of the spell. it could just be us, but its still something to think about.

• there has been a "switch" in canon. i mentioned in the original post that there was a scene in canon where caleb has been seen switching, as a result of a confrontation from trent ikithon and the cerberus assembly. (don't mind the watermark im not rich)

this is a switch as a result of an auditory trigger. the hearing of one's name, a song, or even a random word adversely connected to trauma can be considered an auditory trigger. hearing bren's name, especially from trent, caused caleb to get immediately defensive and angry. when the camera pans back to caleb after everyone's reactions, you see him hyperventilating slightly with a face of worry, shut his eyes tight, and open them with a slack face to get a sense of his surroundings. he also leans near beau, someone who he could ask for context or reason, but then thinks against it as he remembers: they don't know.

#critical role #caleb widogast #bren aldric ermendrud #this was so long it overheated my phone #grass talks #cr theories #cr headcanons

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starlit-scarlet · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 5

The Trio-Part 1

Word Count: ~8.9k

Please see my note regarding this fic here.

Starved Menu

A/N: What's this? Is this the trio finally making their appearance? At long last. These three are probably my favorite trio. Isabel and her sweet nature, Furlan and his serious demeanor, and Levi, the stoic, gruff man we all love and care for.

The month following the expedition that ended in Lucy’s death was a difficult one for Isa. She’d lost two of her closest friends, and if she wanted to get technical, she’d lost Hange as well. Sherri was hard at work to keep Hange all to herself, almost as if she wanted to hurt Isa even more. Sherri wouldn’t let Hange sit with Isa anymore. Since Hange and Isa weren’t on the same squads, that kept them apart during training. The only time Isa got to see Hange were on the nights where she’d join Isa up on the rooftop. But those nights were far and few in between. Hange wasn’t a night owl like Isa.

Sherri had even gone as far as to request to be permanently switched to Erwin's squad.

This left Isa alone to deal with everything she was feeling. And so, she fell into a rut. Wake up. Eat. Train. Eat. Train some more. Eat. Fall into bed, begging her mind for sleep. When sleep inevitably failed her, up to the roof she went.

She’d visited Ethel as promised, and Ethel had given her words of encouragement, telling her it wasn’t her fault. She’d given her hugs, comfort, words of wisdom, support, everything that Isa needed. The older woman had given her, of course, more tea, which Isa was forever grateful for. Ethel had done more for her than anyone in her life.

But Isa still couldn’t shake the feeling that it was her fault.

Even though she logically knew the fault lay with whoever was writing those notes, it still felt as if she was to blame. The person writing the notes apparently had a personal vendetta against her, so indirectly her fault. She’d been there, right there, and could have saved Lucy, but she’d failed, so also directly her fault.

That’s what kept running through her mind, and the logical side of her tried to push through, and at times, it did…most times, it didn’t.

Most nights she couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares. Sleep was often filled with images of her life before the Military. The cruelty of her caretakers. Their harsh words. When Isa dreamed of that expedition, they were there with Sherri, taunting her and her failure.

You’re pathetic. Weak. Why would anyone ever want you? You can’t even save your friend. Useless. Worthless. Failure.

Other memories tried to filter through. Reminders of happier times, before her life had gone to hell.

Her mother, a warm and reassuring presence, would push through the hateful people and wrap her in a caring, doting, adoring embrace, the feel of a mother’s love bringing a small light into her dark world.

Isa dear, you are beautiful. Remember who you are. You are a caring person who loves fully, with her while being. You’ve been hurt, in more ways than one. Life is cruel and unfair. It’s what we do with what life throws at us that makes us who we are. Never forget how much your father and I loved you.

The night she dreamt of her mother, was the night she started feeling a little better. The sweet reminder of her mother was enough to help her take on each day, one at a time.

But then there was that damned note. Isa tried not to dwell on it. What could she do? She didn’t want to take it up with her squad leader or the Commander. What would she say? That she received a note that suggests the sender offed a fellow scout? She had no proof the note was legit, plus she had no clue who wrote it or where to begin to look. It wasn’t worth risking Luna, Sherri, and Hange to bring it up.

But now that she knew just how serious this person was, it was another thing that rested in the back of her mind. She’d been mistaken to write off the first note, but she was at a loss as to what she could do to prevent anything else from happening.

Clearly this person hated her. They believed it to be her fault that they hadn’t made the top ten.

But that didn’t make any sense. They seemed to think she was out to get them, but that was ridiculous. She didn’t have time for something like that. Who did? Then again...this person clearly had time for their own desire for vengeance.

Is this what they wanted? For her to drive herself slowly insane wondering when they’d strike again?

She refused to let that happen. She thought of her mother and what she used to tell her.

It’s what we do with what life throws at us that makes us who we are.

~ - ~

A little more than a month after the failed expedition, the Commander called all scouts into the courtyard before lunch.

Curious, Isa stood at attention with the rest of Flagon’s squad, towards the front of all the scouts. Erwin’s squad was next to hers.

Sofia stood beside her, Hange on her other side, and by the looks on both their faces, they were both just as confused and curious as Isa. It wasn’t often that Shadis called all the scouts like this. It must be for something important.

Sofia looked at Isa. “What do you think this is about?”

In front of her, their Squad Leader tensed at Sofia’s question.

Does Flagon know why we were gathered here?

Isa shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe it’s about the next expedition.”

Sofia’s brows knit thoughtfully, chin resting on her hand that was propped up by her other arm. “But wouldn’t that have just been told to us by our squad leaders? Would he have called a huge meeting like this just for that?”

Isa hummed. “That’s a fair point. Maybe it’s about Squad Leader Erwin’s top-secret mission.”

The day before, much to Isa’s puzzlement, Erwin had left base with some of the members of his own squad. She only knew that they’d left because the remaining members of his squad had come to train with Flagon’s.

“Maybe you girls should just wait and find out like the rest of us.”

Isa rolled her eyes at Sairam. “Would it kill you to not be such an ass?” She shot back.

Voice equally hostile, Sairam retorted, “Would it kill you to not be such a princess?”

“Fuck off Sairam.”

“My my, such vile language from the princess.”

“Enough!” Flagon’s command caused Isa to flinch.

“Yes sir.”

That didn’t stop the two from glaring at each other.

Finally, Shadis walked into the courtyard, followed by Erwin, Miche, and three people, two men and a young woman Isa had never seen before. Based on appearance alone, Isa figured the men were in their early twenties, the girl most likely in her late teens, probably around her or Hange’s age.

A curious murmur came over the crowd of scouts as they saw the trio come in wearing scout uniforms.

Shadis’ call for attention sent an immediate quiet rippling through the crowd.

Shadis went on to explain that the trio were going to be joining the scouts. Isa found that odd. She knew that the newest batch of cadets weren’t set to graduate for a while, so these three weren’t coming from training. She’d never heard of people being recruited without any prior training.

Isa watched as Erwin’s eyes moved across the crowd, as if he were looking for some sign of discontent from the scouts.

Shadis ordered the trio to introduce themselves.

The first one to introduce himself, was a man with raven hair, styled in an undercut, and sharp gray eyes. He stood shorter than the other man, yet, Isa felt that his aura was far more intimidating, his presence larger. He had a bored expression that said he couldn’t care less about anything, yet she could see that his eyes were constantly watching, constantly calculating, constantly taking in everything around him. She had a sense that he was always ready to pounce, no matter the situation.

Arms crossed he said in a bored tone that matched his expression, “Name’s Levi.”

Isa’s eyes went wide.

That’s it. That’s all he’s going to say?

Isa could hear more murmurs surrounding her. The others were just as shocked as she.

Isa looked over at Hange standing beside her, and she was sure her own face matched the perplexed expression on her friend’s.

“Silence!” Shadis called out. Turning back to the man named Levi, “You would do well to learn some discipline.”

Isa thought that was a little uncalled for. The words not so much, but the tone. The way he almost seemed to talk down to the man. These people clearly hadn’t gone through the training that taught them to respect their superiors. The judgmental tone was unnecessary in Isa’s opinion.

Levi didn’t bother giving a response.

The next one to speak up was the girl. Her hair was tied into two pigtails that Isa thought made her look more childlike than she probably was. Her wide green eyes with a childlike innocence in them didn’t exactly help.

In a cheery tone she introduced herself. “Isabel Magnolia, nice to meet all o’ ya.”

Isa couldn’t help but smile at the girl’s enthusiasm. Her personality clearly matched her childlike presence, yet there was a determined air about her. Isa didn’t doubt for a moment that the girl was more than capable of taking care of herself. She hadn’t thought she’d ever meet a person who had more energy than Hange, but she’d now been proven wrong. Isa just hoped she never lost that childlike innocence.

That left the other man. Taller than his two companions, his eyes were also gray, but a lighter color. While he appeared to be more friendly, Isa could tell he was just as calculating and perceptive as Levi.

He attempted to salute as he introduced himself. “I’m Furlan Church.”

Isa giggled at the man’s salute. His fist was upside down, but at least he was using the right arm.

Shadis’ next words took Isa by surprise. Apparently, the trio would be joining Flagon’s squad, and her Squad Leader did not seem happy with the news at all. Shadis’s eyes narrowed at Flagon when he questioned his commander.

“Is that a problem?” Shadis’ tone suggested that he did not care if it was a problem.

The exchange ended with Flagon reluctantly accepting Shadis’ orders.

After that, the scouts were dismissed. Flagon asked her to wait while he went to speak with the new recruits. She watched as he exchanged words with them. Isabel and Furlan didn’t seem to have any issues, but Levi’s eyes had narrowed as he regarded his superior.

Flagon made his way back over to Isa, where she awaited further instruction.

“Isa, after lunch you’re to come with me while I show the new recruits the barracks. After that, you’re to show them around the base.”

She blinked at him. “M-me?”

“Is that a problem Tudor?”

Isa thought it ironic that he was asking the same question that had been asked of him by Shadis...but Isa also thought it best to keep that tidbit to herself.

She shook her head. “Of course not sir, I just didn’t expect you to ask me since I’m still new.”

He sighed. “The other three are busy with other assignments. You’re my only other option.” He said with a clipped tone before marching off.

With nothing else to do, Isa made her way to the mess hall for lunch. As she ate, she was surprised to see Hange plop herself down beside her.

Seeing Isa’s shocked face, Hange said, “I’m done with Sherri telling me who I can and can’t sit with. If she wants to sit with me, then she can sit with you. Besides, Uma’s been sitting with us, so she’ll have her."

Isa had to look away so that Hange wouldn’t see the tears she was fighting back. “I’m sorry Hange.”

Hange’s eyes widened. “Why are you sorry? You weren’t the one making me choose. If anyone should be apologizing it should be me. You’re my best friend, and I’ve been a shitty one this past month.” Hange looked down at the table in shame. “I hope you can forgive me.”

“There isn’t anything to forgive.” Her whispered voice was barely audible.

Hange’s mouth dropped. “You’re too forgiving Isa. Why aren’t you mad at me?”

Isa’s brow knit in confusion. “I mean why would I be?” She didn’t see why she would be mad at Hange. She’d even told Hange that it was okay. There was no use in being mad at someone who hadn’t been intentionally trying to hurt her.

“Because I’ve basically abandoned you for the last month.” Hange’s voice was incredulous at the fact that Isa wasn’t upset with her.

Isa rolled her eyes. “Did you want to abandon me?”

Hange waved her hands in front of her shaking her head. “No of course not.”

“Then there’s nothing to be mad about.” To Isa, that was that. Nothing else mattered. Hange hadn’t purposely ignored her for most of the past month. She knew that. As much as it had hurt, she couldn’t bring herself to be mad, not even to Sherri.

“I still think you’re too forgiving.”

Isa just shrugged.

Before either girl could say anything else, the mess hall grew quiet as the new recruits entered the room. Hange and Isa watched as the trio grabbed their lunch and walked over to sit by the window at a table near theirs. Chatter around them slowly resumed.

“So what do you think about the new recruits? They’re going to be joining your squad aren’t they.” Hange had that ever present, curious glint in her eyes.

Isa hummed. “I’m not sure what to think about them. Flagon wants me to show them around the base today?”

“Really! You have to tell me all about them.” The curious glint had turned a bit more maniacal, but Isa didn’t blame Hange. Everyone was wondering about the trio, where they came from, why they’d been recruited.

At that moment, as if sensing the two women were talking about him, Levi’s gaze snapped to Isa’s. His cold, gray eyes locked onto her deep brown eyes. Most people in her situation would have cowered. Instead, she merely regarded him curiously, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel unsettled at the intensity of his stare, feeling it to the brink of her soul. It was as if he were picking apart every fear, every doubt, every desire.

She fought to maintain composure as she felt something electric race through her veins. Heart pounding, for some unknown reason she couldn’t understand, something she’d never felt. Vaguely, a thought ran through her mind.

Does his heart race like mine?

Nothing in his expression clued her in to anything he might have been thinking, feeling. His face was completely unreadable.

He was the first to break eye contact when his attention was drawn to something Isabel said, and the breath Isa didn’t realize she’d been holding rushed out through trembling lips.

“Earth to Isa,” a hand waving in front of her face brought her attention back Hange.

Blinking as her heart rate slowly settled, she looked at Hange. “What?”

Smirking Hange said, “Mmhmm, I’m sure if I had just locked eyes in that heated stare, I’d probably be a bit stunned too. I’m surprised I didn’t get burned with the electricity that was snapping between you two."

Cheeks flaming, Isa glared at her friend. “You have to be insane to think that. No way in hell.”

Hange gave her a bland look. “Isa. I know you. You’re my best friend. And because of that, I know when you’re in denial. Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face this red before.”

Ignoring her claim, Isa stood up. “I’d better go before I’m late meeting with Flagon. I’m not getting yelled at because you’re delusional.”

Hange pouted. “Hey that hurts.”

Isa merely gave Hange a half-hearted wave as she walked out the mess hall. She didn’t notice the pair of calculating eyes that followed her receding figure out the door.

Isa found Flagon standing outside the main building. She gave him a salute, which he waved off.

“Isa, what have you heard about the new recruits?”

“Not much sir. Just what Commander Shadis told us.”

Flagon hummed. He seemed to be having some sort of internal debate about what to say next. Finally, he said, “Don’t spread this information around, but they’re from the Underground.”

At the mention of the Underground, Isa’s blood froze. “Why are you telling me this sir?” She tried to keep her voice steady, casual.

“I’ve asked you to show them around. But I also want you to help me keep an eye on them. So I need you to watch yourself around them.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, a warning tone taking over her voice that went unnoticed by Flagon. “Just because they’re from the Underground doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”

“If you knew the things they’d done—”

“What? I’d change my mind? I doubt it. The people in the Underground do what they can to survive. I’m sure they’ve committed crimes but so what? People living above wouldn’t understand what it’s like to do whatever you need to do to survive.” The nerve of the man, to judge them just because of where they’d come from. It was no different than Sairam judging her and assuming she was some princess because she came from Mitras.

She spat out her final point. “Besides, you act like people above ground don’t commit crimes. I saw my fair share of crimes in Mitras, probably worse than what goes on in the Underground, and watched the Military Police turn a blind eye at the promise of a satchel full of coins.”

Flagon looked slightly taken aback at Isa’s hostile tone, and she could understand why. She tried to remain respectful around her superiors, but the way Flagon was talking about them, judging them, without even knowing who they are, triggered a deep-seated anger inside of her that she always kept locked away.

Before he could say anything else, Flagon’s attention snapped to something behind Isa. She turned around and saw the new recruits standing behind her. She wondered how much they’d heard.

“Good, you’re actually on time.”

Isa watched the shorter man’s eyes narrow at Flagon’s condescending tone.

Flagon turned his attention to Isa. “Introduce yourself to the new recruits.”

“Isa Tudor, coming from Mitras.” The trio didn’t seem surprised to hear where she was from. “I’m part of Squad Leader Flagon’s squad, and I’ve been tasked to show you around base after we show you the barracks."

Isa took in the expressions of the trio in front of her. Levi looked bored, but his eyes were regarding her with suspicion. Furlan watched her with caution but seemed friendly enough. Isabel had the friendliest expression on her face of the three, though Isa didn’t suspect for a second that she wasn’t just as wary as her friends.

I don’t blame them for being suspicious. If they come from the Underground, they’re going to be used to having to watch their backs every second of every day. I wouldn’t expect them to trust the rest of us immediately.

“Alright, I don’t think you need them to reintroduce themselves do you Tudor?”

“No sir.”

“Good, then let’s get this over with.”

Isa walked beside Isabel, as the four of them followed Flagon to the barracks. She figured she may as well get to know them since they’d be on her squad, and Isabel seemed like the best first option.

I suck at this, but at least I have more practice now thanks to Hange and…

She stopped herself before she could list her other two friends, not wanting to bring her mood down.

Luckily, Isabel didn’t seem to have any issues making conversation, which made the process easier for Isa.

“You’re from Mitras? We rode through there when they brought us up from the Underground.”

Even though Isa was grateful for Isabel steering the conversation, she wished that the girl had picked a different topic other than Mitras. “Yea, that’s where I…grew up.”

“What’s it like there? What are the people like?”

Isa wasn’t sure how much of her opinion to give away. “The people there aren’t always…the best.”

“It sure doesn’t sound like it, based on what you were telling that Flagon guy earlier.”

Isa flushed. “Oh, I…didn’t realize you’d heard that.” She wasn’t sure how she felt at having been caught disrespecting a superior and speaking in ill terms about the nobles in Mitras.

Isabel gave her a grin. “Yup, sure did. Thanks for that. I thought it was awful nice of you to defend people you don’t know.”

A blunt voice cut in. “More like idiotic.”

Eyes narrowing Isa bristled at the tone that came from behind her.

Okay I get being suspicious, but that’s just uncalled for.

Isabel laughed at Isa’s reaction, and was quick to reassure her. “Don’t worry about bro. He just likes people to think he’s tough.”

Before Isa could say anything else, Flagon cut in, opening the door to the building they’d arrived at. “This is the military barracks.”

Isa could tell Flagon had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes and snapping when Isabel thought the three of them would get to stay in the same place. She did notice that his tone was still harsh when he told Isabel that there was a separate barracks for women.

She thought it was adorable that Isabel wanted to stay close to her friends, and she understood why Isabel was so distraught when Flagon said that she would be staying in the women’s barracks. If these two men were her family, she’d be alone in the barracks.

Understanding that lonely feeling, Isa made to reassure the girl. “Hey don’t worry Isabel, I’ll be there too. You can even meet my friend Hange, we’ve known each other since day one of training.”

Isabel seemed to perk back up at the thought of having an ally in the women’s barracks.

Isa watched as Levi approached one of the bunks and dragged his hand across the bottom of the top bed.

She wasn’t quite sure why Isabel and Furlan’s faces had paled, until she saw Levi’s disgusted face as loose dirt and dust fell to the floor, coating his hands.

Hmm, he must like things to be clean. I don’t really blame him, the Underground isn’t the cleanest of places. Probably doesn’t like the reminders of it.

What surprised Isa, was Flagon’s degrading comment about ‘needing to keep the place clean despite having lived in a trash heap.��

Isa’s eyes narrowed at Flagon’s assumption. Again, he’s judging them based on where they come from. She was sorely tempted to snap at him and say where you come from doesn’t dictate how clean you are. She’d seen how filthy the people in Mitras could be. If it weren’t for the servants, the nobles would be living in filth, not knowing how to clean up after themselves.

Isa held herself back…barely. She didn’t want to disrespect her superior twice in one day, but she so wanted to put him in his place.

Levi’s incredulous look told Isa he didn’t appreciate the judgment one bit. Isa watched as Levi approached Flagon, who seemed to grow nervous and defensive under Levi’s dangerous gaze and harsh tone as he confronted Flagon for the bias. Isa watched as Flagon attempted to reprimand him for approaching a superior in such a manner, but she thought it looked as if Levi didn’t care at all for formalities if Flagon was going to be so flippantly arrogant.

Isa was relieved when Furlan cut in before the conflict could increase any further. He gave Flagon a promise that they’d keep it clean and gave another salute. Isa had to hold back her laugh as she watched him hold his fist upside down again.

Flagon, apparently wanting to get in the last word, called back to them as he walked out. “Isa, when you’re done showing them around the base, bring them to the training grounds.”

“Yes sir.” She gave him a firm salute, looking at Furlan and indicating towards her fist. He caught on and corrected himself.

As soon as Flagon was gone, Furlan turned back to Levi. “Didn’t I tell you not to cause trouble!”

Isa jumped a little at Furlan’s tone. He’d shifted from apologetic to accusatory so fast she could barely keep up.

“Didn’t you hear how he talked about us? Like shit calling shit dirty.”

“Ugh, Levi.”

Isa couldn’t help but agree with Levi. “He’s got a point Furlan. I’ve noticed some of the people around here don’t have the highest opinion of you three, like they’ve forgotten that even the people of Mitras can be criminals, or filthy.”

Levi’s gaze was suspicious. “What’s your deal?”

“Not sure what you mean.”

“We don’t need you to defend us.” His tone was firm.

Isa shrugged. “That’s fine. I’m not saying that to defend you. It’s the truth. I spent most of my childhood in Mitras. I saw how people can be there. They act all high and mighty forgetting that their shit stinks as much as the next person’s.”

If Levi was surprised by her comment, he didn’t show it. Instead he turned to his friends and told them they were going to clean up every single bit of dirt.

Isa giggled at Isabel’s incredulous tone when she asked if Levi was serious about doing that now.

Levi turned to Isa again. “Surely someone from Mitras isn’t too spoiled to know where the cleaning supplies are.”

Eyes turning cold, Isa raised a brow at the assumption.

Seriously, what did I just say? Like it went in one ear and out the other.

Furlan gave a nervous chuckle. “I think what Levi means to say, is that he would greatly appreciate it if you could bring us some cleaning supplies, so we can go ahead and get this place in tip-top shape before you show us around base. We can go ahead and get started here while we wait for you to return."

She gave Furlan a curious look. “You must do that a lot. Cut in before things can escalate. You did it earlier with Flagon, and now with me.”

He just gave a sheepish shrug.

Resigned, Isa sighed. “Fine, I’ll be back. Just…bear in mind that, from what I've seen, not a lot of people are going to be welcoming here.” She met Levi’s appraising gaze again. “It would do you well to take allies where you can find them. I’m not your enemy.”

And with that, she walked out of the room to the supply closet down the hall in the barracks.

Whatever conversation they had while Isa was gone, she was unaware of. She returned and was intrigued to see Levi rubbing Isabel’s hair affectionately.

Hmm, not as cold as you try to play yourself off to be.

She stepped back into the room, trying not to laugh at the cloth on Levi’s head. “Here guys, found this broom and this bucket. I went ahead and filled it with some soap and water, and well found these rags too.”

Levi stepped forward and yanked the broom out of Isa’s hands passing it to Furlan, and threw a rag at Isabel, instructing them to clean up.

When Levi said “You wouldn’t want me to cause trouble would you,” Isa couldn’t help but laugh, earning herself a glare from Levi.

Between the four of them, they made relatively quick work of tidying up. Isa found herself in charge of scrubbing the floor after Levi finished sweeping up a section, Isabel scrubbed the windows, and Furlan scrubbed the furniture. Levi critiqued Isabel and Furlan every step of the way, but surprisingly didn’t have anything negative to say about Isa’s cleaning.

His only comment was when he said, “Never thought someone from Mitras would even know how to scrub a floor.”

Her eyes flashed daggers at the condescending tone. He didn’t even flinch at her glare.

This man is truly testing my patience.

“Clearly you haven’t listened to me at all. It doesn’t matter where a person comes from. They can be clean, dirty, smart, stupid, good, bad, no matter where they were born.” She snapped at him.

He didn’t bother answering her.

She didn’t notice Isabel and Furlan sending them amused glances as they bickered.

Once Levi was satisfied with the status of the room, he merely nodded his head at Isa, and she took it as his indication that they could move on to the base tour.

Guess I wasn’t too far off in him liking things clean.

While they’d cleaned, Isa had thought about where she should take them first. She’d decided on the stables, only because Luna would be able to calm her nerves. When they’d been cleaning, she hadn’t been in charge of the conversation, but now that she’d be leading them around the base, their attention would be on her, and she wasn’t sure which had her more on edge, all three of them paying attention to her, or if it was just Levi.

She led the way to the stables. Normally she let Luna free in the pasture, but she’d trained with her this morning, and had settled her back in her stall to let her rest a little bit.

At the mention of horses, Isabel seemed to perk up.

“You mean you guys have horses?”

“Of course, idiot, how else do you think they’d get around outside the walls?”

Isa laughed when Isabel just stuck her tongue at out Levi, but was a little surprised when he just rolled his eyes.

Isabel looked at Isa with a grin. “I’m pretty sure Levi is glad that I ask what he thinks are dumb questions. Saves him from having to ask them.”

Isa giggled at that. Levi merely glowered at the two girls.

Inside the stable, Isa showed the trio the tack rooms where all the equipment was held. Each scout had a large locker that had a stand for the saddle and saddle pads, and hooks to hang the bridle, reins, lead, and halter. There was also a small storage section at the bottom of the locker, which is where Isa kept Luna’s treats and the special soap she’d bought for her.

Since joining, Isa had wondered who the owner of her locker before her had been.

“Oh look, it looks like they’ve already put your names on your lockers.”

Levi’s and Furlan’s were in the two lockers beside hers, and Isabel’s was on the other side of the tack room.

Isa took notice when Isabel pouted when she saw hers was separated from her friends. She remembered how sad the girl had been when she learned that the three of them wouldn’t be in the same barracks.

An idea occurred to Isa. “Isabel, do you wanna switch lockers with me so your stuff can be next to Levi’s and Furlan’s?”

Isa brightened at that. “Are you sure you won’t get in trouble?”

“Of course not, it’s our lockers so the higher ups don’t care as long as we’re not messing with someone else’s stuff that isn’t ours…oof.” Her breath was knocked out of her as Isabel tackled her in a big hug.

“Isa you’re so nice, I don’t care what bro says.”

She raised a brow. “Oh really now.” She met Levi’s gaze, who was watching her with what could pass for a thoughtful expression.

Isabel and Isa made quick work of switching their stuff, and Isabel beamed when her name was in the locker beside Levi’s.

“You’ll probably get your tack today or tomorrow once you’ve been assigned a horse. Whichever horse you’re assigned determines the sizes needed for your tack.”

Isabel looked thrilled at the thought of having her own horse.

Isa then led them down the stable to where the stalls were. Most of the horses were out in the pastures, but some were relaxing in their stalls. When she got to Luna’s the mare had already stuck her head over the stall door, eager to see Isa.

“Hey girl, I’ve brought you some new friends.” As an afterthought she gave Luna a warning look. “You’d better behave.”

The playful look in the mare’s eyes made Isa laugh.

She turned to face the trio. “This is Luna. She was my horse during training as a cadet, and I was able to keep her.”

“Do you normally not keep the horses you use in training?” Furlan’s voice was curious.

“No, once you join the Scouts, they normally assign you one. But I couldn’t bear to part with Luna, so thankfully, our head instructor allowed me to bring her with me.” She looked at the three recruits watching the mare. “You guys can pet her if you want. She’s friendly, if not a bit playful.”

Isabel couldn’t contain the squeal as she reached up a hand to pet Luna’s muzzle. The mare nickered at Isabel, sniffing her hair.

Isabel laughed. “Hey that tickles. Guys come on, come pet her.”

Furlan and Levi approached the mare, and raised tentative hands, Furlan to her neck, Levi to the other side of her muzzle.

What surprised Isa was the hearty lick Luna gave Levi’s face as he stroked her muzzle.

Isa could not contain the laugh when she saw Levi’s face. The look bordered on distraught and traumatized.

Isabel and Furlan just looked worried for Isa for laughing at Levi.

Between gasps for air, Isa said, “I think she likes you.”

Levi glared at her, as he furiously wiped at his face with the handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket. His glare did nothing but fuel Isa’s cackles.

Her laughter finally calming, she said, “It usually just means that they like the salt on your skin. Maybe you should do a better job washing your face.” She gave Levi a cheeky grin.

Levi merely grumbled, still trying to wipe off the slobber from his face. Isa thought she heard him say something about making sure his horse never does something so vile and disgusting, and she just shook her head in amusement.

Isa turned to Isabel. “I was going to take her out to the pasture now, do you want to lead her?”

Isabel’s eyes went wide with wonder. “Really? I can do that?”

“Of course, let me go grab her halter and lead.” Wishing she’d thought to grab it earlier, she walked back to the tack room.

As she made her way back, she overheard Isabel scolding Levi. “Don’t be so mean to her. She’s really nice.”

“No one is just nice for no reason.” Isa thought his tone seemed more thoughtful than suspicious.

“You were nice to me when—”

Isabel cut herself off when she heard Isa’s footsteps.

I wonder what she was going to say. And what did Levi mean by that? Has no one ever done anything nice for him just because?

“Here Isabel you can put her halter on for her if you want.”

“Oh, but I don’t know how.”

“It’s okay, I’ll show you.”

Isa slowly walked Isabel through the steps of hooking the lead onto the halter first, and then gently sliding it onto Luna’s muzzle and over her ears.

After Isa checked to make sure the halter was fastened and tightened correctly, she gave Isabel her next instruction. “Alright, now you’re going to want to stand beside her left shoulder. The hand closest to her will be the one to lead her. Your other hand will hold the slack of the lead.”

“Are we going to go sometime today?”

Isa glared at Levi, before saying to Isabel. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m going to open the stall door, and then you’ll just give the lead a gentle tug to let Luna know you want her to move.”

Isabel nodded when she was ready, and Isa opened up the stall door. Isabel softly clucked her tongue, gently tugged Luna’s lead, and began leading her out of the stable.

“You guys look! I’m doing it.”

Furlan gave Isabel an affectionate smile. Isa watched as Levi simply gave Isabel a small nod of encouragement, giving no other sign that he was impressed.

Isa led them to the pasture where the other horses were roaming, and opened the gate.

“Now, make sure you take her halter off.”

“Why?”

“Well, if you leave the halter on a horse, they could get injured. If they go to scratch an itch on the fence, the halter could get stuck, so it’s best to take it off.”

Isabel gasped at the thought of accidentally injuring such a beautiful creature. She made quick work of gently removing the halter and lead.

With a final nicker, Luna trotted off into the field to join the other horses in their grazing.

After that, Isa showed them where the showers were. It was located on the ground floor of the main building, sectioned off into two parts, one side for the men, the other side for the women.

She made sure to show them where Flagon’s office was, in case they ever needed to speak to him or if they were called to his office for some reason.

Since that covered the main parts of the base, Isa led them to the training grounds to meet up with Flagon’s squad.

A thought occurred to Isa as they walked. “You guys only got here this morning, right?”

“Yea, we left Mitras early this morning, and then got here a little bit before your Commander had us introduce ourselves.”

“He’s your Commander now too, Furlan.” Isa teased. “I was wondering, because if you guys only just got here, then you haven’t seen the sunset.”

“The sunset?” Isabel’s wide eyes held an intrigued look at the idea.

“Yea, every day, at the end of the day, the suns goes down, and there’s all these pretty colors. The sky gets darker until it’s the night sky with the stars.”

Isabel gasped. “Can we see it?”

“Sure, I can show you guys my spot where I like to go to watch it, later today after dinner if you want.”

“Where is that?”

Isa grinned at Isabel. “It’ll be a surprise.”

She didn’t miss the suspicious glance Levi threw her way, but she just shrugged it off.

Maybe this will show him that I’m not their enemy.

“Just meet me outside the mess hall after dinner, and we’ll go then.”

By then, they had arrived at the training grounds where Flagon and the rest of his squad were ready.

“About time. Took you long enough Isa.”

“Well you wanted them to clean up and then you wanted me to show them around base, so I’m not sure what you expected.”

Okay…so much for not getting hostile with your squad leader twice in one day Isa.

Flagon glared at her. “I’m going to let the snark slide one more time. Let it happen again and it’ll be laps with no dinner.”

“Yes sir.”

Dammit Isa, stop testing him.

Luckily, the way she said ‘sir’ went over Flagon’s head. He had the the rest of the squad introduce themselves.

With the way Sairam was looking at the trio, as if they were horse shit on the side of the streets, made Isa think that Flagon had told his squad that they came from the Underground. Ironic, considering he’d told her not to say anything.

Isa thought Sofia and Ingrid looked more pensive than anything, much to Isa’s relief.

At least the majority of our squad doesn’t look down on them. Hopefully it stays that way.

Flagon took his squad over to some horses for the trio to choose from. Isabel chose a tan mare, who held a playful glint in her eyes, similar to the one Isa often saw in Luna. She’d seen the two mares get into more mischief than any other pair of horses.

Furlan chose a brown stallion, who also seemed to hold a playful nature, but was more reserved. Isa had seen him out in the pasture and seemed as though he got along well with the other horses.

Finally, Levi settled on a black stallion, and Isa just knew that the only reason he picked that horse is because he was the only one that Levi thought would reframe from licking him. She’d seen that stallion in the pastures as well. He seemed to be a bit of a loner, though he had warmed up enough to Luna. Isa was certain that was in large part due to Luna’s stubborn streak.

Hmm, fitting that they chose these horses that all kind of seemed to fit their personalities. I think it’s perfect.

Levi noted the playful look on Isa’s face, and his eyes narrowed. “What are you smiling at?”

Her smile only grew. “Nothing of importance.”

After the trio chose their horses, Flagon told them to stay behind as he dismissed the rest of the squad for the day.

As Isa walked away, Isabel called out, “We’ll see you later Isa.”

Isa turned and gave a small wave, and then made her way to the mess hall for dinner, making a stop to shower and change along the way.

In the mess hall, she found a table to herself and sat to enjoy her dinner. Or at least try to. Eating the same thing every day did get tedious, and she didn’t often have the chance to go to Trost to enjoy any of the local taverns.

As she ate, Hange sat beside her again. “How was your day?”

“It was good, Flagon had me show the new recruits around.”

She looked up and saw that said recruits were making their way over to where Isa and Hange sat, though Isa could tell that Levi was basically being dragged there against his will by Isabel.

“Hi Isa, mind if we sit with you?”

“Of course she doesn’t mind. Why would she mind? Hi I’m Hange! I’m Isa’s best friend!”

“Hange, at least let them sit down first.” Isa shook her head at her friend’s energy. “Sorry, she gets excited around new people.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve been dying to meet you guys since I heard they were putting you in Flagon’s squad earlier during that meeting. Where are you guys from? It doesn’t look like you’ve had any training, are you guys any good? You must be, if you’re being put straight into Flagon’s squad. Where did you guys learn?”

“Oi, do you ever shut up?”

Hange just laughed, but Isa looked dumbfounded at Levi’s rather rude question…fair question, she had to admit…but rude, nonetheless. Before she could say anything, Isabel spoke up. “Bro, don’t be so mean.”

“Bro? Is he your brother? You guys don’t look related, but I guess that doesn’t really mean anything. Just because people don’t look alike doesn’t mean they aren’t—”

Isa’s hand covering Hange’s mouth cut her off. “Hange, we’ve talked about this, if you’re going to ask questions, at least give the other person time to answer.”

Hange gave a muffled ‘sorry.’ When Isa moved her hand there was a sheepish grin on Hange’s face, her eyes glinting playfully.

Isabel did her best to answer Hange’s questions. “Well, we’re from the Underground, so no we didn’t have any training, but we’re really good. Levi here is the best.” She said with a proud smile. “We aren’t related, but Levi is still my bro. And don’t worry about him. It’s his way of saying ‘how are we supposed to answer your questions if you don’t give us the chance to.’”

Fair enough. Isa thought to herself.

“How did you guys meet?”

“Well Furlan here practically begged Levi to join his gang. Levi found me when I was younger and saved me. He basically adopted me.”

“Isabel.” Levi’s warning tone drew Isa’s gaze to him. She took in the glare he sent Isabel, but she also noted that he wasn’t making eye contact.

Is he…embarrassed for people to know he did something nice? Does he want people to think he doesn’t have a kind side? But…why?

The rest of dinner passed with Hange asking the trio a multitude of questions. She wanted to know what it was like in the Underground, what the people there were like, what they thought when they stepped out of the stairwell and into Mitras. Isabel answered most of them. Furlan would jump in every now and then to answer, but Levi would only speak to cut them off when he felt they were sharing too much.

When they’d finished dinner, Isa asked the trio to go wait for her outside the mess hall while she talked to Hange.

When they’d left, Isa turned to Hange. “Okay, so I’m going to take them up to the roof to show them the sunset and—”

Hange’s face turned excited. “Can I come? I want to come too please.” Her tone was borderline begging.

“Hange, no. I think they’ve had enough questions for one night.”

Hange pouted. “Aww, I promise I’ll be quiet.”

Isa merely sent her a bland look.

Hange sighed. “Fine, but you’d better tell me everything.”

Isa rolled her eyes. “I doubt there’ll be much to tell, but fine I promise.”

Isa left Hange as she went to meet up with the trio. She found them waiting outside the mess hall like she’d asked, and this made her oddly happy. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe she expected them to not want to spend more time with her, even with the promise of the sunset.

She gave them a smile. “Alright guys follow me. You’ll like this, I promise.”

The trio followed Isa as she walked up the stairs to the upper floor of the base and down a long hallway, where a door at the end stood. She opened the door, leading them up some more stairs until finally they got to the door leading to the roof.

She peeked outside and saw that the sun was just starting to set.

Perfect.

She turned back to the trio. “Okay, we’re just in time, but I want you guys to close your eyes so—”

“No.” It was Levi who cut her off.

She met Levi’s calculating gaze, and her stomach flipped as she looked into his gray eyes. She tried to communicate that she wasn’t going to hurt them. Chewing her lip she wasn’t really sure how to proceed. She really wanted them to wait until they were on the roof so that they could take in the full effect of the sunset, but she also understood that Levi didn’t trust her to not try something.

“Okay, you…you don’t have to close your eyes if you don’t want to. I promise I’m not going to do anything, I told you before. I’m not your enemy. But I understand.”

“I don’t know why you’re so worried bro. Isa hasn’t done anything to us, if anything, she’s been the nicest person here.”

Levi didn’t bother answering.

Isabel shrugged. “I trust you Isa, I’ll close my eyes.” She covered her eyes with one of her hands, putting her trust into Isa.

Isa smiled. “Perfect, here, hold my hand, and I’ll guide you out.”

Before she could grab Isabel’s hand, Levi had pushed her hand out of the way, and taken the redhead’s hand himself, giving Isa a warning look to not try anything funny.

She looked at Furlan, who was giving her a similar look, not fully trusting her either.

It hurt more than Isa wanted to admit, but she kept reminding herself that it would take time before she’d earn their trust. It was harder than she thought. She’d never been faced with such a challenging person. She didn’t know why she wanted them to trust her so badly, she just knew she did.

Not wanting to waste any more time arguing, she met Levi’s eyes again, and nodded. Isa opened the door, and led the trio out onto the rooftop.

As they walked out onto the roof, the sun was low on the horizon, the sky just starting to change to the purples and oranges that hinted of the coming dusk.

She glanced behind her, and it pleased her to see Levi and Furlan’s faces. Both sets of eyes had widened, taking in the glorious scene before them. They had frozen in place, unable to move, Levi still holding tight to Isabel’s hand.

Isabel was impatient. “Bro, why did we stop, can I open my eyes? I want to see!”

Smiling to herself, she reached back to grab Levi’s free hand, fighting back a blush when she felt the warmth of his hand on hers and his gray eyes snapped to meet her brown ones, the suspicion gone, replaced by something else she couldn’t place, something that had her heart flip in her chest and beat just a little faster.

With her other hand, she took Furlan’s, who jolted at the touch, having been mesmerized by the sunset.

She gently led them over to the battlements, where she always liked to sit. “Okay Isabel, you can open your eyes now.”

When the girl moved her hand from in front of her eyes, her mouth dropped. The sky had exploded into an array of color. Orange gave way to purples and pinks, swirling into a majestic sight in front of them. The sun was now a gentler yellow in the center of the horizon and was a strong contrast to the deep colors in the sky.

Isa watched as tears began to fall from the girl’s eyes. “Isabel…are…are you okay?”

The girl didn’t want to draw her gaze away from the sight in front of her. “I…I just never thought I’d be up here, to be able to see something like this. And yet here I am. I feel like I’m dreaming.” She wiped at the tears on her face.

Isa knew all too well how she felt. Unsure of what to say or do, Isa settled with putting her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

They stood in silence, as they watched the colors give way to twilight, and then to the dark of night. The stars slowly began to twinkle on the dark canvas as the light of day faded.

“If you think this was nice, wait until you see your first sunrise.”

Isabel gasped. “You mean this happens twice in a day?”

Isa nodded. “In a sense. At sunrise, the colors aren’t as vibrant, but there’s something nice about seeing the morning slowly come. Everything is quiet and peaceful as everything starts to wake up.” Her voice had grown serene as she described the early mornings.

Isabel chewed on her lip. “Can...can we watch the sunrise too?”

“We can, but it’ll be a long time before it comes.”

“I don’t want to leave, I want to stay here all night.”

“We can stay if you want. I don’t know if your friends want to though.”

Isabel looked at Levi and Furlan with pleading eyes. “Please, can we stay here? I don’t want to go to bed, I want to stay here so we can watch the sunrise.”

Levi merely rolled his eyes, but Furlan looked at Isa curiously. “Is there not some sort of curfew? I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

Isa read the meaning behind the words and understood that what Furlan meant was that he didn’t want the three of them getting into trouble if that’s what she was trying to do.

She shook her head. “The higher ups don’t care. They have too much going on to worry about something as silly as what time people go to sleep. Besides, it’s common for people to have trouble sleeping, so it would be pointless. They really only care that you’re on time for training.”

That seemed to satisfy Furlan.

Isabel grew excited. “So we can stay?”

“Sure—” Her breath was knocked out of her as Isabel hugged her fiercely.

This girl is very affectionate, I wonder how her friends manage. They don’t seem like the affectionate type, especially Levi.

Isabel pulled back and settled on one of the battlements to watch as more and more stars took over the sky.

Isa looked at Furlan and Levi. “I’m going to grab some blankets from one of the storage closets. It gets chilly at night.”

She left them alone and made her way to a storage closet that was on the floor before the stairway up to the roof. She found some blankets and a couple of pillows, and then made her way back up to the roof. There she found that the three of them had settled themselves on the battlement. She thought the sight was nice, to see all three of them together.

It was clear to Isa that they were close, and they considered each other as family. Levi seemed to be the most protective, constantly watching out for them. He hadn’t even let her touch Isabel when he thought she was leading them into some type of trap. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, it was either to hand off some insult, or signal his distrust in the moment.

As she approached them, she heard the final tails of whatever conversation they’d been having as Levi said, “I’m going to trust you.”

I wonder what they were talking about.

Starved Menu

<- Chapter 4

Chapter 6 ->

#levi x oc #Levi x isa #levi ackerman #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #friends to lovers #eventual romance #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #oc x canon

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chiseler · 4 years ago

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Maxwell Bodenheim

In Letters from Bohemia, Ben Hecht declares his friend Maxwell Bodenheim “more disliked, derided, denounced, beaten up, and kicked down more flights of stairs than any poet of whom I have heard or read.” In his lifetime Bodenheim was at least as well known for his drunk and dissolute behavior as for his writing. Today he’s mostly remembered for the tawdry way he died.

He grew up poor and Jewish in smalltown Mississippi. He was bright but viciously boorish, physically handsome yet repulsively slovenly, and argumentative to a fault, with a genius for the insult that could end any discussion, usually with his being punched in the mouth. As young men Bodenheim and Hecht were the pranksters of the Chicago Renaissance. According to Allen Churchill’s The Improper Bohemians, they once filled a hall for a literary debate on the topic “Resolved: That People Who Attend Literary Debates Are Imbeciles.”

Hecht strode center-stage to announce that he would take the affirmative. Then he stated, “The affirmative rests.” Bodenheim shambled forward, scrutinized his confident opponent, and said, “You win.”

Bodenheim – Bogie to his long-suffering friends – was twenty-two when he blew into Greenwich Village with other Chicago émigrés in 1915, and instantly made a name for himself in the neighborhood as a poet of promise. Reading his facile, gaudy verses now, it’s easy to think that it was the brute force of his sociopathic presence, rather than his poetry, that convinced the best poets in the Village at the time that he was one of them, potentially even the greatest of them:

You have a morning-glory face

Whose edges are sensitive to light

And curl in beneath the burden of a smile.

Remembered silence returns to the morning-glory

And lattices its curves

With shades of golden reverberations.

Then the morning-glory’s heart careens to loves

Whose scent beats on the sky-walls of your soul.

Tellingly, those not directly in his orbit seem not to have been fooled by the clever romance-novel sham of such verses – and neither, apparently, was Bodenheim himself, though he would go on roaring about his genius for decades. Hecht records that after entering 223 poetry contests and failing to win a single one, he took to signing his letters to editors “Maxwell Bodenheim, 224th ranking U.S.A. poet.”

He did have a real talent for scandal, easy enough to generate during Greenwich Village’s prolonged drunken orgy in the Prohibition years. His haughty, insulting demeanor, and his habit of trying to steal other men’s women right under their noses, got him regularly socked on the jaw and thrown out of bars, soirees and the fauxhemian revels at Webster Hall.

Turning from poetry to prose, through the 1920s he wrote a string of best-selling, sensational potboilers like Replenishing Jessica, about a free-loving bohemian, Georgie May, about a fallen prostitute, and Naked on Roller Skates, about a middle-aged “onetime hobo, circus-pegger, doughboy, sailor, anarchist, con man, all-time sensationalist and wanderer of the world” who leaves a small town with a much younger woman who “wanted to try everything at least once.” They sound better than they read. Hecht called them “hack work with flashes of tenderness, wit, and truth in them.” When the Society for the Suppression of Vice brought Bodenheim to trial in 1925 on an obscenity charge for Replenishing Jessica, his defense lawyer used a familiar tactic of demanding that the prosecutor read the entire text aloud to prove his case. Judge, jury and the reporters covering the trial dozed as the prosecutor droned on and on, and the unaroused jury voted Bodenheim not guilty. Mayor Jimmy Walker agreed with the verdict. “No girl was ever seduced by a book,” he quipped.

For a bohemian poet, commercial success and celebrity could bring on a full-blown personality crisis (as it would do Jackson Pollock, Jack Kerouac and Kurt Cobain). Bodenheim squandered the money he made from his novels on drink and gambling, as though he couldn’t throw it away fast enough. He preferred to demand loans and cadge drinks from everyone around him, like a true bohemian poet should. Meanwhile, his reputation in these years as a daring, risqué writer attracted a cloud of what we’d call groupies today, many of them the sort of teenagers from the outer boroughs and the hinterlands who flocked to the Village in the 1920s to throw off the shackles of mainstream morality and abandon themselves to the neighborhood’s non-stop pagan revels.

He took his pick. One was Gladys Loeb, 18, from the Bronx. In 1928, he ended a brief fling with her, adding that her poetry was doggerel. Her landlady soon found her with her head in the gas oven, barely clinging to life, and to Bodenheim’s portrait. A few weeks later he did the same thing to twenty-two-year-old Virginia Drew, who threw herself into the Hudson and succeeded where Gladys had failed. When police went to question Bodenheim about Drew’s suicide, he’d slipped off to stay with fellow Villager Harry Kemp in Provincetown. Gladys, having recovered from her own suicide attempt, followed him there – trailing her irate father, cops and reporters. Bodenheim talked his way out of their clutches, but not out of the newspapers all over the country, which had a field day with lurid tales about the Greenwich Village Lothario.

Then came Aimee Cortez, widely feted as “the Mayoress of Greenwich Village.” She earned the title by stripping naked at private parties and Webster Hall shindigs and gyrating a wildly erotic dance. According to Churchill, this display sometimes ended with her going off with some lucky male, but other times she’d stop abruptly, with a look of terror and confusion, and run off. In a later era she’d be prescribed a drug for this clearly disturbed behavior, but in the Village of the late 1920s, where “a hideous lust… pervaded the air” as Bodenheim’s My Life and Loves in Greenwich Village put it, she was merely celebrated as the queen of the modern-day bacchantes. Not long after Gladys and Virginia made the papers, Aimee was found with her head in her own oven, also clutching Bodenheim’s portrait. She was dead at nineteen.

Bodenheim was indirectly implicated in the sad end of another lover, a teenager from the outer boroughs with the improbable name Dorothy Dear. When she wasn’t with him in his MacDougal Street apartment, he wrote her love letters that she carried in her purse. One afternoon she was aboard a rush hour subway train heading from Times Square to the Village when it derailed at a faulty switch, killing sixteen passengers, including Dorothy. Bodenheim’s love letters were found scattered around the wreckage.

By the end of the 1920s Bodenheim was a wreck himself. From the 1930s until his death he was a fixture on the streets and in the bars of the Village, by turns annoying and sad-making, decaying before his old friends’ eyes into a stinking, toothless ghost, “tottering drunkenly to sleep on flophouse floors, shabby and gaunt as any Bowery bum,” as Hecht put it. Still, Hecht gallantly added, “Bogie hugged his undiminished riches – his poet’s vocabulary and his genius for winning arguments. He won nothing else.” He cranked out more cheap novels, drank the money, and stooped to hawking his poems to tourists in Washington Square for a quarter each. Wiseacres in the bars fed him gin and laughed at his drunken mumblings and rants, which sometimes yielded a famous line like “Greenwich Village is the Coney Island of the soul.”

Poets were the main entertainment at Max Gordon’s Village Vanguard in the mid-1930s. Gordon couldn’t afford to pay them; they performed for whatever change the patrons tossed at their feet. Poet Eli Siegel, later founder of the Aesthetic Realism movement, was the emcee in the early years, but the crowd really came to see three ghosts of the Village Past – Joe Gould, Harry Kemp and Maxwell Bodenheim. They hung out there because Gordon tolerated them and his patrons were easy marks for a few free drinks. In his memoir Live at the Village Gate, Gordon describes how Siegel would call Gould out of the crowd with the cry, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Harvard terrier and boulevardier, Joseph Ferdinand Gould!” Gould would shuffle up to the spotlight and do his schtick, while Bodenheim, tall and imperious, would stalk the shadows at the back, “point his finger, and shout, ‘Eli Siegel! I hate you, Eli Siegel. You rat!’” Gordon continues:

Eli would wait for Bodenheim to shape up so he could call on him to recite. But it was no use. Bodenheim, swirling crazily, eyes glazed, arms outstretched, would suddenly stop and point his finger at a frightened girl who had refused him a dance during intermission. “Rat!” he’d shout at her.

Despite the frightening deterioration of his physical and mental hygiene, Bodenheim still attracted a certain type of desperate woman, usually in decline herself. He met the last of them in 1951 when Ruth Fagan bought a poem from him with her last quarter. She was thirty-two, he was a fifty-nine-year-old derelict, and within a couple of weeks they were going around as Mr. and Mrs. Bodenheim, though it’s not clear they ever bothered to make it official. They decayed together for the next couple of years, chronically broke and drunk, descending from cheap rooming houses to flophouses to sleeping in hallways and doorways. She turned tricks when she could, and he beat her when he found out. In 1952 they made a horrific spectacle of themselves at a fancy reunion for surviving members of the original Chicago Renaissance group, where he panhandled the guests while she propositioned them.

If the Bodenheim of the early 1950s was a disgusting or amusing clown to the tourists, and an embarrassment and bother to his old friends, he was something of a martyred saint to the generation of bohemians who came to the Village after World War Two. In his headlong descent into the abyss, his lust for the extremes of degradation, his lust for lust itself, he was like a dark archangel of negative capability for them, representing the ultimate rejection of bourgeois virtue and mainstream values, even to the point of total self-destruction. He comes up several times in the published diaries of Judith Malina, co-founder of the Living Theatre, from this period. One night in 1951 she and her husband Julian Beck were in the San Remo, the dark and smoky bar at Bleecker and MacDougal Streets that Bodenheim often haunted:

A ragged drunk approaches our table. In terrible shape. Ash blond hair askew. He lurches forward, his hands resting on the table. Directly to Julian: “What’s your name?”

“My name is Julian Beck.”

“My name is Maxwell Bodenheim. I’m an idiotic poet.”

And he turns and moves off before we can speak.

The late Roy Metcalf, who was a young newspaper reporter in the early 1950s, also encountered Bodenheim in the San Remo. “Bodenheim had a great face, an alcohol-ravaged face,” he recalled. “Once a guy from uptown wanted to see Greenwich Village, so we went down to the San Remo. There was Bodenheim. He said, 'Bring him over, let’s buy him a drink.’ He expected Bodenheim to say something. Bodenheim by that time was so paralyzed by alcohol that all he could do was bray, 'Aaaaargh.’”

In 1953 Malina went into the Waldorf Cafeteria on Sixth Avenue, where artists hung out. The food was lousy, the lighting made people look so bad they nicknamed it the Waxworks, and the other patrons tended to be bums, drug addicts, tough guys and cops. The staff was not particularly welcoming to arty boho types. So naturally that’s where Bodenheim and Ruth went to celebrate his birthday. Malina writes that a friend stole a pumpkin pie from the counter as a present for Bodenheim. “A cop sees him, but is somehow content with my explanation that Maxwell Bodenheim is a great poet and that his birthday should be celebrated. The counterman is not so generous: 'I ain’t doin’ this for love.’ We all eat. Ruth Bodenheim curses the cafeteria. Some junkies come and tell horrible tales of hospitals and arrests. One taps his eye with a knife to show us that it’s glass. Ruth Bodenheim smiles in an aristocratic manner: 'I’d never have believed it wasn’t real,’ as if she were consoling the owner of false jewels.”

“Do we not idolize Maxwell Bodenheim although we are sometimes loath to talk to him and always ashamed of our condescension to him?” Malina wonders in another entry. “What we admire is Bodenheim’s refusal to resist. We fight all the time, resisting temptation. We admire those who don’t. Even if it’s suicidal.” And later: “Even self-contempt when fierce enough is magnificent. The virtue of the extreme is its extremity. Nature loves extremes as much as she loathes a vacuum.”

In 1953, Ruth took up with a violent, mentally unstable dishwasher named Harold Weinberg. One night in the winter of 1954 the three of them wound up in Weinberg’s room off the Bowery. Bodenheim roused himself from a drunken stupor to see Ruth and Weinberg having sex. He attacked Weinberg, who pulled out a .22 and shot him through the heart. Then Weinberg stabbed Ruth in the chest. The last photos of Bodenheim show him and Ruth lying dead in the squalid room.

“The hideous death of Bodenheim blankets the Village in a funereal spirit,” Malina wrote. “Who dares confess to the wrenching excitement of seeing a companion’s mauled corpse on the front page of every newspaper, and all of us knowing that the worst has again triumphed?”

Cops picked up Weinberg a few days later. At his trial he called his victims Commie rats and shouted that he “did the world a favor” by getting rid of them. He sang “The Star-Spangled Banner” as he was led out of the courtroom and off to Bellevue.

Today, Bodenheim is remembered more for this tabloid end than for any other achievement. Even his memoir was a dispiriting sham. My Life and Loves in Greenwich Village, published posthumously in 1954, was ghostwritten by a hack who, like everyone else in the Village, had bought him drinks to listen to his drunken ramblings. It’s a loose collection of vignettes, anecdotes, and racy gossip that was already antique when the book appeared. His old friend Hecht, who sent a check for $50 to help pay for Bodenheim’s cheapjack funeral, based his 1958 Off-Broadway play Winkelberg on him. (“There was never a man as irritating as Winkelberg.”) It ran for a month at the Renata Theatre on Bleecker Street, then sank into oblivion along with much of Bodenheim’s own writing.

by John Strausbaugh

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zombriekid · 5 years ago

Text

The Devil Takes Care of His Own 3/?? [Alastor/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Hazbin Hotel

Chapter Name: Checking In?

Chapter Summary: you’re faced with a dilemma as the happy hotel opens its doors to you

Text from: The Boss

“WHAT. THE FUCK. DID YOU DO, NEWBIE?”

Oh no...

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Fuck... oh fuck, oh god no, please.

“WHY ARE SO MANY OF MY CLIENTS COMPLAINING ABOUT YOU?!”

The drop of your stomach echoes with a fluttering impression, while a surge of heat, abrupt and uncomfortable, licks at the lining of your throat all the way up to your jaw and it bleeds into your ears; the burgundy walls all around you begin to shrink.

“SOWBELLY SAYS YOU BROKE SOME SHOT!”

“*shit you broke some shit”

“AND THAT COFFEE SMELLIN HIPSTER FUCK SAYS-”

With a resounding clack, your phone slips from your grip and plummets to the sturdy countertop below, a noise that makes the three people around you flinch (you notice distantly), but your brain- your outermost awareness- doesn’t even bother. Because your entire world is now summing up to the blurbs of rapid fire notifications assaulting the LCD screen. Message after heated text message just filled to the brim with expletives and threats and perpetual capslock until this massive wall of verbal abuse blurs your vision; makes your head throb in sync with the increasing thump-thump of your heart.

The device vibrates against the bar and its screen lights up with another message alert, this one demanding your immediate response before declaring you a “useless piece of shit”, and then not long after comes a voice mail about a minute in length.

You’re not gonna listen to it though, you’re gonna grovel.

A tap from your right middle finger brings the digital keyboard to the glass, and your digits begin dancing across the letters to formulate what you consider to be a heartfelt apology, and you beg forgiveness for your transgressions as a lowly delivery person.

But three paragraphs in your hand forces a sudden stop; typos in need of amending due to the constant use of the backspace key, an entire sentence underlined by red squiggly lines with no break between the nonsense letters, and without realizing it at some point you accidentally pulled up the emoji list and now thirty percent of your sniveling is made up of a bunch of cartoons. It’s an odd sensation, you think as you stare back at the jargon, a backlog of muscle memory for modern technology yet you can’t even design coherent text messages in order to save face.

In order to save your fucking job.

All because your goddamn useless hands won’t stop fucking shaking.

Suppose it’s a futile effort at this point- your ass is one hundred percent absolutely and totally fired now.

Meaning no money for bills, no money for food, for utilities, for clothes... Here comes your eviction notice- goodbye lumpy mattress, and a fine greeting to the filthy streets of Pentagram City. A steep price for your compulsive philanthropy, go figure that that’s how things operate down here. How bass ackwards.

But that’s alright, that’s okay, you’ve been through worse you think- you’ve been- you’ve...

You’ve suffered through worse before. Homelessness? Ha, nothing compared to the shit you’ve seen willingly, a temporary setback, maybe a coworker will let you sleep on their couch. The new girl, what was her name? Stacy? Yeah, she’s pretty eager she’ll let you crash with her- it’ll give her more of an excuse to “befriend” you but that’s alright. Sacrifice comfort for survival, right?

“Newbie.”

Not the first time, definitely won’t be the last; life in a concrete jungle is such a fickle bitch, especially here in-

“Newbie!”

-here in Pentagram City.

Present time. Post death. Hell. The here and now.

Impossibly small hands are pulling the apples of your cheeks into fleshy bulbs, folding your lips as a pout, and the darkened corners of your vision dim until Niffty’s lone ocular takes precedence in sight; a triad of quick blinks help anchor your focus.

Oh. How wonderful. Yet another episode... how many does that make today? Certainly way more than usual.

You blame the stress.

“Newbie, you okay?” Niffty asks with a tight throat, and a bob of your head delivers your response.

“Just havin’ a... moment. But I’m alright now.”

She glances down to her right in the direction of your phone, still glaring at you from the grainy surface of the bar, and it’s as if you can literally see the gears in her brain start to rotate. You’re fairly certain that she’s about to put two and two together and get four.

“That’s just my own bossman, Mr. Terry. Well, pretty sure he’s my former boss now.”

“Is it cause of today? When you helped me?”

Your knee-jerk reaction is to mindlessly blurt out a response that would confirm her suspicions, but luckily whatever humanity remains in tact notices her pitch- not necessarily concern rather something akin to it paints the undertone- and it clamps your mouth shut with an audible click of your teeth. Because what you were about to do, what you were about to say, be it directly or indirectly that was going to shift at least some of the blame on to her, and that would be completely unfair. The fault doesn’t lie with her. It’s entirely your own. First off the little lady didn’t even ask for your help, she didn’t beckon to you she didn’t plead for interception, you swooping in to “save the day” was your body’s reflexive need to act, to just do something instead of perpetuating the stereotype of morbidly curious bystander. Second, the manner of which how you saved her was incredibly, stupidly sloppy- a path of damage shadowing your trek and all you left behind was a substantial cost of repairs and replacements. Since when was charging through a line of stores ever a good idea?!

No, you made the decision to do something about Niffty’s situation, so you could’ve found a better way to engage it- actually you should’ve found a better way, but your lapse in judgment cost some people tools, resources, products, and even some clientele, thus costing you practically everything, and now Hell is demanding its pound of flesh from someone’s hide.

Don’t let her believe that it may come from her.

“Nah, I accidentally pissed off some clients recently,” you say as you gently take hold of her hands and remove them from your face. “No need to worry about it, kiddo.” Which none of that is a lie in any capacity, sometimes your cleverness does in fact shine through.

Niffty doesn’t seem to think so, though obviously there’s no way for her to know without some form of mind reading, regardless her face falls into a displeased frown complete with round, bulgy cheeks. “I’m not a kid, Newb. Besides you’re younger than me!”

Oh, she’s so friggin precious, you’re gonna miss this youngen. “In terms of dates, sure. But my, uhh, ‘departure time’ so to speak-” you decorate this with air quotes “-gives me some years on ya.”

“Yeah, by a few at most.”

... No? By, like, ten-ish years? Are you missing something?

“Dude I’m pretty sure I died somewhere in my twenties.”

“Okay? And?”

Okay, yeah, you’re definitely missing something. The tingles on the back of your neck prove this.

She’s not a child, is she?

“... Niffty, how old were you when you bought the farm?”

“Twenty two.”

Alright, okay, that’s dope- how long until the next extermination? That’s a thing you’ve heard about, and you’d really love to volunteer yourself to be first in line right about now. The sooner the better, really.

From pit in his stomach comes an eruption of raucous glee, such an intense reaction that it forces Angel Dust- long forgotten until now- to bend until he’s bracing himself with two hands on his knees, the other pair clutching around his heaving abdomen, as he cry-laughs at your expense.

Meanwhile, the feathered feline fellow manning the bar makes a sound in the back of his throat loud enough to reach your ears, and when you give him your attention he deems the conversation relevant enough to glimpse at you from the corner of his amber eyes; there’s a deep green bottle entrapped in his massive paws and with a tip of the neck he takes a hearty swig before he finally mutters whatever is on his mind. You catch a whiff of the unmistakeable odor of bitter, cheap booze.

“Didja really think Niff’s a kid?”

...

Ten minutes.

Ten whole arduous minutes spent enduring rigorous taunting and not-so-light-hearted ribbing from all three demonic compatriots; statements such as “not so bright are ya, smooth talka?” ala Angel and “no wonder you’re so weird” courtesy of Niffty force the tips of your ears to sear with your cheeks quickly following the same trend.

In your defense, Niffty’s rather small stature and youthful disposition makes her seem much younger than she actually (apparently) is, and sincerest apologies to the court but she’s the most humanoid individual you’ve encountered downside- other than Charlie, of course- so how were you to know that she wasn’t a child in danger solely based on the information you were given? It’s not like you had the time to stop and ask!

And if this trio of assholes would take a few moments to consider your perspective then maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to jump straight to mockery, so until they do they can just suck your bits.

____________________________________

Some time passes, you’re unclear on how much for you refuse to even so much as think of your phone right now, and though you’ve yet to receive anything further from Mr. Terry- no more text messages, no more voice mails, no more notifications- and though the hotel’s three residents have retired from their cruelty and are seeking entertainment elsewhere- Niffty on a dusty painting, Husk at the bottom of a bottle, and Angel Dust... doing whatever in another room- still you find no peace.

No respite from this fuster cluck of a situatio.

And you don’t know what you’re going to do about it.

But you gotta do something, can’t let this continue to fester, so take a deep breath: one, two, three, four- and let it out: five, six, seven, eight- and repeat. Clear your head. Think about this logically.

The first step should be an apology, of course, but your gut tells you that a simple “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to, won’t happen again” just wouldn’t suffice- not for a group of pissed off demons at least. And your employment with Mr. Terry is a measly two weeks young, nowhere near enough to build up some sort of history of positive work ethic, so starting with him is practically a fool’s errand already.

After all, your enigmatic boss isn’t known for his mercy.

... maybe...

Maybe you’re on to something with that assessment.

Maybe you shouldn’t apologize to him first but rather save him for last. Work up the list of priorities instead of down.

Starting with the demon you pissed off first: Mrs. Sowbelly.

Two pokes at your back.

A delicate, graceful exclamation of “FUCK!” comes bellowing out of your mouth as the abrupt shock nearly sends your ass careening to the floor, your hands scrambling upon the bar in order to hook stability.

Mere seconds later and you find Charlie over the slope of your shoulder with her right index finger pointed in your direction; the look on her face suggests that your squawking startled her. In this moment your mouth works much faster than your brain and an apology is already leaping off your tongue... that is until you notice the person standing next to her.

Now, not to be rude about it, but there’s nothing inherently striking about this individual; gray tinted skin, long white hair pouring down the length of her spine, a few inches shorter than the blonde at her side, and a large pink eye staring straight at you with something like irritation. For the most part, she looks human- not humanoid like Charlie and Niffty, but like you.

Human.

And that’s why she’s stealing your attention.

“Hey Newbie, I want to introduce you to the Happy Hotel’s manager and my partner, Vaggie.” Charlie says with a somewhat forced smile, likely residual from your outburst.

With your eyes trained on the gal in question, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Howdy, pleasure to meet you.”

Vaggie doesn’t say anything back.

Luckily, however, Charlie keeps the conversation rolling.

“The two of us actually wanted to talk to you about something important. Is... is that okay?”

For your anxiety? Anything that even remotely parallels “we need to talk” is a near guarantee to sending your heart to the racetrack, so no it’s not okay in that regard. That being said, given her response earlier, before Mr. Terry battered you with derisive texts, and the fact that she called the manager/her girlfriend over is... well, you’d be lying if you said that you aren’t intrigued. Skeptical, maybe even paranoid, but intrigued. So you give your consent.

“Cool beans! So, umm, I think I’m just going to cut to the chase here,” she clears her throat, “we want you to stay here. At the Happy Hotel. To be rehabilitated.”

...

....

“I’m sorry, fucking what?”

The question is out before the rest of your body has time to process Charlie’s words, but even when you fully digest the information you’re still left feeling perplexed. What does she mean “rehabilitation”, what all does that entail, why did she have to call her girlfriend for this?

And, oh, how her patience seems to know no bounds for the smile that curls on her lips is soft, and her brow pulls together in what you can only call generosity. Like she understands your confusion; makes you wonder how often she goes through this schtick.

“Allow me to explain our predicament since you’re still new.”

And she does, in great detail, weaving a copper-scented tapestry with threads dyed the shades of suffering and heinous sin. In less pretentious terms, she regurgitates material you’ve only heard in passing. Hell is bursting at the seams with its substantial over population issue, one that only grows more exacerbated with each newcomer, and with limited real estate and even more limited resources the powers that be reached the conclusion long ago that a percentage just... has to go. Enter the exterminators, a team set out from the tippy topside whose sole purpose is to literally slash some numbers in half once a year.

Charlie doesn’t like this, in fact her exact words are “it kills me inside knowing that my people are being systematically annihilated” and honestly they kinda make you equate this to that of a speech from some representative- an authority figure, someone with power, which makes sense if this is her hotel. It’s pretty, the way she feels about the annual genocide, but you’ve yet to hear her alternative solution if she has any to begin with.

As the saying goes, actions do speak louder than words.

That’s when she genuinely explains the hotel’s purpose: to purge the demons of their vices, purify their souls, make right their wrong doings from when they were alive so that they can walk through the pearly gates as a reborn person, faultless and whole. Redemption. Rehabilitation. Because a hotel is only a temporary pitstop between two destinations.

The idea... makes enough sense, you guess.

“I mean, that’s neat, super admirable, and the whole idea of reforming demons instead of just- ya know- offing them sounds way better in comparison. But uhh- what does this have to do with me?”

“Well,” Charlie looks over at Vaggie before advancing her explanation, “you’re new. You haven’t regained your memories yet, your body hasn’t adapted yet, you still have your humanity- I mean you helped Niffty out of a tight spot without any expectation of a reward!”

“Nah, I just did what felt like the right thing at the time.”

“Exactly! We need someone like that here!”

Ah.

Now the picture has clarity.

What Charlie said earlier, “... if I can help just one demon find redemption here then everyone else will believe too!” that was merely another way of saying “we haven’t succeeded yet.” And judging by the way the hotel’s current residents, this motley crew of friends(?), they’ve been trying with people who have been here a lot longer than you have- you, a newbie that hasn’t gone through “the Change” yet, hasn’t full acclimated or been assimilated into the disgusting system of eternal suffering. Like they have. If redemption can be had here it’s more likely to be found with a newcomer like you, and if you can be saved then it’ll prove possible for anyone else.

At least that’s what you’ve surmised from the situation.

It doesn’t sit right with you though.

You did something topside to warrant your arrival here, or maybe you did a lot of things, or maybe you didn’t do enough, you don’t know and that’s the point. You don’t remember. There could be a mountain of skeletons shoved into your closet that you’re completely unaware of and until further notice that’s where they’re going to remain if they even exist.

You. Don’t. Know.

There are way too many unknown variables regarding your past- no, you’re very identity, and though you’ve been reassured on numerous occasions that that’s actually the standard here for newcomers... that doesn’t mean you deserve a second chance. Because who you were may not deserve it.

So don’t waste the room on a potential lost cause, is what you tell them.

“All the more reason to try it now before your memories can influence you.” Vaggie says in a firm voice, the very first you’ve heard her speak.

And admittedly the logic is sound, you’re not trying to dispute that, it’s just...

Not you- a clattering racket against the bar top- anyone else may deserve this opportunity- disrupts the conversation- but not you- and it takes all of two seconds to determine the source. It’s your phone, probably Mr. Terry announcing you officially dead to his business.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Still Vaggie.

As of right now, no, you really don’t.

“Residents can board here for free, you just have to stay clean- no sinning, at least as best you can.”

That’s not too bad, you think. Maybe you should-

No! No, one “good deed” doesn’t merit a shot at atonement. It’s not going to negate whatever it is you did to topside to leave you downside.

...but you’re more than likely out of a job now, one that barely paid enough to cover expenses to begin with, and losing your apartment is trailing not that far behind.

“What do you say, Newbie?”

“I-” the sudden dryness in your throat drags forth a minor coughing fit. “I don’t know if I deserve it.”

“Only one way to find out.”

Sacrifice comfort for survival, right?

You take a deep breath. “O-okay. Where’s the check-in sheet?”

____________________________________

a/u: mental health has been a bitch to deal with so i’m sorry that this took longer than i expected. i have half a mind to scrap this and redo it again but i’ma do this funky fresh thing where i stop overanalyzing it and put it out there for y’all to read. still no beta, and still no al yet, but we’re definitely getting c l o s e r, got this bitch all planned out and everything. y’all know the deal by now: like, reblog, and comment; the engagement makes my lil queer kokoro go doki doki

tagged: @kryptum-one @itz-kira @peachesandkats (i’m in love with all three of y’all, just letting you know)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #writing

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murasaki-murasame · 5 years ago

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Good news is, Ao no Flag chapter 51 is out, and it’s really good :)

Bad news is, it’s good in the sense that it’s really emotionally painful, and also the series is ending Soon [tm].

Anyway, thoughts under the cut.

Right off the bat, I got my JP copy of volume 7 a few days ago, and I can confirm that that volume goes up to chapter 48, so since each volume has about seven chapters in it, and we already know that the series is about to end soon, I think it’ll probably end around chapter 55. So we might only have about four chapters left, give or take. Since the series is monthly now I don’t think they’d extend it out for another volume after that, when they’ve already announced that it’s approaching the ending. But we’ll see.

Anyway, the chapter itself was great, and we’re finally starting to get a look into Taichi’s POV on things, which we’ve been really missing out on. It’s all still kind of vague and messy, but the story’s focusing more on it now, and the with how this chapter ended I think we’ll get some more concrete insight into how he feels very soon.

I’m happy that it looks like they’re finally going to address the charm that Touma made for Taichi, since that’s been bugging me for ages now, lol. At this point my best guess is that it’s going to be some sort of small, personal memento of sorts that will remind Taichi of his history with Touma, and hopefully help trigger some sort of emotional revelation or decision. I don’t think that whatever’s inside the charm in and of itself will be super shocking or anything, but I think it’ll just be a big deal for Taichi personally.

I still don’t want to get my hopes up or anything, but I’m gonna be a bit let down if this just ends with Taichi officially rejecting Touma and continuing to date Futaba. Especially if things also end with Masumi staying single. That’d just be kinda lame.

Especially after seeing how wound up Taichi was throughout this entire chapter, it still kinda feels like there’s more going on than him just not knowing what to do with the fact that Touma’s gay and has a crush on him. With how the start of the chapter in particular highlighted how Taichi seems to specifically be struggling with some kind of nebulous, anxious fear related to having to ‘choose’ between the two of them, it feels a bit more like he might actually be bi and he’s having a bit of a meltdown as he faces the fact that it’s an actual choice he has to make, and he can’t just go ‘I’m not into guys so sorry but I have to turn you down’, or whatever. Maybe I’m just biased but it feels hard to buy the idea that a straight dude would actually get THIS messed up about it, or that he’d actually be struggling with some sort of peer pressure to accept Touma’s confession when he already has a girlfriend. But who even knows. With how close we seem to be to the ending, though, hopefully we’ll know one way or another before long.

Before I forget, we got a bit of a casual reveal that apparently at the festival a while back when Taichi and Futaba started dating, she outright told him that the sort of love she feels toward Touma isn’t the kind where she wants to have a relationship with him. Which is a pretty interesting detail to suddenly reveal.

Aside from that, we also got some explanations for what had been going on with Masumi behind the scenes early in the series, and before everything started, which I’m really glad they covered since I’ve been wondering about it for a while. Turns out that Futaba had told Masumi before the story started about her crush on Touma, which lead to Masumi observing Touma to get a feel for his personality and eventually her figuring out that he has a crush on Taichi, which then lead to her telling Futaba that she can’t support her crush on Touma. Which really goes a long way to explain how everything got kicked off, and how Masumi knew about Touma’s crush on Taichi from the start, and why she feels a sort of personal attachment and guilt toward everything that’s gone on since then. It makes sense that she’d feel guilty about indirectly making Futaba seek out someone else’s help about her crush on Touma which kicked off this whole situation, even though it’s not exactly her fault that all of this happened.

I’m almost surprised that we got such a short and simple explanation for how Masumi figured out that Touma’s gay, lol. But it makes a lot of sense and I don’t really think anything else would have made sense. It’s also kinda cute how it all tied into her trying to be a good friend for Futaba.

And on the note of Masumi in general, I think her attitude in this whole chapter makes sense for her as a character, but I still don’t entirely agree with her perspective, and I think her own emotional baggage is making her kinda harsh in how she views Touma’s actions in all this. It’s not his fault that any of this happened either. He did directly confess to Taichi, but only after he got outed to the entire school against his will.

I still really hope things end well for her. She has her own stuff going on, but unlike with Touma she’s still keeping things tightly wrapped up and basically nobody except, like, Akiko, has much of an idea what she’s going through. But it’s hard to see how things could get much better for her when it seems like all the drama going on with Touma recently has basically, from her perspective, validated her feelings about distancing herself from people and ignoring her own feelings. On the one hand she’s right about how everyone still needs to focus on academics, but it kinda feels like she’s using it as an excuse to avoid confronting her own problems. Which is, as they say, a whole ass mood.

We didn’t get a whole lot of Touma in this chapter, but we found out that apparently he’s stopped coming to school because he’s found some sort of job that he’s focusing on. Which is kinda worrying, given the timing of everything, and how he and Taichi haven’t properly opened up to each other and made up. It’s not like I can blame him with all the shit he’s been dealing with lately, but it feels like he’s also trying to just escape this whole situation, which I don’t think will really help him in the long run.

Either way I have absolutely no idea how this is all going to wrap up, but it definitely does feel like we’re in the final volume. I’m glad that it looks like it won’t drag on past the natural stopping point that’s been set up since the story began, but it’ll still be sad to see it end, and I’m gonna be disappointed if the ending is super bittersweet or just outright depressing, at least when it comes to Touma and Masumi.

I’m still hoping this series gets an anime adaptation down the road but that’s probably a pipe dream, lol

Anyway, this is your monthly reminder that Viz Media is gonna start releasing the series physically in April next year :)

#murasaki rambles #ao no flag #every goddamn time this series hurts my soul I'm just like *shocked-pikachu.png*

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heartless-error · 5 years ago

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Broken, not perfect, but together. - Chapter 3

Fandom: DC comics, Batman

Pairings: Jonathan Kent x Damian Wayne (JonDami) & Jason Todd x Timothy Drake (JayTim)

Rating: General, family feels, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, running away

Other(s) links: AO3

Broken.

The Batfamily was broken.

It was six years ago, and they had barely stood together since then, trying to stand up despite guilt and regret.

Damian was sure there was nothing to save, not after losing something that he didn’t know he cared about. But when a new opportunity to get back what they had lost appeared, he cannot help to doubt as his past decisions haunt him again.

If you love somebody, set them free. But you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Chapter 3

Now

A jolt woke him up.

A jolt followed by a hard squeeze on his hip and an intelligible whisper beside him.

It’s not as if Damian had expected to sleep well tonight, he even didn’t expect to sleep at all. When they arrived at the apartment, he was ready to spend all night staring at the ceiling quiet and trying not to think too much. However, he underestimated how tired he was and how much his wounded body needed to rest, so he was fallen asleep before realizing it.

But even if he didn’t want much rest, waking up agitated and listening sobs behind him wasn’t a good way to start the day.

“Jonathan.” He said fully awake and shaking from his grasp. “Nightmare.”

The super was still holding him tightly, carelessly and causing Damian grumbled for the treatment to his injuries, while the other was breathing restless and mumbling apologies in dreams.

“Nightmare.” He repeated aloud. “It’s a nightmare. Wake up.”

It’s neither the first nor the last time any of them have an unpleasant dream and awakes the other. Indeed, it would be very sad to admit it willingly but is also part of their lives and work so far, nightmares come hand in hand with superheroes’ duty and they had worse episodes than this in the past, like everyone else, right? That’s why Damian didn’t want to sleep, he knew something like this would happen again.

He didn’t get rid of his embrace but could barely turned around to shake his shoulder and wake him up as the other seemed to hesitate in his dreams, not cheerful at all.

“Jon!”

Panting hard and trembling, Jon finally opened his eyes, yet some sleepy and groggy, shrugging himself and looking around nervously as he woke up completely.

“Dami?” He asked in a whisper and still clinging around him tightly, as if he couldn’t believe he was talking to him.

“You were dreaming.” He explained hastily still squirming in his grip.

Jonathan fell silent a few seconds, tears about to fall, frowning, sweating and taking his breath back. He calmed down a bit and was apparently back in the real world, assimilating it was a nightmare, but didn’t make him feel better seemingly.

With a miserable expression on his face, he realized how strong he was clinging to Damian and how he was trying to free himself, letting him go immediately and away from him as if he were on fire.

“I’m sorry.” Jon said quickly as he sat on the mattress, rubbing his eyes tightly. “I’m sorry, you okay? It was not my intention, sorry.”

Damian shook his head, looking at him from his position without moving. It wasn’t nothing important, Jon just squeezed him a little like a plushie and was a bit annoying, maybe his bruises were worst, but were minor wounds first so he didn’t care at all.

But he knew Jon cares, and looking at him away, shuddering and breathing deeply to relax, gave him enough proofs to know whatever he had dreamed about had shook him to the point to sobbing in his sleep, and add to that an apparent guilt for unintentionally hurting him didn’t help at all.

Sometimes nightmares shake Jon like that, leaves him emotional, overloaded and saturated with everything, and Damian hadn’t come to establish a way to help him cope with it yet. Because there were other variables to consider, such as the mood, date, time or the type of nightmare, and none of them appeared to be favorable now.

But if Damian knows something, is that he hates to see Jon cry. He hated it since he was 13 and still do strongly. Jon crying gives him a rare, visceral and unpleasant sensation on his chest that seems to pull it from inside, willing to rip him. He couldn’t stand it.

When they were kids, he thought it was because he despised how someone powerful and strong as Superboy, with such potential, could show much weakness and so openly. Then, he realized it was precisely the opposite, that what he really hated was how he felt when Jon seemed to trust him so easily to be vulnerable around him. That left him scared, hesitant and unsure just by having a friend, a real friend, who didn’t think he was going to stab him at any moment -something that neither him was sure in those times-. But sometimes he was also jealous, because Jon felt safe and confident enough to express himself and being weak in front of anyone, and Damian… never had that before, until then, he only had the strong statement that he would be killed and replaced if he showed any weakness or proof of not being a worthy heir.

“Habibi.” He called his attention, waiting his hesitant look to lie sideways on the bed and extend his right arm on the pillow, in a clear invitation.

Jon seriously seemed to doubt it, quiet and evaluating the situation, as if he would hurt him only by lying there together. Damian snorted at him angrily, scolding him with his eyes until Jon realized how stupid he was and gave up, lying back and resting his head on his arm as he embraced him completely and buried his face in his neck.

Even if he still didn’t know exactly how to help Jon when he had nightmares, he knew that physical contact helps when it happens. And even though Kent was the most tactile and affectionally open in their relationship, at least Damian now was more used to receive affection and answer to it. Actually, it’s one of the few things that Grayson did right for once.

He felt how the tension in his mate’s body disappeared as they spent more time in that position, quiet and enjoying other’s touch, trying not to break the momentarily peace. After a while Jon no longer looked like he was going to cry imminently and relaxed as he caressed his free hand down his back, slowly drawing patterns. But, of course, Damian knew the exact moment he would speak to say something stupid when he felt him getting some air.

“Don’t apologize again.” He cut him off quickly. “You didn’t hurt me, so drop it.”

He would not let him think about it too much, because he knew how easy it was to do that after waking up sobbing.

“You know it’s not only for that.” Said Jon seriously and outrage in his tone.

Damian froze, his hand still on his back and his arm starting to get numb cause of the weight on it. He tried to pull away to look at Jon, but he sank more into his neck, hiding from scrutiny, as if he feared his reaction.

He should have known, the apologies now made sense.

He sighed, not really knowing what to say or what to do.

“Then, do you think I should also apologize?” He asked, doubtful.

That’s what made Jon move and look at him with alarm in his eyes, surprised and with a questioning expression. It’s not as if Damian hadn’t improved in giving encouragement or comfort to people in general, but this was a special case, and both knew they needed a different approach to be reasonable.

“No.” Jon said angrily, like what he was saying was crazy.

“And why you did? What’s the difference?”

Jon stayed quiet, his lips in a fine line and blinking, in conflict. His reasoning had fallen completely, and he was obviously trying to save it, but it was useless.

It’s so simple, if Jon didn’t think that Damian had to apologize, then Jon didn’t have to. Easy.

“B-Because I-” He started to stammer, willing to discuss.

“No.” He cut him off.

“But I-”

“No.” He cut him off again, tilting his weight over him gradually.

“But it’s my fault that-”

“No.” He repeated freeing his arms and laying above him completely, crushing him with his weight.

“I gave them-”

“Stop.” He ordered covering his mouth with one hand.

“Mnph!”

“I said stop.”

“…”

“You know, I don’t care if you lick and drool on my hand, you’ve licked me other things.”

The answer to that was a strong bite. He complained, putting his hand away in disgust, then looked at him raising an eyebrow as Jon just glared back with a defiant stance despite the embarrassed blush on his face. Then, Damian looked at his drooled hand and decided to clean it in the best place: Jon’s face.

“Argh! Gross!” Jon shriek squirming beneath him as he rubbed his hand where he could reach. It was known that Jon could lift him and ran away without effort, but no longer worth it, Damian was too fast and saliva has returned to its birthplace.

“You started it.” He declared at the end and looking at him seriously, as if it were a serious matter instead of… Drool. “And that’s you get for thinking too much.”

The last statement made Jon sigh and give him that resigned expression that seemed to say, “I did it, right?”, to which he nodded.

As he thought at the beginning, it was easy to sink into the negative thoughts once you have awakened from a nightmare induced by guilt. He would also done that if Jon hadn’t appeared back in the cave, right in time to distract him.

And it’s not as if they could say directly to each other that was not their fault and that’s it. It was, they know, and this isn’t work that way. They couldn’t get up one morning and be free of any impact or repercussion of what they had caused indirectly around them with their decisions, because they were very aware of them every day.

But they also knew not all was their fault. There was more than one player in the game, and they were not the main ones.

It’s easy to think otherwise in the worst moments while you hear the accusations of your head, but once you stop to think about it and there’s someone to lift you up hitting with a pillow or drooling in your hand, you keep going and realize it doesn’t have to be like that, you shouldn’t have to apologize for everything.

Sitting up, Jon lifted his arms around his neck to make him lean and kiss him firmly, what he didn’t hesitate to correspond. He knew it was his way to say thanks for calm him; So, when they separated, he just smiled with a shrug. Damian knew Jon would have done the same for him, he would say that, but the affection in Jon’s look was replaced by fun, and he couldn’t react in time to escape.

“No! Argh!” He cried as Jon hold him and began to lick his face as revenge. “You’re disgusting! Stop!”

Jon just laughed out loud as he kept doing it while Damian tried his best to get away. He swears that his boyfriend sometimes is like a dog, it’s like having Titus with him again. And he’s not laughing too, no, not at all.

And in that room, lighted by the early morning sun, while laughs and tenders’ complaints were heard, both knew that no matter what they or anyone else thought. No one could really apologize and take the full blame for what happened six years ago, not matter what role they played, it’s not going to change anything and nobody needs it, not that.

After all, Tim and Jason ran away willingly.

~ 0.0 ~

That fact remained and was repeated in Damian’s mind as he lit the coffee pot and leaned on the kitchen counter, waiting.

It was half past nine, he still had his hair wet because of the shower minutes ago, his body protested less than yesterday, Jon was taking a shower too, he needed a coffee, to make breakfast and instead he was looking at the calendar absently as he remember.

He just does that, remember. Not wanting to think too much, because he had a lot of that lately.

It had been six years since the day Damian came back to the manor and went down to the cave to find Red Robin and Red Hood’s uniforms bent at the Batcomputer counter with a paper note and didn’t know how to feel.

Today he still doesn’t know how to feel, being honest.

“Goodbye.” The note said.

Just that. Nothing more. Nothing on the back, or written in invisible ink, no codes, no signs anywhere. Nothing. Only a paper with “Goodbye” written on it and over their suits.

And as he sat in the chair in front of the keyboard and watched the scene in silence, Dick and Bruce’s could be heard arguing in the background, angrily and their screams resounded in the cave strongly; Cass wasn't even there, but she would stare at everything in silence if she was, Stephanie was probably crying on a corner somewhere, and Alfred nowhere to be found.

The argument between the other two confirmed that nobody had more news than that, all safes houses were empty, no image/video/audio useful for Oracle and even Kon or Clark couldn’t hear them, indeed, any available meta couldn’t.

They said goodbye and ran away. Just like that.

And sitting there, staring at the fucking paper they left and reading it non-stop, Damian realized it was true, they were gone. His mind seemed to fit in suddenly that it was true and definitive, they were gone for real, and that hit him with so much force that he felt a part of him broke and fall, causing him started to panic just like his family around him trying to find them.

But they didn’t.

There was nothing, nothing, not a minimal detail to hold onto. They had made sure to cover their tracks very well, even the smallest detail, there was not a single clue and, what did they expect to find anyway? Todd was hiding for everyone during years before making his debut as Red Hood and Drake was one of the most valuable assets within technology and intelligence, both had money, contacts, skills, and the most important: reasons to leave.

Drake and Todd’s relationship with the family was very unstable at those times, even dangerous. So, when father found the costumes and the note, he activated all alarms because there was no way it was a joke.

Useless, obviously, they would be already far away by then. And six years later they have still not been found and making Damian look absently at a calendar with pictures of bunnies in it while thinking he didn’t want to buy it but he had to because “we had the puppies one last year Dami, now it’s my turn to choose.”

That and, it would be better if they were dead?

A part of him feels horrible, filthy, despicable only by thinking that. But another, one that sounds like his 10 years old self, says, “it would be?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Because death was one thing that all the family already knew, with which they were already familiar and whose pain had experienced and overcome with time. Something they had witnessed and suffer so often that much to destroy them at the moment, at least they know how to get up and keep moving.

But a disappearance? Voluntarily?

That was something else.

At least death mean that they wouldn’t be there never again -supposedly-, that they were gone forever and that’s it, there was nothing else. They didn’t have to look for clues or ask metas if they can find them. And if they had died, they would fight until their last breath, clinging to life without wanting to leave, he knows.

But leaving a note and running away together is the opposite, it’s worst. At least if it had been a disappearance against his will they would be equally worried, but would have found them eventually, they would have done so. And surely, they would have known they wanted to be home.

But it wasn’t and that’s the problem.

What kind of person he was that sometimes he might wish that his brothers were killed or kidnapped instead of being abandoning him?

Not a very good one, for sure.

But he can’t help it because the situation changes so much. Being dead they couldn’t do nothing or going anywhere, but running away and without backup they could meet so many unpleasant and dangerous possibilities; And the fact that they had planned to do everything on their own meant so much things too, and some of them were so, so painful.

As they sought clues and the years passed in blank, they couldn’t help but wonder more and insistently what they’re doing, where they are, or most important, if they are alive.

And if they are, are they happy?

That’s the only thing that makes a little bearable the idea they’re gone. Because if they are, whether they are happy wherever they live, whatever they do, then Damian could make peace with them, with himself and with the fact that they defected and abandoned everything and everyone for that purpose.

If they are, he may believe it worth it, even if in the process they have made it seem as if their lives here, their family, their friends and their identities didn’t matter enough to run away without hesitation.

As if he didn’t matter enough.

The coffee finished behind him and he sighed, giving one last look at the calendar when he turned around to reach a cup and serve.

“You want some?” He asked at the other person in the room.

“No, thanks. I’m fine.” Kon said from the kitchen door, looking at him.

He knew he was there for quite a while, watching him. Moreover, he knew he was already awake when he had entered the kitchen, but he chose to ignore him completely.

Damian leaned back on the counter again, this time with a hot cup of coffee in his hands and looked at his guest. Kon hadn’t change much over the years, he was now an adult, but right now was disheveled, sleepy and his clothes rumpled by sleep on his couch, so he didn’t impose respect.

To be fair, he never imposed him any respect, but now their relationship was more cordial and pacific than before, he’s dating his little brother after all.

“Did you have fun in Zodome?” Conner said with irony and repressing a grin.

And, even so, he still was an annoying jerk.

“Yeah, how about you in the farm?” He asked back.

Conner’s expression soured a little, but enough to consider it a victory.

“Cool.” He lied. “I’m glad to see you can finally reach the cups.”

“I’m glad to see you sleep well. How many times did you fall to the ground tonight?” Damian asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

This time Conner just laughed, shook his head and then gave him that look of fondness/nostalgia that he wasn’t want to locate, because that’s the one he used to give him since he tried to be intimidating during the shovel talk (which didn’t work at all) when he did things official with Jonathan and they started to get better.

However, that look soon turned into a serious one, matching with a tic in his leg and a cautious posture. It seemed that Kon wanted to say something, something important, and didn’t know how or where to start, so he was there trying to establish a plan of action that will surely lead them to an uncomfortable conversation or an argument. And supers really don’t know how to act when they want something, right? Damian just hoped to drink his coffee quietly while Kon learns how to be subtle for once in his life.

“Your brother is taking a shower right now.” He told him after another sip of coffee. “I’m making breakfast, do you want anything?”

“I want a lot of things.” He answered thoughtfully. “But right now, I want to know why my little brother seems to suffer and blame himself more than me every year. And he’s not the only one.”

Subtlety.

Something that Conner Kent doesn’t have at all.

Damian took a few seconds to recover himself from the verbal punch that the other had thrown at him so sincerely and frankly, analyzing what he said and then carefully placing a mask of complete indifference on him. He just pretended to be interested in keep drinking his coffee as if he didn’t hear anything.

His first instinct might have been to attack, saying he didn’t know what he was talking about or better to ask Jon when he got out of the shower, but it wasn’t the wisest choice and he knew it. Not when Kon-El was serious and focused, a lot, judging by the sententious look he had.

“What are you two hiding, Damian?” The he asked, and despite the heavy silence that had settled between them, he approached slowly to him until he was right in front, looking into his eyes and firm as ever. “Because I know you are hiding something, and it’s related to all of this.”

His blood was frozen, the coffee was stiff in his hands and he was using all his effort and strength to keep up the apathetic façade and his heart to a normal rhythm.

“I wanted to ask Jon back in Kansas, but I had no chance.” Kon explained, looking at him harshly. “Six years is a long time, and you have to understand I can’t wait anymore.”

The stern gaze wavered for a moment as saying the last, making Damian glimpsed the pain and grief shining in the eyes that now kept him on the place and made him try to appear calm.

It wasn’t easy for Damian to be aware that he was not the only person that Tim and Jason chose to leave behind, and this situation didn’t help.

“I wasn’t the detective of my team.” Kon said then, his miserable expression making his way ever faster. “But I know when Jon lie. And I know this is how you react when you want to hide something, because Tim told me.”

His world was punched again, causing the façade to crack a little. This is not okay, no, no, this is not okay at all. He didn’t expect a confrontation, not now, not here, not this way.

He pressed the cup between his hands without looking away, valuing his options, not letting his emotions cloud his judgment.

“Damian.” Kon called him reproachfully, yet gently, like a parent scolding a child even though they were almost the same height, like another big brother. “What did you do? What are you afraid of?”

These questions almost made him drop the coffee. Because the answers were so many, so many and shaking his mind, appearing, turning and repeating loudly within him. Reminding him his conflicts and starting to think too much, again.

And Kon, Tim’s best friend, Jon’s brother, looked at him so dejected yet so hopeful of being able to know something that the ability to tell the truth no matter what he know or suspect, or anything in respect, died there.

He was going to attack, attack and retreat. Being sure not to see him again, or not to go near him until he was sure what are his suspicions exactly and how far did he go.

But a sound between them interrupted and dispelled the growing tension in a moment, making them to look at the source of the sound with surprise. Conner’s pocket, his phone.

Damian could relax a minimum when Kon finally turned his attention away from him and gave him some space to answer the call, some unexpected judging by the uneasy expression of him.

He was drinking his coffee again and clearing his mind to appear normal and leave the situation when Kon answered, stood still, blinked and then handed him the phone.

“Is for you.” He said.

Damian frowned and looked at the phone, undecided. He had left his in the bag he had brought from the manor and was off because he knew would get a lot of calls from Grayson playing to be a good brother -what a liar-.

But he thought that if they had come to investigate who might be with him, then call Kon-El and make him pass the phone to him, it’s because it had to be important. So, he left the coffee aside and answered.

“Come back to the manor. Now.” Barbara’s voice said. No Oracle, Barbara. “We’ve found something.”

#myfic #jaytim #jondami #damijon #timjay #tim drake #jason todd #jon kent #damian wayne #jonathan kent #red hood #red robin #robin #superboy #dc #dc comis #supersons

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 5 years ago

Text

Spoilers.

Okay I can’t hold it in anymore, I need to yell about Star Trek.

SO.

In light of the revelations we got from Picard ep8 and ep9, I have come to the conclusion that the plot is a giant fucking mess. Lemme explain. (Buckle up, it’s long and VERY spoilery). First, a recap: 300 000 years ago, synthetic lifeforms from another galaxy dragged eight suns together (or maybe created them) and put a sign on the planet in the middle, saying “hey synth pals, when the organics decide to destroy you, give us a call, we’ll destroy them.” The Romulans stumbled upon it, understood only the “synth, organics, destroy” part and decided to hunt and kill robots before they evolved. So far, the robotic higher beings have only succeeded in making the organics hate the synths, so good job. Using the Romulan rescue, Oh makes synths illegal through the attack on Mars, causing the death of most of her people (and incidentally, of the entire Vulcan race in another timeline. Thanks, Oh!). I’ll give her points for dedication, at least this isn’t a “save my people and screw the rest of the Federation” scenario. She’s actually willing to sacrifice her planet to save the whole galaxy. (Doesn’t make it moral, but still, pretty selfless, in a dark a twisted way.) Again, this is the robotic higher beings’ fault.

Moving on, The surviving synths try to make first contact with Starfleet, resulting in the death of Jana, Beautiful Flower and Vandermeer, which has overall very little consequence on the bigger plot. AGAIN, this is indirectly the robotic higher beings’ fault. (Maybe losing her sister is what makes Sutra such a bitch? Don’t think so though, we’ll get to that.) Maddox, learning nothing from the Ibn Majid, decides to learn the truth about the ban and sends two synthetic girls that look exactly like Jana to investigate (my god is he stupid), while not actually telling them what it is they’re supposed to find (oh, Bruce. Oh my god). It leads to the Romulans realizing that there’s an entire planet of synths. Outstanding work, dumbass.

Picard does his thing and decides to save the synths and advocate for their lives, Sutra realizes what the Admonition actually meant, and decides that killing all the organics sounds like a great idea. She doesn’t hesitate to let Narek kill one of her sisters to unite her people, showing that she’s exactly the same kind of psycho bitch as Oh. The problem is: SELF-FULFILLING PROPHECIES. The robotic higher beings are fucking IDIOTS!! They’re supposed to have seen many civilisations rise and fall, so they should know what to do and what not to do, and their rational still is “organics will kill us anyway, so let’s kill them,” leading to the organics being like “oh shit, the synths want to kill us, let’s stop making them,” leading to Sutra being like “welp they’ve already started hating us, our robot overlords were right, let’s kill organics.” OH. MY. GOD!!!

I get that the lesson is that fear is the great enemy, and in this case it’s really well demonstrated (gotta give credit where it’s due), but still! It’s so frustrating!!

My biggest problem with that convoluted plot is that we (the viewers) are supposed to see the synths as the organics’ equals. Their plight is supposed to be equal to the Federation’s. Except NO. I’m sorry, NO.

(More on in-universe morality and out-of-universe viewer experience under the cut, because I took pity on your dashboards.)

I get wanting to survive from the Romulan attack, okay. (There is la Sirena for that, just as a reminder.) But Sutra saying that the Federation banning them was essentially genocide? NO. They are made. They aren’t born naturally. A government telling its people to stop making procreating isn’t the same thing as a government killing every kid younger that ten! Parents refusing to conceive isn’t the same as murdering their children (I won’t open the can of worms that is the abortion debate, the point stands).

We as an audience are still supposed to see the Zhat Vash as the bad guys, because Oh, Narissa and Narek are villains, and because they have caused untold suffering. (By the way, linking Cris’ personal tragedy to the synth crisis is a massive plot contrivance to make us hate the Zhat Vash more, which I found frustrating watching ep8. Losing people in a horrible way happens even without grand global conspiracies, and Cris had already been established as going out of his way to help people even when there was nothing in it for him. We didn’t need the connection to empathise with his pain, and he didn’t need the added incentive. Seriously, how small is that galaxy? Are everybody’s demons linked to Picard’s heroic quest? How convenient.)

But are the Zhat Vash really the bad guys? (Even Cris questions that despite arguably being the Sirena crewmember who as per ep8 had lost the most because of them, along with Elnor.) I’m sorry, if Sutra does try to call the robotic overlords, I say burn Cappelius to the ground. Lemme continue to explain. There are what, 50 synths? 50 robots. And the show tries to make me (again, the viewer) accept that risking the survival of the entire Federation (trillions of people) to save them is actually a question worth asking? From an in-universe moral standpoint, perhaps.

From an outsider’s perspective (the audience), not even close. Robots having souls and being equal to humans isn’t even a discussion we’re having in real life. I don’t believe androids will ever be self-aware, and capable of emotion and love. Sure, in the Star Trek universe they apparently are. So what? Suspension of disbelief only goes so far. The show can’t expect me to accept that many IFs. I get the very one-the-nose “fear of the Other,” “make love not war,” “different races have equal rights to life” analogy. The message is very much worthy, the show’s depiction of it really pisses me off. The show isn’t asking me to decide whether or not it would be moral to kill the last survivors of a human (or even alien) tribe to save the world, it’s asking “but what if we were basically God and we fucked up, how would we fix it? What if the stuff we made eventually had feelings? Then it’d be bad to destroy it, right?”

Aside from the sheer hubris of that premise, I don’t know that the robots have feelings. I know it looks like they do, and that they believe that they do, but again, how am I to know? From a biological viewpoint, they’re certainly not alive:

“Life” (biological def taken from the web) Definition. noun, plural: lives. noun, plural: lives. (1) A distinctive characteristic of a living organism from dead organism or non-living thing, as specifically distinguished by the capacity to grow, metabolize, respond (to stimuli), adapt, and reproduce.

Do the synths grow? Nah. Do they metabolize? Yes. Respond to stimuli? Yes but debatable as it’s programmed. Adapt? Yes. Reproduce? NOPE. 2.5/5 on the living scale lol. That’s not that great. (From an in-universe moral perspective, this time. I know, TNG did an ep on that, sorry.)

Still the show tries reaaaally hard to sell their sentience, and the one time that really didn’t sit well with me was that “robotic finger touching the human finger” image. WOW, last place where I expected to find religious imagery, a show that questions what it means to be human and what creating beings in our image would entail *sarcasm*.

Except they twist the imagery. In the Bible, human lives are sacred because they are in the image of the perfect God, and He values us (=> so human worth come directly from God attributing worth to us because we’re meant to reflect His goodness). Humans being imperfect due to their fall, creating something in their own image is called an idol - it’s a false god, it’s not sentient, it’s even more imperfect, and it’s wrong. And if humans don’t value it and and it doesn’t reflect who they are anymore, well, it would make the idol even more worthless, right? (clearer explanation because my arguing skills suck => drawing on the Bible’s imagery, either humans are not gods and the images they created are worthless, or the series means for them to have God’s place, in which case refusing to attribute worth to their images makes those worthless. That invalidates the question that I previously said the show was asking.) So all in all, reminding us of the Christian take on the issue right in the middle of the Admonition claiming that synths are perfect is thus completely counterproductive, both in universe and from a viewer’s pov.

But but but, I hear you protest, what about Data? He had worth!

This may be controversial, but Data mattered to us because of the character he was, not because he was supposed to be human. He was adorable and losing him meant losing an interesting and enjoyable element in the show, which would make us sad. I love him like I love Cris’ holos, the Voyager Doctor, Wall-E and Eve, R2-D2, Jarvis and Chappie. They’re (very) likeable fictional creatures that can be used as metaphors for real life issues, nothing more. In any show/movie I’d be really sad if one of them had to be sacrificed to save the world, but I’d accept it (looking at you, Infinity War Captain America). If the question arose in real life, would I question the morality of it? No.

So, are the new synths the same? I already tackled the metaphor thing, it’s not handled that well and Detroit Become Human did it first. (Again, it’s hard to portray the otherness of other real life-cultures that we may unjustly fear by using things whose living status is so easily questionable!!) Is killing off the synths wrong from an out-of-universe perspective because the audience loves them? Let’s see... Are the new synths adorable/likeable? Heck no, give me Emil and Enoch over them any day. Would we lose something in the show if they died? Nah. We didn’t even know they existed until one episode ago. Picard would get angsty and Agnes would get upset, but it’s nothing a few fluffy fics wouldn’t fix. Do we know the synths as characters? We know that Sutra is crazy, violent and bloodthirsty, Jana was probably nice (?), Dahj had a cute boyfriend (outstanding characterization) and Soji... Welp... *sigh* I guess Soji is okay, even though she’s the least relatable and interesting character of the whole Sirena crew? We know that their creators and biggest advocates, Soong Jr and Maddox, are(/were) creepy old dudes with warped ethics, half a brain between the two of them, really toxic interactions with Agnes, and enough hubris to bring the entire greek demigod population to shame. They would race Icarus to the sun, seriously. We know that Captain Vendermeer killed himself over two robots, permanently damaging one of the nicest and most beloved characters of the series. Yeah, real incentive for me wanting to see the Federation risk destruction for the androids, guys.

But seriously, the last time a psycho AI tried to destroy the galaxy and make it in its image (*cough* Control) the protagonists spent a season trying to destroy the thing, and they were right! Future-control was self-aware and demonstrated anger and fear! Make up your mind, CBS!!

And by the way? THE SYNTHS HAVE A MEANS OF ESCAPE!! No, I’m sorry, if they don’t decide to go aboard la Sirena and choose to endanger the Federation instead, then for all plot issues I’m siding with the Zhat Vash. Go on, destroy the synths. As part of the audience, I don’t care, and the show attempts at making me care by trying to make it a moral issue feel clumsy and forced.

Also. Q exists in the Star Trek universe! He’s a deus ex-machina machine!! (Pun intended.) It’s hard to take big issues like that seriously when he could just swoop in and teleport the synths out of the galaxy/destroy the Romulan armada/put the robotic overlords in their place. JL, please, give Q a call. Yeah, yeah, it’d take away from the moral stakes because you can’t solve your irl problem with a snap of your fingers and you have to make actual decisions - but as I already said, I feel like the moral stakes are dumb and contrived. Give me the deus ex-machina, please.

This has been a Star Trek rant. I know that I tackled two separate issues here: the in-universe morality of the synths’ death (I will admit that from the crew’s perspective it’s not right, because they can’t know if the synths are alive or not for sure) and the out-of-universe viewer experience. I apologize if it came across as really confused and complicated.

I still like the show and love the actual characters (meaning, la Sirena’s colorful crew), and the show writers are not incompetent, or stupid, or wrong for writing their show how they want. They are really skilled and talented and they have created mostly compelling characters - I’m just unhappy with the direction taken by the story.

#star trek picard #star trek: picard #jean-luc picard #sutra #noonien soong #bruce maddox #cappelius #et in arcadia ego #picard episode 8 #picard 1x09 #spoilers #picard spoilers #rant #meta #synthetic life #my meta #st talk #not sw

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