#she's trying!

[thevikingwoman]

Meryta struggles with her fears, feelings, and putting words on paper.

Fandom: FFXIV | Words: 1553 | Read on Ao3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Meryta Khatin x Tansui | after The Key to The Castle | romance Rating: Teen. Letter writing, longing, fear of death, fear of change, Alisaie friendship, dealing or not dealing with feelings

Letters and Longing, part 1

Meryta’s pen hovers over the parchment, frustration marring her face. The pen is frozen as she thinks, ink dripping on the page. She groans and puts the pen back in the inkwell, carefully mopping up the extra ink on the page. At least it didn’t ruin what she’d already written. The letter is a mess anyway, but she can’t fathom rewriting it, little as it is. It’s hard enough already. Not only are the words hard to come by, but the act of writing itself – the echo might grant her ability to speak and understand any language, but it doesn’t confer any scholarly skills, including letter writing.

After they returned from Dohn Mheg with the shell crown, a silent thanks to Soroban and the Kojin, she’d decided it was time to write a letter. Urianger had been pleased enough to supply the pen and parchment when she asked, his golden eyes kind. She is glad to see them. At any other time, her attention would have been drawn by how handsome he is, free of whatever caused him to hide before. But all she can think of is warm brown eyes and a dark beard, her thoughts returning to the Ruby Seas and to Tansui.

She wants to tell him – something.

They’ve been rushing, ever since they ran from Ran’jit in Lakeland. She’s not afraid of him, not the way she’s afraid of the Lightwarden, but to deal with Ran’jit she has to fight another Lightwarden.

She’d have to fight it anyway, or so the Exarch says. She’s afraid, and she’s not used to it. Not that she hasn’t been afraid before, but it’s been the good kind of fear. The fear that keeps on your toes, harnessed into a razor edge for the coming battle. Fear that makes you throw yourself into combat, teeth bared. No, now she’s filled with dread. She doesn’t want to fight the Lightwarden. She doesn’t want to see the sin eaters, the ones arisen from people lost. She doesn’t want to absorb the aether from the Warden, the Light overwhelming and itching beneath her skin.

The castle looms above the lake, glittering and beautiful and unreal. 

Soon enough, they’ll rush away to find the last two artifacts, and with the post moogle improbably spinning in humming circles in Lydha Lran. It probably gets on splendidly with the faeries. She decided to write and send a letter while she still could.

She worries – she worries she’ll not survive, or change – or unable to stop or go to the Source. And when she left Tansui last, she... Well, she doesn’t want him to think she forgot about him, or that she doesn’t want to come back. Or she wants to thank him. Or tell him…

She groans again.

If you do not see me again, it is not for lack of trying.

That doesn’t quite encompass all she wants to say, and it’s not quite the right way to say it. So far, all she’s said is that she is alive and well, for now, and they’re trying to end another Lightwarden. She should perhaps tell that she’s with her friends, that they are hale and well – but it’s too complicated, too long winded, and besides he’s met neither Urianger nor Thancred. Yet it’s strange not to mention them.

I’m with more of the scions, my friends. I do wish to visit again, but if I don’t --

She tries again, mulling over the sentences in her mind. How does one spell scion anyway? If the Lightwarden doesn’t defeat her and the Light doesn’t – change her – will Ran’jit catch up with them? Will the faeries trap them here forever, chasing their artifacts? She wants to explain and to write a proper letter – but it’s a jumbled mess along with her thoughts.

“Hello, Meryta.” Alisaie, pulling out a stool and sitting across from her. “I thought you had already left.”

“I wanted to write this letter, but – words are eluding me.”

“A letter? For whom?”

“It’s not important.”

“It’s important enough that you’ve not yet left.”

Alisaie leans over, attempting to read it upside down. Meryta wants to cover it up, but it’s messy enough and she’s unsure if the ink is dry and she won’t ruin it more. She’s certain Alisaie has beautiful handwriting, like her brother.

“Tansui? The pirate?”

The embarrassment over her handwriting is not the only reason she wants to hide it.

“He’s a friend.” She feels like she should add something, but afraid it will come out defensively.

“Sure,” Alisaie says, interrupting her thoughts. “A friend happy to extort money from us, I guess.” She narrows her eyes. “But mayhap that’s not quite what you think of.”

She fights the instinct to hide, she can’t truly explain what he is, not fully. It’s not the times they’ve fucked, but the way he held her, last time she was there. How that makes her want to go to him again. How, despite her happiness to see her friends again, and her sympathy for the plight of the people here, all she wants is to rest in his arms again.

“I’ve visited and I –“ she stops, and freezes. Another thing she doesn’t want is to worry Alisaie, how her need to write is bound up with her fear that she’ll not be successful in the next fight. That whatever they do will not work, that the Light may consume her. She thinks of the other things she wants to tell him too, words of both affection and practicality stuck in her head.

“Feo Ul said he’d get the letters to the Source somehow,” she explains, backing up. “I want to tell him – at least to be aware of Black Rose and of the things Urianger saw in his vision. Be I’m not used to writing letters, and –“

Alisaie’s eyes soften, any judgement leaving them. “Mayhap I can help?”

She has never found it difficult to talk to Alisaie, and she shouldn’t find it so now. She’s not embarrassed, she’s perhaps just reluctant to both name her fears to those who depend on her, and to admit she ran from them. Or that – it would be easier to share if she understood her thoughts herself. She longs for the simplicity in visiting Tansu and the Confederacy, and that peace feels private.

“I would be glad.”

With her friend’s help she manages to compose something sensible, and not too long. Simply asking him, and the Confederacy, to be careful with any run-ins with Garleans and their cargo. She also tells a little of what has come to pass for her here on the First. She thinks he might find the faeries amusing, as long as he’s not on the receiving end of their shenanigans. A kinship of making people pay for their trespasses, perhaps.

“I miss him,” she blurs out at the end, wanting to add that too, needing to voice it despite her confusion. Her mind circles back to the notion that should she die or be unable to travel, would he know? That he should know he’s not forgotten, but that he means… something to her.

“You should tell,” Alisaie says. “I am not sure I’d name the Confederacy a steadfast ally, but – regrets can come too soon.” There’s something painful in the other woman’s eyes, the raw hurt unhidden.

“I’m sorry,” Meryta says. “If we’d been faster, if we’d – “

“She did what she had to do. It’s no need – it’s over now.” Alisaie shakes her head. “Please. I just – see to your letter. Mayhap I shall take my leave and trust you can write the rest without out my help. I surmise you’d rather it be so. And I think I’ve left my dear brother alone with the fairies a tad longer than he finds amusing.”

“Thank you, Alisaie.”

“Of course, my friend. Good luck with the artifacts. We will keep the Eulmorians busy.”

Meryta watches Alisaie leave, confident steps, her rapier ever ready. Meryta has no doubt about hers, and Alphinaud’s, capabilities. They will keep their pursuers at bay.

She does manage the rest of the letter, trying to shape her feelings into words, her mind occupied with the memory of brown eyes and calloused hands, and marks sucked into her flesh.

Tansui, I do not know if I will win this fight. I do not know if it will change me. I miss you. I wish to see you again. I hope to see you again if can. If I cannot know that I tried.

I would like to eat breakfast with you again. I long for it.

Satisfied, she seals the letter. At least he will know she did not abandon him, should her end come. The risk is always there, but somehow here, it feels closer than ever. Meryta shakes her head, and looks at the flowers in the blinding light. Her thoughts spin in circles.

Feo Ul and the post moogle is more than happy to accept her letter, exorbitant fee agreed on. One less thing to regret.

She doesn’t want to die. The castle on its high peak, pretty and bright. Most of all, she doesn’t want to absorb the Light of a second Lightwarden, a third, a fourth – how many are there?

She has no choice but to set out.

[rebouks]

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Transcript:

Matilda: Why’re you hiding? Tristen: [shrugs] I felt awkward. Matilda: How come?

Tristen: I don’t really like parties these days. Matilda: Oscar doesn’t always find it easy either, y’know-.. partying without getting wasted, I mean. Tristen: I didn’t know you knew about that.

Matilda: Was it supposed to be a secret? Tristen: Eh, people judge. Matilda: Well.. you’re talking to me, and I’m literally the worst person in attendance.

Tristen: You seem nice enough. Matilda: Ah, you clearly don’t know me well enough yet-.. c’mon, you’ll never learn how to enjoy yourself in here. Tristen: [sighs] I guess.

[soundwavefucker69]

bastille has done more for the queer community by just making all of their love songs about "you" instead of specifying a gender than taylor swift has in all of her discography. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[wildbasil]

things haven't been great but i think they will be. eventually 🌻🌼🩷

[christadeguchi]

i'll let phie-san say it:

[mydairpercabeth]

just saw the most heartbreaking annabeth take from ep 3

[squarecloud73]

*I worship you Tumblr please don’t remove it

傳達不到的一些東西

Dumb school girl crush

[skellydun]

why is it when people ask me what i want as a gift i immediately become someone who enjoys nothing at all and has never wanted anything a day in their life.

[mattmonss]

Father and daughter bonding <3

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The squad of all time has arrived on scene.

[abracadaze]

i feel so bad for nikola tesla like imagine spending years beefing with a guy who has conned the public into believing he's some sort of supergenius when in reality it's his overworked employees developing all of his world-changing inventions and you end up dying broke and starving and alone and then 100 years later another guy cons the public into believing he's some sort of supergenius when in reality it's his overworked employees developing all of his world-changing inventions and he's doing it all IN YOUR NAME. he must be rolling in his grave like a fucking rotisserie chicken

[bacchuschucklefuck]

typical tavern scene

[bruciemilf]

Need a the Waynes Lived AU where Martha’s a vampire. She snuck in a Wayne Gala for a potential late night snack, but Thomas thought she was a socialite.

“So, what do you do?”

“I drain people of their life sources.”

“Oh, you’re a CEO too?”

She can’t drink Thomas’ blood because he smokes too much, the baggy eyes indicate long nights spent on his feet during surgery, which means it’ll taste bitter, and she saw him drown 10 whiskey shots in one go.

It’s a taste thing, nothing against him.

He is, how ever, very handsome, and she decided she’ll be his house cat for the time being. Fast forward two years later and they have a vampire cherub of a baby named Bruce.

Babies usually don’t come out with fangs and tiny bat wings, so, yeah. His wife’s a vampire. Cool.

“How come I’ve never seen your wife outside during the daytime, Tom??”

“How come I’ve never seen you mind your own fucking business?”

[leisi-lilacdreams]

[inkskinned]

probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.

[bamsara]

I think that one thing people fail to understand is that unsolicited literary criticism coming from an online stranger who is reading with no knowledge of what the authors intended goal is, is not going to be received the same as say: the authors beta reader or friends who know what the authors intended goal and has the sufficient knowledge and input to help the author reach that desired outcome.

"But I'm only trying to be helpful" How do I know you have the knowledge and literary skill for you to be able to actaully do that when we don't know each other and you are essentially a stranger to me? Are you applying this criticism based out of personal biased experience and desire to see the story or characterization be driven in another direction or tweaked, or do you know the author's intentions for the character? If the story is incomplete, are you basing your criticism of a character on the incomplete narration with only partial information available of them or are you building up a report until the story's completion? Did the author provide you with the information needed to make a fully informed criticism?

Have you discussed with the author what their plans are or are you assuming them based off the narration, especially if the narration is proven or implied to be unreliable or missing key points of the plot? Are you unbiased enough to help them reach their desired outcome for the characters and story regardless of your personal feelings towards the characters/antagonists and setting? Can you handle being told your specific input isn't wanted because you're a reader and/or have no written anything relating to their genre or topic? Do you understand and respect that the author's personal experiences might influence their writing and make it different than how you would have done it personally? Do you understand if an author only wants input from a specific demographic relating to their story?

If it's for fanfiction or other hobby media, are you holding a free hobby to a professional standard? Are you trying to give criticism because you feel like the author has produced 'subpar job performance' of their fic? Are you viewing their work as a personal intimate outlet or something that must conform with mass media? Are you applying rules and guidelines when the fic is shared for simple sharing sake? Is your criticism worded appropriately and focused on the parts where the author has requested input on rather than a general dismissal and or disapproval?

Have you put yourself in a place where you assumed you have the input needed for the story to evolve better, or have you asked what the author needs and what they're having trouble with? Can you handle having your criticism rejected if the author decides their story doesn't need the change and not take it as a personal offense against your character? Are you crossing that boundary because you think you are doing the author a favor? Are you trying to be helpful, or do you just want to be?

I think sometimes when people hear authors go 'please don't give me unsolicited writing advice or criticism' they automatically chalk it up to 'this author doesn't want ANY constructive feedback on their stuff at all' and not "i already have trusted individuals who will help me with my writing goals and- hey i don't know you like that, please stop acting so overly familiar with me'