#to be aggressive or anything. linking in an ask is perfectly acceptable <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[just-some-guy-joust]

this is gonna sound passive aggressive but i promise it's not, genuine question should i be rephrasing the propaganda rule? when i say "tag us" i mean @ the blog but i think its been misunderstood as a # tag by a lot of people across both tourneys. if that's actually unclear then I'll be sure to change it next round, i just cannot tell if that's the problem

[plumoh]

[SK8] down the waves of august

Word count: 4035

Summary: Skating under the scorching sun, sitting on the porch and eating popsicles—this is summer, and Kojirou doesn't take his eyes off Kaoru.

Note: AO3 link. This is high school era, so there are strong vibes of one-sided Kojirou/Kaoru, and a lot of pining Kojirou. They're still having fun though!

It never starts with Kojirou dragging Kaoru to a new skateboarding spot or an ice cream shop, even though he recently got his license to legally drive a bike that will allow him to go anywhere he wants.

It always starts with Kaoru showing up at Kojirou’s house with a grander than life energy and never-ending excitement that transforms every one of his steps into a skip. He’s smiling and shining, like there’s nothing more valuable than taking the biggest breath of air and swallowing it whole to absorb the freedom summer is giving them.

“Let’s go,” Kaoru says, shoving his fist against Kojirou’s chest with a grin. “Take your board.”

It’s nine in the morning on a summer day of their last high school summer vacation, and Kojirou doesn’t even think about his homework or his cram school classes as he follows Kaoru’s extended hand, guiding him towards a world where nothing matters except the smell of fresh flowers and the sight of a back showing him the way.

***

They’re sweaty, exhausted and hungry but Kojirou finds himself grinning like a fool as he collapses on the stairs of his house porch, skateboard in hand. Kaoru follows suit, placing his hands on the cool stone of the stairs, and lets out a long sigh as he tips his head back, some of his hair falling out of the low bun as he does so. Kojirou glances at the curve of Kaoru’s exposed neck, then quickly averts his eyes.

“We should go back to that skatepark tomorrow,” Kojirou suggests, still high on adrenaline. “I’ve got classes until 3 pm, we’ll have enough time before my mom starts calling me to get home.”

Summer classes suck, and Kojirou would have gladly spent his days lazing around and eating junk food while watching shows on TV, or skateboarding until his legs couldn’t take it anymore, but university entrance exams aren’t going to be passed without extensive studying. Simply thinking about them is enough for Kojirou’s good mood to drop.

“We should,” Kaoru answers slowly.

Kaoru’s face is turned towards the reddening sky. Even though the sun is setting, drowning the white facade of the houses into warmer shades, it’s still hot and way too humid for Kojirou’s taste. All summer is going to be like this—uncomfortable, sticky and heavy, but nothing he isn’t used to. He’ll complain about the weather until Kaoru gets annoyed and complains about him, then they’ll buy a week’s worth of popsicles to eat in one afternoon as they do their homework and they’ll go skating at night, once they’re free from obligations and the crushing heat.

This is what summer is supposed to be like. The view from his porch, from his family’s army of bicycles near the gate to the neighbor’s wind chime hanging on the first floor’s window and to the cat wandering on the roofs, is familiar and reassuring in its immutability. Kojirou has spent countless hours sitting here with Kaoru until dinner time, until one of them starts fidgeting because the stairs are stiff and uncomfortable and really not the place to sit on for a prolonged period of time. Kaoru’s traditional house would be a much more logical choice to hang out at; but both of them know it wouldn’t be the same.

When Kojirou stares at Kaoru’s figure, still looking at the infinite stretch of sky and gaze seemingly lost somewhere that Kojirou is not allowed to enter, he realizes that this summer will be different.

“You’re staying for dinner?” Kojirou asks, scraping his shoe against a hole in their paved pathway leading to the stairs they’ve never bothered fixing. “For some reason as we grow older, my family gets more excited when you stay for dinner. Eisuke is even asking for you.”

Kaoru shifts and turns fully towards Kojirou, his face the slightest bit surprised before his lips are curled into a smirk. The light of the sunset makes the color of his hair and of his eyes even more vibrant, like he was meant to be seen at this time of the day, when the sun recedes and the stars arise, and Kojirou almost misses what Kaoru says.

“That’s because I’m way cooler than you,” Kaoru snickers. “I’m a better role model for Eisuke than you are, you’re a lame big brother.”

Kaoru’s laugh comes from within, resonating deep in the front yard, filling it with the image of a breeze strong enough to make people sway and stagger, knocked off their feet by how genuine it is. The weight pulling at the strings in Kojirou’s heart grows bigger and heavier with each passing day, but no more painful.

Kojirou shakes his head. “Excuse you, he doesn’t need to be taught how to be a delinquent at twelve years old. You’re not even half the delinquent you pretend to be!”

“Still cooler than you are, stupid!” Kaoru retorts, and jumps to his feet. “I’m gonna eat everything in your fridge. Do you still have ice pops?”

Kaoru doesn’t even wait for his answer as he darts towards the door, easily sidestepping Kojirou and jumping over the last steps of the stairs in springy leaps. Kojirou, momentarily dazed, scrambles to get up but he’s not fast enough to stop Kaoru from turning the doorknob and dashing into the house like he owns the place. Shoes are carelessly thrown aside in the genkan while loud footsteps on the perfectly polished floor resound like an entire class of toddlers are raiding Kojirou’s home, which is not too far removed from the truth. Kaoru is laughing like a maniac.

“Don’t act like this is your house, you punk!” Kojirou shouts, making just as much noise as Kaoru in his chase, down to the kitchen. “Who said you could take the ice pops in the first place!”

“Your stuff is also my stuff!” Kaoru replies, almost hitting his face against the fridge when his steps screech to a halt in front of it.

“Stop stealing my food!”

“Hey, you have Papico ice cream too, nice!”

“I thought you didn’t like Papico—”

“Boys, play nice.”

Both of them jerk away from the fridge and swivel their heads to Kojirou’s mother, who is watching them with the kind of fond exasperation and amusement she adorns only when she thinks they won’t remember any of her words as soon as she leaves them be. Kojirou clears his throat and grabs Kaoru’s arm, pulling him along and shoving him to the front like a shield, ignoring Kaoru’s grunts.

“Kaoru was stealing our ice cream,” Kojirou says flatly.

“You’d let me starve?” Kaoru gasps.

“We’re going to eat dinner soon enough, you glutton!”

“You eat way more than I do! And after skating all afternoon we need snacks to help us cool down!”

Kojirou’s mother sighs, mutely shaking her head. She lifts her hand and points at the bathroom at the end of the corridor, tutting.

“No ice cream before dinner, go wash your hands, and help me set up the table. Kaoru-kun, don’t leave your bag in the front yard and bring it inside.”

“Yes,” Kojirou and Kaoru chorus.

Once they brush past Kojirou’s mother, they start kicking and pushing at each other to get first in the bathroom, then they flick water at the other’s eyes like it’s some sort of childish competition before they remember that Kojirou’s mother is waiting for them and probably expecting them to be on their best behavior (as behaved as they can be).

Kaoru goes to retrieve his bag and opts to drop it in the genkan beside his still carelessly thrown aside shoes. Were it someone else’s house, he most likely would have neatly put them away—but this is Kojirou’s house, always loud and welcoming and warm. Kaoru then bounds towards the kitchen to give a hand to Kojirou’s mother, moving with the confidence of someone knowing where the cracks on the pavement are and choosing to dance around them. He’s allowing himself to be extravagant in the company of people who are, at this point in his life, basically his relatives.

Kojirou watches the ease with which Kaoru reaches into cupboards and rummages through drawers under his mother’s orders, and he thinks it strange how natural Kaoru’s presence is in his house. Strange, but not unpleasant; Kaoru brings a warm gust of wind and slips into every rift left open for him to poke his head into. Kojirou sees the way his mother smiles and guides Kaoru like he has lived here all his life, waving a wooden spatula around and telling him to go fetch this and that, and Kaoru complies without a single complaint. It does something funny to Kojirou’s stomach, which he squashes down by breathing in deeply and rubbing his temples.

It’s fine. Kojirou is eighteen years old, and this is the last summer he can spend with Kaoru before responsibilities catch up to them. It won’t change anything.

***

Kojirou doesn’t ask why Kaoru wants to skate every day, despite their obvious amount of workload that barely diminishes as the long days of summer stretch into the end of August. It’s simply easier to pretend that everything pushing them around like they’re trapped in a train full of people, from the urgency to get grades above 80 points to the quiet expectation of finding a more socially acceptable hobby, doesn’t exist. For a few hours in the hot night of the city, Kojirou lets himself believe that this freedom of choosing will last for a while longer.

Kaoru starts to skate differently; he brings a notebook with him and scrawls remarks and numbers of his performance, comparing the different results of complicated tricks, and asks Kojirou to evaluate how accurate his predictions are. He looks so focused and sure of himself, unravelling this perfectionist side he’s kept under layers of piercings and aggressive language. Kojirou has never understood why Kaoru was so adamant on accomplishing things that contradict other, more established achievements of himself—like that time he said he wasn’t aiming at a better computer science university outside of Okinawa, despite his excellent grades and hunger for learning all he can; or the obvious question of why he keeps doing calligraphy with such dedication when the love he has for this art is nowhere near the amount of love he’s pouring into artificial intelligence.

“You know, I’m not a computer,” Kojirou sighs, trying to make sense of Kaoru’s instructions. “I can’t calculate all these things as fast, and I don’t even understand what you’re trying to do.”

“That’s because you skate without finesse,” Kaoru answers, an argument he’s repeated multiple times these past weeks. “You can turn anything into art, or something graceful and technical if you put effort into it.”

“Huh. Sounds like a lot of unnecessary trouble.”

Kaoru glares at him but keeps skating, going up and down the spine, jumping at the last second to flip his board and landing smoothly without making his wheels cry in agony. Kojirou doesn’t think it’s as satisfying as hearing the screech of the wheels against the asphalt—hearing how close the board is to the ground makes his performance even more spectacular and boisterous, like fireworks bursting into colors.

It’s past dinner time. They both warned their families they wouldn’t make it home on time—Kojirou received a message from his mother telling him to be careful, and Kaoru was asked to get back not too late. The skatepark is empty save for the both of them and two kids accompanied by their father at the funbox, all of them foolish enough to continue sweating after hours spent under the scorching sun. Kojirou is sitting at the top of the half-pipe, elbow propped up on his knee and chin resting in his hand, observing Kaoru. There is tension in Kaoru’s shoulders that wasn’t there before, slowing him down and making his skating stiffer, stilted, like some sort of insurmountable obstacle stopping his progress.

“Hey,” Kojirou calls, tone softer than usual. “Still no signs of Adam?”

Kaoru comes back at his side, gives him a single glance, and shrugs.

“Probably stuck at home or something. We can go a few days without him.”

And he goes down again, this time even faster and correcting his trajectory. Kojirou rolls his eyes and resists the urge to call on Kaoru’s bullshit, because it’s so infuriatingly obvious how upset he is at not being able to skate with Adam. Kojirou doubts it’s the sole reason for Kaoru’s bad mood, but it is definitely a factor and he doesn’t wish to ponder on it longer than necessary, lest he starts having ugly, intrusive thoughts.

“Hurry up, I’m hungry!” Kojirou says. “We’re getting ramen and you’re paying!”

“Why am I the one paying—”

Kojirou doesn’t ask why Kaoru is skating like his life depends on it, why it looks like this is the last time he will touch a skateboard. He waits, like he always has, until Kaoru is ready to tell him what’s been bothering him.

***

Cicadas are screaming and making a nuisance of themselves, even if the patch of grass and trees is two blocks over Kojirou’s house. He listens to them as he eats the popsicle he’s legitimately won by beating Kaoru at janken, idly thinking that maybe it’s counterproductive to sit on the porch when they have an electric fan in the living room to fight against the heat. Kaoru, leaning all his body weight against Kojirou because he likes being insufferable, is cradling his can of cola in one hand and playing some game on his smartphone in the other, looking deep in thoughts. Kojirou specifically does not think about their proximity and the warm point of contact between them.

“You’re heavy,” Kojirou mumbles.

“That will help you build muscle,” Kaoru says flatly, not budging at all.

It’s too hot to continue arguing, especially since Kojirou’s brain feels fried and unavailable for the next twenty-four hours. This is probably one of the hottest summers they’ve had, blinded by rays of sunlight and reduced to mush by the heavy air, dragging their feet from one point to another and doing at most three tasks a day, including attending classes and doing homework. Which doesn’t leave enough brain space for mundane activities like deep thinking.

And yet Kaoru still has that troubled look on his face that Kojirou wants to douse with cold water. Long strands of pink hair are falling over Kojirou’s shoulder—he can smell the stupid floral scent of his shampoo that drives him insane, the one they’ve chosen after spending thirty minutes comparing a dozen different brands at the store. He lifts a hand with the intention of touching them before remembering himself, and withdrawing just as quickly. How simple a gesture it is, and how easy a shift it would bring in their relationship.

“Say, Kaoru.”

“Hm?”

“We’re not going to drift apart once we graduate, right?”

Neither of them is going to leave Okinawa, for the time being. Their universities, if they get into the one they want, will be in opposite parts of the island. They can text and call each other, and they will most likely come visit their parents during breaks—it’s not like they are leaving for another country.

It dawns on Kojirou, then, that he and Kaoru have never spent a prolonged period of time apart since they met in middle school. The thought gnaws at him and wraps a tight hand around his chest; he chances a look at Kaoru, and finds golden eyes staring at him with incredulity and faint amusement in equal measures.

“I think it would take something bigger for us to stop talking,” Kaoru says. “Your flip phone looks ugly but at least it’s working.”

“Not everyone can get a smartphone of the latest technology,” Kojirou grumbles, though his entire posture relaxes. “I’ll detail in my emails the ingredients of my delicious meals while you’re eating instant ramen or sandwiches bought at the convenient store. I’ll even send you pics!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, maybe your meals will look pretty but they won’t be tasty.”

“I’ve never heard you complain about my food before.”

“There’s a first to everything, you naive idiot.”

Kaoru presses himself closer to Kojirou and almost manages to tip him over the porch, but Kojirou simply laughs and grips Kaoru’s shoulder to steady the both of them. Perhaps this is why they choose the porch and not the crowded space of Kojirou’s living room; a moment shared between the two of them, listening to the cacophony of nature and suffering the heat solely for the opportunity to exist together.

Kaoru doesn’t say anything else, returning his attention to his game and Kojirou thinks that maybe, as long as he lets himself believe it, this is the peace they will always carry within themselves.

***

Their bikes were left abandoned on the sideroad, out of the way for people to circulate freely but still parked in a haphazard manner that would have made their parents yell. It’s not Kojirou’s biggest concern though, and this is hardly the most unforgivable inconvenience they’ve perpetrated.

The sun is hanging low in the sky, kissing the edge of the sea and covering the entire beach in warm tones. The elevated highway running across the water sounds just as noisy as usual, bringing some sort of twisted rhythm to their footsteps on the soft sand. It’s quiet; not many people are agglutinated on the shore, and even less are taking a walk alongside the waves.

Kojirou’s bare feet are crunching the sand and the pebbles in slow and measured steps, following Kaoru’s trail in front of him. They left their shoes somewhere near their bikes, throwing aside what was in the end a dead weight they would have had to carry. They don’t come to the beach nearly enough—it’s a place where nothing seems to matter, all worries drowned by the steady sound of the waves and by the tickling breeze caressing their hair. Kojirou walks and lets his mind rest.

Kaoru is walking backwards, tracing a path he’s the only one visualizing one step at a time, carefully and gently. He doesn’t exude his usual fiery energy that burns everything around him; he’s calm, but not in a worrying way. Kojirou’s eyes never stray away from Kaoru’s figure.

“You’re going to trip,” Kojirou says.

“There is less risk of tripping in walking backwards than in skating,” Kaoru replies with a snort. “And even if I do, the sand’s not going to hurt me.”

“I would catch you anyway.”

Kaoru looks up from his feet. For one short, miraculous second, Kojirou thinks that there is hope in Kaoru’s eyes, but it vanishes in a blink and he’s left with a crooked grin.

“Maybe, if you’re fast enough,” Kaoru teases.

Kojirou’s shoulders lift in an overt, deliberate shrug. “I’m as fast as Adam.”

It’s half-petty, half-true, but Kaoru doesn’t pick up on the obvious disdain in Kojirou’s words and chooses to burst out laughing. His voice carries high and far, as clear and limpid as water, and his face breaks into an expression of pure joy that lights up his eyes. Kojirou stares, mesmerized and feeling stupid for still being caught off guard by all the alluring facets Kaoru is willing to leave open to be scrutinized.

“You’re trying to show off?” Kaoru asks, mirth in his eyes.

“I don’t want to hear it from mister I’ll-steal-your-thunder-anytime,” Kojirou snorts. “I’m not showing off if it’s true.”

“Then prove it.”

Kojirou raises an eyebrow, momentarily confused. Kaoru is still grinning as he splays his arms wide, something wild glinting in his golden irises. It’s only when Kaoru starts tipping backwards that Kojirou understands what kind of crazy shit he’s come up with and he leaps into action, his left foot kicking the sand and his right arm shooting forward. One or ten curses fly out of his mouth as he forcefully grabs Kaoru’s arm in one hand and grips his shoulder in the other, then yanks him towards himself.

For a few seconds, this moment floats in the air and remains suspended. Kojirou’s feet are half-buried in the sand in his rush to catch Kaoru, covered in an odd veil of warmth that somehow feels comforting, making him take root in this spot. He’s completely drunk on the sight of Kaoru, face too close and illuminated by the faint light of the setting sun, hair out of his eyes and piercings gleaming, his lips curled into a satisfied and lazy smirk. The sound of the waves is but a distant noise to Kojirou over the hammering of his heartbeat and the ringing in his ears. And for a few seconds, he wants nothing more than to lean down and kiss Kaoru.

The spell shatters and breaks when Kaoru lifts his hand and flicks Kojirou’s forehead, tearing a long groan out of him.

“That hurts, you know!” Kojirou grumbles.

“That’s only a tickle, you big baby,” Kaoru says, rolling his eyes. “Well, I guess you prove you’re not completely useless.”

Kaoru wrenches his arm back and straightens up, making a show of dusting off his shirt and smoothing the wrinkles. Kojirou silently lets his arms fall at his sides, fingers still burning from the contact.

The wind is picking up. Kaoru turns his face towards the sky, and this—Kaoru’s profile, shining bright against the orange hue of the beach and the sky, devoid of worry and looking serene, is what matters the most to Kojirou.

“Summer’s ending,” Kaoru sighs, closing his eyes. “We still have a few months left together. And then it’s another kind of life entirely.”

“We’ve already established we’re not going to stop being friends,” Kojirou points out as he extracts his feet from the sand, tracing formless shapes in it instead. “Or are you already forgetting things from like, two days ago?”

“I was just making sure you remembered it, bastard.” Kaoru pauses; the sudden silence finally leaves space for the muffled noises of the water running on the sand. When he speaks again, his voice comes from the deepest well of his resolve. “You’ll become a cook and I’ll become the next renown calligrapher of Sakurayashiki studio. That’s how we’ve decided to grow up.”

Long days of unconcealed frustration, helpless screams about not being able to pursue a more profitable career and disappointment at his own inability to fully let go of something that has been transplanted in him since birth, leading to defeat simmered in rage—these memories come back in Kojirou’s mind unbidden and leave a bitter taste in his mouth. The puzzle pieces of Kaoru’s mood scattered across all summer move into place. But Kaoru is smiling and determined not to show weakness, even if the lines of his eyes are still angry, and who is Kojirou to not fall a little bit more in love with this flawed yet beautiful person that is Sakurayashiki Kaoru?

“We’ll grow up and become boring adults, but we’ll still be the same people,” Kojirou says with a smile of his own.

Kaoru slowly opens his eyes and looks over. Kojirou lifts his closed fist, expectant, and Kaoru obligingly bumps it with his own. A silly, mechanical gesture that accompanied them for years, like a sign of their bond that does nothing but strengthen and bloom with each passing day.

They are both sporting a grin as if they’ve just completed the best races of their lives. For once, Kojirou lets himself wholly acknowledge the pleasant fire that travels from his stomach to his chest, spreading a tingling sensation all over his body that makes him feel like he’s skateboarding at the highest speed with the certainty of victory under his wheels. He could get addicted to this quiet storm with the scent of spring brewing in his heart.

“Boring adults with boring friends,” Kaoru adds.

“That’s only natural,” Kojirou laughs.

The sun is dipping farther into the sea now—the colors are changing, gradually engulfing the beach in colder shades, but no less stunning.

Summer is ending, and new resolutions are starting.

[evabellasworld]

Storm of the Republic

Chapter 24

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

——————————————————————————————

Summary:  When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.

————————————————————————————

Holding a flashlight, Dr. Urakchaevy checked her patient’s eyes and noticed her eyes squinted towards the flare. Maria, the Rodian lady, felt her sight were blurry as the doctor found halos around her sparkling eyes, making her frown. This is unusual for a Rodian’s eyes to look like that, she thought, as she jotted down on her datapad.

Dr. Urakchaevy took a deep breath and sat back at her desk, facing Maria with a frown on her face. “I’ve checked your eyes, and it’s terrible. I can reach to the conclusion that you are having cataracts in your eyes.”

“I’m not surprised,” Maria hung her head low, her hands clutched together. “Is there anything you could do to cure my cataract from my eyes? I don’t think I can survive without my eyes.”

“I agree, nobody wants to lose their sight, but as you get older, issues like eye problems and chronic pains are inevitable. Do you have any history with diabetes before?”

“I’m afraid I do. I have been on insulins for years and I had my leg amputated because of gangrene, so maybe this could be the reason my health has worsened over the years. I guess I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Dr. Urakchaevy pouted as she bobbled her head before scribbling a prescription on a piece of paper. “Your appointment date for your surgery will be on Friday. The sooner we get your cataract removed, the sooner you can see clearly like a young woman.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Maria, as she got up from her seat and left her office, leaving the doctor alone. Grabbing a tablecloth and a sanitizer, Dr. Urakchaevy wiped every single part of her office as part of standard procedure, making sure her office was hygienic enough for her next patient.

Having worked in a hospital on Coruscant before, the turquoise Theelin had to sanitise both her equipment and patient’s seat to prevent infections. Medical centres treated various diseases, such as common flu, chickenpox, and the infamous Shining Death, which killed hundreds and thousands of patients two decades ago.

At some point, Dr. Urakchaevy was contracted with the virus, but recovered for a month in the hospital. Her wife, Thando, was pacing up and down back home, wondering when she would return. Nobody could visit the hospital ward back then, as doctors and nurses did not want the Shining Death to spread and kill more people.

Tossing her disposable gloves into the bin, the doctor groaned and stretched her back as she stepped out of her office, only to find Fives and Yara seated on a blue chair, with Tup still inside his gurney, breathing through his ventilator. She wasn’t expecting their company, but she was ready to help anyone who stepped into her clinic.

“Good afternoon, Doc,” Fives greeted her with a smile. “I’m Fives, and this is Tup and Yara. I believe you could help us with our situation right now.”

“I’m guessing Liana Halls had sent you here,” estimated Dr. Urakchaevy.

“Who?” Yara raised her eyebrows, gazing at the doctor.

“The medicine lady earlier. Did she send you here?”

“She did, Doc,” she grinned. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Dr. Urakchaevy stood there in silence and eyed Yara and Tup, taking a mental note of their current condition. The former was next to her brother with a dazed eye, munching on her cookies that Thando had baked while holding her forehead. She then glimpsed at Tup, who seemed to be in a critical condition and in a need of medical care.

“How long has he been inside?” she asked the ARC Trooper, agitated.

“Over 5 hours,” he told her. “Can you save him? He looks like he’s dying.”

“Yes, I can,” Dr Urakchaevy nodded, as she gestured to them to hurry inside her office.

Putting on another set of rubber gloves, Fives put down Yara on the doctor’s desk, helped the doctor to unstrap Tup and carried him towards the patient’s bed, before placing a new set of ventilators and a heart monitor beside him. The latter was beeping rapidly as Dr. Urakchaevy squeezed some oxygen for Tup, hoping to stabilise his heart rate.

“How is he, Doc?”

“He’s getting weaker,” she answered him. “Is he having a heart attack or something? He looks pretty young to have these health conditions.”

“It’s complicated,” Fives stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “We don’t know to explain this.”

“If you don’t tell me, it would be very difficult for me to save your brother. Besides, I’ve dealt with strange diseases throughout my entire career. I’m sure this isn’t as bad as the Shining Death.”

Taking a deep breath, Fives explained everything that happened earlier on Ringo Vinda. From how Tup was acting strange before the fight, how he shot Master Tiplee to death, and how he acted aggressive when he stared at another Jedi, without sparing a single detail about the incident. “We think it was a virus developed by the Separatist, but we couldn’t find anything through the scans. That’s why we came to see you instead, since you’re the best doctor in town.”

Dr. Urakchaevy blinked as she slumped on a black chair and crossed her legs. She stared at the floor for a moment, processing what she had heard from Fives. Out of all the patients she had treated, she had never thought she would come across a clone trooper until today. “Are you sure Tup isn’t having a case of PTSD, cause aggression is part of the symptom, you know.”

Fives shook his head, crossing his arms. “Tup, Yara, and I have been through many battles together and he never acted this way before, really. He’s been through a lot with us since Umbara. It was the deadliest battle for a rookie like him.”

“I see. Well then, I’ll have to apologise since I have never treated a clone trooper before, hence I’m only observing based on my experience.”

“No worries, Doc,” he assured her, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry for shouting at you. It’s been a stressful day for all of us, inclusing you.”

“Apology accepted,” Dr. Urakchaevy gave a slight smile. “Did you see a medic before you came to me?”

Fives gave a nod. “We did, Doctor. Apparently, the Jedi and the medic said that it could be a virus developed by the Empire to control clones like us. There were rumours about it, and I think it could be true.”

Dr. Urakchaevy could only burst into laughter as she heard his statement before composing herself. “This is the first time I’ve heard of a virus that can cause aggression in a patient. Honestly, it is the most absurd thing someone has told me, really. I don’t remember learning that in medical school.”

“You mean a virus doesn’t do that?”

“No, they don’t. I’ve studied and treated viral infections on patients and I have never seen a patient acting aggressive solely for that reason.”

“Well, maybe the Empire developed one in their fancy lab. It could be possible, considering they tried to take Tup away.”

“Even if the Empire had produced a virus in their lab, the first symptoms of any virus would be runny nose, coughs, fever, and lethargy. Did Tup have those symptoms before the battle?”

Fives denied. “He was perfectly healthy. It was unlike my brother to kill a Jedi General, you know. He’s not the kind to get into bar fights easily.”

“Yeah, he seemed like a sweet man,” Dr. Urakchaevy chuckled, before moving on with the next question. “What about his brain? Does he have any brain problems?”

“Not that I know of, though it could be possible. After all, he was rubbing his head before the fight, so that could be it.”

“In that case, I will start a brain scan for Tup,” she stood up, along with Fives. “What about your sister, Yara? Is she having the same problem as well?”

“She broke her left arm and hit her head after the ship crash,” Fives said. “I had to carry her all the way here since she looked dizzy.”

“I’ll get my wife to deal with her. In the meantime, you need some rest for yourself. It’s been a long journey for all of you.”

“What about Tup? Will he be okay?”

“He will,” Dr. Urakchaevy comforted him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll do everything I can to save him.”

[the-courage-to-heal]

Ten Examples of Crazy Making in Relationships:

Crazy making in relationships is a subtle dynamic that can leave you full of self doubt, wondering if you might be going crazy. Crazy making is a form of emotional abuse involving things such as mind games, intended to make you question yourself. It destabilises your confidence and slowly allows the other person to gain more control over you and the relationship.Thoughts such as “Is it just me?”, “Am I imagining things?” and “I am not sure anymore of what is wrong or right” all suggest that you might be in a crazy making relationship.

Crazy making in relationships involves calling in to question another person’s sanity, insisting on their ‘version of reality’ all the while projecting their defective inner landscape onto their target. Crazy makers are abusive individuals who try to convince their partners that they are defective in some way, in this way they make the victim more emotional, more needy or dependent.

Do you experience more self doubt than before, a sense that you used to be happier and more confident than you are now, feeling on edge when in the company of your partner, feeling as if you can’t do anything right, apologizing far more than you ever used to, constantly second guessing yourself, finding it harder to make simple decisions, or doubting your perceptions of the world around you?

All the above may be signs that you are in a crazy making relationship. Let me explain it a little more by giving you ten examples of crazy making behaviour. This article might just save your sanity…

1. When your partner convinces you that something happened when it didn’t (or vice versa)

An example of this could be a social event. You might be 100% sure that you were not made aware of an upcoming party and your partner will insist they told you. A one-off occurrence can happen to anyone but when this happens several times it is a form of crazy making.

2. Passive-aggressive behaviour

If you need to be somewhere at a specific time, your partner may appear to be dawdling. They will deny this if you point it out, but subtly they are thwarting your plans. You might ask for something and they will pretend not to hear you. An item that you keep in a regular place might get moved from that spot with denials that they ever touched it. These are all examples of passive aggressive behaviour. It is manipulative and subtle. Crazy making people are too clever to be overt in their actions as they know that their behavior would never be accepted so they find clever ways to undermine you. Ways that aren’t as obvious or could be open to interpretation.

3. Everything is somehow your fault

Crazy making partners rarely admit to doing anything wrong. They manage to twist events around and somehow the blame ends up back on you. Crazy making partners seem to end up as the victim all the time. They may provoke you until you can’t take it any longer. When you eventually react negatively towards them, they will be the ‘hurt’ ones.

4. Projection

Crazy makers project their internal chaos onto others. The emotional environment around them is tense, not rational and easy-going. Instead, people in their company often feel on edge, waiting to be picked on or judged in some way. When they make you feel anger, they are giving you a taster of what they feel all the time. They may cleverly disguise it, but crazy makers often have a history of tumultuous relationships. Generally, the more passive their partner is the longer the relationship will last.

5. Non-verbal body language sends a dismissive message

Crazy makers will often make you feel as if you are doing something wrong without uttering a word. Instead, they will sigh loudly, roll their eyes (and make sure you see it) or shake their heads while you do something. This sends you a clear message that they disapprove of your actions. Instead of engaging in rational verbal communication, their subtle gestures will become something you are very in tune with. This is perfect for crazy makers as they can then carry on with their disapproving signs even when in public. On an ongoing basis, this erodes self esteem and confidence making a person even easier to manipulate.

6. Making you doubt your perceptions

Crazy makers will say provocative statements and when you react, they will immediately let you know that you are being too sensitive or that you are overreacting and that you should listen more. They will tell you that you have misunderstood them. It will always be your fault, never will they apologise for saying something that upset you – it will be your fault for not understanding them correctly. They will rarely be bothered that they have said something to upset you, instead you will be blamed for your reaction. They rarely see their part in the ‘play’. You may try harder to please them because it feels like you are the cause of all the trouble when in fact, your perceptions are valid but are completely undermined in a crazy making relationship.

7. Hypocritical behaviour

You would think that a crazy maker would be perfect in every way as they seem to have so much to say about what others do wrong. Yet, often, crazy makers are the biggest hypocrites. There is one set of rules for them and another for everyone else. Don’t anyone dare tell a white lie or withhold information yet many crazy makers do this on a regular basis.

8. It’s all about control

Crazy making in relationships is all about gaining control. Crazy making behaviour often develops in childhood. When, as a child their emotional needs are not met, children learn dysfunctional ways to cope. They take these dysfunctional strategies with them into adulthood and try to use the same manipulative techniques in their adult relationships. Their manipulation tends to work better with other individuals with low self esteem although anyone is open to succumbing to this type of relationship depending upon their mental state at the time. Crazy makers are generally insecure people.

9. Subtle brain-washing

This can also exist when crazy making in relationships develops. Again, this is done in a subtle way as crazy makers try to get you to come around to their way of thinking. You may have packed the dishwasher for many years in a way that works perfectly well for you, when suddenly, this method will be challenged. “Why have you done that?” or “Why are you doing it that way?” You begin to question your way of doing things and the process of confidence erosion and self doubt commences. This is a form of control and links in with rigid thinking. Things have to be done in a certain way and if they aren’t, you can be made to feel that you are lacking in some way.

10) Setting you up to fail

This is a case of damned if you do and damned if you don’t. You will find that the rules change according to a crazy maker’s fickle wants and wishes. As the dynamic shifts, you will try harder to please them yet nothing ever seems to be quite right. I have witnessed confident people become a shell of their former selves after being in a crazy making relationship. It can happen to the best of us.

How to Deal With a Crazy Making Relationship:

When you start to realize that it isn’t just you and that there is more going on in the relationship which makes you feel you might be crazy, it relieves the pressure. It also becomes easier to identify crazy making in relationships. Remember that no matter what someone else does or how they try to influence your mood, you still have ultimate control over how you react. Remove yourself from the situation temporarily if you need to but refuse to allow another person to manipulate your mood. This is what helps them to feel powerful. When they see that their subtle ways are causing an emotional reaction in you, they feel that they have won. It’s a sad way to go about trying to feel important and powerful but then again crazy makers don’t think the same way as a healthy normal individual. 

Crazy makers have dysfunctional thinking patterns that more often than not begin in childhood. As a child, when parents do not lot allow free expression of healthy emotion or suppress their children in some way, it sends a message to children that they are powerless. Subtle manipulation is one way a child can still feel like they have power – whether they do this by lying, stealing or withholding information, it allows them to cope with the stressful situation. These coping skills stay with these children but unfortunately do not serve them well in adult relationships. Manipulation will never get a person as far as good open communication will. This is something many crazy makers were denied as children. The parents ruled and the children obeyed.

Crazy making in relationships comes in all shapes and sizes. It can be difficult to spot as there are many variations. If you find that you have become indecisive, doubt yourself regularly (whereas before you were quite self assured), have lost confidence or generally feel something is amiss but you cannot put your finger on it, it might be that you are in a crazy making relationship. Learning to interact as adults is key to forming a solid relationship where manipulation is not used as a form of control.

[jeranasblog]

Starker Kink Advent Calendar - Day 8

Summary: Peter marries Tony because he wants to keep working. Tony marries Peter because he doesn’t want the boy’s brilliance to go to waste. Neither one of them expects an overwhelming attraction to unfold between them. Feelings, insecurities, and doubts tangle together until they find themselves inextricably linked. And what happens when a surprise turns everything upside down?

24 days, 24 chapters, 24 kinks

Pairing:  Peter Parker/Tony Stark

Rating: E

Notes:  Hey guys. I’ve decided to write a “Starker Kink Advent Calendar” this year, so 24 chapters with 24 different kinks. Enjoy <3

Warnings: Check all the sex tags on Ao3

Read on Ao3

~⭐~

Day 8 - Spanking for Jess <3

There were a few things Peter was known for. First of all, he was good with tech. He had built his first robot when he was eight, won his first school competition with ten, and got accepted at MIT with sixteen. There were only a few people that handled tech better than Peter, Tony Stark probably being one of them. 

 Second, Peter tended to put the well-being of other people before his own, and even though May had tried to teach him to take care of himself as well, Peter still struggled to say ‘no’. He was glad his husband was a considerate person, always paying attention to Peter’s feelings. Peter had met his fair share of people who had taken advantage of the Omega’s kind-hearted nature. 

 And the third fact Peter was known for was his own shyness. He had always been careful around new people, and he was only rarely telling what he wanted because he was afraid people would judge. 

 Peter had never thought he would start to change one day but with Tony, he became more confident. He was still a bit shy, that would probably never change, but the more time they spent together, the easier it became for Peter to embrace his needs until one day he finally opened up. 

 It was a Saturday, both of them had finished the work for the week, so they were sitting next to each other watching TV. Peter had been fidgety the entire day, worrying about Tony’s reaction, but at one point, he talked before he could change his mind. 

 “Can we do the spanking thing again, Alpha?”

 Tony was surprised for a second before he caught himself and the cocky attitude came back. He turned his head, no longer watching TV, and a smirk spread on the Alpha’s face. 

 “Are you asking me to pull your pants down and spank you until you can’t sit properly anymore, sweet thing?”

 Peter swallowed and fumbled with the hem of his sleeves. His body reacted to the words, showing the first signs of arousal while his mind was still caught in the middle of embarrassment and need. 

 “Yes, Alpha.” He couldn’t look into his husband’s eyes. 

 “Alright, baby. Pull down your pants. Over my lap.”

 “Now?” Peter had thought Tony would want to talk about it first. He had thought the Alpha would listen to him, hear what Peter wanted to try, and come back to it later. There was no way Peter had expected Tony to try it now. But despite being nervous, Peter was giddy with excitement too. 

 “Do you remember what you have to say if you want me to stop, Peter?” Tony’s voice was serious all of a sudden, his eyes searching for Peter's.

 “Red for stop?”

 “Such a good boy.” The praise washed over Peter and he blushed a little. His reaction made the look in his Alpha’s eyes only hungrier. “Peter, it is important that you tell me to stop if it gets too much. You don’t have to prove anything to me. I want you to be safe all the time. Can you do that for me?”

 “Yes, Alpha.” He could do that. Tony’s concern warmed him from the inside. His Alpha took good care of him. 

 “Very good, baby. Now take off your pants, underwear as well. You can keep on the hoodie if you’re cold.”

 Peter couldn’t obey fast enough. He decided to, in fact, keep on the hoodie, not because he was cold, but because it belonged to Tony. The Omega could see his Alpha’s possessive gaze on him each time Tony’s eyes got caught on the piece of clothing. 

 Finally half-naked, Peter bent over Tony’s lap carefully, his little cock nestled between his Alpha’s thighs. Peter had expected he would be scared despite looking forward to the moment, but as soon as the Alpha’s hand settled firmly on his back, Peter relaxed completely. The position felt normal and his mind was filled with giddy anticipation.

 “Peter, I want to start with twenty, okay? I don’t want you to be overwhelmed. Can you repeat your safeword one more time?”

“Red, Sir.” 

 Tony growled and his grip tightened on Peter’s back. The Omega could do nothing but moan in response. Fuck, he had never called Tony ‘Sir’ before, only ever Alpha, but it had just felt right. And according to his Alpha’s reaction, Peter wasn’t the only one loving it. Suddenly, the Omega felt a little cheeky. 

 “Can you spank me, Sir?” Peter turned his head until he could look at his Alpha, an innocent expression on his face. Tony stared back in hunger. 

 “Don’t fool me, boy. You’re not half as innocent as you look. Keep your head down, I’ll paint your pretty bottom red soon.”

 Peter had wanted to keep control of himself, at least until Tony would actually start, but he was so riled up that the simple words were enough. Slick was already gushing out of him, his body nothing more than a traitor while the wetness ruined Tony’s pants. The anticipation of his fantasy turned Peter into a quivering mess. 

 “God, you’re beautiful in your arousal,” Tony whispered while one hand wandered to Peter’s neck and grabbed it tightly. Immediately, the Omega relaxed. “You have to calm down, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

 The Alpha’s grip had been enough and Peter laid pliant on Tony’s lap, still bent over so his ass was on display. His thoughts were already floating and he was so relaxed he didn’t even expect the spanking he had asked for to start. 

 When the first slap came, Peter’s entire body spasmed. He moaned loud and needy while a delicious burn spread through the backside of his right thigh. He had wondered for quite some time how Tony’s firm hand would feel on his body, but whatever he had expected, this wasn’t it. It was so much better, so much more intense. 

 The second slap hit his other thigh, setting it on fire as well while the sensation blurred together. He didn’t even know what he liked more, the harsh slap when Tony’s hands met his skin or the burn that came after. 

 Tony kept a steady rhythm, turning Peter’s thighs into a burning inferno while he slowly worked himself higher and higher. Peter couldn’t even be still anymore, and his hips started to move, rubbing his hard cock against Tony’s legs. He already loved it, knowing he would beg for this again and again. When the next slaps hit the crack between his ass and thighs, Peter screamed for the first time. 

 “Do you like that, sweet thing? Do you want more?”

 It was sweet of Tony to check in on him, but Peter was so caught up in his pleasure that he could barely bring out words anymore. “P-please, S-Sir. More.”

 And Tony delivered. His hands wandered higher, kneading his abused flesh and reviving the delicious burn until he was massaging his cheeks. They were still white, but Peter assumed that it would change soon. Not even a minute later, the first slap hit his ass.

 “Ngh- Sir, please. Yes. I need this. Need you.” Tony’s growl got lost in Peter’s sounds, moans, whimpers and cries taking their turn. If he had thought the fire would feel good on his thighs, it couldn’t be compared to the delicious sensation it created on his ass. 

 Just a few slaps later and Peter felt the first tears slipping from his eyes. Tony gave him time to calm down again, rubbing his thighs and soothing him with his strokes. When the fire abated Peter could concentrate on his own cock again, realizing how hard it was, pressed between Tony’s legs. 

 “Are you done for today?” Tony asked, his voice neutral, but Peter could hear the hidden concern underneath. 

 Peter wasn’t done, he wanted more. “How many left, Sir?”

 “Just two, baby. You did amazing for me. Such a good Omega, a perfect Omega. Mine.”

 The Omega belonged to Tony and he had never been more aware. He could feel the ring on his finger, the bite mark on his neck, and Tony’s handprints on his ass. The thought was intoxicating and before Peter could stop himself, he started moving his hips again, rubbing his cock against Tony’s pants. 

 “A-Alpha, c-can you gimme-” Peter stopped to gather his courage. Thankfully, Tony gave him the time. “Can you gimme t-the last t-two on my h-hole, Sir?”

 Peter was too ashamed to look at his Alpha, but he didn’t need to see Tony’s face to feel his Alpha’s reaction. Tony’s scent has changed, an aggressive attempt to mark his Omega, and for the first time, Peter could feel the bulge, that was nestled against his stomach, twitch.

 “Spread your cheeks for me, sweet thing. Show me what my pretty little slut needs.”

 And who was Peter to deny the Alpha such a request? He couldn’t spread his cheeks fast enough, couldn’t show Tony fast enough where he needed him right now. 

 “Perfect,” Tony whispered while he spread Peter’s leaking slick between the Omega’s globes. Peter couldn’t wait anymore but he focused his entire energy on being still. He wanted to be good for the Alpha. 

 The last two blows came in quick succession, both hitting Peter’s hole perfectly and the impact spread along his trembling rim. If Peter had thought the spanking has hurt before, the pain couldn’t be compared to this. It was so much sharper, so much more intense and the burn didn’t subside. 

 Peter was sobbing in pleasure, wiggling on his Alpha’s lap to get away from the pain, but he couldn’t escape. Tony’s finger made it only worse, probing and stroking his swollen hole and pressing the leaking slick back in. 

 In the end, it was one finger entering him that Peter made fall over the edge. Tony found his prostate, stroked it once and the sensation mixed with the burning pain was enough for Peter to come on his Alpha’s lap. His orgasm didn’t seem to stop, even though the finger was gently pulled out, wave after wave triggered by the delicious burn. 

 Peter was limp when Tony shifted him until the Omega faced him on his lap, his ass burning when it touched the rough fabric of Tony’s pants. He was still floating in pleasure, caught in a sweet space that made him feel light like a feather. 

 Tony had pulled out his cock, stroking himself furiously while he held a spaced-out Peter on his lap. 

 “You were so perfect for me, Omega. I’m gonna mark you as mine, with my hand, my teeth, and my seed.”

 When Tony came, his seed added to the mess on Peter’s body, both of them slumped together. They took their time gathering their breaths until Tony finally picked him up and carried him over to the bedroom. 

 Careful that nothing would touch Peter’s abused ass, Tony placed him onto the bed, the Omega’s backside exposed to the air. 

 “Let me take care of you, baby.”

 Peter purred when a bottle of water was pressed against his lips and he emptied it in one go. He was just realizing how hungry and thirsty he was. Tony fed him pieces of a granola bar while he rubbed cream into Peter’s red ass. The Omega felt cared for and satisfied. 

 “More,” Peter demanded when he took the last bite from Tony’s fingers and the Alpha watched him with a frown. 

 “Baby, that’s your third granola bar. Are you sure you want more?”

 It was the perfect timing when Peter’s stomach grumbled and the Omega nodded, a pouting expression on his face. 

 “Alright. Let me get you a few more from the kitchen, baby.”

 Half an hour and two granola bars later, Peter fell asleep, laying on top of his husband. 

[squisherific]

Rain Drop Chapter 6

A/N: *yells echoingly into the void* Helloooo therrrre… Man has it been a very long time since I made a tumblr post, let alone wrote any fanfiction. To those who are unaware (which is probably everyone), I had begun a story many years ago about Juvia’s past. It was called Rain Drop, and it has 5 previous chapters up on fanfiction.net

I'm so sorry to those who had liked this story. I both can and can't believe it's been 4 years since I last updated it (and 2 years since I’ve written any fanfiction at all). To be perfectly honest, I didn't think I'd ever continue this story. But something struck me the other day. I reread this fic, and the kind reviews from readers, and I just got the itch to continue, because I really, really miss writing, and I especially missed writing about Gray and Juvia. I can't promise I'm going to end up finishing this, but this is a step in the right direction? This chapter is dedicated to everybody who's ever encouraged me to continue this fic, and to anyone still reading. If there are people still interested in this story, I can not thank you enough for your patience. This is for you. <3

Chapter 6 - A Breezy Visit

Gray felt abnormally aware of his right hand as he made his way through Magnolia, and towards the outskirts of the town. He normally didn't pay this much attention to any particular one of his appendages. He just let them do their thing, and trusted all was well. But on this particular day, his right hand was clutching onto the left hand of Juvia Lockser, and his previous faith in his hand's abilities had all but vanished, resulting in his acute awareness of every bead of sweat currently collecting between his and Juvia's linked palms. It didn't help that he felt like every person they passed on the way to their destination was taking note of their clasp-handed position, and grinning amusedly to themselves as the two mages hurried past.

Why did I grab her hand? I didn't need to do that. She could just follow me to Gildarts' house. I could let go, and carry on as if nothing happened. But would she get upset if I took my hand away? She is holding it pretty firmly, so it would probably be pretty awkward if I just stopped holding her hand back.

These were the thoughts that passed through Gray Fullbuster's mind as he decided he would continue to hold Juvia's hand, not because he enjoyed it - definitely not that- but because he wanted to be emotionally supportive towards his friend, who was going through a rough time right now. Yes, that's why he'd continue to allow his sweaty palm to press up against Juvia's soft grip. He was a very good friend, and that's all there was to it.

"Gray-sama?"

Juvia's voice interrupted Gray's internal dilemma.

"Yeah?"

"Do you really think it's possible Gildarts-san will know something about Juvia's parents?"

"It's worth a shot. That old guy loves to reminisce though, so if we're not careful he might go off on a tangent, and we'll be stuck there until nightfall."

"Juvia won't mind, especially if he did have the answers Juvia has been seeking! Juvia would gladly listen as long as it takes!" she said, excited at the possibility that Gildarts could provide a window into her past at last.

Gray seemed a lot less enthused at that prospect of being stuck in Gildarts' place for hours into the night. But, if it meant keeping Juvia out of harm's way, and preventing her from going off on a hunt for a possibly dangerous Jose Porla instead, he would gladly suffer through Gildarts taking a long, and winding trip down memory lane. He just hoped they weren't walking into a dead end, because Gray had no back up plan to distract Juvia from her desired mission. He had promised Master Makarov he'd keep her safe, and even without that promise, it was something he always strived to do anyway. He could not fail.

They'd reached the far edges of the town, and Gray steered them slightly passed an overgrown forested area, before entering a slight clearing with a cobbled path which led to the S-class mage’s humble cabin. They both took note of the tufts of smoke coming out of the stout chimney, signaling someone was definitely home. They smiled at each other, glad to not have traveled there in vain, and headed towards the door.

Gray knocked a few times and waited.

At first there was no answer, but then a sound of what must have been several pots and pans clattering to the floor reverberated through the open window, before the door burst open.

Standing in the doorway, looking happily expectant, was the auburn-haired, and battled-scarred S- class mage of Fairy Tail. However his expression seemed to falter, and twist into one of polite bemusement at his surprise guests' presence.

"Oh! I thought you two were Cana finally accepting her dad's invitation to a home cooked meal," he said, gesturing inside.

Gray and Juvia peered behind him as the mess that could only be classified as Gildarts' kitchen came into view. He had clearly been attempting to cook, the lit fire within his home waiting patiently for the pot, which he had filled with some mysterious gloopy substance, clearly the subject of Gildarts 'home cooked meal.'

"Nope, we haven't seen Cana today," Gray said, as Gildarts looked hopefully around them, as if Cana was about to pop out of a nearby bush at any moment, to finally fulfill her dad's wish for more bonding time. "It's just us here," Gray assured him.

Gildarts, shaking off his disappointment, finally looked back down at them, giving them both a once over, his eyes lingering on their clasped hands. He grinned.

"You two out on a date?" a playful twinkle in his eye as he observed their flustered reactions.

Gray finally did let go of Juvia's hand at this comment. "No," he said, a little too insistently.

Juvia looked crestfallen.

"Now, now, that's no way to treat a lady, Gray!" He chastised him lightly, as he smoothly brushed past Gray to usher Juvia inside. "Come in,, come in! It's Juvia, isn't it? You're good friends with Cana. I'm sure she won't be too upset if I treat you to a meal in her place. Don't be shy, there's plenty to share. Do you like wine, Juvia?"

Juvia was gently directed inside the warm cabin, a look of bewilderment coloring her features, while Gray had the door slammed in his face, leaving him standing alone outside.

That perverted old fart, Gray thought angrily. He lingered there annoyed for at least a couple of minutes, hoping one of the two would remember he was still there, before knocking on the closed door again, this time much more aggressively than when he had first arrived.

Gildarts reappeared. "Can I help you?" he asked, as if this were the first time he had met Gray, and as if Gray hadn't arrived with Juvia only a few minutes ago.

Speaking of Juvia, Gray could now see she was sitting down with a cup of tea in her hand, likely having refused the wine offer from Gildarts.

Gray ignored him, and irritatedly walked passed Gildarts into the house to join Juvia.

"How rude," Gildarts muttered none too silently to himself, as Gray pulled up a chair next to Juvia, sitting down, arms crossed and scowling.

Closing the door behind him, Gildarts sat down to join them. Apparently after he had guided Juvia inside, he had put the pot filled with the mysterious substance onto the fire, and it was now bubbling away behind them.

"So," Gildarts said after a moment. "What can I do for you. Want some love advice? I've got lots of tips," his eyebrows raised suggestively.

"Stop messing around!" Gray spat, his face reddening. "This is serious, old man! Juvia is here to ask you about her parents!"

"Her parents…" Gidarts said, sobering… He gave Juvia a thorough appraisal, and seemed to go into concentrated revelry. "Oh man, were there any blue-haired ladies…."

"NOT YOU," Gray said quickly.

Juvia blushed.

"Juvia is just trying to find information about her parents. She doesn't remember who they were. Gramps clearly seems to have known them, but he won't tell Juvia anything, so we were wondering if maybe you had met them before, and could tell her something about them, " Gray explained.

Gildarts relaxed, leaning back in his chair. "I was going to say, imagine having two daughters who both happened to end up in the same guild I was a part of. What would be the odds, right?" Gildarts laughed, but then got suddenly serious again, as his eyes fell back on Juvia. He studied her, as she looked back self-consciously.

"You know, come to think of it, you do remind me of someone," he said.

"Juvia does?" she asked, a pang of hope in her heart.

"Where are you from originally?"

"Juvia isn't sure. She was left in an orphanage in Hargeon. The most information the people running the orphanage could tell her, was that an old woman had dropped Juvia off there when Juvia was one-years old, but Juvia never did find the identity of the old woman. She doesn't know if she was a relation, or not."

Gildarts seemed to contemplate this information. "Your last name is Lockser?"

Juvia nodded.

"Hmmmm, well I can tell you I don't know anybody with that name. But you do bear a striking resemblance to an old friend of mine."

Gray didn't like the way Gildarts emphasized the word friend. "Who was this friend?"

"A former member of the magic council. She was a gorgeous girl, dark hair, piercing eyes, really feisty," he said, as his eyes glazed over, clearly having traveled back into some kind of indecent memory.

Gray and Juvia were discomfited.

"Oii! We're still here you know," Gray jolted him out of his reverie.

"Relax," he said, catching a look at their expressions. "It wasn't that type of relationship," he assured them, sighing in a good natured, but dejected sort of way. "Not for lack of trying, of course. She was my friend's girl."

"Your friend?"

"Benny. Benjamin 'Fluid' Dackser," he replied, as he grabbed the bottle of wine he had offered Juvia earlier, and took a sip.

"Fluid?"

"He was a water mage."

Juvia's eyes widened at this information.

"Water?!"

"Yeah. So that was his nickname. Ol' Benny Flu Dackser," a sad smile crossed Gildarts' face. "Man, he was such a pain in the ass," he chuckled. "It's pretty pointless crashing apart water, you know? It just comes right back together again."

"He could turn into water? Like Juvia does?!"

"Yup, it was his specialty. Not a good match for me, as he couldn't help to remind me every time we had a friendly fight. And we were both always trying to impress Sylvi. He won her in the end, that bastard. Ah, we were so young then. Not even twenty."

"Sylvi?" Gray asked.

"Sylvia Loten. A talented ice mage."

It was Gray's turn for his eyes to widen. "Ice?"

"Not on quite the same level as your old master Ur, I'm sure, but really talented all the same. I might not have been able to do much against Benny, but she was more than a match for him. It was great watching that cocky, lovestruck fool get beaten down by her. But she must have liked his persistent approach, because they ended up married."

"Benjamin-san and Sylvia-san…" Juvia mused to herself "did they have any children?"

"I lost touch with them both after they went into politics. They never joined a guild either, as far as I know. Like I said, Sylvi was a council member, and so was Benny - youngest council members ever at that point. It all happened while I was out on a major quest. By the time I came back, years had passed, and Benny and Sylvi had…" he trailed off somberly.

"They died?" Juvia concluded, her face stricken.

"Yeah."

"How?" Gray asked, almost afraid of the answer as he looked over at Juvia.

"Supposedly drowned," he said flatly.

"Drowned?! No way!"

Juvia agreed emphatically with Gray. "Benjamin-san was a water mage, how could he have drowned?"

"Just because you specialize in a type of magic doesn't mean you are immune to it's dangers," he explained, his mood had darkened considerably, the wine bottle's contents now severely depleted as he went on. "But again, that's just what I heard. Their bodies were found off the coast of Akane beach."

"Was the drowning an accident, or…" Gray trailed off.

"I don't know. But let's put it this way, I doubt they suffered a boating incident, and they couldn't save themselves. Doesn't make sense. Not for those two," Gildarts admitted.

"Terrible," was all Juvia could think to say as the three let a silence fall within the messy cabin, the only sound being the bubbling contents of the copper pot in the fireplace.

Juvia couldn't believe there had been another water mage. She'd never met anyone else who could use water magic other than herself. And she had been able to use it for as long as she could remember. It wasn't something she had studied to learn, which is usually the case for mages. People aren't born knowing magic. But for whatever reason, Juvia could instinctively control water, and as used to be the case, there were things she couldn't control about it as well - that constant rain that plagued her for so long. Water had literally been tied into her emotions - her very being - whether she liked it or not. It was a rare ability. A rare magic.

And yet this Benjamin Dackser was also a water mage. And he died. She couldn't imagine this skilled water mage, someone who could best Gildarts, could be drowned - and his talented ice mage wife as well. How? Why? Juvia had so many questions. The greatest of all being, could these two people have been her parents?

"Gildarts-san?" Juvia began, breaking the silence. "You said I remind you of Sylvia-san?"

"Yeah…" he said, studying her again, "the more I look at you, the more I think you look just like her. Same eyes, same pale skin, you even act a little like her. She was real regal, you know? You are very similar. Except for the hair. Her's was a very dark grey, almost black," he recalled, his voice a little slurred from the wine he had been using to dull the pain of his somber recollections.

"What color was this Benny guy's hair?" Gray asked.

Gildarts simply pointed to Juvia's hair in response.

Juvia's heart skipped a beat.

"You think they were Juvia's parents?" Gray came right out and asked what they were all currently wondering.

The question hung heavy in the air.

Juvia's fists clenched in anxiety.

Gildarts looked from Gray to Juvia, a pained expression on his face. He shook his head. "I never heard anything about them having a kid… but, there's a lot I don't know. I was gone for so long. I would think people who were on the council with them would know a lot more about anything like that. I knew them best when we were all still just a bunch of brats."

"How long were they on the council?"

"Not long. A few years, I think. And that was nearly 30 years ago now."

"Who do we know on the magic council who would talk to us?" Gray pondered. "None of them have ever exactly been the biggest fans of Fairy Tail. Plus, so many of them who might have been on the council with Benjamin and Sylvia are now…." Gray's thoughts wandered to the mass murder at the hands of the Tartarus members.

Another heavy silence fell.

"Yajima-san?" Juvia said tentatively, recalling the tiny man who ran the 8-island restaurant she once waitressed at with some of the other Fairy Tail ladies.

"Oh yeah, Gramp's friend. He's ancient, and he was on the council for ages," Gray recalled hopefully. "We could take a trip out to his restaurant in Hargeon and ask him if he knows anything more about these two."

"Let's do so," Juvia agree immediately, so grateful that Gray had suggested they go to Hargeon. This meant he intended to continue to accompany her on this quest of hers. Her heart was so burdened at the thought of possibly finding out who her parents were, only to be left with more devastating questions about their awful fate, and how she might tie into it. So, Gray's companionship served to lift that weight considerably.

"Thank you so much, Gildarts-san. You've been such a great help. Your information was truly invaluable," she said in earnest, getting up from her chair and heading towards the door. Gray followed closely behind.

"Wait! You sure you guys don't want to stay and eat? The stew is almost ready!" he pointed back towards the now overflowing muck bubbling out of his copper pot.

"That's very kind of you, Gildarts-san," Juvia eyed the stew in trepidation, "but we really have much to do if we are going to be leaving for Hargeon soon. But thank you for your hospitality, and the tea!" she added, leaving the warmly lit cabin behind her. The sun was setting as she stepped out into the clear air.

Gray was about to join her when Gildarts caught a hold of his arm and pulled him back.

"Hey!" Gray said, alarmed as Gildarts leaned close to him, his grip vice-like.

"Listen," Gildarts said, his tone uncharacteristically dire, "if Gramps didn't want to tell Juvia anything about her parents, then he likely had a damn good reason for it, and that reason was probably that he thinks there's danger involved. And if Gramps thinks looking for information on her parents is dangerous, then it probably is. I've only heard conspiracy theories about Benny and Sylvi's deaths, but if even one of them is true, Juvia could be headed into some serious trouble. I feel for her, I do. But if Benny and Sylvi were her parents, then there's nothing left to find."

Gray considered Gildarts words of warning. He looked towards Juvia, who was waiting patiently at the end of the cobbled path for him to join her. He again thought back to that night at the guild, and how hurt she was at never having known her family. "Juvia has a right to know the truth. If I can help her find at least that, then I'm going to do so," Gray said firmly. "And if there's danger, I'll protect her no matter what."

A/N: When rereading the previous chapters of this, I honestly didn't think I could continue the story no matter how much I wanted to. I genuinely didn't remember where I was going with the plot since it had been so long. But, thank goodness I had notes for future chapters saved. ;_; Otherwise this chapter would not exist right now. Anyway, if anyone is still reading, please do let me know with a review. But if everyone has abandoned this story, as I once did, then at least I can say I enjoyed writing this again. ^_^

[sharinluna]

Chapter 16 Analysis - The Greatest of These is Love

I try to stick to the canon English version text as much as possible. But in this analysis I had to take some liberties and merge my own translation, because sometimes Elex translation just doesn’t fit with the purpose of my analysis. So please excuse me.

1. Hades’s Reset Plan

A Black Swan member called Hades is trying to put his Reset Plan to action.

Hades: Complete slaughter is the highest respect one can pay to a civilization. Not everyone is fit to become an Evolver. This world belongs to us, and those low-level creatures that do nothing but breed had lived too long.

The rest of Black Swan is skeptical about this plan however, calling it “a powerless clown’s ridiculous trick.” However, Hades thinks the Reset Plan should be carried out because “the previous operations were too slow.”

We can speculate here that what Hades’s trying to do is considered unreasonably aggressive and nonsensically radical even to Black Swan. Hades wants Ares to work with him, but Ares maintains a “Let’s see how well you do on your own first” attitude.

2. Flu Investigation

The news on the TV was talking about a new, mysterious flu that was sweeping the city. The presenting symptoms were the same as regular flu: cold, fever, weakness. They’re calling it a flu, but none of the current antibiotics or cold medications are effective against it. There haven’t been any deaths, but the number of infected has been steadily increasing. The national laboratories have all been working to find a pathogen, but to no result. The virus is spreading faster than anything, and lack of information is making people more worried.

Perry from chapter 15 had this flu. It seems that this strange influenza is spreading. When Yōurán arrives at her office, she overhears the security guards talking and gets suspicious.

Guard A: Did you hear? Smitty got sick. His wife said he couldn’t remember her.

He didn’t even remember his own wife… How is that a symptom of a flu?

Gavin is away and Victor is in the future. Lucien turned Ares on her and Kiro is missing. Yōurán consults the only Evolver she knows: Dr. Song(the Evolver doctor from chapter 13). They figure out the truth of this flu.

Yōurán: Demographics typically vulnerable to diseases like the elderly and small children only make up a small percentage of the infected. Most are in their primes.

Usually, the elderly and small children who have weaker immune systems are the likely target for the flu. But this time, it’s the opposite. Healthy, young people are getting infected by this new flu instead.

Dr. Song: That’s right. Aside from that, I’ve found that out of all the infected, not one is an Evolver. My guess is that the virus is selecting based on genetics.

As the both women figure out, the virus is intentionally infecting healthy, strong, ordinary non-Evolvers.

Later, Yōurán goes to visit a flu patient.

His file said he’d been in a coma for about 10 days, during which he got up once as if sleep walking and tried to assault bystanders with a blunt object. His symptoms were the same as Perry.

She uses her powers to see the man’s future to get the next clue.

I saw him fallen on the ground, his face pale, his eyes about to bulge out of his head, his entire body shaking.

Pretty familiar with Perry at the end of chapter 15, right?

Let’s link their findings with Hades’s Reset Plan. I’m going to guess what Hade’s Reset Plan is in four steps.

Step 1: Hades spreads the virus.

Step 2: The virus infects healthy non-Evolvers who are likely to survive the symptoms.

Step 3: Some people manage to overcome the virus by “evolving”, aka attaining Evol genes and becoming Evolvers. Those who cannot form Evol genes or cannot handle the process die.

Step 4: All non-Evolvers are dead and only Evolvers are left on this earth.

3. Two Conflicting Feelings.

News: Lucien Bioscience Research Center announced a press conference for tomorrow regarding a new reagent targeting the recent flu outbreak.

It had been a long while since I’d heard that name. Ever since that day he disappeared from my life. I asked myself once, did I hate him? But the answer was no. This world is not black and white, and I won’t judge people using just one perspective of right and wrong.

Even though Lucien “betrayed” Yōurán in chapter 13, she can’t hate him. Still, it hurts so much that she doesn’t want to think about him ever again. But that alone tells us that she has lingering feelings for him yet.

I didn’t know what I was running away from. Was I scared to hear those doubts I’d already heard straight from his mouth? Did I want to avoid confirming that this virus was connected to him, so that my rational mind wouldn’t be able to connect the dots? Or was it… that I just didn’t want to face him?

She has two conflicting feelings. She wants to go to the conference and see Lucien again, but at the same time, she wants to stay far away from him to avoid dealing with all this.

In flight or fight, Yōurán has never chosen the former. She decides to go to the press conference regardless of what the consequences might be.

4. The Press Conference

The press conference is my favorite scene in chapter 16 nay, the entire End of Abyss arc. Sadly, I saw a lot of translation errors in this part and some word choices were just not adequate. So please excuse me if some of the quotes are not exactly word-for-word of the Elex version text.

Lucien: I wish that more people would be test subjects. The advance of science is a continuous sacrifice. And deaths and injury along the way due to mistakes are inevitable.

I couldn’t help but worry for him. What was Lucien trying to do speaking cruel truths so frankly? For him, this was all perfectly reasonable. An unpleasant feeling welled up inside me. I wanted to get out of here.

Notice here that Yōurán doesn’t exactly think that Lucien is wrong. She just thinks that he is being cruel. She said earlier that she doesn’t hate Lucien based on the fact that there’s no one correct principle of right and wrong. However, his nonchalant attitude of accepting inevitable deaths as “reasonable” is what upsets her.

Yōurán: I want to ask Professor Lucien a question. What is this “sacrifice” you speak of?

Lucien: Physiological death.

Yōurán: That is to say, it’s normal to sacrifice the minority for the whole of society?

Lucien: Yes. I personally wholeheartedly agree with this statement.

It’s easy to misunderstand her stance on this because Yōurán is against sacrifice in general. But she doesn’t say that sacrifice should be forbidden at all costs. However, a society that demands individual sacrifice to maintain itself is problematic.

Lucien: Like the classic Trolley Problem. Choosing left or right will both land you in a moral quandary. But in reality, whether it’s for societal advancement or not, many people will be eliminated for a variety of reasons, by death or other means. So whether we want to face it or not, survival of the fittest is an eternal principle of existence. It’s what keeps humanity going.

Yōurán: In your eyes, is life so capricious? All life forms should be respected. Every one of us is doing their best to survive. It’s what every person desires and deserves. Their will to keep on living is their right. And you can’t deprive people of this.

Lucien talks that the survival of the fittest is the principle, while Yōurán talks about the natural rights that all people are inherently born with. Every individual on earth have a right to live. She is asking Lucien: Are you so readily throwing that out the window for the continuation of the rest of society?

Yōurán: Maybe you didn’t notice, but there are hospitals full of critically ill people. They may be comatose, but their consciousness still cling to life. Kids in foster care, the broke and homeless, they’re all struggling to survive.

I was confused at first when she said this, but now I understand what she is saying. There may be some volunteers for Lucien’s research, but believing that all test subjects will be willing participants is naïve.

Realistically, homeless people, those who can’t afford continued medical care, or people who have little to no financial support will be the ones who’ll be so-called “volunteers” for this experiment. While the rich sit back and wait for the cure to come out that’s based on the lives of these unfortunate sacrifices. Sacrificing these people with low socioeconomic status to sustain the rest in the name of “survival of the fittest” is a form of discrimination.

Lucien: You have a point. But you speak from the point of view of the minority, and therein arises the paradox. People cannot think in purely logical terms. That is a property of the divine. From primitive society to today, humanity has been sacrificed in political struggle, and died on the battlefields of war. But for some of these people, that sacrifice has been pointless. Fairness is not the only principle. As a cornerstone of civilization, survival stands above all. If it can bring incredible progress, then that sacrifice shouldn’t even require their permission.

But to Lucien, all of that throughout the history of wars and political struggle can be justified in the name of survival. He goes further and says that for survival, people should be sacrificed even against their will.

Sidenote: My thoughts.

Figuring out what’s right and wrong is always difficult and there’s no one right answer. But I lean more on Yōurán’s side. Historically, researches like Lucien’s have always been unethical. We should outgrow the necessary evil of human subject research.

“Sacrifice the few for the whole” is a touchy subject. In reality, many people in position of power or the majority have used that logic to justify their oppression of the minority. And many times humanity chose to sacrifice a small part of their society instead of looking for an alternate solution because it’s more efficient or faster.

Even if sacrifices are unavoidable, the attitude of how you treat people to be sacrificed is important. Do you respect them and feel guilty? Are you careful not to treat them as mere tools for a goal? Did you try your very best to minimize the sacrifice? Did you keep looking for other options until there was absolutely no choice left? I’m afraid that Lucien’s answers for these questions would be all negatives. He is too practical. He doesn’t care about sentiment. If it’s a way to solve problems efficiently he just does it with no emotional attachments, because they are a hindrance to achieving what has to be done.

But when it comes to these matters, maybe we need some hindrances that come from our conscience. Maybe feeling regret is the courtesy we owe to the people we killed so that we could live. Being indifferent to sacrifices is worse than the sacrifice itself. Reluctance and hesitance should always be accompanied when deciding whether we should sacrifice or not. Because when sacrificing a part of us becomes too easy, we will keep chucking out bits and pieces until there is none of us left.

5. Trying to Sever Ties (and Failing)

The conversation between the two becomes more personal at this point.

Yōurán: If… the person to be sacrificed was you, would you be willing?

Lucien: I would. If it meant allowing humanity to take a great stride forward, I would happily do so.

Yōurán: And what if it was someone important to you?

But Lucien just looks at her, not answering the question. Thinking that the unspoken answer is “Yes”, Yōurán falls into despair. At this point, she gives up on him.

Yōurán: Thank you for your answer, and good luck with your research, but I could never support your beliefs. Because in my heart there’s something that will always be more important than survival.

In chapter 16, Yōurán tries to sever all ties with Lucien, but she still has lingering attachments. I already said this in my chapter 15 analysis. The importance of “bonds” is a key element in her nature. No matter how hard she tries, her connection to Lucien can never be cut. Even if it pains her, she cannot bring herself to discard it.

Yōurán: My relationship with Professor Lucien is purely for business, and in the future Miracle Finder will have a new program consultant. I ask that everyone focus on the press conference. Excuse me.

Later she founds out that she left behind the pen Lucien gave her. She can’t abandon it and goes back for it, but when she’s found it she gives it back to Lucien.

Lucien gave her the pen as a way of giving his heart and she is giving it back to him. But because of what happened in chapter 13 he understands and accepts it back.

However, he’s not so accepting that he’s losing yet another connection with her: an excuse to approach her again. Probably the last one left.

Lucien: I just learned I’ve been let go from Miracle Finder. Is it out of line to ask for an explanation?

Yōurán: You’ve strayed from the principles that Miracle Finder strives to uphold. In my mind, the Miracle Finder is about justice and tolerance.

Lucien: Very understandable. I accept your explanation.

Yōurán refuses him because their principles are complete opposite. Lucien accepts her decision but this time she’s the one who’s hesitant to let him go.

Yōurán: Wait! Are you connected with this recent flu?

Please, oh please let your answer be no.

She is just desperately clutching at straws here. She knows what the answer is.

Lucien: Yes.

Hearing those words, something came crashing down in my heart.

Confirmation that she and Lucien are walking different paths.

6. Even if I Had the Gift of Prophesy

Lucien: The justice and goodness you uphold, has it gotten you the results you want? Is that what you think is more important than survival? I’d also like to know, in the face of what you value, would you sacrifice someone important to you?

In the press conference, Yōurán asked Lucien if he would sacrifice someone important for his survival of the fittest belief. Here Lucien is asking her the same thing. Would she abandon someone important to her to uphold her belief of what’s right?

Before she can answer, she is attacked (by Hades) and Lucien instantly pulls her into his arms protecting her.

An instant worry and fear flashed in his eyes, as if… he was afraid of losing something precious. But that look vanished instantly.

Time seemed to have jumped back to a month ago, when he was still Lucien. At that time he was also holding me tight like this… protecting me.

Yōurán: Are you alright? Thanks for saving me.

Lucien: I was just ensuring your safety.

Yōurán: My safety…. is needed in your plan, right?

Lucien: Of course. I don’t engage in worthless endeavors.

The last time we faced off, the people dressed in black also said to make sure I was alive. It was always like that. So all those times he protected me before was also like that.

To Yōurán, it seems like Lucien is saving her just because he needs her alive to use in his scheme. That his feelings for her were not real.

Lucien: Now, answer my question.

Lucien was still blocking my path. I couldn’t see his face clearly through the haze. Maybe this haziness was for the better.

To Yōurán, Lucien’s true intentions has always been vague since chapter 13. Does he care for her? Or was all that a lie? Him giving mixed signals in chapter 16 certainly doesn’t help. 

In the end, she decides to go along with this vagueness. She cannot abandon her principles nor can she abandon her ties with Lucien. Without the haze, she would have to face the fact that Lucien is blocking her “path” her belief. In ambiguity, she doesn’t have to choose one for the other.

Yōurán: I wouldn’t. If I had the gift of prophesy and knew all kinds of secrets and knowledge… If I had faith to move mountains, but didn’t have love, then none of it would count for anything. The truth of this world unfolds itself for people only through disappointment and suffering. Even if the light’s source is put out, I’d still try to keep my own shining. No matter how difficult, or how dark it gets. Or how foolish or ridiculous. Someone very important to me once taught me that, and I’ll never forget it.

Lucien first quoted The Corinthians in chapter 13 “For now we see through a glass, darkly.”

Now, Yōurán is quoting lines from The Corinthians too. “If I had the gift of prophesy and knew all kinds of secrets and knowledge… If I had faith to move mountains, but didn’t have love, then none of it would count for anything.”

It’s delicious irony that Lucien is the one who taught her to keep following her own principle when he himself is against it.

In this scene, Yōurán’s greatest strength shines in her words. She may not have powers to move mountains, she may not have all secrets and knowledge. But she has faith, hope, and love. And the greatest of these is love. Against all odds, she will never stop pursuing the light.

7. Despite Everything, My Heart Still Goes out to You

In a flash, an unlikely person popped into my head. Why would I think of him? The next image in my mind was the anxious way he looked at me during that danger just now. I closed my eye and decided to take a chance. That he’d save me, that what I’d seen in his eyes was really there.

After their confrontation, Yōurán faces danger in a deserted alley. She remembers the fleeting moment when she thought she saw genuine fear in Lucien’s eyes and decides to gamble on that to ensure her safety. 

Also, even with her multiple tries to sever Lucien from her heart, in times of danger, her thoughts automatically go to him. At the least, Ares said that he needed her alive for his scheme.

And she won in this gamble. Because he did come for her.

Yōurán: Did you really come to save me?

Lucien: I am a man of my word.

Yōurán: Is that also for your goal too?

Lucien: Yes.

Although I had guessed it, hearing it from his own mouth made my heart sink.

Lucien is only telling the half-truth here. His heart truly yearns for her and wants her to be safe. But he doesn’t tell her that, letting Yōurán think that she is just a means to his end.

Meanwhile, Yōurán is still wavering between seeing him as Lucien and seeing him as Ares. Her head tells her that he is her enemy Ares, but her heart keeps pining after Lucien, the gentle scholar who asked her to teach him how to love in New Light Date.

But we already know what her answer will be. She subconsciously keeps reaching out for him.

Lucien: Why aren’t you asking me about what just happened?

Yōurán: But you’re bleeding…

She just saw Lucien kill a man in cold blood(well, it turns out later that this was just a dream and not real but still) but instead of being scared she is worried that he is injured.

Hades thinks that Yōurán is Ares’s weak spot and tries to use her to threaten Ares into working with him.

Lucien: You think the weak spots I let you see, are really weak spots?

But Lucien is one step of Hades. He already knew that Hades would try to get to Yōurán and devised a way to get back at him.

Lucien: Remember the exit I told you about. Cross over. Don’t hesitate.

My heart sunk like lead, and a sudden, intense feeling of dread welled up, almost to my throat.

Lucien: Now, leave my side.

Yōurán: No! You…

Lucien: Do as I say. I will find you.

He spoke in that familiar old tender tone, and then the next second, he shoved me away.

Yōurán: Lucien!

Lucien turned his head and gazed into my eyes. His eyes were as before, tender as the falling tide. There was even a hint of a warm, crisp smile, the likes of which I never saw before.

This smile is probably the most earnest expression he made to her. Pure and sincere with no hidden sides.

I’d never imagined I’d face a situation like this with Lucien. I ran on, and the sound of fighting in the distance grew more intense, along with my tears. I kept telling myself, Lucien would be fine. He was clearly my enemy, only saving me for his own purposes. I had resolved to be done with him… So why does it hurt so much?

I stopped, my trembling body simply unable to take the next step. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. I couldn’t breathe as if someone was gripping my heart tightly.

As she is running towards the exit that Lucien told her, Yōurán keeps telling herself, Ares is my enemy. I shouldn’t be connected to him anymore. But her heart, her reasons for going on in life, are based on the bonds she’d formed with others, including Lucien. How can she cut that lose when he’s a part of herself?

8. Will You Sacrifice Someone Important to You?

Hades: Ares, I’ll give you one last chance, join me. I will create a world different from today’s, for Evolvers’ only. Advanced, free, beautiful. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted to see?

Ares: Fool. That world will never exist. An advanced civilization can never be created. It can only be reached by selection and evolution. Your so-called creation is just an excuse to hide your incompetence.

At the risk of oversimplifying things, Ares is telling Hades that he thinks the Reset Plan is stupid. Eliminating non-Evolvers won’t stop the struggle of survival of the fittest.

Yōurán: Lucien!

All in an instant, looks of shock, doubt and disbelief came over him, as well as a joy that he hadn’t shown before, mixed with the others.

Lucien is showing many emotions here. Shock that she still hadn’t left the dream. Doubt whether he is seeing her for real. Disbelief that she would abandon her safety again. And Joy. Pure, primitive delight that she still cares for him enough to throw her life out for him.

Lucien: Why didn’t you listen? Don’t you even care for your own life?!

This is the first time that Lucien ever yelled at Yōurán. (erase the True Love Date from your memory) This is one of the scarce times that Lucien loses his cool and reveals his true emotions raw and bare.

I yelled back at Lucien in a tone I never knew I had.

Yōurán: Liar! You had no intention of coming to find me, did you?! You deceived me every time! This time I’m not falling for it!

(By the way, I would put Yōurán’s words in capitals if I were the translator, to emphasize the yelling when she’s usually soft-spoken.)

I love that Yōurán didn’t put up with his I’m-only-saving-you-for-my-goal nonsense. I love that she saw through Lucien acting like Ares and forced out the truth that he truly loves her. I love that she was more upset that he lied about him being safe than the fact that he lied about him being part of Black Swan.

I’m sorry, but if I just go and let you take all the danger, I’ll never be able to forgive myself. Even if we are enemies. I still want to prove to you that even in the darkness, I’ll persist in my faith.

In the end, the question is he Lucien or is he Ares didn’t matter. That he was her enemy and have opposing beliefs from her didn’t matter. All that mattered in the end was that Lucien was the one who taught her to keep pursuing her light, and she was the one who taught him how to love. The unbreakable bond between them.

Lucien: Yōurán, Do you want to know my answer from the press conference?

Finally, finally, Lucien answers truthfully to her questions in the press conference. The first time he didn’t evade her questions regarding his feelings with silence.

Lucien: I won’t. I won’t sacrifice someone important to me. That is my answer.

I am infinitely glad that Lucien said this to her, and also infinitely mad that she forgot this in the end.

Lucien grabs her hand, and Yōurán sees a vision of Lucien’s past memories.

A white moonbeam appeared instantly before my eyes, solidifying into a blade, striking at me. A split second later there was a rupture, and a black liquid flowed from my pupil. For a moment, color was restored to my vision. I saw a pair of bloody eyes flicker past me. Then it was all black-and-white scenes of the TV tower, the park, the research center… As well as, a black-and-white me.

This makes me think that Lucien lost his ability to see Yōurán in color when he stabbed his eye in chapter 13. If he could still see her in color, he would have noticed her coming back for him earlier. He lost his only color in the world for her.

9. Hazy Like a Fog

Yōurán: Lucien, you’re hurt!

Lucien: You knew it was dangerous. Why did you come back?

Yōurán: Because you saved me. I couldn’t just abandon you.

She came back because Lucien is part of her. When he gets hurt, she gets hurt too. When he dies, the part of Yōurán that belongs to Lucien dies too. She cannot break the tie that pulls her towards him.

Lucien: I saved you because it’s better for me if you’re alive.

He seemed to always be stressing this point.

Yōurán: So why did you tell me the direction of the exit and make me leave by myself… Why didn’t you go with me? Didn’t you consider your own safety?

(Yōurán: Don’t play dumb with me, mister. I know you love me.)

Then she learns that all of this was part of Lucien’s plan. That her coming back for him had no influence in it.

Had he planned all of this?! And he didn’t tell me! All the while I cried like a fool, agonized over decisions, and left myself be vulnerable again and again! Liar!

KR translation is a bit different here.

I cried endlessly like a fool, I kept making choices endlessly, and I endlessly took out and looked at my feelings(heart) and agonized over them! Liar!

Notice the repetition of “endlessly” is used to describe the depth of what she felt before she made her decision to come back for Lucien. I would love to know what JP and CN translations are.

But still this liar hadn’t hurt me once the whole way though… My heart overflowed with loss, grief, doubt… a complex wave of emotions.

Again, her emotions regarding Lucien becomes a complicated mess.

A large hand suddenly covered my eyes, feeling slightly cold.

Yōurán: And I’ll forget everything that’s happened here too?

There was a long pause, and then I heard Lucien’s soft voice.

Lucien: yes.

Then I felt his finger tremble a bit, and my heart trembled with it.

Yōurán: Lucien… what kind of person are you really… Why even though we are enemies, do you always save me risking everything? Why do you always push me away again after saving me… Why can I see the futures of other people, but not yours…

Whenever she tries to discern Lucien, she is met with a vague fog. She got his answer to the question: Would he sacrifice someone important for his goal? But more questions came up that would never get answers. Even the one answer she got is about to be taken away from her.

10. Back to the Real Owner

Lucien carefully took out a pen from his pocket and placed it in the girl’s hand.

I said before that Lucien’s pen means Lucien’s heart. Yōurán tried to give it back to Lucien.

Then he leaned over and whispered into her ear:

Lucien: Next time, don’t rush into danger by yourself. Especially, on my account.

This scene reminds me of the end of chapter 15 when Gavin whispers to unconscious Yōurán to wait for him to come back. It hurts that she doesn’t receive the final messages they send to her before they leave her.

11. Again, Alone with Only a Memento

Just like in the end of chapter 15, Yōurán wakes up in her room alone. But this time, she forgot what has happened to her.

Large beads of sweat fell from my forehead. I opened my eyes to a pitch black ceiling. Black-and-white images were scrolling through my head. Too bad those images were like photo negatives and too blurred to make out.

I remembered I was being followed on a street. How was I waking up in my house all of a sudden? There seemed to be a chuck missing, but I couldn’t put a finger on it.

Although she doesn’t remember it, everything she felt still remains in her heart.

When I thought of Lucien’s name again, an intense feeling of grief and longing washed over me.

Because you can’t erase feelings even when you erase memories. PTSD patients sometimes forget what they went through that caused their trauma, but they can still feel the pain and suffering they felt. But they don’t know why they are hurting.

This was when I seriously began to worry about Yōurán. In real life, she needs professional help.

In chapter 16 she tries to put a distance between Lucien but fails utterly and admits to herself that she can never stop caring for Lucien. But after all they went through, her memories, her decisions, her revelations are gone. She feels empty, and sad.

She is only left with Lucien’s “Iridescent” pen. Just like with Gavin and his ginkgo bracelet.

12. Conclusion – This Love Hurts Like Hell, but It will be Worth It.

The press conference and chapter 16 in general depicted what I love the most about Lucien X Yōurán relationship. Their love goes very deep. Enough for Lucien to not hand her over to Black Swan and enough for Yōurán to trust him despite suspecting that he has hidden agenda.

Still, their ideas about humanity and morals are different and they clash. I like that none of them is abandoning their principles for the sake of love. I like that a female character has enough agency to have her own opinions that contradicts that of the male love interest. Instead of passively accepting the thoughts of her lover.

Their continued war of words. This is how the thoughts of great philosophies are made. They both stand firm in their ground. They’re on opposing sides and will battle each other ferociously. However, they still love each other and would go to great lengths to keep each other safe. Can you imagine the euphoria when despite all hurdles their love triumphs all in the end?

“No degree in love’s progress was left untried by our passion, and if love itself could imagine any wonder as yet unknown, we discovered it.” – Historia Calamitatum

[verai-marcel]

Before This Dance Is Through (RDR2 Fanfic, Chapter 1 of 3, Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+ ONLY)

Summary: You work at a super cute cat cafe run by your boss, Charles Smith. His friend, Arthur Morgan, is a tattoo artist who works across the street and comes by for coffee before he starts work. You’ve maintained a quiet and gentle persona in the hopes of getting him to fall for you, but one day, he catches you dancing your heart out to some dubstep in the downtown plaza early in the morning before most people are awake. What will you say to him when you see him staring at you, a dumbfounded look on his face?

Author’s Notes: My dear @r0xy-w0lf​ asked me for a fic about a Reader who can dance, and @myboah​ had a post asking what if Arthur was a tattoo artist in a modern AU. And SO BLAM, this story exploded from my brain, demanding to be written. And finally, I know practically nothing about street dance, so references might be vague to hide my ignorance. I'm sorry! 

Tags: modern AU, tattoo artist Arthur, fluff, romance, smut in Chapter 3, rough sex, probably incorrect dance terminology

AO3 Link is here, darlin’.

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

Chapter 1 - Dance Around the Issue

It was a gorgeous summer morning, and you were cleaning tables at the cat cafe that you worked at. A pair of women were sitting in the corner, with one of them lifting her shirt sleeve to show off a tattoo. You noticed that it was an amazing design, a tiger lily that melted into a butterfly.

“That is so beautiful. Did you come up with it?”

“No, I just heard that if you talk to him for a while, he’ll come up with something for you, and it’s always this soul deep, beautiful thing that represents you perfectly.”

“Really? You just… talked?”

“Yeah, he sits you down, gets you some water, and just asks you how your day’s been, how you’re doing, and, I don’t know, I just ended up talking about my hopes and dreams. All the while he’s drawing in some little sketchbook. Twenty minutes later, he shows me this design and asks if it’s good, and I immediately said yes, draw it on me!”

“What, no way. No way anyone is that good.”

“His Instagram account says otherwise.”

You didn’t hear either of them speak for a while as one of them messed with her phone before handing it to the other. Then there were some gasps.

“Holy fuck. Holy FUCK.”

“I know, right? And here’s the kicker: he doesn’t even handle his Instagram account, he says his friend does all that social media stuff for him.”

“Well, whoever it is does a fucking good job at marketing him.”

“Right? Anyway, enough about me. How are you doing?”

The conversation carried on as you moved away from them, taking all the dishes and cups back into the kitchen.

Glancing at Charles, your boss and owner of the cafe, you noticed the smile on his face; it wasn’t a normal smile, more like the smile of someone laughing at an inside joke.

“What's up?” you asked as you walked by.

“I’ll tell you later,” he said.

***

Later that day, you reminded him.

“So what were you going to tell me?”

Charles scrunched his lips together as he tried to remember. “Oh, the two women talking about that tattoo artist? That’s Arthur.”

“Your friend who just joined the studio across the street?”

“Yup. Javier finally convinced him to leave his old studio after putting some hard numbers in front of him. Arthur’s so loyal, it took Javier writing out how much gas and time he was using to commute, and how little he was getting as an apprentice when he could be charging more as a solo artist.”

You had heard bits and pieces about Arthur from Charles and Javier, who was Charles’ business partner for the cafe, and did marketing for him. Javier was a charismatic man, who had actually suggested Charles hire a helper so he could focus on managing the cat lounge part of the cafe, which is why you were brought on board. So in a way, you were grateful to him, as you loved the laid back atmosphere of this job.

And during the slow times, you could play with the cats. 

***

You first met Arthur at the crack of dawn on a slow morning. 

"Hi, welcome to Crafty Cats!" You greeted the grumpy looking man with one of your gentle smiles; you were naturally quiet and easy-going when in the cafe, and fortunately that matched the general vibe of the lounge. Charles wanted it to be a place where people could relax and maybe consider adopting a cat, which was the other half of the business that he focused on. Your job was to make the cafe a place where people felt welcome, like they were coming back to an old friend. 

You observed the man as he walked up to the counter. He was easy on the eyes, but a bit intimidating, a big guy with big arms. His left bicep had a tattoo that went up his arm under the sleeve of his shirt; you couldn't see the rest of it, but it looked like some kind of animal, maybe a deer. His dark blue muscle shirt showed off his body rather magnificently, and his black jeans wrapped his hips lovingly. Good lord, if you didn't have a big man kink, you sure as hell had one now. 

"G'mornin'. Is Charles around?" 

Oh, his voice was deep, just the way you liked it, with a mix between a Texan and a southern twang to it. You pointed towards the cat lounge. Through the large window in the wall that separated the coffee bar and the cat lounge, you could see Charles in there brushing one of the cats. 

"I'll let you in," you said, walking out from around the counter. The man followed silently as you opened the door carefully and went inside. Immediately Natasha, a calico, started hissing at you. You rolled your eyes and ignored her; this was normal. 

"Hey, someone's here to see you?" You asked quietly. 

Charles looked up and smiled. "Hey Arthur. Have a seat, you can help me brush Natasha."

You winced. She only liked Charles. Whenever anyone else tried to pet her, she'd at best walk away. At worst, she'd hiss and bat at whoever came near. 

So you watched in utter disbelief as Arthur held his hand out and she immediately went up to him and nudged his hand, then plopped into his lap and started purring. 

"What…" 

Charles laughed at your reaction. "Arthur has a way with animals."

Then you heard Arthur croon softly to the cat, and your face heated up; you were suddenly wishing he was saying those things to you in that gravelly voice. 

"Good kitty, yer just a little sweetheart, ain'tcha?" he murmured as he took the brush that Charles wordlessly handed him and gently brushed Natasha. She just purred and blinked her eyes slowly. 

Charles got up and gestured for you to follow him. "I'll get you a coffee," he said over his shoulder to Arthur as he exited the lounge area with you. 

As soon as the door was shut, Charles looked at you knowingly. 

"He's single."

"I didn't ask!" 

Charles just smirked at you. "I could tell you wanted to know." He poured a cup of black coffee and handed it to you. "Bring this to him, please." 

You just shook your head. Your boss, playing matchmaker. Funny guy. But far too observant. 

***

It's been a couple months since then. Almost every morning, Arthur comes in for a coffee and plays with the cats, then goes to his studio. Sometimes he stops by after work to just chill with the cats, and Charles lets him. You wondered about the nepotism of it all, since the cat lounge had an admission price, but you didn’t bring it up. 

Turns out, you didn’t need to.

On a busy morning, Arthur, who was waiting in line for his coffee because he didn’t want to be that guy, asked you once he reached the counter, “Don’tchu charge people for hangin’ out in there?”

You nodded as you poured his coffee. “Yeah, $12 an hour.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything else as he accepted the coffee from you.

“But Charles said it’s okay for you,” you quickly added. “He said you’re not allowed to have pets at your place.”

“Charles and his big mouth,” he grumbled, but a soft smile played on his lips as he spoke.

You loved his small smiles, his irreverent humor, his grumpy cheer.

He gave you a twenty. 

"What's this for?" you asked, blinking stupidly. 

"For the time in there," he replied, pointing a thumb at the cat lounge. 

"I said-" 

"Tell Charles he can shove his charity." And he walked into the cat lounge, sat down, and was immediately surrounded by three cats. 

You smiled at the scene; a big man, rough around the edges, speaking gently to some cats. 

And then two women sat next to him and started chatting with him. 

You bristled, but you couldn't do anything about it. After all, who the hell were you, when you hadn't scrounged up the courage to talk to him beyond the usual small talk? 

***

The twilight right before dawn was your favourite time, because no one would be out in the downtown square near the clock tower at this hour. You put your bag down and pulled out your phone and a small Bluetooth speaker. Switching to your dance playlist, a mix of dubstep, hip hop, and house music, you connected your phone to the speaker and hit play. 

As the music flowed through you, you let your body take over, pushing your active mind back as you popped and locked with the beat, undulating your body like it was liquid. 

This was your secret passion: street dance. You could do it with a group in public, but on your own? You'd rather dance where few people could see, but your studio apartment was cramped, and the park had too many dog walkers, even at this hour. So when you could, you came here, with your little speaker, and danced your heart out. You shook out the stress of the day to day, and let yourself just be in the moment, feel the rhythm of the song, the beat of life as it thrummed through you. 

Today, you were dancing out your frustration of being too meek to approach Arthur, too shy to talk more with him. Definitely too scared to ask him out on a date. You couldn't help but be quiet and polite; it was how you were raised. But inside, you were a storm of passion and emotion, always letting out everything in the form of dance. Your dance today was aggressive, fiery, raw. 

Years ago, a friend had suggested you get out your stress through physical exercise, and had dragged you to one of his street dance classes. And you had fallen in love with the feeling of letting the music take over. Now you dance any chance you get, if you could get yourself out of bed early enough. 

Your playlist ended as the sun lit up the plaza, and you went to grab your speaker when you heard a familiar voice behind you. 

"Didn't know you could dance like that," Arthur said as he came up behind you. 

You jumped. "How long have you been watching?" 

"Oh…" He checked his watch. "Since 'bout half an hour ago."

That was the length of your playlist. He had been watching the whole time?

"Sorry, didn't mean to gawk, I just…" Arthur trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck and looking nervously away. 

"It's fine," you said quickly to assuage his embarrassment. "I'm dancing in a public square, it's not a big deal." 

He nodded his head, opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

You waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. 

"You, uh, you dance good,” he finally said. Immediately sighing, he spoke again. “I mean, it was fun to watch. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Your face heated up. 

Looking at your wide-eyed reaction and realizing what he said and how it sounded, Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, guess I better get goin’.”

Your heart raced as you watched him start to walk to work. It was now or never. You gathered your courage, while the energy of the dance still beat in your blood. “Hey, would you like to get dinner with me tonight?”

He stopped mid-stride. Turning around, the confused look in his eyes made your heart plummet. 

“Are… you askin’ me out on a date?” His tone was that of disbelief.

“Um, I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, I just...” You trailed off when you saw the confusion melt away, replaced with a genuine smile.

“I’d love to have dinner with you.” Arthur beamed at you, and it felt like you got a direct hit from the sun.

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

Chapter 2 is next.

[hypnoviralized]

VIDEO: Mass psychology and the Corona crisis.

Mass psychology and the corona crisis.

Professor Mattias Desmet shows the mechanisms behind the emergence and sustaining of this crisis. What kind of people send these systems and how they influence the population.

Mass psychology:

4 ground principles must be available if you want to show large-scale mass phenomena: 1) Social isolation (people with lack of social bonding) 2) Enough people who don't see sense in life. 3) Lots of free floating fear 4) Lots of free floating dissatisfaction This means fear and dissatisfaction not specially linked to a specific subject.

With these 4 points available, society is highly susceptible to mass phenomena.

These 4 points were present on a massive scale just before the crisis. There was an ′′ epidemic ′′ of burn outs, more than 40 to 70 % of the population sees their job as meaningless. As described in the 2018 book ′′ bullshit jobs ′′ by anthropologist David Graeber And one of the best evidence of the mass dissatisfaction is still using anti depressants. In Belgium with its 11 million inhabitants, over 300 million doses of anti depressants per year!!

When all these elements are present, the population is looking for something to link this fear or dissatisfaction to. The mainstream media will help shape this object. Next, the population starts a heroic battle with this object of fear. This creates a new form of social bond and singularity, all of a sudden life is aimed at fighting against the object of fear and thus creating a new connection with the fellow man. And this sudden reversal of fear, dissatisfaction and social isolation to a new social connection and a collective struggle against the object of fear creates a form of mental poisoning. One thus mass formation is exactly equal to (it's a form of) hypnosis. Then it doesn't matter if the narrative right or wrong even shamelessly wrong. The important thing is that it leads to this mental poisoning. And that's why people continue to go along in the narrative, even if they could think for 1 seconds that it's wrong. That is the central mechanism behind mass formation. It doesn't matter whether it's correct or incorrect for this group anymore. One does not want to go back to the state of fear, futility and uncertainty. We must realize that if we want to change this condition, the first thing we have to do is recognize the painful fear and wonder how we ended up in this situation. In the situation of fear, social isolation, the mass social dissatisfaction. And that we don't need a Corona crisis to create a new social bonding. We need to find other ways to solve the social problems that were there before the crisis. So mass formation is a symptomatic solution to a real psychological problem.

According to Prof. Desmet, it is much more of a psychological crisis than a biological crisis.

The mental stupor leads to a narrowing of the field of attention. It says that the population only see what is indicated by the story. For example, people see the victims due to the Corona virus but they don't seem to see the victims on a cognitive level due to the collateral damage. One is also unable to feel empathy for the victims of the lockdowns on an emotional level. Not because one is selfish, but because of the psychological phenomenon. It's not selfishness, on the contrary. Mass formation focuses attention so much on one point that you can take away everything from the group, their psychological, physical, and even material wellbeing. You can take all this away without them noticing. That is one of the consequences of mass formation. The same applies to classic hypnosis. When attention is focused on one point during a hypnosis you can cut someone into their skin without anyone noticing. This happens when hypnosis is used as anesthetic so that the person in question becomes completely insensitive to pain. In some cases, with simple hypnosis, even open heart surgery is performed where a straight through the sternum is cut without the patient feeling anything about it. That shows us that the focus of attention is so strong, both in mass formation and hypnosis, that one becomes insensitive to all forms of personal loss that one accepts as consequence. Another consequence that is very typical of totalitarian states is that people become radically intolerant for dissident votes. When someone tells a different story or says the official story is incorrect and tries to wake people up they face the original fear and dissatisfaction. So they focus all their aggression on these dissident voices. And at the same time they are radically tolerant of their leaders. These can do whatever they want, lie and cheat. They will always be forgiven by the group. Because people are convinced they are doing it for their own good. That is also part of the mechanism of mass formation. Furthermore, Mattias is going into the question whether the people making the decisions in this crisis know what they are doing. Reiner Fuellmich asks what kind of people that are if these people are all psychopaths.

Mattias says that we should look at the people who have imported totalitarian state into the USSR and in Nazi Germany. And one thing is clear, they are not ordinary criminals. Because most of these people know very well how to behave according to social rules. These individuals, unlike real criminals, are characterized by the fact that they abide by the rules even when these rules themselves are radically criminal. It is also true that the narrowing of the focus field of the leaders of a totalitarian system is even closer than that of the population. That means the totalitarian leaders really believe in the ideology according to which they want to shape society. They are convinced, for example, of trans humanism, of mechanical materialism. They are convinced that this ideology will bring the population into an artificial paradise. This is something that comes in all totalitarian systems. The leaders have a deep belief in ideology and they want to create this artificial paradise. We have seen this in the Soviet Union and in Nazi Germany. That's why they feel like they can sacrifice some of the population to reach this paradise. We also saw this at Hitler, he thought it was perfectly justified to sacrifice some of the population. To achieve a final condition that would be best for everyone. According to Mattias, it's almost impossible to remove the masses from hypnosis, but that we still have to keep talking openly, that's the only way to make hypnosis less deep. Otherwise, the hypnosis keeps getting deeper. The totalitarian system based on mass formation is a self destructive mechanism. Which is completely different in a dictatorship, where the dictator will milder after his initial success because he realizes he must have the people behind him.

Bio: Mattias Desmet is a Professor of Clinical Psychology at the Department of Psychology and Educational Sciences of Ghent University (Belgium) and he works as a psychoanalyst in private practice. Desmet is the author of the books The Pursuit of Objectivity in Psychology and Lacan’s Logic of Subjectivity: A Walk on the Graph of Desire.

WATCH VIDEO: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qj5bo_KFqgo

[kitashiwrites]

I'm sorry my post was really aggressive. I still stand by my point that it ISN'T fair to dismiss Mor's romantic feelings (or lack thereof) towards Az, but how I acted was really awful. You don't have to post this publicly, but I hope you know I'm very sorry. My intention wasn't to try to start drama, but just receive an explanation over WHY you still ship Moriel. My way of going about it was TERRIBLE. I know sorry is just a word, but I'M SORRY.

2/2 I didn’t send you three asks. I only sent you one? Just to clear that up.3/3 I also didn’t send more than one ask. :/ 

Okay Anon. While I find it extremely hard to believe because of the timing (especially because for as long as I have been on here, I have RARELY gotten asks, let alone 3 in such quick succession that are so similar), as well as the fact that you clearly don’t stand behind your words because you felt the need to do this all on anon/have to make sure we know that you still think we are wrong, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt & accept your apology.In regards to your question, why I still ship Moriel, @sarahviehmann honestly said it best in her original answer to you: “ACOMAF was written in a way that intended for them to be shipped. So those people spent a year building up their fanon and meta and so forth, only to have the rug pulled out from under them.”

(For the sake of everyone, I’m putting this under a cut. It got way long.)

I hated ACOWAR. I’ve made no secret of that. I’ve also made no secret as to WHY. I’ve been writing fic for this series for over a year, & heavily focused on ACOMAF. I started when there were literally 7 fics posted to Ao3. Basically all of my free time at home & all of my breaks at work were spent either writing fic, discussing the series/meta with people here/talking my poor friends’ ears off over dinner, or planning fic for characters I wanted to explore in POV fics like Rhys, Tamlin, & Tarquin. Hell, I still have a 10 chapter Amarantha POV pre-ACOTAR through ACOTAR fic that’s over half written at 16k that I originally wanted to try as a surprise for my readers. I read ACOMAF enough times that I honestly would have said that I knew those characters as well as my own family, knew exactly what happened in which chapters, & got many comments here & on Ao3 from people who felt I’d captured the characters correctly, so I felt pretty good about what to expect going forward.

When ACOWAR spoilers came out, absolutely nothing made sense with what we knew or had been prior established canon. Most of all in regards to Mor, Rhys, Feyre, & Lucien, but I’m going to specifically focus on Mor, since she’s at the crux of the issue at hand. In Mor’s case, we took a woman who is described in ACOMAF as “a queen who owned her body, her life, her destiny, and never apologized for it” & says to Feyre, “I once lived in a place where the opinion of others mattered. It suffocated me, nearly broke me. So you’ll understand me, Feyre, when I say that I know what you feel, and I know what they tried to do to you, and that with enough courage, you can say to hell with a reputation. You do what you love, what you need”, & in ACOWAR made her a victim in circumstances that make absolutely no sense for the character we had known up until that date. Queen of the Hewn City? She wasn’t even treated with enough respect to be prepared to go into a meeting with her abusers, let alone shown that she is in charge. The first real female friend Feyre has ever had? Regulated to acting like a jealous girlfriend around Cassian whenever Nesta got too close. And speaking of Cassian, it was pointed out in another post (I’m sorry I don’t have the link right now) that the Cassian & Mor moments read like they were originally Az & Mor moments & were hastily changed when suddenly they weren’t supposed to be even friends. Nothing in this book read like it had been edited for continuity.

There are many bloggers who are far more qualified than I am to speak on Mor’s coming out scene, & while there was a divide, there were quite a few I know & follow who felt it was poorly written/bad rep, & I agree with their reasoning. Besides the fact that I don’t believe for one dang second that no one in the Inner Circle at a minimum would have picked up on something bothering Mor in 500 years or that she wouldn’t have at least told them even if she hid everything from Keir, there is the fact of Azriel. Azriel is in love with her, no disputing it. But it is mentioned by Rhys that Az has always thought himself unworthy of her, & Mor says that she could take her clothes off in front of him & he wouldn’t do anything. Does that sound like someone who is trying to avoid him because she isn’t interested, or someone who is creepily stalking her? In the Nessian short Wings & Embers, Cassian speaks on their relationship as well: “He wasn’t stupid. He knew she and Azriel were … whatever they were. Knew Azriel had been in love with Mor from the moment she’d strutted into the war-camp five centuries ago. And Cassian had been jealous—of Mor’s shy glances at Azriel in those first few weeks, and the fact that his dearest friend and brother … was looking at someone else.”

I’m not going to rehash Wings & Embers or ACOMAF for you. But as Sarah said, it was clearly written with them as a ship in mind, & this is from the POV of a character that has known them since the beginning, not just a few months like Feyre.

Why I still ship Moriel at this point? Because I ship it in any form. I love her & Az together period, even as friends. This ship was one of the ways @illyriantremors & I bonded originally, before we found out how much else we had in common & she became as good as a biological sister to me (I call her my Threadsister for a reason), because we shipped it back in the beginning before there was really any fic for it because it was overshadowed by Feysand, Nessian, & Elucien. Moriel was our Nessian; the unconfirmed side-ship with so much potential & evidence to back it up. When Sierra met SJM at San Diego Comic Con last summer, SJM dedicated Sierra’s copy of ACOMAF to Moriel. Why the af would an author do that if they planned to destroy a ship in the next book from the beginning?

We still love Moriel because it is hard to let go of something you’ve loved that much after you’ve been strung along & then had the rug pulled out from under you with no actual basis in ACOMAF to say “oh, it was there all along”; like when rereading ACOTAR through the ACOMAF filter, as I like to say to people, & seeing the clues that were left to the deeper story for Rhys. For me, those were not in ACOMAF upon reading it again after ACOWAR. I noticed you using my tags in your defense of yourself to Sarah regarding why I wanted to ignore ACOWAR &, by your interpretation, erase Mor’s sexuality. If you had read any of my blog at all after ACOWAR, you would have read that isn’t true, but I’ll spell it out for you: I want to ignore ACOWAR & what it did to my favorite characters’ personalities/their interactions with each other. I want to forget that Mor’s agency was taken away from her & that she was regulated to a plot twist. I want to forget that Az has been made out to be a creepy stalker. I want to forget Rhys treating Mor like she would be too emotional to deal with the negotiations with Kier & Eris & so he & Az didn’t tell her. I want to forget Feyre using Lucien to make Tamlin jealous in the Spring Court while she dismantled it from within & putting him in danger. And so much more.

I personally hate the book for multiple reasons, ranging everywhere from inconsistent characterization to grammar/editing issues. But I’m stuck with the facts it gave us, which is why writing fic is so hard to even consider anymore. It made everything about the series, not just Mor & Az, something I no longer can love with the intensity I once did, & the fandom diminishes that love more & more everyday with their bullying of people for not believing exactly the way they do, which is exactly what you contributed to when you sent those asks to myself & Sierra. And honestly, I couldn’t care less what you think of me. But if you had even looked at one of Sierra’s actual written posts/answers to asks—just one—you would have seen how quiet she’s been about her love for them as a ship & how determined she’s been to not to offend people while she’s been trying to come to terms with losing something that has been a lifesaver for her, to the point she has mostly stopped contributing to the fandom at all. She posted two Moriel drabbles during her birthday week because she was inspired by the Azriel candle I got her for her birthday, & as she said to you in her response to your original message, they were her way of saying farewell to Moriel. And guess what: even though it isn’t canon, people liked them.

I view Mor as bi, & if she’s given a healthy, happy female love interest in a future installment, then awesome. I want Moriel at least as close friends because I genuinely don’t think Az (at least the one from ACOMAF that actually made sense) would begrudge her if he knew the truth. Would he be sad? Sure, but I think he would support her nonetheless, just as the rest of the Inner Circle would. But I have absolutely no faith that SJM will give Mor anything good because she can milk the drama and turmoil she’s created, & I have no desire to see the characters & ships (across the board) I have loved so much destroyed any further.

I think @my-name-is-fireheart put it perfectly in her chime in on Sarah’s post: “Also, we should keep in mind that Mor expresses sexual attraction to men, she just prefers women. How she feels about men romantically is also blurred, though it’s slightly more clear. She says she doesn’t think she loves Az romantically but she doesn’t want to try it just to see.” SJM didn’t even know how to break her own ship apart properly to fit what you suggested, which is a good chunk of why we are even having this discussion right now.

I know Moriel is no longer canon. Cazigan (Cassian/Azriel/Mor) isn’t canon either, but I still love that. I have enjoyed their interactions with each other more than anything else since they were introduced in ACOMAF. The entire Inner Circle made me so happy for their closeness & how much of a family they were. I feel for a plot twist & a couple extra Benjamin Franklins, SJM destroyed everything that made one of my favorite characters in the entire series who she was (a strong, independent woman who didn’t let her circumstances break her & showed Feyre how not to let hers break her) & made her a poor caricature of herself, & made Az something he never has been before either because SJM hastily had to make her new & poorly executed addition work.

I shouldn’t be surprised though. This is the woman who attempted to retcon Eris of all characters into a decent person. And also took away any modicum of being able to read Tamlin as the multifaceted antagonist he had been & just turned him into a completely hateful ass with no loyalty to anyone to further drive home how perfect Rhys is supposed to be (which he definitely is not in ACOWAR, & I say that as someone who loved the morally grey character of Rhys).

TL;DR I ship Mor with Az in any form, even as friends, Mor being bi is not an issue, & I have lost all respect for SJM as an author after ACOWAR for giving us a poorly written/poorly edited product after the anticipation/hype this book had. Make of that what you will; I don’t care. I’m out of effs to give, & your ask & the other Az one I received, no matter who it was from or what your intentions were, pretty much tipped the scale in favor of me wanting to step back even further & have nothing to do with this fandom ever again.

I would ask that next time you think you have a problem with someone (because I doubt Sierra & I will be the last people you do this to), please think about how it comes across & think about your target. Your original ask was terribly hateful, & there is no amount of apology that can take that hurt away. And you would be amazed how far a little kindness & grace when asking a question instead of an accusatory message can go.

This explanation is more than you probably bargained for when you started this yesterday, but that’s the last I’ll say on any of this.

[oddolddogs-blog]

Hippo’s Best Last Day

Well, it’s happened. Something that I made has gone (kinda) viral.

As someone with very few, very specific talents, I never really anticipated that anything that I created or did would be exposed to 1.5+ million people. But it has happened. So, I suppose I should probably say something. And strap in boys and girls, because I’m about to say a lot.

I won’t talk about myself much. Let’s just keep it simple- just an introduction for those of you who may just be joining us. My name is Sophiane Nacer. Many of you have already sent me friend requests. I probably won’t accept, just because most of things I post are either also posted to the rescue’s official Facebook (because they’re pictures of the dogs), or they’re about how my life-size Severus Snape from Amazon just arrived or how, according to a Buzzfeed post, I am a Chinstrap penguin. Anyways, I digress. I founded Cayleb’s Kindred Senior Dog Rescue five years ago, when I was 14 years old. A childhood filled with feral cats and other animal oddities culminated when I rescued Cayleb, who I had for a month until he passed suddenly from advanced liver cancer. Realizing just how many senior dogs were being overlooked and euthanized in local shelters, we decided to continue to rescue dogs like Cayleb- his kindred spirits, you could say (see what we did there?). So I drafted my unsuspecting mother and my extremely dog-and-everything-else allergic father into the strange, wonderful world of old dog rescue.

It’s been five years of mostly just my mom and me tackling the insurmountable task of not only rescuing senior dogs from euthanasia, but convincing people that senior dogs deserved to be rescued from euthanasia. The first few years were difficult. We were frequently accused of “wasting time and resources” on these “lost causes”. These accusations didn’t just come from uneducated members of the public, but from fellow rescuers. Luckily, in the past year or so we’ve seen a definite change for the better. We have more support than ever, and more people (fosters and adopters) looking to share their lives with amazing old dogs, no matter how long (or short) that time may be.

Hippo was one of those amazing dogs.

Hippo was brought to Adams County Animal Shelter- the same shelter we got Cayleb from five years back- as a stray. Anyone who looked at him could see that he was severely neglected. His face was misshapen and ulcerated from what appeared to be aggressive tumors. His skin was infected and raw. His nails were unkempt and curling into the pads of his paws. Whoever had Hippo before didn’t deserve him and he certainly didn’t deserve to suffer through what they put him through. So I offered to take him. I was under no illusions as to his condition. Just looking at his intake photo it was clear that medical intervention would be of no help to him. The kindest thing would be to make sure that he passed easily and peacefully. And if that could be accomplished in a home, where he would be loved, then I was more than willing to do that for him. Of course, I didn’t really know if he would want that. The rescue coordinator, a friend of mine, didn’t know either. He was suffering so much, and had been for so long, that nobody would blame him if he didn’t want to be touched. If he didn’t want to move. If he didn’t want to interact. If that was the case, I wouldn’t force him to get into another car and go to yet another place. But I would’ve stayed there for his passing and hoped that he knew he was loved.

Of course, like all of our dogs, Hippo exceeded all my expectations.

When I met him, he was gently wagging his tail from behind the chain link of his kennel. He happily walked out into the play yard, even though he would bump into things as he went because of the tumors growing over his eyes. When we were out there, he peed on everything like a typical boy (though a lot more than any dog without nearly complete kidney failure would’ve ever been able to muster). He trotted around and sniffed all the smells. He came up to us and asked to be pet. He tried to climb into the shelter vet’s lap. He had a lot of life left in him, but his body was failing him, and there’s nothing worse than watching a dog who wants to continue to live and love and romp be dragged down by their own shut-down body. But I decided that if today really was to be his last, we were going to make it a really, really great one. The best one. Filled with only the best things.

Best thing #1: drive with the windows down. I rarely let any of our dogs stick their heads out the window, due to a perfectly justified fear of them rocketing out of the car at the next sharp turn. But for Hippo, well, how could I say no? Hippo stuck his head out and his little Shar-Pei ears twitched in the most adorable way only really happy little Shar-Pei ears can. After five days in the shelter for a legally-required stray hold (during which nobody came to retrieve him), he basked in the feeling of a warm breeze on his face.

Best thing #2: we stopped at Starbuck for a puppuccino. They gave us an extra puppuccino after hearing his story. He devoured them both with an unparalleled gusto. Picture a pre-teen girl drinking the first pumpkin-spice frapp of the season, and you’d still be failing to grasp the sheer enthusiasm.

Best thing #3: go to the park. It was beautiful weather (thank you, global warming, for giving us such a nice day in October). We found a spot underneath a still-leafed tree, sat down on the grass, and opened a can of tripe. For those who may not know, tripe is one of the strongest-smelling (read: worst-smelling) things on earth, but I have not met a single dog that can resist it. Hippo certainly couldn’t. That entire 13.2oz can was finished in less than a minute, though a fair amount was smeared all over my hands (Hippo was unable to eat on his own due to the painful and disfiguring nature of his facial tumors) and the grass around us. If you ever walk your dog in Wash Park in the next few months and find them inexplicably drawn to a patch of grass in the North side of the park, it’s because the pungent smell of tripe is clinging to the blades with a death grip.

Best thing #4: drink from the lake. This is something I never let our dogs do, as I shudder to think about the havoc the bacteria would wreak on their delicate systems. But for Hippo, long-term consequences weren’t really a consideration. So he got the go-ahead. In five years of this, I have never seen a dog drink as much water in one go as that dog drank. As impressive as it was, it was also sad to know just how damaged his internal system must’ve been for him to be drinking that much and peeing completely unconcentrated urine in equal volume. But we didn’t focus on that. Instead, we focused on not ending up in the lake itself- Hippo was quite perturbed when the water had the gall to lap at his toes and I was not particularly looking to wade any time soon.

Best thing #5: make some friends. At first, I didn’t try to introduce Hippo to any other dogs. I was worried that if they happened to bump into his face, or another sore spot, he might react. But when an over-excited, wiggly, off-leash Golden Retriever rushed over to us, Hippo was so happy. His tail began to wag faster than I had ever seen it. He let his face be sniffed, and sniffed right back. After that, I tried to find other friendly dogs to introduce him to. It was difficult. People who began to make their way over to us with the clear intention of letting their dog visit would quickly turn the other way when they got close enough to see Hippo’s condition. I can’t imagine what they thought- that I was a monster who was abusing my dog, that he was infected with a horribly contagious disease, etc. And I could somewhat understand- after all, it is our job to make sure our dogs are kept safe and away from horrible people and horrible diseases. But it also broke my heart because every time Hippo knew a dog was coming (either by seeing them enter into his limited field of vision or by hearing the clinking of their tags), his little tail would start wagging. And when he heard them leaving, it would stop. Luckily, we met a wonderful woman and her older Golden Retriever. Both her and her dog stopped to say hello to Hippo, and the two of us talked about him while the dogs happily visited. When she heard that it was Hippo’s last day, she went over to him and pet him and told him how glad she was to have met him. If you are reading this, wonderful woman (or her awesome dog, in which case wow- good job learning to read, awesome dog) I want you to know how much it meant to me (and Hippo, of course) that you stopped and said hello.

Best thing #6: cuddle. We sat in the grass for a while, just watching and smelling and hearing all the things going on around us. With his tummy full and his initial exploration done, Hippo and I got to know each other. He was an extremely soulful dog- the type of dog that would approach you gently, quietly, with everything he had. The type of dog that had eerily human eyes. The type of dog who stands right in front of you with his head bowed, just waiting for a kiss or ear scratch. Just for a moment, when he allowed me to rub his ears and under his chin, trusting me entirely despite how close I came to his painful sores, I started to cycle through that unavoidable thought process. ‘Maybe,’ I thought ‘I could take him to CSU’s Teaching Hospital. Maybe they would know of some miracle cure. Maybe I could raise enough money to do all the fancy new procedures that exist in the hopes that one would fix all his ailments and give him the time he deserved.’  But that wouldn’t have been fair. I think oftentimes we become so overcome with love and the feeling that “there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my dog” that we forget dogs live in the moment. They don’t think “well, if I go through this painful, exhausting treatment for a few months I’ll have an extra year”. All they know is that, in that moment, they’re painful and tired. And after three hours in the park, Hippo was both. He began to slow his trot to a stumble. He began to paw at his face, breaking open two of his sores despite my best efforts to prevent it. He became less interested in the things around him.

So we headed home, with his head out the window once more.

Best thing #7: eat a roasted chicken. Dr. Erica Rambus, the veterinarian who generously does all of our in-home euthanasia, brought a chicken for him. We spread a blanket out on the floor of the living room and sat down with him, overcoming our delicate vegan sensitivities to tear off pieces for him to munch on as he drifted off to sleep. I laid down beside him, rubbing his tiny little ears and kissing his wrinkly cheek as he began to snore louder and louder. And then he was gone.

Hippo’s passing was very peaceful, filled with lots of gentle kisses, whispered words of affection, and lots of tears.

He’s home again now, this time in a wooden, flower-engraved urn next to the ashes of my own two hospice dogs Annie and Gremlin (whose ashes are mixed in with his best friend, Soze the old albino rat). He’s right next to the head of my bed, where I wish he could’ve slept- he would’ve been quite the snorer, but after five years of sleeping through the assorted noises old dogs emit during sleep that would’ve been just fine.

With all that I loved him, I can’t help but feel angry. I try to refrain from judging the former families of the dogs we get- after all, you can never really know the circumstances that led to an old dog being a stray. But in Hippo’s case, I don’t think there is an excuse good enough to justify his state. The video I took doesn’t show the magnitude of Hippo’s sores, overcoming his face so much that he could no longer see out of one eye or eat without assistance. How his nose was all but destroyed. How there’s blood on the inside of my rear window where he rested his head. How his folds of skin were raw and infected. How his nails hadn’t been trimmed in ages- if ever. What makes me even angrier is that, through all of that, Hippo was an amazing dog. It is unimaginable to me how someone could let any dog suffer, much less a dog who must’ve still loved them despite their total neglect.

But it doesn’t do to dwell on that anger. What we should dwell on is how loved, spoiled, and happy Hippo was on his last day. He left this world having felt grass under his paws, the wind in his face, and a smorgasbord of goodies filling his tummy. And as much as I wish I could’ve known him for much, much longer, I feel so overwhelmingly lucky that I met him. And I’m so glad that you all have met him to- even if it is after he passed.

His circumstance is one of the worst we’ve seen, but his story one of the best we’ve ever been a part of.

So thank you- so, so much- to all of you who have cried over his video. Who have donated to our cause so we can continue to help dogs like Hippo. Who have shared his story with your friends so they too can see how special old dogs like Hippo are. 

One day, there will be a dog that you too can give a best last day to. And when that happens, remember this: you literally cannot go wrong with a puppuccino in the park.