#seeing my sister squander all my hard work by not understanding

[luv-again]

i said i was gonna go to bed but i'm still fuming over my sister trying to discredit sli au shadow's asexuality. like,, what more do i tell her. i've written enough. not only is it subtext, it's blatant

AND it's also pretty obvious sli shadow can't distinguish platonic and romantic attraction, nor does he care to, but yk wtvr ig she can ignore that too

(this is the second time she's posed the 'shadow clearly liked blaze' statement to me)

[mxdam]

[ MISTAKE ]:     a letter which is sent to the recipient by mistake, and which may contain sensitive information about the recipient.

Anastasia,

I am certain you have received my last three letters; in fact I have taken great pains to ensure they were placed very directly into your hands, and yet I have no reply--so? While I certainly understand that you are very preoccupied with your butcher, and that we did not part on the kindliest of terms, you must understand that I was expressing only the sentiments that any mother would have felt, watching a child squander their gifts, their opportunities, in such a place as you have chosen; and in any case, Drisella tells me she has received letters from you, so you are perfectly able to write--so?

Though you have not seen fit to ask, not even to inquire with your sister after me, you should know that I am very well, and hard at work as ever on Drisella's prospects; there is a young gentleman who has taken an interest, and your choice in marriage has left no smear on her name, you will be happy to know. Meanwhile, I have been entertaining a young new houseguest, a very unformed thing who has come to me it seems quite out of the blue, and in desperate need of finishing. Her name is Diana. I have no interest of course in replacing my daughters, as you know how very dear yourself and Drisella are to me, but a busy mind must always be at work, and with you taking yourself off to the most squalid quarter, and Drisella nearly engaged, I do require some stimulation.

Diana is no trouble to me in the way of food or board or broken crockery &c., but she is quite peculiar in most aspects, as she must have been raised in some sort of convent or beguinage or something, and I cannot get around the funny ways she was taught there as she insists on conducting herself as she sees fit, according to the rules of any society but the polite. Still she has her charms, and she is certainly very pretty, with all the world before her just as Drisella has the world before her and so, too, as you had, before you took yourself away from me.

Write back to me and do not delay. I can, as I have always told both yourself and your sister, barely tolerate separation from either of your persons, much less this silence, and I would like to know if you have yet given me grandchildren.

Your loving mother.

[thanakite]

I don’t understand the argument for killing Harlan.

Like I get that Allison killed him more as revenge, but then Five compares it to him killing the board, saving one over the many, and he even tells Viktor he will kill him if he does something like that again

Realistically, killing Harlan at that point though wouldn’t fix anything. It gives them someone to blame, but killing him in the present doesn’t stop the paradox nor does it solve anything, so why is Five arguing for it? Why is he comparing it to him killing the board? Killing the board was supposed to be their ticket home, he did it with a purpose. Yes, it was a purpose they squandered, but there was a purpose there, but killing Harlan served no purpose and wouldn’t fix the current break unless Five managed to go back in time and kill him before then

Honestly, in this argument you would think Five would be the one sibling on Viktor’s side, and that would have been the drama. Like all this comes out and the other siblings are siding with Allison because they are ruled by their emotions more and would have cared more, but Five is a realist who has been through the wringer on this. We could have had scenes of Five going to Viktor and explaining that he was upset with Viktor and himself because Viktor didn’t feel like he could come to him with the issue, but generally they all seem to react in a way that proves Viktor right. He hid it because they were already talking about handing Harlan over to the Sparrows, and adding this information in at that moment would have solidified their decision to turn him over. By hiding it he was able to get Harlan to help him with his powers, and generally Harlan could have been helpful in either containing the Kugelblitz or in dealing with the issues at the Hotel.

Yes, the Sparrows wanted him before they would work together but they literally could have had Harlan and Viktor go in and knock them on their asses until they listened or simply used Sloane and Luther to convince them to at least wait until the end of the apocalypse or whatever.

It would have still been dramatic, but it also wouldn’t have felt as much like the siblings were all ganging up on Viktor due to past shit that was outside his control.

Plus I LOVE seeing Viktor bond with his siblings in ways he wasn’t able to before, it was a huge part of my love for the first 2 seasons was seeing the kindness and care they could offer towards him now that they were adults and not under their father’s thumb, and it would have been good bonding for Five and Viktor to be on the same side but still addressing WHY Viktor didn’t go to him right away, and easily could have resulted in some additional fun bonding for them at the wedding and then would have given them a stronger base before dealing with the Hotel bullshit, which could have still gone largely the same way, all without having this issue where it seems to always be all of the Umbrellas against Viktor.

They keep acting like they are better and different now that they are older, but they still revert to the childhood bullshit of isolating and excluding him when convenient, and I wish they wouldn’t because you could achieve basically the same results while still allowing Viktor to have one or two major supporters at all times (Which would also reflect sibling dynamics more, like it is hard enough to predict who is going to side with who, over what, for a majority between my 2 sisters and I, but there are an additional 2 people in that dynamic, at least 1 should be siding with Viktor)

[hihigherdi]

I could not fall asleep for the longest time last night - I think I’m feeling the work looming and am realizing I need to start gearing up for it. 

I woke up around 7:30 and it was raining. I was happy, as my beets, radish, cauliflower and broccoli I planted needed some rain. I made coffee, climbed back into bed and spent the last seven hours re-documenting every account, every password, every budget item for my parents’ home, their total monthly costs at assisted living and a potential plan moving forward for 2022. 

I had to take deep breaths and step away several times. This is so triggering for me, and I really don’t understand why. I feel a rage at having to do it in the first place, I have been taking care of them for so long as adults as they fought every step of the way, despite genuinely trying to make their wishes come true. Such anxiety, got screamed at so much - I had to con and manipulate through their personality disorders in ways that made me feel sick.  And if I am honest, resentment towards my siblings though they absolutely could not have done anything anyway as my parents only trusted me with it. I think there’s also the invisible emotional and mental labor of caring for them by removing myself and my own needs from their lives which will never be acknowledged because they lack the capacity to even see it. 

And through all of that? they don’t really like me very much. They didn’t want to get too close because what they’d find they wouldn’t like, and they need me too much. It’s all just this fake game we’re all playing. 

The other thing which is ugly but true, is how money was the currency of love and connection in our family. It was THE most important thing to my parents - their very identity hung on being rich because rich meant secure - successful - not a failure - not stupid - and most of all, not alone. So for our whole lives, they have promised money to all of us after they die. It was the scraps of love they provided to all of us. I watched them promise to pay for the grandkid’s college for years - so my brother and sister didn’t save for that - and then they didn’t follow through, so everybody scrambled. Most people don’t have privilege and have to pay for college on their own - if that was the plan, they would have just got on with it, we are hard workers who don’t need that kind of buffer but it was switched up at the last minute which created chaos.  I watched them just squander it, spend it on strangers, gamble it away in the stock market - and it enrages me. And it’s not because I need it or they get to change their minds - it’s their money -  it’s because it’s the only thing they ever promised us and in the end, it’s just all gone, and it’s gone because of their personality disorders. And I’m stuck trying to make the last of it work. 

I think next year, I am turning all of the bills over to my sister. There is a desire to stay in control of it so I can supplement where needed, but it’s so bad for my mental health. I am burning daylight on this frozen, numbed out person who is just their caretaker, walking through the motions. 

I need to eat something and go for a walk and drink some water. All in order. 

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

i havent been here in a hot second is there a reason for the makoto hate specifically? like the rants go back to p5's writing issues but the spite for makoto seems very specific did she kill someones dog in one of the spinoffs or what?

You're all good. So here's the thing, she did kill my dog-I'm joking.

When I say “I’m the residential #1 Makoto Hater” it’s a joke, partially cause it probs looks that way (and probs cause it might be true, who knows if you could quantify hate then maybe I’m at the top of the leaderboards 8U but you can’t so we’ll never know). But I’m saying it at as a joke, to own myself and everyone here that knows what I think of her, rather than wear it as a badge of honor or some silliness. It’s just a “oh haha yeah there goes Silly, dunking on Makoto again! She’s basically Makoto’s #1 hater haha oh she’s so silly.” (so please don’t look too deep into it, I just want to have fun).

Anyway, me hating Makoto isn’t new, but I do hold a similar ire towards Futaba, Goro (tho I have camaraderie with his fans, I relate to their struggle in terms of my own brown hair and red eye fav and Atlus screwing them over u_u I may hate your fave but I respect you and will be in your corner), and Yukari (as well as Chloe from LiS if you want a non-Persona example). Makoto might be talked about more because 1) She hits my buttons that much faster (Futaba/Goro are more like a festering wound, and when I talk about them it’s hard to pick a starting point), 2) Her fans tendency (early on in the fandom) bringing her up frequently.....was a bad combo with #1 (overexposure+pushing all my buttons really fast=disaster). Obvie not blaming her fans, but it was hard to curate how I was able to curate my content online (esp with gaming news websites calling her “best girl” when showing off a figure announcement or some BS when I just want to know what new games have been announced >.> I can do without you trying to start a waifu war in the comments Siliconera -_-)

Anyway, I think I’ve made my reasons for hating her very clear (you just have to search her name on my blog and you’ll get a ton of essays I’m sure, too many to count). And a lot of it is the failure of P5′s writing. “So it’s just the writing you hate, not the character.” No. Because that doesn’t make sense. Except under certain circumstances (which I’ll provide examples of below with Luke Skywalker), you can’t separate the writing from the character. The character IS the writing, the writing IS the character. If you can’t hate/dislike the char because “of the writing” then you also can’t love/like them either. The character and the writing/writing choices for that character are connected. The writing embodies that character. They are the same.

Now I said there was an exception, and that’s....”different writer/director,” tho it’s not ALWAYS the case (sometimes the new writer really gets the original writing, like Saito for MM.....they are very good at emulating the clusterfuck of P5′s writing). P5′s writing is the original basis for Makoto’s character, that’s her. You can’t separate it from her. Same thing with say....Luke Skywalker from the OG trilogy, that’s him. But then we get to the sequel/Disney trilogy, new writer/director....and yeah that’s a mess (from what I understand OG trilogy=Hopeful and tries to see the best in people, 2nd Disney=Cynic and tried to kill a child, 3rd Disney=Hopeful again for some reason). There’s character development, then there’s just straight up changing the character just cause you need them to be this now. 

*writes how this can apply to Persona spinoffs but deletes because I was getting too off track* Look at me exercising control. It’s probs best I save that for a meta after I’ve replayed all the spinoffs again.

But....if you want me to boil down my issues with Makoto, I hate the message we get from her. I hate the lesson we learn from her. What is supposed to happen vs what happens.  It’s supposed to be about a girl who is blindly following authority and becomes disillusioned with it after being burned by it, on top of “immense pressure” she has as well, and then comes to our side (we know this because Atlus told us). We don’t get that (we know this because we saw the execution). We get two adults, yes TWO ADULTS, one of which is her sister and wants her to do well in school (but isn’t like.....a tiger mom about it, because Sae can’t be TOO horrible because we need to like her later), who in retrospect seems very busy with her job (which gives Makoto freedom), but also feels burdened by her younger sister (in which she has one shitty slip with her and then NEVER again). And the other is a dumbass principal who asks a really strange and stupid task for Makoto that snowballs into bullshit. That’s IT! THAT’S IT! That’s all we get from Makoto and “authority.” Strawmen. We don’t really get much of her personality either (I’m not saying that cause “she’s cardboard” I legit just.....don’t get her? Like I don’t get enough of her to get a solid foundation, you get me?) Like as the player, what we see of her is she’s just studying in the library (Kamo arc), then the principal calls her in, she mentions the rumors about Kamo, he asks her to look into the PT in exchange for a recommendation (to which she’s surprised and says thanks, not no, she looks like she’ll accept JUST BASED ON THAT) but before she can even say Yes (OR NO) he threatens Makoto with her sister, to which Makoto hardens and then agrees. Then she acts like an asshole and yadda yadda stuff happens.

But if she’s supposed to blindly follow authority, she’d say yes, but then they don’t let the character breathe so she can make the “wrong” choice because the Principal goes STRAIGHT to threatening her.......so now the message is muddled, or really it’s non existent. The whole Sae thing is a nothing bag too, it’s just family drama. Her sister is, no HAS to be absent a lot for her work, just so Makoto can have the freedom to be a PT....which means....it hurts her lack of freedom and other stuff associated with Sae being a big pressure on Makoto’s life. You know, I’ve said before they’ve squandered Sae, and that Makoto’s presence really harmed Sae (iirc it was this post). But at the same time, how they handled Sae really screws up Makoto’s character. Neither are allowed to breathe. Neither are allowed to make a true, horrible choice...and then learn from it. They aren’t allowed to have an actual arc. Altus played it safe, took choice away from them, didn’t want to take risks with either character and have meaning. Instead we just have this nothing contradiction thing dicking around until they join our team. 

What really sucks about that....is we got that with the Kamo arc. With Anne, Ryuji, even Yuki and Shiho. Kamo was manipulative, and his manipulation caused people to make....not the best choices, all out of a means to survive. Ryuji physically acted against Kamo, and he got his leg broken, team disbanded, and outcasted. Anne was trying to protect Shiho’s position on the team, which lead to her almost getting harmed by Kamo, Shiho getting harmed, her not seeing the truth about what was going on around her, and she didn’t tell Shiho (because she didn’t want Shiho to think she didn’t get on the team for her own merits), and so on. Shiho didn’t tell Anne what was going on because she wanted to protect Anne from Kamo (and was afraid Anne would, very much blame herself), and her and Yuki and the rest of the teams helped keep quiet about Kamo so they wouldn’t be next on the physical chopping block. This isn’t me blaming them, this is me showing their choices, their attempts to fix their (hopeless) situation, to help themselves or others, and the dramatic irony being it just made everything worse. BUT, even tho Kamo was the real one to blame, each character is aware of the actions that were made, and the consequences of each action (esp Anne/Ryuji/Shiho). And in their CoOps, they identify this, and take strides to learn from it so it doesn’t happen again. That’s an arc. That’s character development. They were allowed to make errors, mistakes, decisions that negatively impacted themselves/other’s. We see a solid foundation of their character from the get go, and how it changes over that small time. We don’t get that with Makoto. The group is like solid concrete to Makoto who is like shifting sand. 

Sorry got a bit off topic, anyway, I hate her message of boasting about her fighting ability but she only harms her friends (outside of shadows, but that’s not special) WHILE ALSO being a damsel that needs someone else to rescue her! I hate how when she gets called out, she wants to drop it, and gives gaslighty apologies, even tho she really ROYALLY screwed lot of people very badly. I hate how she demands us to help, only to literally be a detriment to our investigation. I hate how she gets to fly off the handle without repercussions (despite needing to be cool calm and collected for her job, especially since she miraculously can do that when needed so what the hell????). I hate how the text has her be shitty, say shitty things, be bad at her job, but will turn around and reward her time and time again. 

Sure she doesn’t break the lore like Futaba, or unravel P5′s plot like Goro. But as a character with a message attached to her, even ones that the creators surely overlooked (I’m sure they didn’t intend for her to only hit her friends), it’s simple but very annoying. Fast and easy to see, doesn’t require me to think of P5′s lore as well as the grander Persona lore. Doesn’t require me to dig through text for Goro bread crumbs and then unravel the entire basis of the P5 plot thanks to him. Makoto is easier to get into, it’s smaller scale and more personal I guess. 

[loveisblindfanfictionbka]

Love Is Blind: Chapter Two

A: You know it really just sounds like your sister really cares about you

C: She does but she’s making this such a bigger deal than it needs to be. I just want to be able to sort my feelings out without feeling like I’m obligated to do something with them immediately

A: I know that feeling so well. My friend asked me if I was still in love with my ex and I don’t know how to answer her

C: I mean your relationship was unfinished so I could understand the possibility. No closure makes it feel like things never ended. They just stopped

A: you put it in much better words than I ever could. 

C: Coming from an emotionally challenged man, sometimes the right thing doesn’t always feel right at the time. It hurts. Caring about anyone comes with that risk but sometimes you have to see it from their side before you can heal. People tend to enter situations expecting others to be like them and we hurt ourselves by doing that. Your ex may have loved you but he didn’t know how to love you anymore and felt it was better to let you go than ruin you. It couldn’t have been easy for you to watch him struggle

A: No but I felt like he never gave me a chance to help

C: People don’t always want to be fixed. Being damaged may have been too comfortable for him

A: I wish I could’ve known if it was. He never really talked to me. I think something happened that he couldn't deal with it and he shut me out because of it

C: thats always possible especially if he wasn’t like that before

A: You ever think about getting into another relationship?

C:Thought about it? Sure but I think I only got enough love in me to take care of my daughter. I haven’t quite rebounded back either.

A: Did you and your ex-wife have the child together?

C: No, I”m in the process of fostering and adopting. I got Anesa when she was one years old

A: That is so cool.

C: You ever consider having a child?

A: It was a part of the plan when I was married but we never quite made it that far

C: Same here but there’s always alternatives

A: I’ll think about it. I am getting up there in age

C: If from any indication of your photo, you’d have no problems. Many women are having babies at your age

A: Why thank you for the ego boost

C: You ever consider dating again?

A: No. I think I am way too damaged to not ruin somebody else

C: Ah, I know the feeling

A: You’re a good listener, Chris

C: Thanks. You too. So what’s your night looking like?

A: A movie and a glass of wine. You?

C: Grading papers

A: for a music class?

C: They still have to do research papers for me. Allows me to gage how they grasp concepts and detect their style

A: Hmm...that’s interesting

C: Part of my class is songwriting and music composition, at least a basic level teaching of both. I have separate sections that go into each more in depth but only a few students are selected to be invited to take those classes. This is my main selection pool outside of those who audition

A: that sounds extensive

C: it can be but I like it

A: Do you only teach major classes or can students take you as an elective?

C: They can take me as an elective but most end up dropping the class by the second week

A: Really? Why?

C: It’s more work than they intended to do in an elective especially if you’re like a business or science major. It’s not exactly contributing to anything but your credit requirement 

A: True. I can understand that

C: Anna?

A: Yes?

C: You ever think about us meeting one day?

A: I’ve considered but I don’t know if I wanna ruin the mystery of you, yet. You?

C: Same lol

A; Well I got some wine and a movie to get to and I’ll leave you to your papers. Have a good night

C: You too

Robyn logged off and pressed her head into her pillow. Was it weird for her to start to like this guy? Honestly, they’ve never met so she wouldn’t know him from a hole in the wall yet she feels close to him like they’ve been friends forever. The fact he didn’t turn away when she started talking about her ex and even tried to help her understand some things was really deep for her. Her friends and family had tried but so much of what they said just seemed so biased and sympathy-ridden for her ex. Like where’s her sympathy? Did nobody care about how he acted affected her? Somehow Chris understood her and it was the craziest thing.

Chris turned to the next paper for one of his students and after a few moments acknowledged his mind was with Anna and not on his work. He could sympathize with her struggle to move on and the fact that she was probably still in love with her ex. He didn’t hate his but he was too damaged to love her like she deserved. A part of him hates that he wasn’t man enough to tell her that when he left. She probably had a hole in her just like Anna or maybe she had moved on just fine. It’s not fair to project his life onto her.

“Daddy, are you going to sleep soon?”

Chris turned to see Anesa standing in the doorway of the kitchen with her teddy bear in her arms. He opened his arms and she climbed into his lap, “Hey Love Bug, what you doing up?”

“It’s raining.”

Chris glanced over at the window and nodded his agreement, “you got scared, huh?”

“Yea.”

“Well there’s nothing to worry about, Daddy’s right here.”

“Daddy, am I ever gonna get a mommy?”

“Well Sweetheart, that’s a very complicated question.”

“Is it?”

“Yea, see I don't’ know if I wanna share you with anybody else.”

Anesa giggled, “well if I can share you, you think you can share me?”

“I’d have to think about it really hard. Is that something you’re nervous about?”

“I just don’t want you to be all alone.”

“I know, Love Bug but I’ll be just fine.”

“Auntie Jessica said you were married before.”

“I was.”

“What happened to her? Did she die?”

“No. Things just didn’t work out. I wasn’t exactly the right guy for her.”

“Oh. So she left?”

“No, I did but I really thought it was the best thing to do at the time.”

“Do you miss her?”

Chris sighed as he leaned his chin on the top of her head, “sometimes I do. Sometimes I do.”

“Does it make you sad?”

“It can but I’ve learned to deal with it.”

“Do you think you’d ever go back to her?”

“I don’t think that would be the right thing to do either.”

“Oh.”

“You sound so sad, Honey.”

“I’m sad for you, Daddy.”

“Why? I’m happy. I’m exactly where I want to be. Here with my Love Bug and my work. Daddy’s just fine.”

Anesa turned and hugged him as Chris blew out a breath over her shoulder.

                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robyn washed her hands then sat down in her office. She had steady appointments all day, luckily mostly check ups but she was still tired. Being the head vet and the owner and shelter organizer always took a toll on her body. She twisted her neck from side to side to relieve some tension just as her office door opened, “Hi Beverly.”

Beverly, her trusty assistant, was always ready to rain on her parade, “Ms. Fenty, we just received a really huge invitation in the mail.”

“We?”

“Well you but you know what I mean.”

“What is it for?”

“The New York Society Charity Awards Gala. They want to recognize the shelter for its success.”

“That’s nice. Tell Ashley to go in my place.”

“Wait. What?”

“I don’t feel like rubbing elbows with the rich, that’s Ashley’s forte, let her do it.”

“Fenty, this is a huge opportunity for donations and connections. You cannot send your shelter manager in your place.”

“Why can’t I? She’s dealt with these people before. She even knows most of them. She has an Ivy League Degree, why can’t she go in my place?”

“The award is for you.”

“So?”

“Robyn, you can’t be serious.”

“I am in no condition to be bothered with anyone.”

“The gala isn’t for another month, you can’t muster up some give a fuck in a month.”

Robyn glared at Beverly, who simply folded her arms across her chest in response, “I’m not doing this.”

“You are doing this. I will schedule your appointment with your stylists for fittings and hair tryouts. We’ll see about getting you an escort and get a speech written for you.”

“I’m not going, Beverly.”

“You will go even if I have to get your entire family from Barbados to make you. This is a perfect opportunity and you will not squander it being anti-social.”

“Get out of my office, Beverly.”

“I will add the appropriate appointments to your calendar. Your 2:30 appointment canceled so you’re free until 4.”

Beverly promptly walked out of her office and Robyn tossed her head down on her desk. She couldn’t do this. She hadn’t been to an event like this since she was married to Chris. He’s a well-known architect and had a hand in a lot of buildings in the city. The circles aren’t that large in this tax bracket so she’s sure to run into people she knew back in California. She wasn’t ready for the questions and the stares if she showed up and especially if she showed up with someone else. They had kept their divorce quiet for several reasons mainly because she didn’t want to be embarrassed. Robyn Fenty, veterinarian extraordinaire, can’t even keep her marriage together. Some of those people would be colleagues, alumnus of her alma mater, people who whispered that once Chris got a taste of the good life, he wouldn’t stay with his middle school girlfriend long. Sadly, they were right. They barely made it three years before he walked out. She wasn’t going to this gala.

C: I really think you should attend. It’s for business.

A: It’s business that I don’t want anything to do with. I have associates specifically for things like this

C: Why is it so bad for you to go?

A: These parties always have people I knew back when I was married. Many of them don't know I’m divorced

C: Well people get divorced all the time

A: Yea but they normally don't have to be around the same people who said it wouldn’t last

C: Anna, you can’t be embarrassed about something so common.Things happens

A: That’s easy to say

C: Besides I would love to see a photo of you in your gown

A: Lol, is that the real reason you want me to go?

C: Well considering we aren’t meeting anytime soon, it’d be nice to see

A: it wouldn’t be a face shot.

C: Not changing anything for me

A: I mean I could just get dressed, post the picture and you’d be none the wiser

C: You could but I sense you’re a little too honest for that

A: Lol, I’ll take that as a compliment

C: Good, because I meant it as one

A: lol

C: are you writing lol because you’re actually laughing or because you’re smiling?

A: both

C: they do make emojis

A: Yea but I feel silly using them

C: Ah, I guess

A:You know what, I will go to the gala if you agree to go on a virtual outing with me

C: Like VR

A: More like a video meet up but no cameras

C: Just voices?

A: automated voices

C: you really wanna hold onto this mystery thing, huh?

A: I feel so comfortable with you, probably because I don’t know you but I feel like once you remove the mystery, shit gets too real

C: That’s a good rationale. How about this, my job has some assistance programs that can do text to speech. I can send you a few options, you choose one, we pick a date and we have our little blind date so to speak

A: you would do that for me?

C: Absolutely. I really like you, Anna

A: I like you too, Chris

“So you really like him but you won’t go on a real date with him?” Melissa asked.

“Mel, if I do that then this becomes way more than what it is.”

“Which is?”

“Two people just getting to know each other.”

“Without having to really know each other. You haven’t told this man your real name.”

“Because it doesn’t matter. That’s what I like most. The little things don’t matter.”

“So if he was using a fake name too, it wouldn’t bother you.”

“No. He’s not obligated to give me anything he doesn’t want to.”

“You are petrified of commitment.”

“I’ve been hurt enough, I don’t want to go through that again.”

“And you think by withholding basic information yet spending time with this man will prevent that.”

“The longer he remains a stranger, the easier it will be to walk away. I’m not looking for love or to move on. Just a new friend,” Robyn replied as she held a dress up to her body, “what do you think?”

“It’s nice. You really want to go long sleeves for this?”

“Either that or get a nice jacket. It gets cold at these things.”

“That’s true. So who’s your escort?”

“Nobody. I told Beverly that I’d go but I am not taking anybody with me.”

“Not even me?”

“Do you want to go? I can send in for a plus one.”

“Not really but it was nice you offered.”

“You sure Sis?”

“Very sure. I got a boyfriend to do things with on the weekends so I’ll be busy.”

“Oh rub it in. How is Juan anyway?”

“He is good. We were thinking about doing a friendcation next month. Go back to PR to see his family.”

“Oh that’s nice. I’m sure Lele and you will have a great time.”

“You wouldn’t come?”

“No. Hard pass.”

“I’m really tired of you ducking us, it’s not like we’re gonna fix you up on a blind date or something.”

“I know but I also don’t want to be the fifth wheel. No thank you.”

Melissa sighed, “I guess. Maybe if you’d get your life right with this new Chris, you could bring him.”

“I don’t want to meet him, Mel”

“I really don’t understand why not, y’all seem to have great chemistry.”

“Yea but I really just wanna leave it at that. I’m too fragile for anything more.”

“Have you ever thought to talk to your ex-husband?”

“Why? So he can make me feel even worse?”

“Or maybe so you can heal. Robyn, y’all had a really abrupt situation. You both were in a bad space. Maybe you just need to talk things out so you can move on.”

“Why do y’all coddle him so much? Why is it nobody’s mad at him but me?”

“Because we love both of you. Clearly, neither of you were in your right minds. Nobody thought you should've gotten divorced but neither of you were happy.”

“I did not want one. He wanted out and nobody seems to be lying that at his doorstep. It’s almost like you know something that I don’t.”

“Robs, that is most definitely not the case. We just don’t think being mad at anyone is gonna solve anything. Chris was hurting, from what we don’t know, but we all knew something wasn’t right with him. You were hurting, we all knew that too. Neither of you needed the extra weight of anyone else’s judgment.”

“It doesn’t feel very neutral.”

“Because you don’t want neutral, you want us to pick sides and that’s not gonna get any of us anywhere.”

“Well have you spoken to him?”

“We texted a few months ago but that was it.”

“Oh.”

“Do you wanna see him?”

“No because I’m still angry. Seven years later and I’m still fucking pissed. Seeing him would do me no good.”

“Robs, I think it might.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m thinking the navy blue, what about you?’

Melissa sighed, “I love it.”

“Great.”

Robyn grabbed the dress and headed to the cash register.

[thorne93]

The Softest Fire (Part 14)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 2710

Warnings: fighting, violence, wounds, torture, abuse

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​.

The next morning, bright and early, I left the castle, alone. This time, I didn't mind. I had plans that would require me to travel without a companion. Gellert may not want answers or retaliation for the spy in our ranks, but I felt like we did. 

I made my way to a shop in town. The shop was known for custom items. 

“What can I do for you, miss?” a gray haired man asked from behind the counter. 

“I need a portkey, to Hogsmeade in London, immediately,” I informed, my tone serious and dire. “Thank you,” I tacked on with a silky smooth smile. 

“Alright. There will be an extra charge for a rush order,” he said slowly, as if that would deter me.

“I can manage any extra fee,” I confirmed.

He nodded and went away to the back to grab an item. “Will any item do?” he called up front.

“Yes! The smaller the better though!”

After five minutes, he returned with a glass orb, nothing special about it. It was a small, clear orb, small enough to slip into a purse. 

“This do ya?” 

“Perfect.” 

He charmed it and handed it to me, ringing it up. The price was heftier than expected, but I needed to do this. I left as just as the sun had finished rising over the horizon. I knew Gellert said I didn’t need to do more, but this felt right. At the very least, I could get Albus Dumbledore to listen to me. I could throw him our pitch. A man of his talents, his wisdom, he would be all we needed to unlock this world. 

He and I got along famously when I was a student, often providing me private study lessons, mainly because the material in class was so far behind me. He taught me advanced lessons and we became friends, I felt. Perhaps he would listen to me. 

I arrived at Hogsmeade and made haste to get to the entrance of the school. Once I landed there, I breathed in the air, remembering how much I loved it here. I walked up the steep hill to the entrance, greeted by a groundskeeper who asked what my business was. He clearly didn’t recognize me, because he didn’t say my name. I wondered if this was a good thing. Once I told him I was here to see Professor Dumbledore, he gave me a suspicious look but let me by. I bobbed my head and walked past him and up the stairs to the last office I knew Dumbledore to keep. 

I was in luck when I found his classroom empty, and him behind the desk. 

“Professor?” I softly said, my voice almost going childlike. Funny how old habits are hard to kick. I was a grown woman now, about to be a bride, and here I was, speaking to Professor Dumbledore as if he still held some power over my head. 

His back was to me when I opened the door. He was speaking softly before he stopped quickly. “Yes?” he asked before turning around. When he did, though, his eyes went wide before a soft smile pulled at his lips. “Rosaline Vaughan, is that you?” he questioned before standing to round the desk. 

I fully entered the room, closing the door behind me as I did so. “It’s me,” I assured with a grin. I wasn’t here on bad terms, contrary to what it might’ve looked like on the outside. Yes, a spy was sent to us. Yes, Dumbledore betrayed Gellert, but something in me kept me from being furious with him. He was as old a friend as any of mine, and this was nothing more than a causal social call. 

“You… you’re all grown up,” he stated with mystified eyes. 

I nodded. 

“Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?” he questioned quickly, still grinning, warmth radiating off of him. 

“I thought I would just… come and see you,” I half lied, feeling bad for it. “Actually,” I began again, already correcting it, “I know about Joshua, the spy,” I admitted.

He bobbed his head, his jaw opening to speak but then he snapped it shut. 

“It was clever. I’m afraid Gellert was a bit privy to it, though,” I informed, no malice or threat in my voice. 

“So you’re here to… what? Exact revenge?” 

“I take it you know about the engagement?” I wondered. 

At this, he turned and began slowly walking back to his desk. I followed. 

“I do,” he admitted. “I can honestly say I’m surprised. You and Grindelwald… He’s older than you. He’s my age,” he stated, as if I didn’t know. He reached his desk, leaning on it, his hands gripping the edges.

“Yes, I know,” I responded with a gentle smile. 

“I’m not your father, I can’t and won’t judge you for your choice of companion. But I must admit I was shocked when I read the announcement in the paper.” 

I laughed lightly. Of course he would. “I… I don’t know what to say except I love him and he shows me care and concern that most people have failed at.” 

“A word of advice?” he suddenly offered, leaning forward a bit, peering at me. 

I bobbed my head. 

“He does that. He targets weak spots for people, and nurtures them. I know you’re smart. Clever. I know you would see past any sort of manipulation.” 

My throat became tight as I peered at him. 

“However, if this is real, then I wish you all the happiness in the world,” he assured with a star-studded smile. 

“Thank you.”

“Is it just you then? Grindelwald isn’t with you?”

I shook my head. “No, no he isn’t. He doesn’t even know I’m here. I wanted to see you on my own.” 

“Why is that?”

“Well, for one, to discuss why you sent a snitch our way. Secondly, to discuss you joining us.” 

His eyes blew wide as he leaned farther forward, a disbelieving laugh escaping him. 

“You can’t be serious. Me? Join Grindelwald?” 

I peered at him, my expression entirely serious. “Why not?” I went to lean on the desk beside him. “Come on, Professor. With your wisdom, your power, your talent… Next to Gellert and I, we will rule this world.” 

“Is that what you’re after now? When I taught you, all you wanted to do was make the world a better place. Did he change that?” 

“I still do want to make the world a better place,” I retorted, my voice hard. 

“By killing hundreds of our own kind?” he remarked incredulously. 

“We want peace, that’s all. We don’t want to hurt wizards, witches, or muggles. You don’t understand what he wants. You’ve been misinformed,” I tried with my usual sugary voice.

He shoved off the table. “Rosaline, I know him. I know him better than anyone else in the world. He is using you. He is manipulating you. What Gellert Grindelwald wants and what I want are two vastly different things.” 

“Don’t you want to come out of hiding?” I implored. “Instead of being holed up inside this school? You could be so much more. You are so much more. You possess greatness, and you’re squandering it.” 

“Is that how you felt when you left the Ministry?” he fired at me.

“You kept tabs on me?” 

“Of course. My brightest student? The only one who could out-duel me? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Afraid I’d turn dark?”

“No, I wanted to see how you would take your power and make this world better. When you were running for office, I was proud of you.” 

“And when I left?” 

A subdued smile came over his face before he looked down at the floor, then back up at me. “Even prouder. I heard you went to work with Newt, to help with his creatures. I knew you would do splendidly.” 

I couldn’t help the blush that rose to my cheeks. “Thank you, Professor. That means a great deal to me,” I admitted. “But I take it from your distaste for our cause, that you won’t be joining us?” 

With his hands in his pockets, he peered up at me. “No, Rosaline, I can’t.” 

“Are you sure though?” I stressed. “Imagine a world where we are rightfully at the top of the food chain, where we belong, where you belong. You, out of everyone should know the frustration of hiding.” 

“It does not bother me one bit to live where muggles don’t know we exist. It’s easier this way, Rosaline, you know that. You know if we became common knowledge it would be utter chaos.” 

“Would it though?” I challenged. “Think about if we got the muggles… in their place, so to speak.” 

“Rosaline--” 

At that moment, the door flew open, where Gellert stormed in, his dark coat flying around him. He was flanked by two people -- Vinda and Abernathy. His face was the fiercest, most dangerous I’d ever seen. His stormy eyes found mine quickly and a boulder of guilt formed in my gut. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded in a chilled tone.

I was too scared to answer. I knew how this looked, and I knew it looked bad.

“Answer me, Rosaline!” he barked and I complied.

“I came to see Dumbledore to talk to him about the spy and about recruiting him.” 

His eyes flashed from mine to the man behind me. “You will do no such thing,” he ordered and my head hung. 

“Yes, Gellert,” I acquiesced in a hushed tone. 

Gellert made his way over to me quickly, grabbing my upper arm roughly. “You will never leave the castle unattended again. Is that understood? I had no idea where you were, if you were hurt. You had me worried sick.” With that, he tugged on my arm, making me stumble forward to keep up with his long strides.

“Grindelwald, don’t hurt her! We were only talking!” Dumbledore called after him, taking a few strides forward, readying himself to protect me.

“I will deal with you when I’m done with her,” he called over his shoulder. “I can’t believe I find you here, consorting with my enemy, our enemy, after he sent a spy--”

“I was trying to find out about the spy,” I informed as he pulled me along. “I wasn’t here to betray you, my beloved, I swear. I was just talking with him.” 

“You expect me to believe that, after the conversation we had two nights ago?” he challenged lightly once he stopped, standing near Vinda and Abernathy. “You could’ve very well risked our entire--” 

Out of nowhere, a group of people barged into the room. Nora, Newt, Theseus, Tina, and two other aurors I did not recognize. 

“Nora?” I breathed in shock as I stared at her. 

Her eyes went straight to me, and Gellert’s hand on my arm. He immediately let me go and then smirked. Nora’s eyes flashed with fury, drawing her wand. Before I could think, my wand was out like a reflex. She shot a jinx at Gellert and I deflected it. Her expression morphed into utter shock. 

“Rosaline, I don’t want to hurt you. Come with us,” she encouraged, glancing to Gellert beside me. 

“No,” I said defiantly, lifting my chin as I stood my ground. “I’m staying here.” 

“You don’t want to stay here. I don’t know what he’s done to you but the Rosaline I know would never be with a man like him,” she urged. 

Gellert smiled at my side, speaking to my cousin. “You see, Ms. Vaughan? Rosaline chooses us. Now, can’t you respect that choice?”

As if someone lit a fuse in her, she snapped, trying to throw a spell towards Gellert but I moved in front of him protectively, deflecting the spell. My veins were lit with fire, my face a mask of beautiful rage. 

In the blink of an eye, I lifted my wand again and tried to stun her but she deflected it. She shot a slicing spell back at me, but I dodged it. Three more shots flew between us before she suddenly retrained her sights. 

Gellert smirked from behind me, pulling my long blonde locks behind my shoulder as he bent down slightly, his lips pressed to my ear. His eyes were locked forward on my opponents when he said, “End them.” 

I nodded, understanding the command completely, and I unleashed an onslaught of spells and charms within seconds. I disarmed the unknown men first, knocking their wands across the room. My sights were now set on Tina, throwing an “Expulso” her way quickly, sending her flying into the brick wall. She fell to the floor in a moaning heap. For some reason, this gave me immense pleasure. 

Theseus and Newt tried to throw a paralytic and expelliarmus charm my way, but I danced effortlessly away from them before sending Everte Statum at Theseus. He fell back and gripped his chest, pain lancing through him. 

Now it was down to Nora and Newt. 

The entire time, Gellert and my friends watched on in adoration, not lifting a finger to help, because I didn’t need it. 

“What’s the matter, Scamander?” Gellert began to tease Newt. “You had the power to reveal me, but not to attack the woman whose heart you broke?” 

Newt said nothing, his wand drawn. He seemed torn, unsure what to say or do. 

“I let you live last time, this time your outcome won’t be as fortunate,” he informed as he took a step around me and raised his wand. My gut involuntarily lurched as I watched him inflict a Crucio curse on him. Newt fell to the floor immediately, screaming from agony. I couldn’t watch. For the life of me, I didn’t know why. What could I possibly feel for this man that would make me unable to watch?

“Grindelwald, that’s enough!” Dumbledore shouted as he raced forward and stood in front of Gellert. “Stop it! You’ll kill him!” He shoved his hands in his chest, breaking the focus and his spell. 

“They’ve stopped me for the last time, Albus,” he informed darkly, getting nose to nose with Dumbledore. 

As if I were in a daze, I didn’t notice how Vinda and Abernathy tried to fight Nora, Theseus, and Tina who had all recovered from their wounds. Newt was still on the floor, gasping for air. My eyes only watched Gellert who was speaking in hushed, angry tones to Dumbledore. Magic, spells, jinxes flew across the classroom, lighting it up before suddenly I looked up and I was surrounded. I raised my wand, still in a daze, moving automatically, without thought. That was my downfall, because Nora disarmed me, rather easily. I’d never been disarmed during a duel. 

Nora threw a Confundo charm at Vinda and Abernathy, making them stop their onslaught completely. 

“Go! Go now!” Dumbledore pressed. “Get to my office!” 

My arms were being grabbed by Theseus and Newt to be forced into the office. Nora slammed the door behind all of us and locked it before we heard shouting. I heard Gellert trying to spell the door open, and suddenly I snapped out of whatever I was doing.

“What the… Let me go!” I screamed, fighting them. I went to aim my wand, only to find my wand was no longer in my hand. My frenzied eyes searched the room, and saw Tina had it. I clawed and fought my two captors. “Gellert!” I screamed as loud as my voice would go. “Unhand me!” I shouted, fighting until Nora finally turned and charmed me. 

“Immobulus,” she firmly stated.

My body and mouth instantly stopped moving, but inside I was still thrashing around in my head. 

Nora looked to the fireplace and inspected it. Meanwhile outside, the shouts and the attempts at the door had seemed to stop, making me worry for Gellert.

“It’s connected to the floo network,” she informed. 

“Do we use that?” Theseus questioned.

“What choice do we have?”

“Right.” 

With that, Nora charmed me once more with “Mobilicorpus” and she put me in the fireplace next to her. She grabbed my hand, and said her address loud and clear, and we were off, down the floo network.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[jade4813]

The Lies We Tell Ourselves, Chapter 10

Fandom: Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist

Title: The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Rating: PG (I’m assuming it’ll stay there?)

Pairing: Zoey/Max

Synopsis: Max would do anything for Zoey. Including posing as her fake boyfriend to give her father one last “big moment” to celebrate with her. Nothing could possibly go wrong. After all, it’s only his heart that stands to be broken. Right?

Chapter: 10/11

Author’s Notes: Takes place after Zoey’s Extraordinary Glitch.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Zoey was subdued as she led Max into her apartment. Her heart song had apparently convinced him to listen, but she wasn’t sure how to get him to give her a second chance. She didn’t know how to convince him of the truth.

But as lost and confused as she was, she knew that this was perhaps her one chance to make him understand. She refused to squander it. For the first time, she knew she wasn’t afraid anymore. If she could just get through to him, their love would be strong enough.

Taking his hand, she led him to the couch. “So.” She attempted to lob the first conversational volley, but nothing came immediately to mind.

As always, Max saved her. “So…that was quite the heart song you sang back there.”

“Yeah,” she agreed sheepishly. “But at least…it has to prove that I was telling the truth about my feelings for you. Doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he agreed, but there was just enough of a pause before he replied, and he dragged out the second word just long enough, that she knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“But?” she prompted.

He sighed. “But…I don’t want to hurt you, but I need to be honest with you, Zo. I’m not sure it matters if you were telling the truth.” Slumping, he linked his fingers behind his head and sighed. “The thing is, I’ve heard it before. Your heart song, telling me that you loved me. And just look what happened! You sang to me that you loved me, then you sang a song to Simon. You come over to my place and tell me you love me, and I know you were drunk but…how was I supposed to react to that? I wanted to believe it! And then you go and…” Dropping his hands, he looked over at her, and his eyes were sad. “I’m not sure if just knowing you love me is enough for me anymore.”

She bit her lip. “So you are mad at me,” she said softly.

“No!” he began to protest, before heaving a heavy sigh. “All right, yes. I guess I am. I’m just…I’m tired of being the fallback guy. I love you, Zoey. I’ve never had to question it. I’ve just known it. You will never come second to me, but I seem to always come second to you. How am I supposed to deal with that?”

She grabbed his hand, holding it in hers. “You aren’t second to me, Max! You aren’t! It isn’t like that! I admit I’ve been…confused. Scared. I was running away from my feelings. From you.”

He pulled his hand away. “And how do you think that makes me feel? To know that I’m so sure about you, the person I love – the person I am that sure about, well, isn’t really sure how they feel about me?”

“That isn’t fair, Max. This kind of stuff…it isn’t easy for me. But that doesn’t mean I’m not trying, and it doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I know it isn’t fair. But it’s how I feel. And I can’t keep pretending it isn’t, even to myself, because I’m scared it will hurt you to hear.”

She dropped her head, watching her fingers twist anxiously in her lap. “So where do we go from here?” she asked, her voice soft and sad.

A long silence followed her question, during which she held her breath, praying he would say something that would make it all right. Instead, he replied sadly, “I don’t know. I just can’t be your backup plan, when things with Simon don’t work out.” When she started to protest, he shook his head. “I know you’re telling me now that’s not what this is, and trust me, I want to believe that. You have no idea how much I want to believe that. I just…can’t.”

Shifting in her seat, she wanted to reach for him, but he felt like he was a million miles away from her. “So this is it? I was so scared of losing you that I lost you anyway.”

Max stood, and she followed him to the door. “Not exactly. I mean, we’ll always be friends, right? I just need a little time to find my way back there.”

“But this thing…for my dad…are we still…”

He turned his head quickly, but not fast enough to entirely conceal his wince, and she realized that she was doing it again. Putting Max’s feelings second. Behind herself, behind Simon, behind her dad. That she didn’t doubt he understood why she was doing it in this instance didn’t change the fact she was doing it. And probably didn’t make it hurt any less.

But as he always did, he let her. His smile was reassuring when he turned back to face her. “Yeah, of course. You know I’d do anything for Mitch.” Hesitating a brief second, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against her cheek.” See you later, Zoey.”

She sighed as she closed the door behind him, leaning heavily against its solid surface. It took her a few minutes to clear her head, but then she knew what she had to do. Not for herself. Not to convince Max to love her. But for him. Because even if she had been driven by fear for too long and lost her chance at his love, he had to understand that he was wrong. He wasn’t a second choice. He deserved so, so much better than that.

It was going to require her to be just a little bit brave. But she could do it. For Max.

“Are you free for lunch today? I wanted to meet up with my dad, since we skipped out on charades.”

“Sure! What’d you have in mind?”

“Meet me at that park a couple blocks away at noon? I thought my dad would like the fresh air.”

“Sounds good. See you there!”

Trying to not pace, Zoey read the text for the fourth time in as many minutes, wanting to reassure herself that she hadn’t gotten it wrong. Max was on his way.

“This was a lovely idea, Zoey. Your father and I haven’t been on a picnic for years!” Maggie said cheerfully, laying out the blanket.

With some effort, Emily lowered herself onto the ground and started spreading out the food. “If this is all leading to you trying to convince us that your forfeited game of charades shouldn’t count as a loss, you’re wasting your time.”

“It didn’t even occur to me!” Zoey replied with wounded dignity. Actually, she probably would have made the effort, if she didn’t have so much on her mind.

“Uh huh,” her sister-in-law replied with a skeptical snort.

David took a seat beside her, being careful not to get grass stains on his suit. “What is this about, anyway? Not that I’m not glad to have lunch with everyone, of course, but you made it sound like an emergency.”

She took a deep breath. “I know. I’ll explain everything when Max gets here. I promise.” She was tempted to pull her phone out to read his texts one more time, but just then, she saw him approach. Although it sent the butterflies in her stomach into overdrive, she paused to admire the sight of him. Dressed all in black, his hair adorably tousled by the wind, she wondered how she ever could have been blind to how easily he took her breath away.

“Hey, guys! Sorry I’m a few minutes late. I had a meeting that ran over,” he greeted them apologetically as he placed his hand on Zoey’s waist and bent for a brief kiss. She put her hand on his shoulder, longing to hold him close to her forever, but she didn’t protest when he straightened and moved away to help finish setting things up.

Her family settled in to eat, and Zoey shot a quick look at her dad. He was just waiting patiently, staring at her, and she wondered if he somehow knew what she was about to do. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. She sucked in a long, shaky breath, trying to gather her courage. But then her gaze drifted to Max, and courage wasn’t so hard to find. As nervous as she was about disappointing her parents – particularly her father – she had no doubt she was doing the right thing.

“Before we get started, there’s something…I need to tell you. All of you,” she began, standing in front of her family stretched out on the lawn. I know you’ll probably have a million questions about what I’m about to say, but just…hear me out, okay?”

Max looked up at her in surprise. Then, glancing around the group, he seemed to suspect what she was about to do because he sat bolt upright. “Zoey, you don’t have to do this…” he began, jumping to his feet.

“Yes, I do,” she argued, holding up one hand to stop him in his tracks. Turning her attention back to her family, she continued, “The thing is, I haven’t been very fair to Max. For a while, now, really. And I realized last night that he deserves so much better than what I’ve put him through. So much better.” She paused, looking at her dad. “And all of you deserve the truth.”

“Zoey,” Max protested again, stepping around the picnic blanket to approach her, but she ignored him as Emily looked between them.

“This isn’t going to be another one of those moments where the two of you totally bail on us to go make out or something, is it?”

Her laugh was shaky, uncertain. Rueful. “No, pretty much the opposite, actually.”

Max tried to stop her one more time. Cupping her chin, he gently tilted her head back so he could meet her eyes and murmured, “You really don’t have to do this. Not for me.” She didn’t reply, simply grabbing his hand in hers and hold it tight as she turned back to her family.

“The truth is, a few weeks ago, Max really did hire an entire flash mob to tell me he loves me, and I did freak out. But…the rest of what we said was a lie. We aren’t together.” Her voice caught on the last word, but she forced herself to continue. “Romantically, I mean. We never have been.”

Her mom shot them both a confused look as she said in a tone of amused confusion, “Well, you’ve certainly been doing a lot of kissing for two people who aren’t dating!”

“I know,” she admitted, squeezing Max’s hand. “The thing is, when we got the news that…that dad was in the final stage of his illness, I wanted to give him one last big moment to celebrate. You know? So I…” Her voice caught, falling to barely above a whisper as she continued, “I asked Max to pretend to be my boyfriend. So dad wouldn’t worry about me when he…when he…” She couldn’t say it.

Her mom breathed her name in a shocked undertone. In response, stroking his thumb reassuringly along the curve of her hand, Max cut in, “She asked me if I knew anyone who would be willing to do it, and I volunteered.” He was trying to protect her, as he always did, and the realization made her heart ache.

Zoey was tempted to stop there. She knew their confusion would turn to condemnation as she continued, and she couldn’t stand to see that in their eyes. She especially couldn’t stand to see the pain her words would cause Max. But she owed him more honesty than she had yet offered, and so she bowed her head as she admitted, “But the thing is, I knew he would. I knew how he felt about me, and I knew pretending like this would hurt him. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I did it anyway.”

“That’s…uh…that’s quite the story,” David finally spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen in the group. “I know your heart was in the right place, Zoey, even if I don’t agree with what you did. But Max? I don’t understand what you were thinking!”

“Don’t blame him,” she begged before Max could respond. “He did it for me. And I let him because…I think I wanted to pretend it was true. Even if I didn’t want to admit it. But Max…he’s been amazing through everything. Truly. He’s been willing to do whatever I asked him, just to make dad happy. Even though I’ve done nothing but hurt him over and over again.” She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye, bracing herself for what she was about to confess. “Even more than he knows.”

He hesitated, throwing her a confused look, and she charged ahead before she could lose her nerve. “Max had sung a song to me, to confess his feelings, so I decided to do the same. I sang a love song to him.” It was a small distortion of the truth, and she’d considered confessing all. But at the last minute, she decided it would be too much to try to explain her powers to her family, or the strange glitch she had experienced. As honest as she was trying to be, telling them that she had connected to her father in a way they couldn’t would only cause unnecessary pain. Even if they believed her, which was unlikely. “Then I…I kind of threw myself at Simon. I kissed him.”

She watched as Max recoiled at this confession, though he tried to hide it. She’d never told him that the kiss he had witnessed had not been their first. But the time for hiding the truth from him was over. He deserved honesty, even if it meant she lost him forever. He dropped her hand, and she curled hers into a fist, missing his warmth.

Her heart heavy in her chest, she concluded her confession. “I was confused, and I didn’t know what I wanted. So I did it again. I told Max I loved him, and then Simon and I…we kissed. Every time Max and I got close, I ran. Like I did after he sang to me. I’ve been an idiot, making one bad decision after another this whole time.”

Emily shifted uncomfortably on the ground. “Uh…this is fascinating, but I’m not sure we need to know all this,” she pointed out, trying to soften the harsh edge to her voice. In some ways, she wasn’t any better at dealing with other people’s emotions than Zoey. Maggie murmured something to her, and she cried defensively, “What? We were all thinking it!”

“You’re probably right, Emily, but after all this time, I owed you the truth.” Though she was addressing everyone, she spoke directly to Max. Although she’d managed to keep her feelings under control this whole time, but now that her confession was near the end, she found herself struggling not to cry.

Swallowing heavily, she glanced at her parents. “I’m sorry. Mom, Dad…David, Emily. I know I owe all of you an apology. I’m sorry I lied to you.” Then, turning to Max again, with her heart aching, she continued, “But mostly I’m sorry to you, Max. I know I’ve lost…everything. Your love. Your trust. And I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“Zoey,” he breathed, but she shook her head, needing to get through this once and for all.

“No. I was selfish in wanting to pretend we were together when I knew how you felt about me. And I let my fear blind me to how I felt about you for too long. I know I’ve missed my chance, and none of this changes anything. But I really am sorry. But even if I haven’t showed it, I wanted you to know that…you’re wonderful. And…and you aren’t my backup plan. You aren’t my second choice. You never were. You’re…you’re my forever guy.”

“I…” He was staring at her with wide eyes, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed heavily. He turned from her to her family and scanned their faces like he didn’t know what to say. “I…”

He looked to Zoey again, and she was amazed to see a tiny smile lurk at the corners of his mouth. “Actually, will you guys excuse the two of us? I think this is definitely one of those moments where Zoey and I bail on you so we can go make out.”

He didn’t wait for a response, grabbing Zoey’s hand and pulling her away. But they didn’t get far; when they ran behind a tree, she tugged at his hand, pulling him to a stop. He turned, pressing his back against the rough bark and pulling her into his arms.

“What -?” she started to ask, but that was as far as she got before his mouth was on hers, demanding and hungry. She speared her fingers into his hair, holding his head in place as she returned his kiss. She wasn’t sure what this meant, but if this was to be the final embrace the two would ever share, she would make it last, and she would carry this memory to the end of her days.

When the kiss broke off, she rested her forehead against his. Since their charade had begun, the scent of Max’s aftershave had clung to her, so that she carried him with her everywhere. Keeping her eyes closed, Zoey breathed him in. If she had the power to stop time, she would choose this moment to freeze, to live in for an eternity.

“Max?” she whispered, afraid to even hope. But when she opened her eyes, she found that he was looking down at her with such love, it was a mystery that she had missed it for so long.

“Oh, Zoey,” he murmured, leaning back to caress her cheek. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Yes,” she replied firmly. “I did.”

“And you say you’re not good at big gestures,” he teased her lightly, leaning in for another kiss.

She didn’t protest. After all their confusion and misunderstandings, after all the time they wasted, she could have kissed him forever. “I really do love you, you know,” she whispered her promise against his lips.

“Yeah,” he answered back, his voice just as soft, this time without a moment of hesitation or doubt. “I know. Thank you. For your honesty.” His hands stroked up and down her back, as though he couldn’t get enough of touching her as he brushed feather-light kisses across her cheeks, her temple, her jaw, her mouth. “Oh, and for the record? I never stopped loving you.” He nibbled softly on her lower lip. “Well, maybe a little when I found out how wrong you are about the whole Stay Puft, T-Rex thing. You’re really, really wrong about that, and it’s very important to me that you admit it.”

She feigned a gasp of dismay, but she was unable to completely hide her grin as she protested, “I am not wrong about that!”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her heart warmed at the endearment. “You really, really are. But more importantly…does this mean you’ve technically proposed to me? Because I’m not necessarily opposed to the idea, but don’t you think you’re moving a little fast? Anyway, I was hoping for a little more romance. You’d take me out to dinner…buy me a ring…”

This time, her gasp was real, and she laughed softly as she gave his shoulder a playful slap. “What? I did not just propose to you!”

Tilting his head to the side, he gave her a skeptical smile, but he was grinning when he replied, “Mmm…really? Are you sure about that? I’m your forever guy? That sounds like a proposal to me. Should we ask your family what they think? Because I think they’d agree with me.”

“Oh, my god. You are such a dork,” she groaned, rolling her eyes at him as she pulled him in for a searing kiss. Smiling against his mouth, she suggested, “I have a better idea. Do you think you could call off for the rest of the day? Because I can think of something better we could be doing.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, sounding adorably confused. “Like wha- oh. Ohhh!”

Zoey’s laughter was free and unbridled as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Like I said. You are such a dork.”

[anything-disney-that-i-like]

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS!!!

DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE MOVIE!!!!

DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND WATCH THE MOVIE ASAP!!!

The really beautiful thing about Onward is that it gave us a disfuntional sibling relationship where the older sibling isn’t the paragon of success and the pillar of idealizaation for the younger sibling. The last time we had this was Lilo and Stitch, and even then the relationship they had was much more parent-to-child than it was sisters.

Sure, Lilo and Nani fought like sisters, and they bickered, and they very much shared the key dynamic that is much older siblings caring for their much younger non-womb-incured baby but that’s the thing. Their age difference and maturity level required that Nani be more of a mom a lot sooner to Lilo than a sister. I relate to that because I have 2 sisters, and their relationship is sooooooo different than the relationship I have with either of them. The relationship I have with my youngest sister (15 years younger than me) is the relationship Nani and Lilo have with each other.

Every time I see that movie, I feel Nani’s frustration when she’s trying to correct Lilo, when she’s trying to get her to do something. When she loses her patience and then says some stuff she really shouldn’t have and gosh dang it, this authority figure who was NOT supposed to hear that heard and now I have to figure out how to not get in trouble bc FUDGE BROWNIES!!! But their relationship is more like what we see when Nani gets fired and when Lilo asks her if it was her fault, she says that no, that he boss was actually a vampire and he wanted her to join his army of evil undead.

What does Lilo say? “I knew it.”

What does Nani respond? Nothing. She just rolls with it and doesn’t make her second guess her words. Their relationship is sister when it comes with dealing with each other’s quirks and not pointing out they’re quirks bc they’ve grown up together. They know all the weird things that would be weird from other people, or even WERE weird at some point but their parents reprimanded them for being rude about how they pointed it out, and so now they’ve learned to shrug it off or just not even flinch around said quirks.

But Ian and Barley’s relationship is much like the relationship I have with my slightly older little sister. She’s 13 years younger than me but by god would you swear the ages were reversed. She’s smart, creative, clever, logical, very organized, EASILY embarrased by me, and has her life already planned out and ready for success.

I am only like Nani in how I know my youngest, and how we’re disfunctional but functional in our own way. And thank god, we don’t have to worry about it just being us. I am much more like Barley. I already graduated but I’m kind of in my own gap year at the moment. Not so much bc I’m taking a break but because I’m having such a hard time finding a job. I’m very enthusiastic about things I’m passionate about. I can be loud and obnoxious, and sometimes when I try to help I make things worse. I absolutely adore my siblings and am always giving them hugs and am just very *loud* in how I express my love for them. With my Lilo, she could care less. She rolls with it bc this is what I’ve always been like and she doesn’t know any different version of me. But with my Ian, she cringes. She freaks out. She pretends to not know me. She’s embarrased by me...

I am her Barley and I cringed when I realized (literally as soon as Ian started complaining about him and his “toys”) bc this was the very beginning and I get that there were going to be some brotherly conflicts but I did not expect the level of similarities the brothers would share to my own dynamic with my sister.

I cried a lot during the movie and not so much because of some heartbreak or sad scene or whatnot. I cried because there were so many scenes were Barely was doing his best. Where he was saying something he really shouldn’t have been saying but he didn’t realize that’s something you shouldn’t say bc he’s so pure and honest and his filter doesn’t work and gosh dangit, now he’s in trouble! There were so many things that caused my sister to yell “That’s you!” and just as many that made me yell “I’m sorry!” But the scene that we both felt that we were both extremely tense and quiet through was the transformation spell and the lie Ian said that hurt Barley so much.

I know my sister thinks I’m a failure. She literally tells me every time she’s made “At least I’m not the 25 year old without a job.” Or “Please, when I’m 16 I’m probably going to be the one teaching you how to drive.” And my “favorite,” “I should be the one in charge bc I’m not the one with a disease!” What disease was she reffering to? Social Anxiety. Depression. Autism. Queer. I’m not the sister she expects or wants. I’m the one she’s stuck with. And because I don’t reach her standards for what she thinks someone my age should be like, she thinks I’m a failure.

This movie made me cry so much. I hope it made her think about our relationship too, and maybe how we can both improve how we interact with one another. It’s only been 1 day since we saw but it really struck a chord (multiple actually), and I can’t let it go.

Onward gave us brothers who don’t see each other equally. Barley loves his brother, but he will always see him with a fatherly lense. He can’t help it. His life experiences shaped that role in him too much. He’ll be a world class dad when he has his own children, but he’s too much of a dad to his little brother. And Ian sees Barley as his immature brother. He took the fact that he didn’t have his dad around as a cue to grow up as soon as possible. To be the adult he thought his dad would want him to be. He may have just had the personality that made him much more mature, more needing adult acceptance, and needing to have some sort of control, but it was the presumed lack of a father figure that made him act older and not give himself to enjoy the llittle things or see what was right in front of him.

I love that their relationship becomes much equal. Yes, Barley is still a father figure, but he also stepped down to be more of a brother to give Ian space. And Ian recognized what Barley did for him, what Barley always tried to be for him. He accepts Barley’s affection a bit better because he recognizes that Barley needs Ian to know he really does love him. He also understands better why Ian is the man he is, and why he makes the decisions he makes. They understand each other better and though nothing has really changed in how they interact, it’s the paradigm shift that was what saved their relationship so that when they’re 50 and look back on life, they can look back at all the wonderful memories they’ve shared and not look back on a life where they grew distant as soon as Ian was old enough to leave for college and not be forced to interact with his brother.

Onward is an amazing movie with a powerful sibling relationship. Not because they loved each other so much and fought to show the other how much they loved each other but because they had them realize what they already had and to not squander that.

If you read this and haven’t watched Onward, what are you doing???? Go get your booty to the nearest screen and either rent it or use the DIsney+ free trial to watch! If you did watch it, thank you for listening to my personal essay and why Onward means so much to me. I know I probably overshared but this movie is my “in an alternate, genderbend-fantasy-universe, My Ian and I are Barley and Ian” movie. I love it and I hope you do (or will) too.

[ren-c-leyn]

Another fusion story! This one is done using this prompt by @p-r-o-m-p-t-s, these 1,2,3,4 by @thependragonwritersguild, these 1,2 by @givethispromptatry, and these 1,2 by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor.

 This one is kind of a weird one where I’m not quite sure what to call it, really. It mentions two deaths in passing, but also has some fonder memories mixed in, and ends on a hopeful note. So make of it what you will.

~   I wandered down the rows of hydrangea, letting my bare feet press into the soil. With everything that had been happening in my life lately it was nice to take just a few moments to reconnect. A few minutes to say good-bye.

 It was harder than I thought it would be, preparing to leave this place. Not because anything was particularly stopping me, all of the guards and servants had stopped listening to mother ages ago, but because of the memories I had made here, with father and my siblings.

 Wandering out of father’s garden, the one we had all planted together before the illness got the better of him, took me past the training grounds. I glanced over at the knights in training and the ones responsible for training them. For a second, my mind wandered into the past. My older brother’s image came to mind, twirling his blade with expert skill and a sort of confidence I will always envy.

 The last time I saw him was six years ago, when mother sent him off to the war. The horrible scene haunted my nightmares ever since, and even found time to visit me now.

 “He’s to be knighted tomorrow, you know.” My mother spoke to the room as a whole, rather than at anyone in particular. I knew it was a snide comment towards him: her eldest son, made an invalid too young, squandering his talent and his status.

 “And what dreadful timing,” he had mused. “Just in time for the Queen to call another war, and send him off to the death.”

 And she had done it too, just as he predicted. I remember crying, clinging to his cloak as he tried to get on his horse to go, begging him to stay. I don’t remember exactly what he had said to convince me to let go. A promise about letter, or souvenirs? Maybe both.

 A yelp from a rookie snapped me back into the present, the same old captain shouting about footwork mistakes. I watched for a moment later before making my way back inside.

 There was no way back to my room from this side without passing other sadly familiar doors: like my older sister’s room. I remembered how we used to fight constantly before our brother’s death, particularly after she started learning magic. I smiled as an old memory of one such battle came to mind.

 “Stop turning my cat different colors!”

 “But he looks better pink, instead of boring orange.”

 “Orange will always be better than stupid pink!”

 “You take that back, you brat!”

 She was a fiery one, the only one of the three of us who talked back to mother. One such occasion was when mother had done the announcement that she was now the crowned heir.

 And I remember the broach being offered to her on a velvet pillow, and she stared at it. Then, with a flick of her wrist, it glowed like a forge until it lit aflame. The servant yelped as he dropped the pillow, backing away from it. And before all of the nobles of the court, my sister pointed her finger at mother’s face, called her a murderer, a monster, and then swore her oath: an oath to never set foot on the cursed soil of our kingdom again. And she laughed, laughed as she twirled around, disappearing in a tornado of autumn leaves.

 Some days, I can hear her laugh in the autumn wind. I know she’s found a place for herself, somewhere in the world.

 And as I passed the library, I recalled another person whom I dearly hoped had found his place in this world as well: my tutor. He had become something like a father figure to all of us after father’s death. But I think he had left the biggest impression on me, maybe because I’m the youngest.

 The smell of old books filled my nostrils as an old memory came to mind. We had been studying history and I was trying really hard to get all of the questions right.

 “You’ve been studying harder lately,” he commented. “And doing quite well. You’re catching up rapidly to your siblings, and may over take them any day now.”

 “It’s because of you.”

 He chuckled.

 “I have nothing to do with it, it is your own hard work paying off.”

  “I don’t think you understand your impact on my life.” I turned away from the bookshelf to face him. “You make me want to be kind, to myself and to others. I see you and I want to be like you. You inspire me to be better. At everything, studies, dealing with people, all of it.”

 And his face softened into a small smile.

 “You are certainly on the right track to achieve that goal, and I couldn’t be more proud.”

 Mother had blamed him for my siblings turning on her and exiled him from the kingdom. I had cried when he left too, hugging him at the gates and begging him not to got. He had patted my head, a warm smile on his face.

 “Worry not, little one. You’re capable of many things, you’ll get through this.”

 And just like that, he was gone, just like mother wanted. Though, I think she’d be livid if she realized my new tutor was even more encouraging when it came to self expression. In fact, she was teaching me how to do art. Oil paintings and sketches. What is it that she always says? Oh, that’s right: Art saves us from our blackest moments. 

 And I certainly had needed it when she came. I had no one left. Father and brother were dead, my sister was off turning other people’s cats pink, and mother hadn’t been mother since father had passed.

 Speaking of, I stopped in front of my chamber doors, my current mentor there with packed bags and a smile.

 “I didn’t think you’d want to wait any longer, so I packed the rest of your things for you, your highness,” she said as she held them out to me.

 I accepted them, a small smile creeping onto my face.

 ‘Thank you, I appreciate it.”

 She gave a nod.

 “Of course. I wish you the best of luck with your new life.”

 I nodded back to her.

 “And the best of luck with your endeavors as well.”

 I set foot in my room for the very last time, changing out of royal garb of velvet and silk into simple traveler’s clothes of leather and linen. I looked around one last time, listening to all of the whispers of the past. There were good memories here, and bad ones too. But they were all just that, memories, and it was time to go make new ones: on my own terms, my own way.

 I closed the door behind me, carrying my bags out to the front gate. No one stopped me, no one said a word, guards that had trained with my brother gave me half bows, the court mage whom trained my sister gave me a nod as he stepped out of my way, the maids and servants I had taken my meals with since the start of my solitude wiped tears and waved good-bye.

 It was hard, the hardest thing I had ever done. But I had waited for the clouds to part, for the rain to stop, to have the sun shimmer and dazzle me and save me from all of this. I was tired of waiting. I’d brave the storm, even if it soaked me to the bone.

 And as I stepped onto my saddle, in the same exact place I had begged my brother and my mentor not to leave, I realized something.

 My life was my own again.

[thequeerhistorian]

Mary Wollstonecraft, Mother of the Mary’s

For centuries, women have fought for the right to a proper education. History shows that noble or upper-class women were the only women allowed to get any sort of learning, and as history has continued, there has been a greater fight to give all girls the right to a proper education. One of the most notable women in this fight is Mary Wollstonecraft, an English woman who would fight tooth-and-nail for the education of girls and would not hold back against her male opponents. But to understand Mary’s importance to history, as with anyone, we must take a look at her life to see what led to her trailblazing fight for women’s education.

Mary Wollstonecraft was born in Primrose Street, London, on April 27th, 1759. She was the 2nd of 7 children, and the eldest daughter, to her father, Edward, and her mother, Elizabeth Dickson, an Irish Protestant, though Mary’s life was anything but a primrose path. Edward Wollstonecraft was an abusive bully, who seemed to leave a trail of failed work behind him. His father had been a successful silk merchant from Spitalfields, and left Mary’s father at least 10,000 pounds, which he squandered in failed farming ventures. His failures took him to six different places in Britain, until 1780, when her mother died. This would not be the last time Mary is faced with death, or failed marriages.

After losing her mother, Mary decided to make her way in the world. She lived with her lifelong friend, Fanny, and in 1783, Mary helped her sister escape an abusive marriage, and kept her safe, while the divorce was finalized. The three girls, together, decided to build a school in Newington Green, which failed financially. After this, Fanny left for Lisbon, got married and became pregnant. She begged Mary to come visit and Mary arrived in Lisbon to Fanny in premature labor. Sadly, Mary would have to watch her dear friend, and Fanny’s newborn baby, die on the same night, in 1785. All of this would likely culminate in Mary’s less than happy view of marriage and motherhood. Mary was surrounded by women who died for motherhood and were repeatedly failed by men who were supposed to love and support them. Mary also supposedly mimicked Fanny’s death in one of her later novels. (Mary, A Fiction)

Mary would end up leaving the school to go to Ireland, which is when the young writer found herself employed as a governess in Co. Cork, Ireland, in 1786 for Lord and Lady Kingsborough. Mary taught their three daughters and was just beginning to make way as a writer. She had already submitted her first book, Thoughts on the Education of Daughters, a series of essays, to Joseph Johnson. Her essays would be published in 1787. During her stay, Mary would begin working on her book, Mary, A Fiction (1788).

Upon her return to London, Mary began working for Joseph Johnson again, creating more writings and growing her literary prowess. She wrote her next book, Original Stories from Real Life; with Conversations, calculated to Regulate the Affections, and Form the Mind to Truth and Goodness (1788) and The Female Reader; Miscellaneous Pieces in Prose and Verse; Selected from the Best Writers and Disposed under Proper Heads; for the Improvement of Young Women (1789) created under the nom de plume, Mr. Cresswick, teacher of Elocution.

I find it telling that even as a woman with growing knowledge of literature and the education of young girls, she felt the best way to get people to truly listen to her was to take the appearance of a man. After all, despite Wollstonecraft’s lack of a formal education, she had gained quite a vast knowledge on these subjects. Considering the school she created, her work as a governess, her work with Johnson that led to her getting to rub shoulders with men like William Blake and Godwin, as well as having direct access to review and translate the works of men like Jacques Necker, Reverend C.G. Salzmann, and Madame de Cambon from Dutch, French, and German. Even with what little she had, she was a woman of great intelligence and knowledge in these fields.

Mary was also not afraid to go toe-to-toe with writers of the day. She was a staunch supporter of the French Revolution for their egalitarian views (though this support would pointedly end during the Reign of Terror) and wrote a scathing response to Edmund Burke’s Reflections on the Revolution in France which would become her book, A Vindication of the Rights of Men (1790). Two years later, Mary wrote A Vindication of the Rights of Woman which included an equally scathing response to Jean-Jacque Rousseau’s book on education, Emile, which included the story of a boy and his learning through experiences in nature, while in the same book, discussing a little girl who could not learn or understand like Emile could because she was a girl. Wollstonecraft likens him to a barbarian and calls his beliefs “madness”. She believed there was no reason a girl shouldn’t be taught as a boy would.

Perhaps Wollstonecraft’s growing attack against her counterparts shows her determination to stand up for girls and their education. After all, Mary would have particularly strong feelings, considering she had to watch her brother get a formal education while she and her siblings were pushed aside. After all, she worked just as hard, if not harder, than these men, so why shouldn’t she? I also find it interesting that while she worked with many of the more respected of her time, Mary’s name tends to be the one we know better over many of these men.

The same year Mary published her most well-known book, she met Captain Gilbert Imlay, whom she began an affair with and had a daughter. She named the girl Fanny after her childhood best friend. Mary would make a note to continue writing as she raised her daughter, but this romance would not last long. Imlay would turn on Mary and abandon her and their daughter, leaving Mary distraught and alone. She attempted suicide, but was luckily saved, and she would soon fall in love with her old friend, William Godwin. The two married and Mary gave birth to their daughter, also named Mary, but this would not be such a happy time. Despite Mary wanting a midwife who would be more experienced, Mary was put under the care of a doctor who mishandled a minor surgery that would lead to Mary’s death, eleven days after the birth of her daughter, who would go on to be as great a writer as her mother. Mary would die at the age of 38, never truly knowing the daughter who would follow in her mother’s path of literary skill.

Mary wrote eight books in total, one being published after her death. Mary was a woman of wit and fire, who as she learned, would become less and less apologetic about her opinions for women’s right to equal education, and how they should be taught to be independent and how a lack of education would lead to future generations not receiving the schooling they needed. She was a woman who would inspire future generations to fight for women’s equality and education. I studied Mary’s works through a class, “Women in Modern Europe” my sophomore year and after all we learned, I rather wish we got to see Mary Shelley grow up with her mother. I can only imagine the incredible things those two women would have accomplished together.

Links to Sources:

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/84

https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/wollstonecraft/#Bio

https://www.biography.com/scholar/mary-wollstonecraft

https://www.bbc.co.uk/teach/mary-wollstonecraft-britains-first-feminist/zkpk382

[admiralty-xfd]

Culmination

It’s my one year A03 anniversary and I’d love to share with you all my first fanfic, it’s very close to my heart and I hope you enjoy it. I’ll post one chapter here every day but I’ll link to the full story below if you ever want to jump ahead. :)

CHAPTER ONE

CREATION

(Pilot)

SCULLY

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The sun and the stars, the plant life, the animals, and eventually, one man and one woman. These two human beings were a new beginning, the start of something big, something important. The beginning of life in this universe… or at least, what we know of it.

This is what Dana Katherine Scully was taught as a child in Sunday school. Her father and mother were devoted Catholics and she knew no other truth. Although growing older has reduced the biblical lesson to allegory in her scientific mind, she still believes in her heart that this is the way all things begin: with intent, with purpose, with meaning.

She thinks of this story the day she meets Fox Mulder. As she opens the door to his basement office, there’s something in the air; an electricity, an excitement, a new beginning that seems fated. She doesn’t believe in destiny, necessarily, but if she did she’d feel it today.

She takes in her surroundings before she has a chance to take him in. The walls are absolutely covered with what must be Agent Mulder, as if his insides are on display, bared for the world to see if only anyone would notice. Newspaper clippings, crime scene photographs, crop circle diagrams, tiny scraps of a life obsessed litter the room. The central feature of his office is a poster of a UFO with the words “I Want to Believe” scrawled guilelessly across the bottom. She’s not the type to judge a book by its cover so she reproaches herself for sizing him up before she even lays eyes on him, but she feels like she can see pieces of him everywhere.

As he turns to greet her, she notes that he is a bit older than her, seasoned but still quite young. She immediately finds him attractive, and just as immediately relegates these thoughts to the back of her mind. Entertaining them would be a mistake. She’s here to work, to distinguish herself. She wants to build a reputation at the FBI, not be given one.

His face is boyish, as is his exuberance. When he speaks to her he looks her in the eye, which she respects. He has the fascination of a child discovering the wonders of the world around him.

She doesn’t know it yet but meeting him will change the course of her entire life.

The more she learns about him, the more she respects his views and the completely unique way in which he sees the world. She drinks it up, admires his devotion. He’s not like the other men she’s met at the Bureau, the ones who have something to prove and answer that call with relentless ambition, who treat her like something less, someone who doesn’t belong. Mulder is driven, passionate, but not in pursuit of a ladder; in pursuit of his own dreams and desires. He’s extraordinary.

Most importantly, he truly sees her.

There’s an undeniable spark they share, that she can sense whenever they’re in each other’s presence. He’s almost an entire foot taller than her, but when they speak they stand so close she has to physically crane her neck to look at him. She doesn’t understand why they do this, why they have this need to be so near each other, but it’s immediate and natural. It’s a magnetism she can’t deny.

When he’s with her he seems to lose his sense of personal boundaries. He stands too close, or gently touches her elbow. He holds doors for her and guides her by the small of her back. She doesn’t mind it, which is unusual for her. She rarely lets men get away with these things. But Mulder isn’t like other men; he does this absently, naturally, without purpose or agenda. She knows he doesn't mean it to be, but she suspects it’s more territorial than gentlemanly. And that’s fine with her, because she is his and he is hers in some unidentifiable way. Somehow, this is just how things are going to be.

As they move forward together in their partnership, they learn to know each other better. He challenges her in ways she never dreamed of. His theories and methods are unlike any she’s seen back at the academy, or anywhere else, for that matter. Every day is exciting, perplexing and remarkable, and the intellectual connection they share is unlike any other she’s ever experienced. She feels truly blessed to have met him. His presence in her life feels like an unexpected gift dropped directly into her lap.

Her friends in the Bureau think he’s a joke. “Spooky” Mulder. A loser. A wasted opportunity. An incredibly smart and talented agent squandering his life away on ridiculousness. But she knows the truth: when she is with him he cracks her world wide open. When they are together, she’s learning to believe. Whenever anyone condemns him, she defends him like a lioness defending her pride. She sees something in him no one else seems to see: limitless potential.

More than that, she likes him. He has become her friend. They have developed a genuine bond, and an affection for one another which she can’t quite yet identify but she can feel; more real and tangible than most of the monsters that elude them.

She often wonders if she’s helping or hindering him more. She feels that he trusts her, and that trust has been hard earned. But there are times when he will pull away from her, as if he’s gone somewhere in his mind she knows she cannot follow. Those are the times he can drive her absolutely crazy, and she can’t decide whether she wants to kill him or kiss him. She’s definitely thought about doing both.

It isn’t long before she regards him as the only person she can trust with her life. It will be much longer before she trusts him with her heart.

This is the start, the beginning. A new beginning for her, and what has now become the two of them. Everything always comes back to the two of them: seeking, finding, and seeking some more. They are so different, yet always share the same goal, like two roads meeting from opposite directions merging into each other, leading as one into oblivion.

MULDER

Trust no one.

Fox William Mulder knows this inherently before any of his informants ever warn him. He’s felt it most of his life, probably before any kid should. When his sister Samantha disappeared, he stopped trusting his parents. As he grew older and began his journey at the FBI, that distrust extended to the government. An organization he believed was dedicated to seeking the truth had revealed its own corruption over the years. Even personal relationships have been difficult; he's found it hard to get too close to anyone for too long.

His instincts tell him to distrust his new partner before he meets her. He’s well aware of the Bureau’s intentions regarding his work. Dr. Dana Scully’s presence in his office feels intrusive at first, unwelcome. He’s done his homework on her, and had believed he’d gotten a general idea of the person they’ve sent from upstairs to shut him down, reign him in.

But the person standing in front of him now doesn’t do his preconceived notions any justice. She’s tenacious, energized, engaged. She looks at him, really listens when he’s speaking. He likes that because he isn’t used to it.

She’s younger than he expected, and green, so green. He wants to use the word “adorable” but somehow he knows better. She’s smart as hell, probably smarter than he is, and probably too smart for her own good. Her brain is definitely going to get in the way of her gut, as well as his. This partnership is going to be tricky but he’s up for the challenge.

She wears a gold cross around her neck, which he finds fascinating considering she doesn’t seem to believe in anything outside the realm of science. He makes a mental note to ask her about it someday.

As they talk in his office, he can’t help but think of Diana Fowley. She and Scully are nothing alike, he can already tell, but the comparison enters his mind automatically. The similar minds he and Diana shared were helpful when he’d first discovered the X Files. She’d agreed with him on practically everything. It helped them find cases, but they’d had a tough time actually solving them. He knows now she wasn’t the right fit for him, in more ways than one. Yet another person he’d placed his trust in who had abused it.

He can’t help but find Scully attractive, but after what happened with Diana he resolves he will not let it interfere with their partnership. He feels a pang at this thought, because something in him is telling him this is different, this person could be the one, this person is safe to love. He already loves her but doesn’t want to admit it. He can’t. He can’t risk a similar outcome. Everything about Diana was a huge mistake.

Anyway, she’s well in his past. This new person Scully appears to be his future. Only time will tell exactly what kind of future that will turn out to be.

Her wide blue eyes capture his immediately, and through them he feels as if she might be knowable. He’s always dismissed the old adage about the eyes being the window to the soul until this very moment, looking into hers. There will be many moments in his future when he will get lost in them.

Other agents in the Bureau call each other by their first names, but he never calls her Dana. He doesn’t really know why, but he does know he doesn’t want her to call him Fox. Besides, he likes how “Scully” sounds. It’s endearing to him. He’s called her Scully so many times it feels strange now to call her anything else. And she calls him Mulder in response, like it’s their own private shorthand. They’ve accepted one another as equals without having to acknowledge it verbally.

He likes the way she says his name, too. She’s got about twelve versions. His favorites are “annoyed” and “exasperated.” She’s cute when she’s exasperated.

As they fall comfortably into their new partnership, he quickly discovers she’s a perfect counterpoint to everything he thinks and feels. They begin phone conversations like they’re already in the middle of one. He lobs a theory at her, and her backhand is immediate and usually accompanied by a raised skeptical eyebrow. Sometimes her skepticism can drive him absolutely crazy, but he’s completely charmed by her savvy. He knows she doesn’t believe in most of this stuff, but she listens and respects him, and sometimes he can tell he’s broken through. These are the moments he lives for. She hears him, which is something, really something.

Protecting her has become a priority in his life he hadn’t anticipated. Perhaps it’s displaced fear, or a remnant of the powerlessness he felt watching Samantha get torn away from him. But keeping Scully safe from harm feels like more than an obligation, it’s a primal need inside him. It feels like protecting her is protecting himself.

There are times when he feels as if his heart may burst from confusion and loneliness. In these moments he pulls away from her, keeps her at arm’s length. He knows it pisses her off but it’s self-preservation, he needs to do it. He wants to let her in, wants to badly, but he can’t. He wonders if he’s doomed to be lonely forever. Sometimes he doesn’t trust himself around her and he needs to wait to get that trust back.

Soon enough, he will give her his trust. It’s not something he can quantify or explain, but it’s deep in his gut, visceral, and if there’s one thing he’s always trusted it’s his instincts. He knows she’s in this with him, in a way no one really has been before. Somehow this person is going to be his partner, through and through, for the long haul. He can feel it.

He is careful with his heart, and always has been. But somehow deep down he knows one day she’ll find a way in. He wants to believe.

He’s completely unaware of how much he needs her. But she has arrived.

To continue reading click here. Otherwise, see you back here tomorrow!

[dw-writes]

Rococo Vampires

Hey, so I wanted to share some of my favorite scenes from the Rococo Vampire story I’m working on!! These are far from all of them, but some of the stand out ones :D So, I hope that you guys enjoy them! Let me know what you think~

***

Henri lowered himself into the seat across from you, turning the tea cup around in the saucer as he leaned back in the seat. You watched him as you sipped your drink, wondering if he would consume it or continue to play with it.

“We could have gone to the coffee house,” you said, “Or taken this out in the garden.”

“And squander the peace and quiet of this beautiful room?” he asked, sweeping his arm around him before settling it across the back of his chair. “Nonsense.” He lifted the cup and, at least, took a polite drink. “And, here, it’s much easier to listen to people eavesdropping.”

“Grand-pere?”

“Who else?” He crossed his legs at the knew and frowned. “The man would have my head on his desk if he could.” You frowned more, and watched Henri glance back at the open doors of the sitting room. “Is he here?” he asked.

“I believe so. I’ve yet to hear of him leaving the house without my mother in his sights.” You continued to drink. “He believes that if she’s left alone, she’s going to do something vile.”

“Odd that we’ve yet to see him.” He smiled, though, and relaxed in his seat. “At least it means he’s found something else to do than watch my every move.”

You shook your head as a small smile wormed across your face. “I don’t understand what you could have done to deserve such treatment,” you teased, “Perhaps it’s your dislike of the tea.”

He eyed you over the cup as he lifted it to his mouth and took a long and obnoxiously loud slurp. “Perhaps it’s the one startling difference between you and I?”

“Your prick?” you suggested. Henri snorted so hard that tea sloshed over the side of the cup. You couldn’t help the grin worming across your face. Your mirth melted into your words, “I suppose that is a difference that would grant the uninterrupted observance from the only male in my family.”

***

You stepped back against the painting. Its hinge protested. The man looked up, snarled, dark eyes fixing on you. You felt the air escape your lungs in a slow, cold burst. The painting pushed against your back and the man’s face shifted to look over your shoulder.

“Amélie?” You knew that voice. You whirled around and yanked on the painting frame. The man bolted, almost slipping in the puddle of blood that was left behind. Henri stepped over the threshold. “What happened, what—” His breath caught in his throat. He swallowed slowly.

“There was a man here, just now, he was—I don’t know what he was doing, he was biting her? Drinking from her? Or—or eating her?” You stumbled over your words as you struggled to pull him further into the room. He refused to budge. “Henri—”

“Stop.” His voice shook. It took you two glances to realize the warmth had faded from his face, leaving him ashen and pale. His eyes found yours – they didn’t want to, you hoped they didn’t want to – when he commanded, “Step back.” You did. You released his arm and took two slow steps backwards. Henri, on the other hand, moved forward. His eyes dropped from you to the woman on the lounge. He released the breath he had been holding ever so slowly. Reaching out, he dragged a finger through the pool that had formed in the hollow of her throat, followed what remained of her flawless jawline up until blood dripped from his fingertips and onto her pallid cheeks. The stiff cuff of his jacket was stained with the blood from her chest.

You finally look away when his fingers come up to his mouth.

“We should find a guard,” you whispered.

“Wait.”

“Why should I wait?!” Your voice echoed. Henri half turned to you, his hand once again extended towards the woman’s open throat. You took a step back. “Someone has died in my home and the murderer is free on the grounds and you are eating her blood?” Your voice climbed until it was a shrill, undiscernible mess.

“Because there are certain people to call.” There was a tremble to his voice. “Certain people take care of these things.” He audibly swallowed once again.

You shook your head. You tried to look at him again. Instead, he crossed the room to you and gripped your jaw with his one clean hand, tilting your head up until you stared him in the eye. “You will leave the room, lock the door, and return to the ball.” His voice was soft, but left no room for argument. No, that wasn’t it.

There wasn’t a choice.

His eyes studied your face as the fact sunk in. His cold fingers loosened around your chin. “I’ll tell you everything—”

“You have to.” Your eyes searched his. You refused to leave him with a choice, either.

Your heels alternated with the dripping blood to break the tense silence as you made your way to the door. You pulled the doors shut behind you and twisted the lock. Yet, you couldn’t find the strength to move. You squeezed your eyes shut as you struggled, whispered to legs to just walk, but all you could see was the ashen pallor to Henri’s face with his closeness, the darkness of blood on his lips when he spoke, and the sharpness of teeth that weren’t human just behind them. A soft snarl jolted you away from the door. It wasn’t towards you, not if what you were hearing was true. It was the same sound the pig made at dinner as it’s legs were being ripped off for those who had asked for them.

***

“Baron Nicolas,” your mother said slowly, purposefully, pronouncing every syllable so that you both may know exactly who you were in the presence of, “Has decided to extend to us his patronage.” She glanced around the two of you and heaved a sigh. “Just one moment, I must attend to something.”

“No, go right ahead.” The Baron smiled as your mother met his gaze. “I can get to know your daughters in the meantime.”

She curtsied and hurried off in a frenzy, meeting one of the few servants of your household in the hall before she disappeared from sight. You squeezed your sister’s hand before you both returned your gazes to the Baron.

He looked down at his well-manicured hands. “It’s…Miss Marie and Miss Amélie, correct?” he asked. He motioned between the both of you. Your grip on your sister grew. She nodded. He took a slow step towards you. His riding boots were quiet against the floor. He hadn’t planned to stay long. “You both have become rather popular as of late,” he mused.

“My sister has a knack for making friends in unlikely places,” you said. “Her sense of humor is second to none, and her wit is sharper than steel.”

“My sister talks circles around the smartest of men,” she countered. “She’s drawn quite the crowd to her as of late.”

“That is not the popularity that I meant.” The Baron started to circle you. He smoothed his hands over his coat and locked his hands behind his back. “Do you like my boots?” You both stared at him, watching as he slowed almost to a stop between you and the only way out of the parlor. He tilted a foot up and turned it one way, then another. “They’re leather. It’s a new leather, though, I hadn’t tried it before.”

“They’re exquisite,” you replied.

“They’re wolf.” His foot tapped the floor. Your sister’s hands grew clammy in your grasp. You gripped them tighter. “It was a large creature, taller than a young boy on all fours.” His mouth turned down in an exaggerated frown. “Much taller than any man when on its hind legs. And broad, oh was it broad.” He tilted his head and continued to circle the two of you. “I have its pelt in my study, spans almost the entire floor. Thought I would try to have its skin used as well and, well, what do you know.” You heard the buckles on his boots click as he snapped his heels together. “It made an excellent set of boots.”

The Baron came to stand in front of you both again. “I have its fangs, too. Massive things.” He sucked on his teeth and lifted a hand, staring at it as though examining the lines on his palm. “Bigger than my own hand. If he had caught me, he could have fit my whole head in his mouth, I’m sure.”

“Why are you telling us this?” you breathed.

He pinned you with his pale blue eyes. “Because you walk in this creature’s social circles.” He stepped closer, bent at the waist until he could stare both of you in the face and be merely inches away. “And you’re aware of it.”

[the-east-art]

Not a request but which Digimon season(s) do you like best?

Well let’s see. 

I’m a big old sucker for Digimon Adventure because it’s the classic with some of my all time favorite characters (always wanted to be a Tai but I’m a Joe tbh) with some really interesting concepts in it. 

Tamers is probably next - it’s a smaller cast but it lets it focus more of the individual characters and their complex relationships with a really intense and in my opinion satisfying finale. 

Frontier - though it’s been a while since I’ve watched - is cool mostly in how it decides to change up the routine by having two companion/guide Digimon and instead of everyone having a partner they *are* the Digimon. It gets put behind Tamers because of how it squanders it’s ensemble cast to give like two characters all the power in the last act (COME ON give my boy JP the spotlight he deserves)

02 isn’t bad it’s just not quite... good. I mean I actually really like many of the new characters and how it has the original digidestined doing things but I always wish that the original guys could be involved more (even though I understand why they can’t - its the new generations turn). It tries really hard but just can’t quite capture what it needs to make it work I feel like, and really it’s the plot and the writing that I end up struggling with. (and I am guilty of disliking epilogue, sorry)

I never finished xros wars - I had been watching it illegally on some shady website like  decade or whatever ago and since my sister didn’t want to watch it it took some of the fun out of it - but it didn’t seem bad. The thing they had going with the legendary digimon of whatever being protagonists from other seasons was neat. Uhhhh I never watched data squad. or whatever the others ones are - Hunters and Appmon I think? So all of these just aren’t really on my radar.

However - each season would be better is Joe was more involved. This is a blanket statement. Even for seasons where he doesn’t technically exist. 

[disgraced-doctor-junkenstein]

Response to Like/reblog for a nightmare with our muses @thejunkersupport Title: It’s The Final Countdown!

A needle is dropped onto an ebony record. At first the only noise is a soft scratch but soon a melody begins to pour out from the tarnished antique bell. It’s a song without any words but the feeling it gives off is soothing in nature. A rare treat in Junkertown given how everyone tended to act on edge, lashing out, puffing their chest to seem intimidating. Relaxing is generally thought of just sitting in the bar with a lukewarm beer surrounded by bogans. But that’s nothing compared to actually just sitting down, away from the chaos, just trying to think without it being laced with the constant bombardment of fight or flight buzzing in the background. “Lust zu tanzen?” A voice asks from behind. Bombette turns to see a man she’s never meet before but shares a striking resemblance to another junker, Junkrat. A metallic hand held out and while she did not understand what was said exactly it was apparent the man wanted to dance. Without thinking, Bombette took the offer and was soon pulled in close. The stranger’s gloved hand finding it’s way to her waist. Together they start to dance.  Everything is slow and sweet. The music, the dancing, the moment cozy in of itself even as the junker tries to place just who it is that is leading her around the room. There is something familiar about him. Yes, there is the resemblance but there is something else. While she personally does not know him, she feels as if they have crossed paths before. Never formally introduced but it’s a strong feeling she just can’t shake. “You dance beautifully,” he praises. He raises his arm and twirls Bombette around, three rotations, but the two times she glimpses the scientist (What else could he possibly be?) she swears his smile is warped with malice. His eyes glowing like a predator in the night. It is with the last rotation that he pulls her back in and they pick up where they left off. His eyes aren’t glowing like she though but they are unusual. Amber with red pupils but he disarms her with a broad smile and kind words. “I’ve seen some of your work. It’s impressive.” There is a moment of quiet. The tempo is starting to pick up and the only noise in the area as the waltz continues.  The background suddenly snaps from the warm hues of once sun baked metal marbled with light rust to that of a deep plum hue streaked with black. They are still dancing even as the floor falls away, caught in a drift like a leaf in a crisp autumn breeze.  “You’re wasting it here though.” The man’s hold on her tightens seconds before Bombette attempts to pull away. “These people don’t appreciate you like they should. You help them and all for what? For them to squander it so callously,” he spits. “You can do so much more. Be so much more.” The hold on her is too tight, bruising in it’s rough nature. Junkers, the ones that made it this far, however, are quick to act on impulse when a situation like this would arise. A heavy boot stomping down though struck nothing. It is then she realizes that like his counterpart, this man is also missing his right foot. Immediately she goes for the other- Everything goes black as ink. Bombette is free falling into the void. There is nothing but the vast expanse all around but gravity is still in play. She is plummeting, nearly drowning in the immeasurable barren landscape, arms pinwheeling while she tumbles downward. It’s getting colder, freezing really, to the point it starts to burn. Her breath is caught, lungs unable to draw in air when at last there is color.  Gasping, Bombette is clawing herself onward to find that she is in a grave. Damp soil expelling from her mouth in a coughing fit. It’s all over her form as she pulls herself halfway out.  “All that hard work only to end up paying the price. Was hardly worth it, right?” With one hand the scientist adjusts his goggles. His other is grabbing Bombette’s wrist but when she goes to pull away she freezes. Her arms are wrapped with linen and areas were the wrappings are sparse, she can tell her skin is tinted blue. It is in her confusion and horror that she is pulled free from her plot. “But that won’t matter any more.” A thousand questions begin to bubble up all at once, the words themselves never being uttered, as if they were just overlapping and drowning one another out. Instead there is a sickening gasp. “Shhh... Save your questions for the daytime, my dear. We really must get you home.” The strange man chuckles as if it’s all a joke. Soon his flesh starts to crackle like porcelain. Pale flesh now white as a sheet as it begins to fall off in chunks leaving behind muscle and sinew, all of which rapidly rot. Vibrant pinks scaling to a sickly peach then black. It curls in on itself, shriveling up and falling away with the ceramic flesh now leaving nothing but ivory bones and lidless eyes.  Just behind the gruesome sight appears another figure. The royal hued smoke rolling away as the form became more clear. A woman dressed as a witch but beautiful unlike the hags often portrayed in fairy tales. It is with a sweet smile that the witch looks Bombette over, everything about her inviting except for the look behind those piercing blue eyes.  “Are you certain she is the one?” “Oh yes.” Glowing eyes rolled around behind the blue tinted goggles. Perhaps they were the only thing keeping them from falling out and rolling away. “The similarities are uncanny!”  “Show me, Junkenstein.” The witch ordered in a purr.  It was with that command that the man, this Junkenstein, reached into his side bag and pulled out a canning jar. Within the clear glass bounced and hummed a vibrant ball of neon purple light. “Her soul is nearly identical to this one. This has to be her sister!” Bombette couldn’t move. The sense of dread overwhelming as things began to click in some places but eluded her in others. Was that- Where they suggesting- That light was a soul? Not just any soul but her missing sister’s? “Then I propose a trade.” Slider fingers moved to carefully turn Bombette’s attention to herself, away form the jittery trapped soul. “Serve me and I will restore to you your precious Samantha. Deny me and well...” “I’ll feed it to the Reaper,” Junkenstein finished with a titter. His teeth nearly chattering without the flesh to give them any cushion.  “It’s really not so bad,” Junkenstein decided to tack on suddenly. “Once you get used to the pain, being undying is really for the best if you think about it. All that extra time and the people you could help who actually deserve it.” “You have three seconds.” The humming in the jar grew in volume. The soul striking against the glass trying to get free.  “Three,” the countdown from the witch began.  Junkenstein moved one hand over the top of the lid to insure it stayed sealed. The container rattling violently in his grasp.  “...Two...” The hum melting into an intense pitch like florescent lighting about to give out. Samantha’s soul practically screaming though Bombette had not idea if it was a warning or plea.  “Take the deal,” Junkenstein insisted. “You’ll be reunited! Do it!” “...One.” The witch’s smile morphing into a scowl. Thick clouds rolling in out of the dark and lightning crackled in the dark silvery blanket above.  “I see.” With a snap of her fingers, the linen cloth wrapped around the junker’s form tightened, constricting all around her, choking the air from her lungs once more and nullifying her movement. “Feed my servant.” “But-” “Now,” the witch cutoff. The skeletal man stepping back with a grunt as lightning crashed down, filling the area with a blinding light that took time to fade. In the middle of everyone now stood another with a pumpkin where his head should be. Eyes and mouth aglow with candlelight.  Desperate pleas bubbling up as thick green vines erupted from the soil, weaving their way up Bombette’s legs, still climbing and tightening on top of the mummy like wrappings,yanking downward and sinking the junker slowly into the ground. The Reaper snatching the jar from the other man, twisting the lid and fishing out the angry soul now holding it up like a delicate treat.  The ground was claiming her again, Bombette struggling with no avail, sinking deeper in as vines still crept higher, tighter. Eye wide in horror as the neon light was engulfed, snuffed out like a flame with a sickening squish of a swallow. Bombette’s vision fading by the second but before all was lost, stepping forward to be the last sight was the one the witch called Junkenstein. His exposed skull now starting to spill with blackened blood.  “Such a waste...”

[neuxue]

Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 39

VERIN!

Chapter 39: A Visit from Verin Sedai

Where were we? Oh yes.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

“You never held the Oath Rod,” Egwene accused her.

Odd that that’s the first conclusion she jumps to. Verin has the ageless face, after all; she must have sworn oaths of some sort. Then again, I suppose Egwene can be forgiven for being thrown a little by that reveal. And for not wanting to jump to the other conclusion that might immediately come to mind.

“I don’t trust you,” Egwene found herself blurting. I don’t think I ever have.” “Very wise,” Verin said, sipping her tea. It was not a scent Egwene recognised. “I am, after all, of the Black Ajah.”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She!

She just!

Did that!

Just came right out and said it. I waited ELEVEN BOOKS to find out what her deal was. ELEVEN BOOKS of wondering and suspecting and second-guessing and she just SAYS IT. LIKE THAT. RIGHT THERE.

WELL NOW WE KNOW, I GUESS.

Just. Well played. So very, very well played. One of the characters who held her cards closest to the chest all series, one of the most difficult to pin down, and so of coursethe reveal is on her own terms, direct and straightforward and stunning even if it’s not completely surprising.

Well. Played.

Also I’m suspicious of how often and pointedly the tea she’s drinking has been mentioned. The scent you don’t recognise is called foreshadowing, Egwene.

Egwene felt a sudden chill, like an ice cold spike pounded directly through her back and down into her chest.

Damn it Brandon get your hemalurgy out of my WoT.

Verin was Black. Light!

Nice forced juxtaposition in the phrasing there.

Those eyes that always had seemed to know too much. What better way to hide than as an unassuming Brown, constantly dismissed by the other sisters because of your distracted, scholarly ways?

Indeed. Who looks too closely at the absentminded scholar? Who suspects duplicity of a plump older woman with ink smudges on her dress? Who thinks too hard on disturbing comments made by a distracted Brown with little attention to tact? Verin, and people like Verin, are so easily…not even overlookedso much as set aside. I wonder, sometimes, why we’re so quick in times of crisis or uncertainty to disregard those who have made it the subject of their life’s work and study. Why we hold so strongly to this notion that scholarship means setting oneself aside from the ‘real world’, even when, without the real world, there would be nothing to study.

It’s my whole thing with the ‘lol the mapmaker can’t actually navigate’ nonsense with Roidelle a few chapters back. Like listen, fuck you, I can read and use just about any map you give me. I can navigate by the stars in either hemisphere. You think I spent my Ivory Tower Years studying the earth without getting my hands dirty? I did not haul a literal bucket full of shit through a jungle in volcano-melted shoes for this.

(Yes, there are parts of academia that are, to put it kindly, Out Of Touch, and whose publications are more self-referential and inbred than your average European monarchy. But the ease with which we write off ‘scholars’ and ‘academics’ as hopeless in all matters relating to the Real World is kind of mind-boggling.)

Anyway. Rather than diving headfirst into an essay on the insidious nature of anti-intellectualism, I’ll just say…Verin really did have the perfect disguise.

Not quite as much to the reader – it’s been very much made clear that she was up to something and that the distracted-and-muddled act was very much an act – but in-world? Even in ourworld, without the insight given by the narrative, who would have looked twice?

Verin, of course, just responds to Egwene’s shock with possibly the most English thing she could possibly say aside from ‘shit weather we’re having, isn’t it?’:

“My, but this is good tea.”

I love her.

What a troll.

She just SHOWED UP IN EGWENE’S ROOM, DRINKING TEA, AND ANNOUNCED THAT SHE’S BLACK AJAH. AFTER ELEVEN BOOKS. OF GIVING AWAY NOTHING. EVEN IN HER THOUGHTS.

She is, truly, On Another Level.

I’m also just running through everything she’s ever done or said or thought in the last eleven books with the certainty of hindsight and my brain feels a little bit like one of those flipbooks you play with as a kid.

Just…*shakes head* well fucking played, Verin.

“I would offer you some tea, but I sincerely doubt you want any of what I’m having.”

Even I don’t mention tea as frequently as it’s been mentioned in these last two or three pages. What exactly is in that tea, Verin?

Egwene’s still in panic mode, and I love the way this is played out, with her thoughts scattered and frantic, juxtaposed against Verin’s calm, collected, and utterly shocking matter-of-fact, conversational, mild statements.

But while Egwene – I suppose understandably – sees Verin immediately as a threat after that admission, I…don’t.

“I compliment you on what you’ve done here, Egwene.”

‘I’m Black Ajah, but more importantly, I love what you’ve done with the room! Such a good eye for colour, and the minimalist style is so in right now. Tea?’

When you get an opportunity like this, you don’t squander it. And she is making the absolute most of her chance here, and I honestly don’t even blame her. She could say something reassuring, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, Verin has always dealt in truths, not platitudes.

I love her, you guys. I love her so much.

“It was more important to continue my research and keep an eye on young al’Thor. He’s a fiery one”

TOO. SOON.

That was rude. Fuck. Wow. Okay.

“I’m not certain he understands how the Great Lord works. Not all evil is as…obvious as the Chosen. The Forsaken, as you’d call them.”

Two things here. One: there is absolutely no way Verin is truly aligned with the Shadow. Two: she gets it. She understands what’s going on, with Rand and even, I think, with how the Shadow is manipulating him without ever having to truly turn him.

“I’m convinced that it isn’t intelligence, craftiness, or skill that makes one Chosen—though of course, those things are important. No, I believe it is selfishness the Great Lord seeks in his greatest leaders.”

YES. THIS.

THIS, EXACTLY.

Of course Verin is the one to put it into words so clearly. With one exception, they are so focused on their own power and their own promised rewards and their own plans and successes and positions of favour that they don’t even see the game they’re truly playing. They serve themselves, not a cause, and because they are intelligent and crafty and skilled, they become incredibly effective pawns in that game, set on a board they hardly understand and let loose to serve a purpose they never truly consider because they are so hell-bent on their own. And so they will destroy the world and themselves with it and never notice until their own flames consume them.

It’s also an interesting statement to consider in the context of Rand, given that Verin has just voiced her worries that he doesn’t understand how the Great Lord works.

Because Rand has an…interesting relationship with selfishness and altruism. Especially now. He has pushed himself into a state of literal selflessness – total denial of the existence of a self – but for the sake of self-preservation. He did it because it hurt too much to hold on to anything of who he was, to let himself feel. So it’s a selfish motivator…and yet, the motivation behind that is a layer of altruism, because that need for survival arises from a need to fulfil his duty to a selfless cause.

And so we go around and around in circles; is he selfish or selfless in his choice to leave his humanity and life and redemption behind? Is it more selfish to seek death or survival, to martyr himself or to endure, to live for something or to die for it?

Listen, I’m a scientist and a programmer and an atheist, and also I cannot get enough of spiralling questions of eschatology and metaphysics and fate in fiction. It’s a thing.

(And that’s not even getting into my obsession with divinity as an entire concept).

But back to the Forsaken. I think Verin has it absolutely right here – power and cunning and other abilities are all well and good, but if you want a group of people you can control and predict and move around like the pawns they are (while they believe themselves to be the players, and masters of the game), selfishness is a perfect trait to select for.

Wise of Verin to see that.

And, back to Rand for just a moment here, maybe that’s part of where he struggles: he’s too close to the Forsaken in his knowledge of them from Lews Therin’s memories to take that step back and view them as an outside observer, yet at the same time he’s so far on the other side of the spectrum in terms of motivations to see this unifying trait and understand how it works and how to use it.

“The Chosen are predictable, but the Great Lord is anything but. Even after decades of study, I can’t be certain exactly what he wants or why he wants it.”

Because, unless you’re Moridin, I think it would break your mind to truly understand what it is he wants. None of the Chosen seem to fully understand it either, because if they did, would they still fight for it? Total destruction of everything, a world remade in the image of chaos, wouldn’t serve any of their goals. And yet because of that selfishness, they are made to serve precisely that cause, and are kept blind by their own narrow ambitions to what end they truly work towards.

“And what does this have to do with me?” Egwene asked.

“Not much,” Verin said, tsking at herself. “I’m afraid I let myself get sidetracked.”

In which Verin’s tangents are more insightful than many character’s introspection. Not to mention about a hundred times more communicative, suddenly. I love when an enigma of a character finally decides it’s time to spill her secrets. It’s so satisfying.

Verin’s so proud of Egwene for what she’s done with the Tower. It’s lovely to see, not just to have someone in a position to recognise and appreciate what Egwene has managed to do, but to have it be someone who’s known Egwene since even before she went to Tar Valon, someone who watched her first learnings and chided her for her early mistakes, and also who knows and understands what’s going on, on a level that seems to be far deeper than most Aes Sedai. Verin sees. And so her praise is worth far more than most. Especially now, when she seems to be so sure that time is short, when she’s making her final play.

Egwene’s still trying to figure out what the hell is even going on here, and…

Oh.

“A number of years ago, I faced a decision. I found myself in a position where I could either take the oaths to the Dark One, or I could reveal that I had actually never wanted—or intended—to do so, whereupon I would have been executed.”

ALL THE SECRETS COME OUT.

DOUBLE AGENT VERIN.

So this was the mistake she alluded to in her thoughts. This is why she’s thought so many times about how sometimes you just have to make the best of the situation you’re given.

“Many would have simply opted for death. I, however, saw this as an opportunity. You see, one rarely has such a chance as this, to study a beast from inside its heart, to see really what makes the blood flow. To discover where all of the little veins and vessels lead. Quite an extraordinary experience.”

“Wait,” Egwene said. “You joined the Black Ajah to study them?”

YES!!!!!!!!!!

VERINNNNN!!!!!!!!!!

THIS IS EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The scholar driven by a desire for knowledge, faced with the consequences of that search, and choosing to push forward anyway, to sacrifice herself not by dying but by living, and swearing herself to a cause she never wanted to join, and seeing it as an opportunity. To keep studying them. HOW FUCKING AWESOME IS SHE?

“Tomas. Does he know what you’ve done?”

“He was a Darkfriend himself, child,” Verin said. “Wanting a way out. Well, there really isn’t a way out, not once the Great Lord has his claws in you. But there was a way to fight, to make up a little of what you’ve done. I offered that chance to Tomas, and I believe he was quite grateful to me for it.”

No man can walk so long in the Shadow…I wonder if Ingtar knew.

It’s such a lovely little addition to this whole reveal; Tomas is a fairly minor character, but it adds that extra bit of depth to an already fantastic scene that she found a way to offer him some small form of redemption, by joining her in hers. It ties everything together just that little bit more. There may not be a way out, but there is a way to go forwards, a way to fight.

Verin was a Darkfriend…but not one at the same time.

It’s not so different from Ingtar’s choice, really. It’s just the timeframe that’s different.

“You said he ‘was’ quite grateful to you?”

And, like Ingtar’s choice, I don’t think there’s much chance of this not being a fatal one.

“The oaths one makes to the Great Lord are quite specific,” she finally continued. “And, when they are placed upon one who can channel, they are quite binding. Impossible to break. You can double-cross other Darkfriends, you can turn against the Chosen if you can justify it. Selfishness must be preserved. But you can never betray him.”

I just love the way she gets so cleanly to the heart of it with her observations of the role of selfishness. It explains so much, so neatly. And yet they are all bound, though they claim to set themselves above everyone else; all of them must serve, in the end, but they are so easily manipulated into believing that they rule.

She looked up, meeting Egwene’s eyes. “‘I sear not to betray the Great Lord, to keep my secrets until the hour of my death.’ That was what I promised. Do you see?”

…oh.

Oh, Verin.

The tea is poison and this is her final play. Killing herself in order to betray all of her secrets, because it’s the one loophole open to her. The only way to share the knowledge she spent decades collecting.

Decades of secrecy and evasion, of hiding behind that distracted scholarly mask, of observing, unseen, from within. And it all ends here, in a single hour of honesty, with the captive Amyrlin she can look at and be proud of.

VEEEEEERRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

She joined them to stay alive because the alternative was death and now she’s choosing her own death as a way of allowing herself to betray them THIS IS TOO MUCH.

“A curious hole in the oaths,” Verin said softly. “To allow one to effect a betrayal in the final hour of one’s life. I cannot help wondering if the Great Lord knows of it. Why wouldn’t he close that hole?”

Because no one selfish enough to serve him would ever think to use it. Because to use it would be an act of absolute altruism, anathema to any in a position to do so.

Except Verin.

“Perhaps he doesn’t see it as threatening,” Egwene said, opening her eyes. “After all, what kind of Darkfriend would kill themselves in order to advance the greater good? It doesn’t seem the kind of thing his followers would consider.”

What she said.

Or…maybe it’s almost meant as a taunt, a cruel reminder of the cost of betrayal. A way of saying to those who might be considering it, who might be regretting their choice, ‘you can betray me but to do so demands your death’. A loophole kept as a warning sign, and a way of making any who might be wavering turn back.

Egwene shook her head. It seemed such a tragedy. “You come to me to confess, killing yourself in a final quest for redemption?”

Not quite, I don’t think. She wouldn’t waste all those years just to gain peace of mind in a confession. She’s come to share knowledge.

IN THE FORM OF HER NOTEBOOKS.

ALL HER NOTES.

THIS IS GOING TO BE GOOD.

“Every woman in the Brown,” Verin said, “seeks to produce something lasting. Research or study that will be meaningful. Others often accuse us of ignoring the world around us. They think we only look backward. Well, that is inaccurate. If we are distracted, it is because we look forward, toward those who will come. And the information, the knowledge we gather…we leave it for them. The other Ajahs worry about making today better; we yearn to make tomorrow better.”

That, right there, is a perfect and utterly lovely redemption of the stereotype of the scholar. Thank you for this.

The desire to leave something lasting, to not just know but to share that knowledge with those who come after, to lay the foundations for future generations to learn from and to learn beyond. A distractedness that comes not from ignoring the world but from looking to its future. A study of the past or the present for the purpose of that future. This is absolutely beautiful. I want it framed on my wall.

I love Verin so much.

“That tome is the…work. My work. The work of my life.”

The work she is quite literally giving her life for. It’s sad but there’s this sense of absolute triumph to it as well.

“Names, locations, explanations,” Verin said. “Everything I learned about them. About the leaders among the Darkfriends, about the Black Ajah. The prophecies they believe, the goals and motivations of the separate factions. Along with a list, at the back, of every Black Ajah sister I could identify.”

And with that one book, with this one hour, with this single but incredible act of betrayal that should be impossible, she’s just dealt a potentially crippling blow to the Shadow.

It costs her life, but she’s done what so many aspire to: created something that could change the future. All that knowledge she gained, all those years of studying, and now she can leave it in the hands of someone who can use it. She can quite literally hand it to the next generation, leave the knowledge she gathered in the hands of the one who will shape the future. It’s a quite victory, witnessed only by Egwene, but what a victory it is.

I. LOVE. VERIN. SO. MUCH.

I just.

I love this tone of triumphant sadness, of a sacrifice that is the exact opposite of in vain. She’s dying for this, but in doing so she’s achieving the the epitome of her Ajah’s ideals. She’s carrying out the most thorough betrayal the Shadow has perhaps ever seen, and handing Egwene information no other Aes Sedai has even come close to managing to uncover.

Her life’s work is thorough and practical and meaningful and could quite literally help save the world.

“I doubt I caught them all,” Verin said, smiling. “But I think I got the large majority of them. I promise you, Egwene. I can be quitethorough.”

And this is one of those things that could so easily tip over into deus ex machina territory – handing a protagonist a list of everyone in the secret evil organisation that’s been causing problems for the whole series and also several centuries previously, right as we move into the final act? Giving her a list that multiple characters and plotlines have been spent trying to find even part of? – and yet manages to avoid that entirely because of how perfectly Verin’s character has been written since the beginning.

Because this doesn’t even remotely come out of nowhere. This has been seeded from the very start, even if I never would have been able to say that this is specifically what it was going to come to. Verin’s been there almost from the beginning, and she’s been so clearly up to something, yet in a way that never quite reveals exactly what…but the fact that she’s been around, and keeping the reader guessing, makes this kind of reveal work. Because you know that somekind of reveal must be coming. And everything she’s done up until now fits so perfectly in hindsight, and makes absolute sense, and it all feels like a natural and surprising-yet-inevitable end to her storyline.

It doesn’t come out of nowhere; it just finishes and ties off what has been there all along.

Egwene looked down at the books with awe. Incredible! Light, but this was a treasure greater than any king’s hoard. A treasure as great as the Horn of Valere itself. She looked up, tears in her eyes, imagining a life spent among the Black, always watching, recording, and working for the good of all.

“Oh, don’t go doing that,” Verin said.

I mean, if I were someone who cried at books, I’m pretty sure I’d be doing the same.

I’m glad that not only does Verin see and understand and and appreciate all that Egwene has done, when so few others are really in a position to, but Egwene understands just how much Verin has done and sacrificed, and what it means.

“This is worth one woman’s life. Few people have had a chance to create something as useful, and as wonderful, as that book you hold. We all seek to change the future, Egwene. I think I might just have a chance at doing so.”

And I’m glad that Verin herself understands just how much of a victory this is, and sees it as such. This is worth her death, and she knows it, and so there is a sense of peace and acceptance rather than tragedy.

Magic bookmark! I want one.

“I will admit that the poison was a backup plan,” Verin said. “I am not eager for death; there are still things I need to do. Fortunately, I have set several of them in motion to be…seen to, in case I do not return. Regardless, my first plan was to find the Oath Rod, then see if I could use it to remove the Great Lord’s oaths. The Oath Rod appears to have gone missing, unfortunately.”

Saerin, Egwene thought, and the others.

How beautifully ironic. They’re using the Oath Rod to try to find the Black Ajah, but because they have it, a Black Ajah double agent couldn’t use it to free herself of the oaths preventing her from betraying the Black Ajah without killing herself.

Also, the Oath Rod itself seems like a bigger loophole than the ‘hour of my death’ phrasing. Or would a Black sister not be able to voluntarily free herself from her oaths because to do so would be a betrayal of the Dark One? Maybe it only worked with Talene and any others because they didn’t decide to renounce all oaths that bound them; they were forced to? Otherwise it seems like a huge vulnerability, to swear Black Ajah members to these binding oaths but leave them free to unbind themselves should they so choose.

Verin, at least, seems to think it might not have worked, even if she hoped it would.

What are the other oaths they take, I wonder?

“One of the Chosen is in the Tower, child. It’s Mesaana, I’m certain of it. I had hoped to be able to bring you the name she was hiding under, but the two times I met with her, she was shrouded to the point that I couldn’t tell.”

I mean, I think you can be forgiven for not uncovering the secret identity of the Forsaken you’ve identified in the Tower, given everything else you’ve done, Verin. I’m also anything but sure of who Mesaana’s hiding as. I suspected the Brown who helped Elaida with the coup, but now I can’t even remember her name (which is kind of unlike me; I have crap memory for people’s names IRL but I’m great with fictional characters) so that tells you how sure I am.

“So many decisions you must make, for one so young.” […]

“Thank you, Verin. Thank you for choosing me to carry this burden.”

Verin smiled faintly. “You did very well with the previous tidbits I gave you. That was quite the interesting situation. The Amyrlin commanded that I give you information to hunt the Black sisters who fled the Tower, so I had to comply, even though the leadership of the Black was frustrated by the order. I wasn’t supposed to give you the dreaming ter’angreal, you know. But I’ve always had a feeling about you.”

It is a lovely way of bringing so many things full circle here. Egwene being set to hunt the Black Ajah all the way back in TDR, and Verin giving her the information, and choosing to trust her with the dream ter’angreal…and now Verin coming to her, and choosing to trust her with her life’s work and her secret and her redemption, and handing her the key to the puzzle she was set to all that time ago.

And this whole scene has been full of this sense of mutual recognition and understanding and respect between them; Verin of what Egwene has done and Egwene of what Verin is doing here, with her last act, and what it means.

So much trust, and oh, how it is rewarded.

Trust usually is, in these books, on the rare occasions that it happens.

“You will be Amyrlin. I’m confident of it. And an Amyrlin should be well armed with knowledge. That, among all things, is the most sacred duty of the Brown—to arm the world with knowledge.”

HAVE I MENTIONED THAT LOVE THIS? BECAUSE I LOVE THIS. THIS IS SO GOOD. It’s just a slight…shifting of angles, in a sense, on the usual perception of Browns, but it casts so much in a different light, and it’s beautiful. We’ve almost exclusively seen the Brown from an outside perspective, and they almost always are portrayed as distracted, esoteric, intelligent but more caught up in knowledge than in anything ‘useful’, absentminded…and Verin doesn’t contradict that so much as shine a light on everything behind it. She gives the Brown Ajah depth, and with that, purpose and meaning and value. To arm the world with knowledge. That is a sacred duty, and a necessary one, whatever the knowledge may be.

It’s what Rand himself was trying to do, by setting up his schools in order to try to preserve something against another Breaking of the World.

And it’s just so, so nice to see, after twelve books of fond disdain for the Brown Ajah. To have them redeemed this way, illuminated this way. To have the narrative itself illustrate the fallacy of such a limited view of scholarship and knowledge.

“I’m still one of them. Please see that they know, although the word Black may brand my name forever, my soul is Brown. Tell them…”

“I will, Verin,” Egwene promised. “But your soul is not Brown. I can see it.” Her eyes fluttered open, meeting Egwene’s, a frown creasing her forehead.

“Your soul is of a pure white, Verin,” Egwene said softly, “Like the Light itself.”

Verin smiled, and her eyes closed.

Ahhhhhhhh.

What a perfect farewell to such a fantastic character.

It’s a completely different context and manner of death, but it still puts me in mind of Ingtar, and his final redemption. The way his last words were ‘for the Light, and Shinowa’ as he turned at last away from the Shadow, after Rand offered him understanding and his blessing and, through that, redemption. Egwene does something similar here, in promising to let the others know the truth—and what a beautifully sad last request that is, to have done so much and to just want it known that she was truly of her Ajah, that she did what she did in the service of the Light—and in that last evocation of the Light, and the sense of peace it brings.

Goodbye, Verin. You were every kind of awesome and you will be missed. But damn, what a way to go.

It felt callous to double-check, but there were some poisons which could make one appear to be dead and breathe only very shallowly, and if Verin had wanted to trick Egwene and point a finger at the wrong sisters, this would have been a wonderful method. Callous indeed to double-check, and it made Egwene feel sick, but she was Amyrlin. She did that which was difficult and considered all possibilities.

Callous, but good to be certain. She trusts Verin, and admits and accepts that trust…but that doesn’t stop her from doing the pragmatic thing just in case. And yet – perhaps more importantly – her ability to do the pragmatic thing, and her consideration of all possibilities, does not prevent her from trusting. She doesn’t step across that line into paranoia; she’ll check because it’s a possibility she should be sure to eliminate, but she will also trust. She’ll do the callous thing when necessary, but she doesn’t allow that callousness to become her only mode.

Her heart trusted Verin, although her mind wanted to be certain.

That’s a good way of putting it, actually. And she can balance those two, rather than blocking one off. No point not double-checking, but she can use that as a way to affirm her instinctive want to trust, rather than as a way of rejecting it completely.

All in all, they’re each incredibly lucky the other turned out to be worthy of that trust, aren’t they? If Verin were Black Ajah in purpose as well as in name, or if Egwene were truly powerless or incompetent, that could have gone very badly for one or both of them.

And now she has a babysitter again. Good timing, all things considered; she could have shown up five minutes ago and then where would they be? Still, I can absolutely sympathise with Egwene’s annoyance at someone interrupting what otherwise promises to be a solid chunk of reading time.

Slow clap to Egwene for managing to hide a bodyin half-truths.

She would simply have to wait. And read.

And RAFO.

Kind of literally.

She shoved aside the longing to embrace the Power and create a ball of light by which to read. She’d have to be satisfied with the single candle’s flame.

There’s something about this that feels rather…fitting. Symbolic, even. The Amyrlin Seat, the Flame of Tar Valon, dedicated to the victory of the Light, imprisoned and effectively powerless but for a single candle’s flame, with which to reveal the secrets that will help her bring down the Shadow. She doesn’t need enormous power, or a force of light; she will make do with a single candle’s flame. One candle against the Shadow, but it can be enough.

Especially contrasted against Natrin’s Barrow, just before this. Where all the light the Dragon Reborn with the Choedan Kal could summon couldn’t seem to keep the Shadow at bay and, if anything, seemed only to help it.

I just like the contrast of images, and of the moods the evoke. Rand, illuminated to the extent that he looks like little more than Power and light made flesh, and yet everything about it is cold and frightening and ominous. And then Egwene, quiet and unable to channel and alone in a dark room with nothing but a candle, and yet there is a sense of hope and energy and victory, of a much-needed true victory for the Light. Even if it is only a small candle against so much darkness, it is enough.

She’s gone straight to the list of names at the back of the book—I guess Egwene doesn’t share my aversion to spoilers.

Katerine, Alviarin, Elza, Galina, Sheriam…all names we already know, so far.

Steel yourself, Egwene, she thought, continuing to read down the list.

Steel yourself, as she reads through a list of women’s names. How…perfect. That has to be deliberate.

(A list of dead women’s names, one could argue; it seems unlikely most of them will be allowed to live).

She worked through the feelings of betrayal, the bitterness and the regret. She would not let emotions get in the way of her duty.

Here, again, we have a slight similarity to Rand that is actually more of a difference. True, she steels herself against the names on the list, hardens herself to face them. But more accurate, perhaps, to say she prepares herself to face them. She knows it will be hard, knows it will hurt – it already does; some of those names are already shocking or painful. This is not an easy task. And she also knows she can’t let emotion overcome her, or get in the way.

But she doesn’t shut it out. She works through the feelings of betrayal. She allows them to exist, and processes them, acknowledges them before setting them aside. She lets herself feel, even as she reminds herself to not let that get in the way of what she must do. It’s not a binary switch, a complete suppression of emotion to the point where she denies even its existence. She’s just…doing something difficult, but something that must be done. It hurts, and that’s part of it, and she can steel herself against it to some extent, but she doesn’t try to block it off entirely. She just has to get through it.

There’s a difference between setting aside emotion in order to approach something rationally and trying to shut it off altogether in an attempt to avoid the pain it causes.

Her role as Amyrlin demands that she read these names, and deal with the truths they reveal, and figure out what to do about it. And so she will, and she’ll do that even though it hurts Egwene to have to read them. But she doesn’t deny that part of her that is Egwene, that part of her that does hurt. She just works through it and puts it to one side for now, because now is a time for being Amyrlin.

Moria? Isn’t she the one who convinced the rebel Hall to vote in favour of an alliance with the Black Tower? Damn. I liked her; that was a good speech.

Each name was like a thorn through Egwene’s skin.

At least it’s not (yet) a white-hot line of fire across her soul.

I have to say, it’s not easy to make a character reading a list into an interesting or engaging scene, but this is well done. There’s a palpable sense of tension running through this whole section, even if most of it is simply names strung together with brief interludes of Egwene’s thoughts on them. It draws the reader’s focus alongside Egwene’s; we’re seeing these names through her eyes, an relentless assault of name after name that she has to confront, some of which area easy or mean very little, and some of which are harder, but she can’t dwell on them. The fact that we do only get those brief thoughts from her, before returning to the list of names, helps drive this feeling of urgency and also of…Egwene trying to hold herself together, in a way. Of pushing through and steeling herself and having to just keep reading, keep confronting truth after truth, trying to keep herself rational and calm and together.

So Elaida is not Black Ajah. Or at least, Verin was all but sure she isn’t. That’s no more surprising to me than it is to Egwene, but it’s good to have sort-of-confirmation.

Hi Nicola. Perfect timing yet again – both interruptions have come exactly when they’ll be the least incriminating or disruptive. First right after Verin died, and now right as Egwene has finished reading and hidden the books.

Hidden notes in the food; we’re deep into intrigue territory now.

And now Meidani stops by…and the ruse is up. Verin is very obviously dead and Meidani is understandably a bit ‘um what the fuck why is there a dead Aes Sedai in your bed’.

“Verin Sedai was poisoned by a Darkfriend shortly before her conversation with me. She was aware of the poison, and came to pass on some important information to me during her last moments.”

I love half-truths. An elegant lie spoken with not a single untrue word is honestly a thing of beauty.

Meidani paled, then looked at Egwene, likely wondering how she could be so callous. Good. Let her see the collected, determined Amyrlin. As long as she didn’t see a hint of the grief, confusion, and anxiety inside.

She can be that collected, determined Amyrlin…but she also doesn’t deny that the rest exists beneath that surface, even as she maintains it. She can hold a separation that isn’t a true denial or suppression. She can be callous when necessary, but she can also still feel that grief and confusion and anxiety.

And she also doesn’t spend time hating herself for having to be callous when callousness is necessary, because she accepts that necessity. She may not like it, but she doesn’t turn it against herself, doesn’t direct that pain inwards as some kind of punishment. Whereas I think part of the reason Rand has reached a point where the only way he can endure is to deny all feeling whatsoever, and simply accept that he is damned and there’s no point trying to save any part of himself, is that he internalised too much of that anger and pain at what he had to do, turned it into self-loathing and used it to punish himself for what he must do. And so now the only way he can be callous when needed and do what is necessary is by becoming that entirely; otherwise, the pain of his self-hatred at having to do any of it becomes too much. Easier to just accept that he’s damned and have done with it; he still hates himself but now he doesn’t have to fight against it.

Whereas Egwene doesn’t allow necessity to develop into that sharp-edged self-hatred, because she understands that it is simply necessity, and that she, Egwene, is still there beneath it. She can work through the emotions she feels and set them aside when needed, but she doesn’t spend time inflicting pain on herself as punishment for what she must do. Instead she embraces the pain she must endure, because she can hold onto the knowledge that she is doing all of this for a purpose, that there is a reason for both the pain and for the harder things she has to do, and that it will be worth it. That she’s fighting for something important enough to make those things worthwhile.

That all makes far more sense in my head than I can seem to get it to on paper but I tried.

Meidani’s basically here to act as a news feed: Elaida’s still Amyrlin but the Hall is pissed off, mostly.

“They informed Elaida that the Amyrlin was not an absolute ruler, and that she couldn’t continue to make decrees and demands without consulting them.”

Must—not—make—political—analogy—

“[Saerin] also noted that your own insistence that the Red Ajah not be allowed to fall—spread by a group of novices who overheard you—was part of what kept Elaida from being deposed.”

Sucks when doing the right thing makes your life harder. And yet she couldn’t have done anything else; she is here to heal the Tower and she cannot let another Ajah be broken apart if she is to do that. This is just a test of her resolve, really.

It smelled of a compromise; Elaida had probably met in closed conference with the head of the Red Ajah—whoever that was, now that Galina had vanished—hashing out the details. Silviana wuld still be punished, although not as strongly, but Elaida would submit to the will of the Hall.

But at least the government will remain open and the Aes Sedai won’t have to work without pay.

So not a perfect outcome, but it definitely seems as if things are tipping, slowly but more and more, towards Egwene. Though this may have played out too soon; it wasn’t quite enough to push Elaida over completely, and now the issue has been resolved, so there will have to be something else to push them again.

Luckily – for a given definition of luck – Tuon seems to have set something in motion that could do precisely that…

Given just a little more time, Egwene was confident she could get the woman overturned and the Tower reunited. But dared she spend that time?

She glanced at the table, where the precious books lay hidden from eyes. If she staged a mass assault on the Black Ajah, would that precipitate a battle?

Somehow I don’t think you’re going to be given the chance to find out. I’m not precisely sure how Egwene’s timeline lines up with Tuon and Rand’s, but I rather doubt, given the pace this book is setting, that Egwene’s going to be given much time to consider how to proceed before events decide it for her.

“I want you to report to the others. They must take Alviarin into captivity and test her with the Oath Rod. Tell them to take any reasonable risk to achieve it.”

Or not. Alright then. Egwene’s not wasting any time.

She may not be able to act on all of Verin’s information immediately, but she certainly isn’t going to just sit on it and wait for some sort of opportune moment. Fair enough; this is important enough and bigger than any personal goals she may have. Once again she’s putting the Tower ahead of herself: it’s not about becoming Amyrlin or gaining power for her own ends; it’s about healing the Tower and part of that, now, means taking the steps she is now in a position to take to eliminate the Black Ajah if she can. She’s not going to wait until it would give her a strategic advantage if she can do something about it now. And that is impressive. It would be so easy to hold everything back, to wait and make it part of a play for power. And maybe it still will be, but if it is, it won’t be because she’s withholding information or delaying acting for the sake of her own goals. It will be because that coincides with what she can do for the Tower in any given moment.

“It’s well known that [Nicola]’s one of your greatest advocates among the novices.”

It was odd to hear that of a woman who had effectively betrayed her, but the girl couldn’t really be blamed for that, all things considered.

How easily she can brush off that betrayal, now.

It’s growth even from Honey in the Tea, when the thing that broke Egwene’s determined calm was seeing Beonin and thinking Beonin must have been the one to betray her. Now, she’s moved past the point where it matters who betrayed her and why, because because again, it’s not about her, and holding a grudge against a novice won’t help the Tower, so what’s the point?

So Egwene sets Meidani to the task of ensuring that Alviarin is captured…and then just tells her essentially ‘oh and hide the body on your way out’. Bless.

And then she puts herself to sleep for a quick dream visit. Now that her bed is vacated of the corpse. I just…wow, Egwene. Wow. She has things to do and a Tower to heal, and she’s not going to let anything stand in her way. Or lay down and die in her way, as the case may be.

While she waits, she’s following all the possible trains of thought regarding Sheriam being Black Ajah, which basically results in a mess of what-ifs pretty much designed to cause system overload.

I do like the way we get a full three paragraphs of it; it conveys the full sense of both how tangled everything can get when you know even one person is Black Ajah, and the sense of panicked back-tracking trying to find all the possible places that could have had an effect, and also the sheer overwhelming impossibility of doing any such thing…but the difficulty of switching off that line of thinking, once you’ve started it.

What of Egwene’s own rise to power? How many of the Shadow’s strings did she dance on without knowing it?

That way lies madness, Egwene.

This is an exercise in futility, she told herself firmly. Don’t go down that path.

I should have just turned the page. But yes, that. It’s so easy to get caught up in that tangle of hypotheticals to the point where you paralyse yourself in terms of doing anything at all for fear of making things worse…but that’s not going to help anyone. She can’t look back; all she can do is look forward with more information now than she had before, and try to make the most of the situation she finds herself in. Trying to figure out all the possible ways in which she was pushed into it is tempting, but ultimately isn’t going to help her get anywhere. Find the winning move based on where the pieces are now, rather than wasting time trying to figure out how they got there.

For a moment, she felt herself to be the country girl many thought her to be. If Elaida had been a pawn for the Blacks, then so had she. Light! How the Dark One must have laughed to see two rival Amyrlins, each with one of his loyal minions at her side, pitting them against one another.

It is good that she can recognise this, though. She can’t afford to dwell on it, but she’s not arrogant enough to think that she’s somehow exempt from this manipulation. And there is a bit of anger at herself here…but she fairly quickly shifts it and refocuses it outwards rather than inwards, into determination rather than self-destruction:

Whatever his plan, she would fight him. Resist him. Spit in his eye, even if he won, just as the Aiel said.

There’s nothing she can do about what has already happened except learn from it and keep fighting, and find a way to move forward, find a way to turn what she has now into a position of strength.

“Siuan,” she said curtly. “You may want to summon yourself a chair. Something has happened.”

Siuan frowned. “What?”

“First off, Sheriam and Moria are Black Ajah.”

Don’t waste any time there. She did tell Siuan to summon up a chair, I suppose she figures that’s warning enough. I’m with you, Egwene, I hate small talk when there’s shit to be done.

“I need time to plan and think, an evening perhaps.”

An evening to process several decades’ worth of spying and research and a near-comprehensive list of hundreds of Aes Sedai who secretly serve the Shadow and to figure out how best to deal with all of that doesn’t seemlike too much to ask, especially as she’s not even getting any kind of overtime pay, but this genre being what it is…not sure you’re even going to get that much, Egwene. Think fast.

“This could be dangerous.”

And the award for UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE AGE goes to  SIUAN FUCKING SANCHE.

“Are you still captive?”

“Not exactly. Elaida has—” Egwene hesitated, frowning to herself. Something was wrong.

You’ll have to be more specific, Egwene. The list of things that are wrong could fill Verin’s journals several times over.

Oh.

Shit.

She didn’t even get ten minutes, much less an evening.

Nicola shaking her arm. “Mother,” she was saying. “Mother!” 

The girl had a bloody gash on her cheek. Egwene sat up sharply, and at that moment the entire Tower shook as if from an explosion.

And it was shaping up to be such a quiet, relaxing, peaceful evening.

Oh shit she can’t channel, can she? That’s uh….Bad.

It wasn’t Tarmon Gai’don, but it was nearly as bad. The Seanchan had finally attacked the White Tower, just as Egwene had Dreamed.

And she couldn’t channel enough Power to light a candle, let alone fight back.

GODDAMN IT SANDERSON THESE CLIFFHANGER CHAPTER ENDINGS ARE KILLING ME. Have some mercy for those of us who make terrible life choices and decide to liveblog these books!

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