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makeste · 3 years ago

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BnHA 326: What’s up Kids, It’s Me, Your Old Pal Stain

Previously on BnHA: Ochako shamed the U.A. Clown Mob into letting Deku go back inside his own fucking school by giving them an hour-long speech about how not to be humongous dickheads. Kouta and Gigantic Fox Lady saved the manga by being the only ones brave enough to give Deku a hug. Shouto was all “man, all this togetherness sure does remind me of that promise you made that we would handle Touya together which you immediately bailed on, doesn’t it, Dad.” Aizawa was all, “for the one and a half people out there who thought that my losing an eye and a leg might actually make me less sexy, I’m very happy to prove you wrong.” All Might was all, “[standing outside the U.A. fortress alone in the rain talking to someone or something??].” Like seriously, what was up with that though.

Today on BnHA: All Might is all “here I am in Kamino having a belated mid-life crisis because Deku abandoned me and I’m a terrible mentor and everything sucks and I hate myself.” Stain is all, “don’t make me come over there and give you a ten page speech about why you’re still the goat while menacingly holding you at swordpoint the entire time” because idk if you knew this guys, but Stain is pretty crazy actually. Anyway so he does that, and then All Might gets all emotional, and then the lady from chapter 92 shows up and gives All Might’s statue an encouraging pep talk, and then Horikoshi is all “and it even stopped raining lol can you believe this shit I’m not even a little bit subtle,” and he really isn’t. But I still got emotional anyway, because seeing people reassure All Might that everything he’s struggled for his entire life hasn’t been in vain just got to me okay. Horikoshi knows I am weak to the All Might feels and he just goes for the jugular every time, that bastard.

lmao. “in the neverending downpour, All Might is...” yeah, thank you, glad we’re getting right to that then

“All Might is driving 95 mph in his busted ass car in the pouring rain, is what he’s doing.” huh

so basically a day or two after his adopted child refused to accept the handmade bento that he packed with love, my man is out here acting like he’s got nothing to live for anymore. this sure bodes well for certain prophecies on which the clock is still ominously ticking down

his fucking face though omg. is it weird that I’m kind of hoping more people ambush him just because I think it’d be funny to see them get their asses kicked like the last bunch

(ETA: or maybe he will just stand there openly not giving a fuck and basically daring them to stab him!! get it together please All Might.)

side note, “anti-hero supporters” is such a strange way of saying “people who hate heroes”, which I’m assuming is what they actually wanted to say?? this makes it sound like it’s a group that really loves antiheroes. “these Hannibal stans have been a real menace lately. time to go deal with them”

ha ha ha, fucking ouch

are you really gonna do it Horikoshi you bastard. are you really going to let that be the final encounter between the two characters whose relationship you once described as the vertical axis of the entire fucking story. are you really gonna?? huh??

huh

you’re telling me you were driving 112 mph and you still didn’t get there in time. you’re losing your touch old man. lol Todo’s ice is almost fully melted already, how late were you

(ETA: so apparently this is taking place after the end of chapter 325, meaning he went to U.A., hung out for a bit, saw the kids come back with his bedraggled half-dead protégé in tow, watched as they shamed the civilians into some long-overdue character development, and then was all “welp, time to go argue with the hero-hating faction or something because I’m feeling useless.” and Edge just let him go, just like that. though to be fair I have to imagine it’s pretty hard to say no to All Fucking Might.)

also belated lol at the fact that the kids were all “yeahhhhhhh we are definitely not gonna touch that thing, let’s just leave it here, he doesn’t need it anyway.” probably the right call to make since they couldn’t get a hazmat team on such short notice

fuck. ha ha ha fucking ouch part two

All Might please put that thing down before you get gangrene. also yeah, you dropped the ball, good for you to acknowledge it. nobody’s perfect and you did your best. but yeah you could have handled a lot of things completely differently. but I still love you

is Horikoshi really putting this flashback here. are you serious. what kind of fucking sadist

look, I swear I’m not one of those people that runs up and down the street shouting “DEATH FLAG!!” at every third panel lol. but this shit screamed Death Flag when we originally got it, and it’s screaming DEATH FLAG!!! even more now. like with the capital letters and exclamation marks and all. and that’s just a fact. I don’t like it but that’s how it is

ffkdjslk

“DID YOU READ THE SIGN??!” Horikoshi asks while zooming in maniacally because he thinks we’re blind or something. lol what

-- though actually, it only just occurred to me that this sign is actually written in English. I never really paid attention up until now and had been assuming it was written in Japanese and translated by the scanlators, but the writing here is clearly part of the original image. anyway so maybe that’s why he’s zooming in?? just to make sure everybody pays attention lol

okay fuck this

see, this is the whole problem right here. once again All Might is all on his own. Deku’s self-destructive angst spiral was fortunately brought to a grinding halt because he actually has support from his friends and family and teachers and classmates. but All Might never had that same kind of support, and it’s made all the difference between the two of them, and not in a good way. Katsuki wasn’t wrong when he said All Might and Deku were both cut from the same cloth. but now when it’s All Might’s turn to go all “I WALK A LONELY ROAD~~” once again, there’s nobody in sight

just, after forty plus years of him carrying this torch, I just wish someone would finally come along to let him know he doesn’t have to. all those things that he wanted to say to Deku are also things that he needs and deserves to hear himself. Aizawa was making a little progress there, but now he’s got his sad zombie cloud boyfriend situation to deal with, and we can’t expect him and his perfect hair to solve all our problems. someone else has gotta step up

oh my god

“you rang?” never mind I take it all back sob

omg why am I laughing. shit

this man truly has the best PR game in the series. we were truly convinced he was gonna suddenly become a good guy and defend All Might against the other villains or some nonsense. as if this wasn’t the same man who decided on a whim that Iida Tensei deserved to be paralyzed, and that his fifteen-year-old brother deserved to die for daring to be upset about it

lol even All Might is all “I genuinely never saw this coming” lmao

just want to say, for the record, I have always harbored a very sensible hatred toward Stain. feeling very vindicated right now. good job Past Me

adsfklwkfsdwgkj

ffffwefjslkg. ghsdlkg. dsfkkkslkjldwkjrg

STAIN: heard you talking shit old man

ME: smh that’s what I thought you’d say you dumb fucking Stain

STAIN: how dare you talk about All Might that way

ME: gljfljgk

(ETA: in hindsight I have no idea how I didn’t clue in sooner that he didn’t recognize him -- or, well, ~didn’t recognize~ him, to be more accurate lol. I think it was the whole “is that a slight against the heroes?” thing that threw me. Viz’s translation makes it much clearer that he’s offended on behalf of All Might specifically, not heroes in general. anyways.)

sob. so All Might is all “yeah I don’t blame you for not recognizing me in this sweet leather jacket”

good thing he still knows how to do this party trick

A+ reflexes on Stain’s part presumably pulling the sword back a few inches to keep this dumbass from impaling himself with his whole pufferfish routine. can you imagine if that was the gruesome death Nighteye foresaw. and he was just too embarrassed to say anything

lol anyways guess I was wrong about Stain everyone

way to fucking go, Past Me. you really biffed this one

oh wait

Stain sure is one wacky rollercoaster ride

oh fuck me lol I forgot how much I did not miss this

(ETA: “this here is the sacred ground where All Might gave up the last of his power and turned into a shriveled old man!! please ignore the part where I admit to knowing all about that, and yet pretend not to recognize said man when he’s standing two feet in front of me.”)

Past Me, I know we’ve had our ups and downs these past ninety seconds, but I’m really starting to think you were on to something. this dude has always been kind of insufferable. always acting like his high horse is a fucking giraffe when it’s actually a Shetland pony

dammit now he’s got All Might going off on a depressed monologue

oh my god my heart

shit

why the fuck does that hit so hard. he became a hero because he couldn’t bear to just sit back and let bad things happen to people who didn’t deserve it. I mean that’s basically the same as every hero ever, right? so why does it still hit so fucking hard every single time though. what is it about seeing someone so determined to stand up for other people and fight on their behalf. it just never loses its impact no matter how many times I see that determination mirrored in so many of my favorite characters

“I wanted to make the world a better place.” omg. but you did, though. like seriously, I feel like people are always dogging on him for not being 100% perfect, and fandom really doesn’t give him enough credit for everything he still managed to accomplish. this man came of age at a time when Japan was by all accounts a total shitshow, and singlehandedly managed to bring about an era of peace that lasted for four fucking decades. can you imagine having peace for that long?? that’s longer than I’ve been alive. shit

and he gave people hope. he inspired them and protected them and made them feel safe. and no, he couldn’t save everyone, because he’s only one fucking dude (and also because the whole time AFO was also out there desperately working to undermine him so that he could keep preaching his narrative of “heroes are bad actually”). but you know what he did do, is inspire multiple new generations of heroes who, if they can all manage to work together, will finally be able to accomplish everything he never could

so yeah. forty years of peace, and inspired the “that’s how we all became the greatest heroes” generation -- that’s a fucking win in my book. talk about having a net positive impact on the world. lol anyways now I’m all fired up and ready to fight anyone who tries to talk any shit about you, All Might

“but what if I talk shit about myself” okay listen up All Might I’m gonna need you to try just a little bit harder to work with me here okay. please calm down and stop blaming yourself for every single bad thing that’s ever happened in the world. do you remember that time Bakugou was blaming himself for Kamino, and you gave him a hug and told him it wasn’t his fault, and that he was only a boy, and that even though he was strong, even strong people can struggle with the burdens they place on themselves, and that you were sorry for not seeing that earlier? do you remember all of that? that’s what I want someone to tell you too, dammit. anyway please stop breaking my heart please and thanks

wtf

are you dead All Might

I don’t even have the slightest idea what’s happening lol

oh snap did he grab him so they could hide??

hold the fucking phone. don’t tell me this person in the background with the umbrella is here to actually do something decent??

oh my godddd

and here come the feels. oh boy. okay don’t mind me, I’m just gonna sit here sobbing over this fictional lady and her simple act of kindness in this weekly shounen manga that I care about way too much

FUCKING DAMMIT AND HERE’S A SECOND HELPING

DON’T MIND ME, I’M JUST GETTING DISPROPORTIONATELY EMOTIONAL OVER THIS WOMAN’S DETERMINATION TO HONOR A MAN WHO SACRIFICED EVERYTHING TO SAVE HER AND COUNTLESS OTHERS. I’M JUST HAVING SOME FEELS OVER HERE ABOUT HER HEARTFELT, DOESN’T-EVEN-KNOW-ANYONE-ELSE-IS-WATCHING FEELINGS OF GRATITUDE THAT COMPELLED HER TO COME OUT HERE AND MAKE THIS SMALL BUT POWERFUL GESTURE. I’M JUST OUT HERE GETTING ALL PROFOUNDLY WORKED UP ABOUT STATUE MAINTENANCE AND THE HUMAN RACE. NEVER MIND. JUST IGNORE ME AND CARRY ON

holy shit. I was not even remotely prepared. you can’t just do that to me. you can’t just leave all these death flags on my lawn and then suddenly shift gears to show me the best of humanity in a chapter where I was expecting the worst. that fucks a person up lol

OH ARE WE STILL GOING

my heart. you see that, All Might. your legacy is so much more powerful and meaningful than you think

...has. has Stain actually been giving All Might a pep talk this entire time

I give up lol. this dude is a fucking enigma

YAYYY

it may just be a metaphor panel, but I’ll take it lol. I missed them. nice to see the traffic light trio front and off-center. I know the whole “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes” thing had left some questioning whether certain characters would continue to play a central role in the narrative, and hopefully this will help to ease those concerns just a bit

anyway, so idk if it’s getting a bit chilly down there in hell, but damned if Stain didn’t just give an actual decent fucking speech

I have to say, earlier when I was whining about All Might not having a support squad, I really was not expecting Stain to be the one to come over and pat his head and reassure him that he made the world a better place

-- okay LISTEN

YOU CAN’T JUST COME INTO MY HOUSE AND HIT ME WITH THOSE ALL MIGHT TEARS AGAIN GODDAMMIT THIS ISN’T FAIR. my god. first 317 and now this

holy fucking shit

“I’m just gonna pretend like I haven’t been stalking him for two days and didn’t see the entire Deku bentogate thing go down, and then I’ll give him the whole big speech that I rehearsed, and then I’ll turn around and be all ‘BUT IF YOU’RE A TRUE HERO’, and then I’ll toss him the super-secret AFO wifi password that I stole from Tartarus. god I’m such a badass. fucking give myself chills”

so basically what you’re telling me is that this whole time my “what’s up kids” characterization of Stain from this shitpost has actually been 100% accurate. just want to make sure I’m understanding this right. okay then

“and then I’ll dramatically spin around and be all NOW COME KILL ME BITCH”

it must be so much fun to write Stain. drawing this coked-out maniac who talks like a chatbot that was trained to speak by reading Alan Moore monologues. that must be a trip

anyway so All Might is still crying, the awesome lady from chapter 92 is admiring her handiwork totally oblivious to the batshit insanity going on fifty meters to her right, and it’s finally stopped raining lol

“THE RAIN WAS A METAPHOR YOU SEE” yes, yes, we got it lol. thanks for that Horikoshi. don’t think we needed any help putting the pieces together on that one but I appreciate the effort

so that’s the end! and as I mentioned in another post, I had the count off by one chapter, but next week should be cliffhanger week! so break out your U.A. Traitor bingo cards, friends and fiends. either that or something else happens that I’m completely not expecting at all. which, based on my success rate with Stain predictions, I’d say is more than likely lol

mmm but anyway, so now that the Hug Deku 2021 campaign has finally come to an end, what’s it gonna take to get a hug for my struggling bento-preparing jacket-rocking world-weary death-flag-waving husband who is the worthiest man to ever live and deserves the fucking world, goddammit

#bnha 326 #all might #yagi toshinori #stain (bnha)#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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lightrises · 4 years ago

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"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

#hollow knight #hornet (hollow knight)#hornet hollow knight #hk hornet #the radiance #hk radiance #herrah #hk herrah #hollow knight meta #sup folks it's been a minute since i dropped a whole dang essay but Here We Go!!!!!!

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botanistlester · 7 years ago

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Sweet Pea (23/34)

Summary: A nickname that goes bitter in your mouth. Cries for help that no one listens to. Gentle hands that make you quake on the ground you’re standing on. When Phil first met Nico, he thought he was a gift from the heavens. But behind the mask lies something daunting, something unnerving, that Phil never foresaw. Through his journey, he finds solace in Dan, the regular at his workplace, who seems to be the only one who sees through Nico’s mask to the darkness underneath. Warnings: Abusive relationship, violence A/N: the lyrics at the beginning are from Everything Went Numb by Streetlight Manifesto. Thanks to @snowbunnylester for editing this for me as usual. And thank you to all of you who are still sticking with this story! I love each and every one of you!

Previous | Masterlist

Read it on AO3 Read it on Wattpad

Chapter Twenty-Three

Himself ain't a lot when he's got nothing left of what was once a man, loved and loving.

As it turned out, the act of going to therapy was much harder than just the thought of it.

Firstly, there was the fact that healthcare was free, which was a great and wonderful thing, but if he wanted to get therapy, he’d have to wait six months to be able to even get an appointment. That was six whole months of Phil feeling like he was empty inside and not being able to function like a regular human would, six months of random crying spells and nightmares and taking out his frustrations on Dan. He definitely didn’t want to do that.

So the second option was to call his mum for financial help to see if she could help him pay for therapy to get an earlier appointment. He didn’t really want to do that either, but it was either that or a six month wait, and after weighing his options and having about five panic attacks, Phil picked up the phone and called his mother.

Her voice was cheery when she answered, and it made him feel slightly nostalgic. He missed her and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been neglecting her slightly, but he was just super depressed and not really okay, and talking to his mum when he was on the verge of a breakdown 24/7 wasn’t really on his list of top things to do.

“Child?” she said in greeting, making Phil crack a smile as he drummed his fingers nervously on his knees. He’d made Dan leave him alone in his room whilst he called, but he was questioning his choices now. “How are you doing?”

Phil’s first reaction was to say that he was doing fine, because that’s what you did when someone asked you how you were doing, right? But then he stopped himself, took a deep breath, reminded himself what he was calling for. “Hi mum,” Phil said in a shaky voice. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

If he were home, he could imagine his mum sitting in her chair, the white cushy one with little pink flower buds on it. She would cross her legs and furrow her brows, leaning forward slightly to show that she was listening. “What’s wrong, love?”

Phil gulped, and took another deep breath. It was now or never, and he knew he needed to do this. His mum wouldn’t judge, she never did. Now was no different. “I haven’t been doing okay recently,” he said slowly, digging his nails into his leg. “I think I might actually want to get some psychiatric help, and I don’t think I’ll be able to wait six months for the free health care.”

His mum went silent for a moment, as though she were thinking, and Phil’s brain went into panic mode. What if she thought he was being stupid? What if she thought he was overreacting? Would she not help? But all of his worries washed away as soon as she spoke, as he should have known they would. “Of course I’ll help,” she replied easily. “Do you want to talk about what’s been going on? I’m worried about you.”

Phil didn’t mean to tell her. He really didn’t even want to tell her. But then he opened his mouth to say no and he ended up blurting out the whole story: The story of how he’d fallen in love with Nico and how Nico had slowly taken a turn for the worst. The slut shaming, the manipulation, the gas lighting and how it’d made Phil think he was crazy. How he still thought he was crazy. He mentioned how Nico had cheated on him with Chandler, how Nico slapped him, how Phil went to his mum’s afterwards. He mentioned how Nico was there when he went back, almost as if he were waiting for him, and how the police dragged him away after the neighbours filed a complaint. The restraining order, how Phil distracted himself with Jace, how Phil saw Nico in the cafe.

Finally, he mentioned his break down just the other day with the Sweet Peas, and how he’d made Dan cry. The ultimate reason why he had decided to get help. He didn’t want to see Dan cry anymore. He couldn’t take someone else down with him, and this situation was no longer just affecting him, but also everyone around him.

He needed help, and to do so, he also needed his mum’s support.

At first, he was robotic, as though he had memorised the entire speech. But after a while, he started to cry so hard that his mother had to keep asking him to repeat himself because she couldn’t understand him. When he was finished explaining, his mum seemed a bit speechless. She apologised for not knowing what was going on and for not intervening sooner, but he assured her that if she’d tried to intervene, it would have only made him more upset. He didn’t use the word loathe, but he knew deep down that if anyone had tried to block access to Nico without his consent, then Phil would have probably cut them off from his life as soon as they’d tried.

“I’ll put the money straight into your account, alright?” his mum promised, and Phil nodded even though she couldn’t see him. “Go find the best therapist you possibly can, and we’ll go from there. I’d also like to visit soon, if that’s okay. I’d like to meet your new flatmate.”

Phil agreed quietly, told his mum he loved her and that he’d have her over soon. With that, they said their mutual goodbyes and hung up the phone.

Phil was glad that he had his mum’s support, but he still couldn’t help but feel frightened. He knew that this was something he had to do, both for his sanity, as well as Dan’s, but it was scary and humiliating.

He felt as though he were lying when he tossed around the term abusive, felt that maybe he was overreacting a bit whenever he had a breakdown to do with Nico. Nico had only hit him once, and that hadn’t even been that bad. Most of the stuff Nico had done had been verbal and emotional. They didn’t feel violent, didn’t feel abusive.

But the websites told Phil otherwise. They told him that emotional abuse was just as bad as physical abuse, that it could even lead to post-traumatic stress disorder just like physical.

That didn’t make Phil feel any better at all, but at least the internet didn’t think he was crazy. That was new.

Dan had been the one who decided to do research on therapists because the idea of doing so himself made Phil want to pull his hair out and hide under his bed for a while. Dan was nice as he did so, looking through multiple websites and writing down different doctors, social workers, and psychologists who worked with trauma victims.

He didn’t say trauma, necessarily, but Phil had seen on the laptop that he was specifically looking for those who specialised in trauma. Phil didn’t know if he had really experienced trauma. That was a strong word to use and one that he associated with soldiers or victims of sexual violence. Not one that he associated with himself.

Dan wrote down all of the good therapy providers, wrote down their names, phone numbers, specialties, and what type of therapy provided. Looking through, Phil noticed that some offered cognitive behavioral therapy or mindfulness based therapy, and he didn’t know what they meant, but they sounded kind of scary. Dan had also put stars next to two of the people who he thought were the best to go to, with the most experience or just the ones who had the highest ratings for the specific area he was interested in.

Phil kept this paper for three days before giving one of the starred people a call.

The number went to an office, where they asked him personal questions: what he’d like to be seen for, if he had any medications, if he wanted to be psychologically questioned. He mentioned that he had been in an abusive relationship - those words never sounded right to his ears, made him feel as though he were lying - and that he hadn’t been doing well recently. They asked him if he had a specific person that he wanted to see, and he mentioned the name of the man, Nate Blackburn.

They went quiet on the other line for a moment and Phil feared that he was asking far too much of them. But then they spoke up again, asked if he would be available next Wednesday for an appointment. He said yes before even looking at his calendar, and then hung up the phone, letting out a breath.

He wiped off his face and acknowledged with a surprised expression that there were tears dripping from his lashes, an aftereffect of the stress that calling had triggered. He sniffled and dried his face, standing up and going to Dan’s room.

He didn’t knock before going in, even though he probably should have. Dan was just sitting on his bed on his laptop anyways. He was wearing headphones in order to give Phil some privacy, but he took them off when Phil came in, giving him a bright smile.

“You do it?” Dan asked, shoving his laptop to the side and scooting over to give Phil some space on the bed.

Phil fell onto the bed without question, groaning. “I did it,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the covers. He was practically shoved to Dan’s side, getting comfort from that. Dan’s hand made its way to his back, where he rubbed in a soothing manner. “I’m exhausted.”

“But you did it! I’m so proud!” Dan exclaimed, and Phil didn’t have to look to know that Dan was grinning down at him with that stupidly fond smile of his. He would probably be glowing, like the sun itself, and it made Phil relax a bit. Dan was too good for this world. “Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate and then you can take a nap afterwards?”

Phil paused. Hot chocolate could soothe his nerves and make him feel nostalgic, like he was a little kid asking his mum for more marshmallows in his cocoa. He nodded as best as he could with his face shoved into the mattress. “Please,” he murmured.

The bed moved and Dan was climbing over him in order to get off the bed. Phil didn’t know why he didn’t just get off the other side rather than climbing over him, but he didn’t question it and he didn’t care. “I’ll be right back,” Dan said. Phil felt pressure on the back of his head and knew that Dan had given him a chaste kiss there, something motherly and caring. Phil liked the affection and Dan knew it, so he often kissed Phil’s head since Phil liked it so much. It was just a way for Phil to know that Dan was here, that Dan cared for him. “You just relax now, okay?”

Phil nodded and then Dan was gone, leaving him alone and absolutely exhausted. He tried to stay awake until Dan came back so that he could drink the hot chocolate, but he soon found himself drifting off to sleep, his mind deciding without his consent that he was already done with today.

The therapy site was located in a renovated house. Phil made Dan come in with him because he didn’t know if he could do it alone. Even though Dan knew he was going to have to sit in the waiting room for about an hour, he came anyways, skipping class just so he could be there for Phil during his time of transformation. If he could even call it that.

The waiting room was cozy. There was a brick fireplace that sat adjacent to a large black couch. There were two recliners in each corner of the room and a nice blue rug under the coffee table in the middle of the room. There was a corner where a toy table sat, waiting to be played with, covered with colourful blocks and children’s books. Phil’s eyes stayed trained on the staircase, where he had no doubt that his therapist would be coming down, the offices probably being contained to the second floor. It smelled like pine in the room, which was nice at least.

“You’re going to be okay,” Dan murmured, setting an arm around Phil’s shoulders.

Phil settled into him, well aware that they were sitting far too close on the couch, but he really did not care. He needed Dan to tell him that everything was okay, that he wasn’t going to die in here or something. “This is dumb,” he muttered back. It wasn’t dumb. He knew that. But he didn’t like this at all, didn’t like feeling as though he were vulnerable. He was horrid at talking about his feelings, especially when it was with someone he barely knew.

And yet, here he was. This was dumb.

After about ten minutes of waiting, Nate came downstairs and called out his name. He was a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair and smile lines on his face. His eyes were soft and filled with care and he stood tall, probably a couple of inches taller than Phil himself.

Phil stood from the couch, Dan’s arm dropping from his shoulders, but he felt as though the couch had grabbed onto him and was trying to drag him back over. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t know if he could do this.

“I’m Nate,” his new therapist said, holding out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Phil.”

“You too,” Phil murmured, and they began to walk up the stairs, which suddenly seemed like they were a mile high. Phil was winded by the time they reached the top, and his hands were shaking as Nate led him into a tiny office with a desk, office chair, and another black couch, which was most likely reserved for Phil’s butt.

Nate was a nice guy. He held a clipboard as he talked, asked Phil questions about his past. They didn’t really touch on the subject of why Phil was being seen yet, mostly focusing on everything about Phil that made him into the person he was today.

He asked Phil about when he was younger and what his life was like. Phil told him that his mum and dad took care of him very well, but his father worked quite a lot so he wasn’t around too often. He asked about medication history, which Phil informed him that he wasn’t on any medications besides randomly used over the counter medicines. He asked about high school and how many friends Phil had, what he liked to do, if he went to college.

Nate didn’t bat an eye when Phil told him that he’d gone to college for English, but had recently dropped out due to personal issues. He just nodded and smiled supportively and asked Phil if he could explain.

This part was hard, this was getting into territory that Phil knew was upsetting. He knew that he was probably going to start crying if he talked about it in depth, so he decided to be as vague as possible in order to save himself. So he mentioned that he’d been in a relationship with someone who was toxic to him, and his mental health had gotten so bad that he ended up dropping out without a thought.

“I can tell that you don’t want to talk about it right now, and that’s okay,” Nate said quietly, scribbling something on his clipboard. Phil followed his movements with his eyes, worrying over what he’d written down. Was he writing down that Phil was crazy? DIdn’t respond well to questions? Worried over nothing? “We can talk about it when you’re ready. Do you want to talk a little about the now and what lead you to come get therapy?”

Glad that he didn’t have to talk about Nico yet, Phil told Nate that he had freaked out on his best friend right after he moved in with him, tearing up a vase of flowers that Dan had gotten him. He said that Dan was usually the person who had comforted him when he was down, but Dan had started crying and it was then that Phil realised he really needed help or else he was going to destroy the only person who loved and cared for him.

“Is Dan the one in the waiting room?” Nate asked. Phil nodded his head. “He sounds like a good source of positivity in your life. You’re really lucky to have him.” Phil knew that. He thought of that often. “But he’s also really lucky to have you. He wouldn’t be around you if he didn’t want to. He cares about you and just wants the best for you. That’s obvious by the way that he came to your appointment with you for the moral support. And it’s really admirable of you to recognise that you need help and actively seek it out. That takes someone with great strength to do.”

The only thing was that Phil wasn’t strong. He was a coward. How many months has it been since Nico had walked out that door? How many months has it been since Phil had properly felt something even close to happiness? He was dramatic, sure, but strong? Not in the slightest.

“I only sought out help because I didn’t want to hurt Dan,” Phil whispered

Nate smiled gently, putting his clipboard down. “Doesn’t change the fact that you still decided to get help on your own. My statement still remains true.”

Phil didn’t feel like fighting so he bit back his words and just nodded. He didn’t want to show his therapist just how screwed up he was quite yet.

They talked for a little bit longer and Nate pulled out a paper with information about abuse on it and the warning signs. Phil had already seen most of these online so he didn’t need to flip through it. He didn’t need to be told over and over again what had happened to him. He already knew.

They left it at that, and Nate scheduled him for every Monday at three o’clock for the next month. When Phil walked out of the office, he felt like he’d just lost twenty years of his life and he was now in his forties, exhausted and going through a midlife crisis.

When he saw Dan, he latched onto him silently. He didn’t speak, and Dan didn’t ask him to. He didn’t ask him what they’d discussed, and he didn’t expect Phil to inform him of what was going on in his brain. He just slung his arm around Phil’s shoulders and lead him through the payment process and then out to the car when they were finished with that.

Only when they were in the car did Phil start to cry.

They weren’t big tears, didn’t leave him gasping for breath, but Phil was exhausted from talking for so long and he didn’t quite know how to explain what had happened to him without downplaying everything. He still felt crazy, like he was overreacting, but the dumb sheet clutched in his palms told him otherwise.

Phil really needed to sort himself out once and for all.

Chapter Twenty-Four

#sp #sweet pea #phanfic #phan #phanfiction #botanistfics #botanistlester #phan chaptered #phan angst #fanfic #fanfiction #gay #writing #fic #fics #dan and phil

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weshellsee · 8 years ago

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Things no one told me

No one told me that some days I wouldn't want to be here. That some days I'd just want to disappear. Or that some days I'd feel like I wasn't good enough, like I'd never be enough. Who could've possibly guessed that I'd spend five years busting my ass to get a degree and at twenty three I'd still feel just as worthless, that lack of love and achievement would make me question myself "am I ... worth less?" Because it sure does feel that way. I don't think anyone could've prepared me. How do you warn someone that at the time in your life that you're supposed to feel the most alive, you'll actually feel the most confused, you'll feel like it's the end of your life. The most used, abused. You see I had painted this fantastic picture of what my twenties was supposed to be like and surprise surprise it was nothing like this. I hadn't considered the reality of life as a young black woman in her twenties. Steady anxious, hearts racing, hands shaking, a knot in the pit of your stomach, daily. Doubting every move you make. like someone is after you but really the only one after you, is you. I didn't consider my unique situation young Haitian, parents aging. When momma wants to retire, because let's face it she's tired. Raised two girls on her own, no one to call for assistance, and the whole world betting against her. And daddy wants nothing to do with you, because he just doesn't know what to DO with you? How can you love someone that you never even really knew? Spitting image of the woman he hates the most, it should come as no surprise that he can't even look at me. Can't even talk to me. And I'm paying for a degree that I'm not even going to work in, I took too long to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I went left when I should've went right and now I'm wondering if I'm ever gonna be able to do what I want to do with my life. I don't know what I'm going to Do with my life. The shit just ain't right. I have become a woman obsessed, I'm constantly upset, stressed, depressed. But I can't ever show it I wanna project that "im growing and glowing" I'm confident! My melanin is popping so I smile harder, love harder and give my kindness away to people who don't deserve it. Hoping to feel something anything, but I feel nothing. I'm deserted. In the end. I'm losing my sanity, barely getting by. I'm praying to God every night for a breakthrough, like "God please come through for me, I need you" who do you tell when you don't know which direction to go in? There is no gps for life. And All those lefts I made should have been rights. It's too late. But no one could have foresaw this. That I'd be on the edge of becoming lawless, from God fearing to God less. And it's ugly, and it's harsh but it's true. I'm just being honest. Every day is a battle and I wasn't warned I was not prepared to be twisted and turned, bruised, battered, and burned. But look at what I've learned, I know it's cliche but nothing is given it's earned. So I put my armor on, I pray harder, I work harder and know even when you feel like you're falling apart you are stronger, life is an honor so many don't make it. And we don't get to do it twice , even if i could repeat it shit I probably still wouldn't get it right. So I'm gonna do it right now. No one told me it would be like this, true. but I'm here so I'll make the most of it.

#me #personal #weshellsee #poetry #writing

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thebrierpatch · 7 years ago

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THE DOOR

Of all places in the monastery, the library has always been my favorite. Choosing one of the many books available, sitting in one of its comfortable armchairs and splitting my attention between the letters and the wonderful landscape of the mountains, whose view the huge windows allow, provide moments of pure magic. Many a time I found the Old Man, as we affectionately called the oldest monk of the Order, seated in a corner, entranced by readings or traveling in the deep seas of reflection. On that day I had just picked a book when I realized he had been watching me. He arched his brow as if asking which book I had selected. I showed him the cover and he smiled approvingly. It was a collection of lectures by Yogananda. There was an empty armchair next to his, so I took it. I asked him what he was reading. He answered in a whisper: “The Sermon on the Mount.” He had once told me he read this small text every day before reading anything else, but I did not think he meant that literally. Seeing my display of surprise, the Old Man said: “The words of the Sermon are alive, and have always provided me endless teachings.” I had read it many times, and asked him what part he was meditating about. He said with his soft voice: “That part that says that ‘small is the gate and narrow the way that leads to life, and only a few find it.’” I said I knew what he was talking about, and wanted to show off all the knowledge I thought I had. I said that the purpose of that excerpt was to drive us away from the wide roads to perdition. I added that its interpretation was not that hard, suffice that we be honest. As simple as that. The Old Man thanked me in form of a sweet smile and returned to his reading and thoughts. I was proud of myself.

A few days later, I met the Old Man again. I was pretty upset. A family dissent about the estate left by a deceased relative was causing grievances among people who had had a lifetime relationship and, apparently, loved and respected one another. But it seemed they were all strangers. I was made propositions for the partition that were absurd, under claims and allegations so convoluted they verged on the ridiculous. However, they were all being serious, and I foresaw a huge financial loss. I asked the monk for advice to soften my heart from the sorrow I felt. He gave me a kind look and said: “It is time to cross the narrow door”. He paused on purpose, and continued: “Be honest.” I rebuked by saying I was being absolutely honest, it was the others who were being unreasonable to me. They wanted to usurp what was rightfully mine. This is why I was suffering. The Old Man furrowed his brow and said: “If you crossed the door for being honest and, if beyond that door is the Road of Light, why do I see you bewildered and distressed?”

I asked if I was wrong in being honest and in considering my interests first. The monk answered in a serious tone: “Absolutely not. Being honest is an obligation of the walker. It is an essential virtue to achieve dignity, so that he can tread the Path. However, honesty alone is not enough. In order to cross the narrow door and continue on the difficult Road of Light you need more.” Ashamed, I lowered my eyes. In a gesture of humility, I asked him to teach me something about the door.

We walked to the refectory, poured ourselves a cup of coffee and sat. Then, the Old Man said: “The narrow door is a choice, perhaps the most important one can make in life. It is so valuable that you must reaffirm it every single day, as huge are the temptations that will relentlessly try to divert your steps. The narrow door is the choice of the virtues of the soul over the values of the ego; it is the golden road of the heart. It is the beginning of the Path.”

“Let me begin by telling you it is not easy. First, you must see the door; there are still many who are not capable of seeing it. Then you have to cross it and remain on the ‘narrow road’. There are those who succumb to the appeals of the world or the hardships found on the way. Finally, you will have to imbed the Path to your way of being. This means, walker and path merge and become one; it is time to open the curtains for a new stage. This means you have reached the High Lands station”. He made a brief pause and added: “Do not forget: the journey is tough, and yet sweet. Furthermore, it is endless.”

I said I understood some of it, not much. I asked him to explain it better. The Old Man tried to be didactic: “We are all raised according to society’s standards that value empty fame, lightless glitter, easy applause, celebrities who make no transformation, money used as an instrument of power, appearance rather than essence. These are social, cultural and ancestral conditionings so ingrained into the ego that we almost never question the importance of such goals. We act out of automation, with no further questionings, as these are the achievements that will make us be recognized and admired by most of the people around us.”

“Continuing in this quest is easier, as it goes along the trails of the ego that have been laid centuries ago, without any objection. It is pleasant, as the ego desires material achievements in the form of luxury, sensorial pleasures and reverence. The shadows of vanity and pride will make themselves big and will convince you that you are better than the others. You will believe you were born to have the world at your feet.”

“However, this is not the symphony of the universe. Life is unrelentingly committed to evolution. Evolution is related to the liberation and plenitude of the soul. In order for one to be free from mundane oppressions, one should learn how to be more with less. The less one needs, the freer one will be. This is the equation of freedom. The wish of having causes dependency and conflicts because of essential unnecessariness; the beauty of constructing the being is forgotten in a corner. What makes the continuation of the journey possible is not the size of your mansion or bank account, but the greatness of your heart.”

“The unrestrained desire for unending purchases makes existence frail, because it causes dependence that grows more and more, making you delusional about achieving peace and happiness. Beautiful external ornamentation not always mirrors the internal truth. Often apparent luxury hides a tremendous misery of the essence. This reflects people who are arrogant in order to convey a power they lack; the inner strength they do not have. They nourish pride and vanity because they need to hide, even from themselves, the weakness they feel; it is like a palace built without the basic foundations, making it vulnerable even to a mild gale. What exalts the walker is not the number of countries he has visited, but the deep inner journey he makes to know himself.”

“Currently, the desires of the ego have created a sad legion of sufferers and distressed people who are in the world but lost in themselves. They may use drugs to try to escape from themselves, entertain themselves in noisy places to muffle the silent voice that comes from the heart; wear sunglasses to hide from the eyes of others the open wounds of their soul. Depression, therapies, anxiolytics, antidepressants and the illusion that they will always be able to stay away from the mirror that, sooner or later, will reflect the accurate image of someone who craves light.”

“The desires of the ego make existence heavier and slippery when, in fact we need the lightness of the soul so that its wings support us over the abysses of existence. In the height of plenitude, they may tear your clothes, set your house on fire, put you in an unsanitary prison; the plentiful soul will remain untouched, unscathed. Plenitude heals the frailties of the ego. It is the internal, eternal peace, so powerful it will keep you from the evil and curses so common on the planet.”

I asked him what would happen if I refused to cross the door. The Old Man shrugged, as if saying there was no way out, and explained: “Bear in mind that the universe is connected to your evolution because of the unavoidable need for expansion of the entire cosmos. Do not forget that you are part of the whole; hence, the whole is within you. This is your power and also your commitment. Therefore, after each choice a new learning cycle will ensue. Smooth or harsh, it will always be in fair reaction to your choices.”

“If you refuse to improve yourself, the lessons will become harsher and harsher. Bankruptcies, diseases, conflicts are closely connected to the need of the being to review their own ideas. Financial hardships are capable of showing the wealth of noble and immaterial values of life; diseases tend to become a pharmacy for the soul; conflict allows more refined perspectives and attitudes regarding the wisdom and love necessary for happiness. These are situations that hit the core of the ego; however, they improve the soul on its course towards freedom and plenitude. In the end, we come to fine tune the ego according to the tuning fork of the soul by understanding the opportunities for transformation that emerge. The shadows turn into light. Yes, life is always very generous. What the wild ego calls a disgrace the illuminated soul sees as grace.”

I asked him to advise me in this particular case, and told me what to do. The Old Man arched his lips in a discrete smile, revealing his extreme kindness, and spoke with his soft voice: “I don’t have a clue, Yoskhaz. Managing the life of others is a frivolous and arrogant action. Each one is their own master, and fully accountable for their choices. This is the only way to move forward.” He paused briefly and continued: “Deeply analyze yourself and your priorities at this point. Only then will you know the battle you are ready to fight: either to confront your relatives to defend the ownership of assets that are rightfully yours, or give up this confrontation to focus on other achievements.”

He furrowed his brow and spoke, gravely: “Whatever your decision may be, forgiveness and compassion for all who are involved are necessary, so that sorrow and resentment do not hamper the joy and lightness of the walk. You have to choose out of love, as only love has this power.” He arched his lips in a broad smile and added: “The narrow door is the one that will reveal the road to freedom and plenitude. It is the choice that will lead to personal transformations. It is the trail that will allow to blossom the best in the walker that is still hidden.”

Kindly translated by Carlos André Oighenstein.

Other texts by the author at www.yoskhaz.com/en/

#yoskhaz in english #words #thoughts

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botanistlester · 7 years ago

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Sweet Pea (16/34)

Summary: A nickname that goes bitter in your mouth. Cries for help that no one listens to. Gentle hands that make you quake on the ground you’re standing on. When Phil first met Nico, he thought he was a gift from the heavens. But behind the mask lies something daunting, something unnerving, that Phil never foresaw. Through his journey, he finds solace in Dan, the regular at his workplace, who seems to be the only one who sees through Nico’s mask to the darkness underneath. Warnings: Abusive relationship, violence A/N: warnings for this fic include slight dissociation. thanks to @snowbunnylesterfor editing this for me! The lyrics at the beginning of this fic are from the song Same Logic/Teeth by Brand New!

I have started a patreon account for those of you who would like to support me and my writing endeavors! You can find my patreon account here, and also find more information about perks of this here!

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Chapter Sixteen

You've got your kind of brand new face on, where all the skin's pulled thin and taut, and every kid you see starts crying so you stop going out for walks.

After the policemen left, dragging Nico out of the flat with them, that was when Phil truly shut down. He had already been feeling rather numb lately, but now he was more comatose than anything. He didn’t speak and didn’t move, not unless Dan physically forced him to.

He had no sense of time whatsoever. It could have been two in the afternoon, or four in the morning, and he would have no idea. He was stuck in his head, an empty shell of nothingness, and Dan was left to pick up the pieces.

So when the flat cleared and nobody remained but Dan and Phil, Dan sat down next to Phil where he had collapsed on the floor. He rested one hand on the small of Phil’s back, and another on Phil’s knee, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

“I won’t ask you if you’re okay, because I think that’s inappropriate right now,” Dan murmured, his voice soft and welcoming and obviously an attempt to make Phil calmer. “But is there anything I can do to help make you feel a little bit better?”

Phil didn’t shake his head no, even though he wanted to. He didn’t shake his head yes for that matter either. Instead, he stayed still, his arms wrapped around his legs and his head in his knees. He wasn’t crying anymore - that had stopped halfway through his time with the police officers - but he still felt as though he needed to cry, like there was a huge weight on his chest that made it hard for him to breathe. He closed his eyes and breathed out through his mouth. For once, he wished that he didn't have to deal with living anymore.

Dan sat with him for a while, just rubbing his back and speaking soothing words into his ear. He talked about how he was there for Phil no matter what, about how Phil was such a strong person, about how Phil could get through anything. Phil didn’t think he could. He didn’t know how he was going to get through something that had ripped him apart, bit by bit until there was nothing left that remained.

It was just a breakup, for God’s sake. Phil should be able to handle it. So what if it had been a bad breakup? People dealt with that sort of thing all the time. He wasn’t special and he certainly had it better than a lot of people. He felt as though he had no right to be feeling like this.

He expressed this to Dan in a soft voice, and Dan made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a whine. It was strange, but Phil didn’t question it.

“Just because other people might have it worse than you doesn’t mean your emotions aren’t valid or that you shouldn’t be feeling a certain way,” Dan told him. “You’re allowed to be upset. I’d be more worried if you weren’t upset after the abuse you’ve endured.”

There was that word again. Abuse. A word that had been thrown around during the night like it was nothing, like it actually applied to Phil’s life. Lies, lies, lies. Phil hadn’t been abused.

He hadn’t been hit all the time, and he and Nico had hardly even fought when they were together.

“I wasn’t abused,” Phil said firmly, as firmly as he could when he had his head buried in his knees. “He only hit me once, and that hardly counts as anything. We had a good relationship, and he made me happier than I’d been in a long time.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Dan tried again, and if Phil weren’t so exhausted, he would have pushed Dan off of him and commanded him to leave. The only reason he didn’t do so was because he was actually more terrified to be by himself right then. “You know, about one in six men experience domestic abuse in their lifetime.”

“I’m not a fucking statistic, Dan,” Phil hissed, lifting his head so he could shoot his best friend a glare. “I wasn’t abused, end of story. Conversation over. Now can you please just- just stop making me feel worse, already?”

Dan wasn’t perfect, and Phil realised that. Sometimes Dan didn’t know when to shut up. He talked too much about things that could be upsetting to other people, and he didn’t really have a censor when it came to speaking. When that happened, all he needed was a gentle reminder that some things were better left unsaid, and he would go apologising until everything was fixed once more.

“Sorry,” Dan apologised, just as Phil had assumed he would. “I wish I could just castrate that wanker for what he’s done to you.”

“Can- can we stop talking about him? I want to forget about him.”

Dan nodded and changed the subject. He started talking about everything he did when Phil hadn’t been talking to him. He mentioned that he had seen Jane and Charlie in the store, and how Jane had realised he had dimples. She had apparently then proceeded to coo and pinch his cheeks like an old grandma, and the story didn’t make Phil laugh, but it made him distracted enough to forget about his swollen eyes for a moment.

After a while, Phil stopped talking again. He’d reached his maximum speaking quota for the day, and instead withdrew into himself. He became distracted and distant once more until Dan had to force him into the kitchen where he shoved a bowl of cereal into Phil’s hands and made him eat two bowls. That amount of food made Phil feel a bit nauseous, but he swallowed it down anyway because he didn’t know what else to do.

Dan tried to talk to him in hushed tones, like he was telling a secret just to be kept between the two of them, but Phil didn’t bother replying. Instead, he ate mechanically, shoveling the cereal into his mouth even though it tasted like cardboard and didn’t do anything for him. Dan praised him as if he were a dog who didn’t know how to function for itself, which Phil couldn’t be mad about because it was true.

After Dan deemed Phil good to go, he led Phil to the bed and forced him to lay down. Phil complained a bit, but Dan wasn’t having it. He went through his drawers until he found a pair of comfortable shorts and a sleep shirt, and threw both items at Phil. “Sleep for a little,” Dan told him. “Please. You need it.”

Phil’s lip wobbled and he was so pathetic. Apparently break ups made him go back to being a child complaining about nap time. It’s just… he didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want to have to face what had happened, face the negative thoughts trying to tear him down piece by piece, bit by bit, until there was nothing else left except anxiety and despair. Depressing, yes, but Phil didn’t quite know what to do with himself anymore.

He wanted things to go back to how they had been. He wanted things to go back to the way things were. Back to when he and Nico were inseparable and happy and in love. Back when Chandler was his best friend who hadn’t dare hurt him, who was there for him no matter what, who didn’t fuck his boyfriend as soon as he turned his back. Now the only person he had was Dan, and while he appreciated that, he certainly wished he had his oldest best friend back.

He felt sick to his stomach.

“I need to text her,” Phil said, instead of getting into bed. He stood up and made a beeline for his phone. “I need to know why she did this to me.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Dan said, interrupting him. He rushed over to Phil and grabbed his arms gently, keeping him from grabbing his phone. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now.”

“Well, why the hell not?”

Dan frowned and pushed him backwards gently until he could sit Phil on the bed, never tightening his grip. He was so gentle that Phil nearly burst into tears once more, and he would have, except for the fact that he had already used up all of his tears for the day. “If you talk to Chandler right now, I don’t think it’ll make you feel better. You need to get some rest and then you can talk to her.”

Phil huffed and glared at Dan. He wasn’t a child, damn it. He could make his own decisions. He didn’t need nap time. He needed to know why his best friend had made his boyfriend cheat on him. “I’m not tired,” Phil muttered. “I need to text her.”

He tried to go for his phone again, but once more Dan stopped him. “Phil, please listen to me.” Phil stopped, tried to listen despite how his hands were itching to get on his phone. “If you text her right now, you’ll just get even more upset, and then you won’t be able to rest at all. You need your strength, and texting her isn’t going to solve anything. I can almost guarantee that if you try to confront her right now, you’ll both just end up getting in a huge fight. That’s not something you need right now.”

“But… I need to know why she betrayed me ,” Phil whimpered, looking at Dan with large, watery eyes.”She was supposed to be my best friend…”

“You can find that out tomorrow. Come on, now. Rest a bit.”

Slowly, Phil allowed himself to submit, slumping over in Dan’s arms. Dan caught him, his grip strong, and lowered Phil back onto the bed until he was lying down. Dan then tucked him beneath the covers, smiling gingerly and sadly the whole time. His brown eyes told a story that Phil was too scared to decipher, so he protected himself by snuggling deeper into the duvet and trying to shield himself with the sheets.

He couldn’t sleep right now, though. He was too high on anxiety, too scared to fall asleep. He wanted to curl up next to another person, someone who could protect him and make sure he wasn’t hurt. He watched as Dan turned to slip out of the room. Just as Dan put his hand on the door handle, about to leave, Phil spoke. “Dan?”

Dan hummed, turned and looking at him with a question in his gaze. “Yeah?”

“Can you come lay with me?” The question was out before Phil knew what he was saying, but it was also then that he understood how much he truly needed it . He needed the companionship, the safety. He needed to be wrapped up in strong arms and told that nobody was going to hurt him, that Phil wasn’t alone in all of this.

Dan froze for a moment, his eyes widening. It was so miniscule that Phil barely caught it before Dan seemed to compose himself. “Lay with you?” he asked carefully, taking his hand off of the door handle and turning to face him completely.

Phil nodded. He knew what he had said. “I don’t want to be alone,” he admitted in a small voice, wrapping the blankets closer to him and giving Dan a pleading look.

Dan let out a breath and seemed to deflate a bit. “Whatever you need,” he told Phil, and then walked around the bed to the other side. He gingerly peeled back the covers and climbed inside, but he was as far away from Phil as he could possibly get, nearly falling off the bed.

Phil frowned. “Do you not want to lay with me?” he asked, worried that he was making Dan do something he didn’t want to. “If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to be in bed with me. You can sit in my chair or something.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Dan promised him, and Phil watched as he shook his head, smiling over at him warmly. “I just didn’t want to impose and make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Phil replied automatically. “Scooch over here a little. I don’t want you falling off the bed.”

The comment made Dan laugh, and he scooted over, closer to Phil. They both grew silent, and Phil stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t very tired. Not physically, at least. He was more mentally tired than anything, the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling burning holes into his eyes.

“I thought we’d be together for longer,” Phil told Dan quietly, his chest squeezing tight. He closed his eyes then, because it was easier to talk when he couldn’t see anything. “We’d complimented each other so well that I could have honestly seen myself marrying the guy. I feel like such a fool. Just a week ago I was telling everybody how in love I was, and now I’ve ruined the best relationship I’ve ever been in.”

Dan hummed and moved a little bit closer to Phil. Phil felt a warmth on his hand and realised that Dan was now holding it very loosely, giving him a light squeeze. It was just a gesture to show that Dan was there for him, that he supported Phil no matter what. Phil appreciated it, even though he didn’t think he deserved it.

“You’re not a fool, Phil,” Dan told him firmly. He rubbed his thumb along Phil’s index finger. “And you certainly didn’t ruin things. If anything, it was Nico who ruined your relationship. He didn’t treat you right in the slightest. You deserve better than him.”

Phil shook his head. “No, you don’t understand,” Phil protested. “I did deserve that. I made him uncomfortable multiple times, and I went behind his back and texted you even though he didn’t like it. I told him that I was studying when I was really hanging out with you. He didn’t even know you existed until he saw you the other night.” Phil laughed bitterly, shaking his head. His eyes were burning with tears again, but he didn't deserve to be so upset. “I fucking deserved this. And frankly, he should have dumped my ass sooner because he deserves someone way better than me.”

“I disagree with that statement,” Dan interjected softly. Phil didn’t open his eyes, but he was sure Dan had a sad expression on his face. Dan was too good to be true. “Have you ever thought that there’s a reason you didn’t tell him? When I saw you at the party that night, he was really angry about me talking to you. Irrationally so. He grabbed you so hard that he left bruises on your wrist. That’s not normal, Phil, and you definitely deserve better than that.”

Phil shook his head. He felt bitter, his mouth dry, his eyes wet. He couldn’t agree with that, because Dan didn’t understand. Dan wasn’t there. He didn’t know just how horrible Phil actually was. “Agree to disagree,” Phil said flatly.

Dan sighed and squeezed Phil’s hand tightly once more before letting go. “Fine. But I’ll be trying my damnedest to make sure you believe me eventually.”

Phil didn’t answer. He had no more words left to say. So he said nothing instead.

That night, he didn’t sleep well once again. He feigned sleep for a long time, until he was absolutely sure that Dan was unconscious. The weird thing about Dan was that he didn’t make any noise while he was sleeping. He didn’t move, didn’t snore, didn’t make a peep. So Phil waited for what seemed like hours until he was positive Dan wasn’t awake.

Then, he reached over and grabbed his phone. He hadn’t looked at it since that afternoon, but it was surprisingly empty. He didn’t understand the lack of messages until he realised it was because Nico hadn’t texted him, but then it only made his chest ache with grief.

He had only three text messages. One from Jane, one from his mum, and one from Chandler. Chandler’s name made Phil’s stomach drop to his knees, and he took a few deep breaths to ground himself.

He checked his mum’s message first, because that was the least scary out of all three of them.

Mum - 5:55pm

Hope you made it home okay! I love you!

He sent her a few heart emojis and a declaration of love before moving onto Jane’s message. It wasn’t nearly as scary as he’d thought it’d be, and he let out a breath.

Jane Mckinnon - 6:34pm

Hi bby i havent heard from you in a while. Hope youre okay? Come to eat with charlie and i soon xx

He didn’t answer to that, deciding to do so tomorrow. He was too nervous to reply anyway, the anxiety for Chandler’s message choking him up and making it hard for him to breathe. He should have read it first, left the others for last, for comfort. Before Phil could make himself delete Chandler’s message, he opened it with shaking fingers.

Immediately, he almost threw up once more.

Chandler Jones - 7:12pm

Do you really think he ever loved you? You were just some toy to him and you took advantage of him. Youll be happy to know that he made love to me just last night.

Phil shut his phone off and set it down on the table a little bit too hard. It made Dan twitch in his sleep, but he still didn’t wake up. For that, Phil didn’t know if he was upset or glad.

He stared at the stars on his ceiling a bit more. He stared until his eyes hurt from not blinking. Then he rolled out of bed, wiped an angry hand across his face, and escaped the room as quietly as possible.

He felt as though he weren’t a real person. It was the strangest feeling, like he wasn’t really a part of himself anymore. His vision was a bit fuzzy, almost like he were on drugs, and he had trouble walking straight. He felt his feet padding across the floor, but it didn’t really feel like he was actually walking.

Everything was robotic. He could feel things touching him, but they felt dulled to the point where he could barely feel his shirt hanging from his collarbones or his trousers resting against his legs. When he moved his fingers, his hands felt like they were a separate entity completely, like they were a hundred miles away from him.

He barely noticed when he got to the bathroom. He turned on the tap water. He cupped his hands under the stream and splashed it on his face. A little bit of water got in his nose and he spluttered, sneezed, but he didn’t really feel it. He turned the water off and grabbed a towel, drying his face off.

He met his own gaze in his reflection. He didn’t recognise himself in the slightest.

His eyes were rimmed with red and his cheeks were slightly puffier than usual. He had metal through his nose and his fringe was sticking up all over the place. His skin was so pale that he looked slightly blue. And his eyes…

Well, they were empty. Devoid of emotion. Completely and utterly soulless.

He couldn’t even bring himself to care anymore.

Phil smiled bitterly, and his reflection followed suit, his lips chapped and cracked. He had a gash in his lip from where Nico’s teeth had torn it open, a fading yellow bruise on his cheek, the only splash of colour against his pale complexion. He touched his face, prodded at his red eyes, pulled at his lip until it was bleeding again. It didn’t hurt, and he didn’t feel it as blood began to drip down his chin.

He watched with curious eyes as the red slithered down his skin like a snake, staining him with the colour of hatred. Red against white was such a beautiful sight.

“Phil?”

Phil jumped, snapping out of his trance and whirling around. He found Dan standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his hair curly and mimicking Phil’s in the way that it stuck up in random places. His eyes were tired, filled with sleepiness, and they were slightly purple underneath.

Dan cocked his head to the side, his eyes landing on Phil’s bleeding lip. “Oh dear,” he murmured. “Let’s get you all cleaned up.”

Phil let Dan sit him down on the toilet, let him bring a wet washcloth to his lip to wipe off the blood. It didn’t take long at all to clean up, and they didn’t speak the whole time.

Only when Dan had finished did he speak up. “Why are you still up?”

Phil shrugged. He still felt very far away, and he didn’t feel like talking.

“Did you read your texts?” Phil nodded. Dan frowned. “Bad?” Phil nodded. Dan sighed. “You doing okay?”

This time, Phil paused. Was he doing okay? He wasn’t crying, that was a good sign, but then again, he didn’t actually feel anything at all. That probably wasn’t good.

Slowly, Phil shook his head.

Dan’s frown deepened so much that his dimples popped up in his cheeks. His forehead got wrinkles in it and his eyebrows furrowed. He gently stood Phil up and started to lead him back to the bedroom. “How about I read to you and you try to fall asleep? Will that make you feel better?”

Phil nodded, and Dan let out a relieved exhale. It felt all too repetitive. Dan would make sure Phil was okay, then he would take Phil to bed and tuck him in and force him to sleep. Phil wouldn’t be able to sleep though, no matter how tired he might be.

This time, however, Dan didn’t join him immediately after tucking Phil in. This time, he scoured Phil’s bookcase, his eyes carefully surveying the spines of Phil’s favourite books. He pulled out a couple, showing them to Phil. Impulse? No. Even the thought of the book made him sick to his stomach. Bad Feminist? No, too scholarly.

They eventually settled on The Graveyard Book because Phil reckoned he could use some fantasy in his life, even if it was children’s literature. Phil kept himself tucked under the covers, using his blanket as a shield, while Dan sat on the edge of the bed. Phil watched through half-lidded eyes as Dan opened the book and cleared his throat, smoothing down the pages with long, slender fingers.

He began reading, telling the story of a boy named Bod who was raised by ghosts and other creatures, becoming the only living resident in a cemetery. It was peaceful, and Dan had such a nice reading voice. He truly made the characters come to life, and wasn’t speaking in monotone, but rather one filled with energy despite it being so early in the morning. The only thing Phil liked better than Dan’s reading voice was his ability to play the piano.

He’d have to remember that for another day.

Soon enough, Phil felt his eyes began to droop. He hadn’t thought he was tired, but suddenly, he was exhausted. There was an ache in his head and his eyes were straining in the dim lighting. He didn’t want to close his eyes because the only thing he could see was green, but alas, it was inevitable.

With Dan’s reading, Phil was able to forget about the colour green. He was able to focus on something other than the numbness in his chest that spread all the way to his fingertips. He could even nearly forget about all of the events from the last four days, no matter how ingrained into his head they were.

He fell asleep to the sound of Dan’s voice. His sleep wasn’t very pleasant, but he was mostly relieved that he was able to sleep in the first place.

Because when he slept, he didn’t have to worry about feeling anything at all.

Chapter Seventeen

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #botanistfics #botanistlester #sweet pea #sp #phan angst #phan chaptered #phan happy ending #dan and phil #fanfic #fanfiction #gay #writing

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