#won’t catch me give into the misery narratives

[urloveangel]

it’s ok to feel overwhelmed and anxious sometimes but also it’s not ok or normal at all if you know what I mean? it’s crazy to me how the mainstream’s trying to normalize how everyone is ultra stressed and burnt out and treats it as just an integral part of living in the modern society instead of identifying and actually actively solving the root problem… I’m not even exaggerating when I say our community is under attack and our society and systems are literally designed to make us feel miserable and exhausted…

but as long as we’re here, we have a choice and options, we can take control over our life and happiness and refuse to accept the mainstream narratives and lifestyle 💗 we can normalize happiness and contentment again 🥰

[clementinatehasperdido]

My 2023 in books. Part III

July

The Silence of The Girls- Pat Barker⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5/5

Great retelling. It gives women a voice. I enjoyed it a lot. Barker makes a compelling story. It destroyed me at times. Injustice will always move me. Briseis's narration is beautiful but at the same time I find it sad. It takes the idea of ​​pyrrhic victory to another level, showing you a bitter Achilles consumed by his misery.

“because grief’s only ever as deep as the love it’s replaced.”

Red White and Royal Blue -Casey McQuiston ⭐⭐⭐⭐4/5 

It is a rereading. I read it when it came out. I loved it at the time and enjoyed it again. I will always love little silly romance novels. Always. I know that McQuiston wrote a love story from two privileged characters, it is still a beautiful story. I feel particularly attached to this story because it makes me feel like everything I read could be real to me, in a very Hallmark way hahaha. *I'm just a girl ok?*

“I thought, this is the most incredible thing I have ever seen, and I had better keep it a safe distance away from me. I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire.” 

Fourth Wing-Rebecca Yarros  ⭐ 1/5

Just no. I did not like. I should give it 0 stars. I have nothing else to say.

Only Dull People Are Brilliant at Breakfast - Oscar Wilde  ⭐⭐⭐ 3/5

So sassy. I definitely think Oscar Wilde would have been famous on Twitter haha. Joking aside, it is a good way to read Wilde if you have never read him before because, behind how funny or incisive he can be he hides truths and reflections that become constructive.

“Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.”

The Book of Form and Emptiness - Ruth Ozeki  ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5/5 

When I tell you that I devoured this book, it's not a lie. It is written with dedication and beauty. It is philosophical but does not abandon the narrative. It's about how we fill the voids left by grief, the pain that it entails. One of the books that impacted me the most this year. Sometimes it feels like the text is about everything and nothing at the same time.

“Things are needy. They take up space. They want attention, and they will drive you mad if you let them.”

“Space and time were hopelessly entangled, and the present moment was growing increasingly remote.”

August

White Teeth - Zadie Smith ⭐⭐⭐ 3/5

I enjoy Zadie Smith's writing, I think she has a lot to say. She's intelligent, she's political, she's suspicious. White Teeth is a novel that brings the themes of migration, racism, cultural identity and patriarchy to the fore. I wanted to enjoy this book more. Yes, I have to admit that I stayed reading because many of the dialogues are good and catch you.

“You must live life with the full knowledge that your actions will remain. We are creatures of consequence.”

Sea of Tranquility- Emily St. John Mandel ⭐⭐⭐⭐4/5

Another book by Emily St. John Mandel that I liked. It is the most complex Mandel book I have read so far. With the incorporation of time travel, the narrative ties together parts of life. I find this quite beautiful. This book is more than time travel. They are stories connected to stories across centuries of humanity.

“Won’t most of us die in fairly anticlimactic ways, our passing unremarked by almost everyone, our deaths becoming plot points in the narratives of the people around us?” 

September

The Penelopiad - Margaret Atwood ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5/5

I love Margaret Atwood. This book made me cry ugly tears. The story of the Iliad through the eyes of Penelope and her 12 hanging maids. It is a story that is at times crude and at other times compassionate.

“Happy endings are best achieved by keeping the right doors locked”

An Orestia - Translation by Anne Carson. - Agamemnon by Aiskhylos; Electra by Sophocles; Orestes by Euripides   ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5/5 

The translations by Anne Carson and Anne Carson in general have been my obsession this year. Honestly, she was born to be the translator of Greco-Latin classics. Orestes will always have a special place in my heart, it is one of the classic works that I like the most. But Electra takes second place. I really liked this translation, I feel like I can quote it in my dreams. I love you Anne Carson.

“Even imaginary demons can drive you into despair.”

The Hunger Games The Trilogy. - Suzanne Collins ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5/5  

Let's make this easy. I'm going to talk about the entire trilogy. Every year I read it, don't @ me. I have no chill about it. I always find new things about the trilogy. Sometimes teenage things become outdated because I'm no longer at that stage. But the structure endures. Collins did a magnificent job. Catching Fire is my favorite book of the three. And I did read the three books back to back, there is no other way to do it.

“Sometimes things happen to people and they're not equipped to deal with them.”

“What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.”

[ryouverua]

Saimota is a fantastic ship that only improves with age and their respective maturity. Right from the get-go we see this in canon, too! They have a tumultuous first clash at the end of chapter 1 which is immediately turned on its head, and the subsequent growth and development of their in-game relationship really stands out that much more because of it.

This is a long one, so strap in!

Kaito realizes his mistake in his approach after punching him the night before and rectifies it immediately the next morning when he notices Shuichi hasn’t come to breakfast, rightly guessing that he’s stewing in his own grief and misery. And then, being the emotionally intelligent guy he is, he follows up that night and drags him out to exercise (which, y’know, releases endorphins and is scientifically proven to help with mood boosts and even depression) - a move which Shuichi says in chapter 5 saved his life.

A couple days pass and a body drops. Kaito supports him through the investigation knowing that Kaede had been with him last time and that there’s a danger of him relapsing. In the trial, too, Kaito makes every effort to let Shuichi know that he isn’t alone and someone does have his back if he fumbles. This is the real moment that Shuichi chooses to depend on Kaito and is rewarded for it, and while Kaito does get plenty of ego-feed out of it, he believes in Shuichi and his talent wholeheartedly (enough so that it’ll come back to bite him later). But despite it being framed as a ‘hero and sidekick’ relationship, it’s not just for Kaito’s self-worth - it’s to take some of the mental load off of Shuichi, who really, really doesn’t want the pressure of everyone’s lives solely on his shoulders, and is now dealing with the guilt of two cases where uncovering the guilty party hurt him.

(quick chapter 2 interlude! while this is where a lot of the big hero-worship begins for Shuichi and happens to be where I also did his first FTE and got to witness this:

this is also the chapter when these moments happen, post-breakfast and post-casino scene respectively:

and this happens in the very next FTE:

mmm yes, the duality of man. Suffice it to say, while Shuichi has definite rose-coloured glasses on for a lot of the game, Kaito is definitely not an invincible, untouchable hero in his eyes)

Interestingly enough, despite Shuichi still very much leaning into their friendship (and vice versa), they don’t spend a lot of time together in Chapter 3 after he brings Maki out to training that first night! While Chapter 4 is their real ‘break’, Kaito spends a lot of time in his room in the second half while Shuichi gets to know Maki better. And while Maki is a much, uh, meaner investigation partner (love you girl, but that tongue is sharp), they make a great team. Shuichi also starts poking at Kaito’s reason for holing up in his room, incorrectly guess that it’s just related to the occult being brought up. Most importantly, Shuichi is able to do an investigation on his own independent of Kaito just a week after the end of Chapter 1.

Chapter 4 and its immediate aftermath in 5 is great because it showcases Kaito’s flaws and insecurity, and what conflict between the two of them look like. It’s because Kaito respects Shuichi so much that cracks in his own confidence start appearing - and while Shuichi can be obtuse and awkward at times, he shows signs of wanting to broach some more sensitive topics with Kaito; if you do FTEs with Kaito in Ch 4, he even has an inner narrative in which he notes that Kaito had said his stomach hurt before.

He’s not so self-absorbed as to not worry about his friend (but narratively we gotta save that juicy plot point and subsequent reveal for the end of the trial) but hey, Kaito wants to chill and just shoot the shit - so why not have some downtime with his friend in the murder school. Btw, their FTE availability ends here - so if Shuichi has completed them with Kaito, he’s already had his canon-saimota thoughts at this point. While I have given Shuichi the side-eye for his ‘I can rely on Kaito for anything’ spiel, he is fully able and willing to stand up to Kaito in the Chapter 4 trial despite his canon feelings for him at that point. By the way, it’s been a week and a half since the end of Chapter 1 at this point. Shuichi and Kaito have had an arc together where they become fast friends in a pressure-cooker situation and bonding over shared grief for Kaede (even if Kaito’s is less obvious), Shuichi starts as dependent on Kaito’s emotional support but learns to stand on his own two feet, and Kaito is forced to confront his own weakness and hero persona, all while classmates are dropping (including Kaito’s own ex-hero figure, a stark reminder that ‘heroes’ do have flaws).

So the beginning of Chapter 5 is wild to me because of how it’s so often misinterpreted as Kaito immaturely giving Shuichi the silent treatment despite the entirety of the game preceding it explicitly showing that Kaito will tell you, loudly, when he’s angry at you, and that’s purely because we’re in Shuichi’s perspective and he thinks that’s what’s going on - but that’s a bit of a tangent. What I like about it is how we get to see what happens when Kaito (as sick as he is at that point) feels badly and embarrassed with someone he is close to; he withdraws as opposed to lashing out. And while Shuichi is really, really bad at reaching out too without an inciting incident (tunnel escape), he does try and broach the topic when push comes to shove. He’s not lost in hero worship, not even close - he is rightfully upset that the person he’s closest to at the school is upset while still maintaining to himself and the others that his actions were correct. He doesn’t waver on this, despite his attempt to offer an olive branch at the window of the hangar’s bathroom. He truly stands by his own choices in the last class trial and know he won't back down on that if push comes to shove, and that's important - he won't yield the point just to appease Kaito. Shuichi then manages the investigation on his own, leads the trial on his own, faces off with Maki (and who he thinks is Kokichi) on his own, because he has *reached* a point where he can be independent. And to bring it back to how we get a look at ‘saimota in conflict’, Shuichi and Kaito both make amends with each other by the end of the chapter. Even if it’s spurred by it being their final goodbye, Shuichi gets to say his piece, Kaito lays out one of his own vulnerabilities so he can make peace with Shuichi - and even if I’d love to have had them delve into all of Kaito's various issues, there is a very murderous robobear overseeing this which makes time a factor - and I firmly believe that if they had more time, they could’ve resolved even more of the issues that would come up for Saimota. The groundwork wasn’t just there; there was already half the structure in place. And that’s what makes saimota even more appealing to me, tbh. We get to see them build a relationship, run into a big issue, struggle through it and resolve it by the end of the game - and it means that there’s precedent for them to do it again as more interpersonal challenges come up! It’s a goldmine of ship exploration, and they care about each other enough to work through it.

… By the way, at this point they are 2 weeks past the end of Chapter 1.

Imagine if they had more time. Imagine if Shuichi, who is absolutely dogged in pursuing an issue once he catches wind of it (despite how he can get wrapped up in his own head), who cares a lot for other people, who doesn’t just find runaways as part of his detective talent, but follows up with them after because he cares about more than just finishing the job, had the chance to spend years with Kaito and realize he uses his hero persona to protect a much more fragile sense of self. Imagine Shuichi forming that initial friendship with Kaito without the albatross of Kaede’s death hanging around his neck; about how he’ll still look up to Kaito and his fantastic positivity, passion and excellence in his chosen field, and that would only be matched by Kaito’s own admiration of Shuichi’s skills as a detective. Imagine if Kaito, who repeatedly shows the ability to reflect and change his mind when presented with evidence against his viewpoint and was able to express his own insecurity and jealousy to Shuichi in the end, was given the breathing room and space to get more comfortable with doing so. Imagine how difficult and emotionally mature they were to navigate as well as they did in a life-or-death situation that took place over a couple of weeks tops, and how much more they could grow if given the time and space for it.

... And this was nearly going to be where I ended the post, until Ira reminded me of TDP and sent me this wonderful Saimota event (which takes place before the final graduation/training trio event):

Oh hey, Shuichi picked up his catchphrase! It's quite cute how he's finishing Kaito's sentence here - he's spent a couple of years being friends with Kaito at this point, and has even taken up exercising on his own for stress relief. I wonder whose influence that was?

Anyway -

Shuichi has figured out at this point that he does need to firmly extend that helping hand to Kaito rather than worry and keep it to himself. On the other side, Kaito has learned that it is okay to accept that outstretched hand, even if he doesn't need it right now - that he can admit that some day, he might. He's being blase, sure, but it is a far cry from his in-game 'I don't/won't need help'. Good for you, Kaito - you've grown a lot! And that's the most important thing their TDPs show - their capacity for growth not just as individuals, but in a relationship. Of course there will be bumps along the way - it’s very rare that any relationship won’t have them! - but they've proven that they can work these problems in the worst of circumstances. This is by far one of the strongest ships with canon foundation in the entire series, and my goodness do I still love it years later.

[esperanta-dragon]

I feel like there is a need to write down why so many people hate Sylvanas so much, me included. Maybe you can’t stand her too OR you love her and you don’t understand why the hell people can hate such an amazing character. Here is why. And I will try to write this down logically as possible. No “hur dur I hate her because she is a bitch!”. No, I will put down all things so you can understand. And one sad disclaimer... it’s not the character’s fault.

WHY WE STARTED TO LOVE HER

Sylvanas showed up in Warcraft III as a Ranger General of Quel’thalas. She was protecting her country for quite some time when Arthas attacked Eversong Woods in order to get to Sunwell and resurrect Kel’Thuzad as a lich. Sylvanas paid with her life and her soul to protect her people and her country. She was made banshee and was forced to do things against her will and serve the Scourge she hated. But she was still plotting her revenge, didn’t give up until the moment came and she took the chance. She reclaimed her body back and almost killed Arthas, and took over Lordaeron City. Then she took over the undead slowly freeing from the Lich King’s grasp and gave them a place where to stay, becoming their Queen. And since then, she was planning to kill the Lich King for good.

That’s why we loved her (I never did, I will explain that later why). She really kicked his ass. She slapped the Scourge in the face. She never gave up and was doing everything to achieve her goals, her revenge. There are not so many such strong female characters, so resolute. She was not good but also not evil, she was shady, she was not the boring good guy. So why the hell people hate her? She is perfect! Let’s go to what happened during and after WotLK... Because here it starts.

WRATH OF THE LICH KING

As I said, many people adore Sylvanas since Warcraft III. But they don’t understand the character is not the same. She was never good, she was an anti-hero, that’s the fact (the Ebon Blade are also anti-heroes and they are not bad, they just do necessary things to keep the Scourge in check). She was doing everything to take revenge on Arthas. And everything means that she had no problems walking over corpses of her allies. Causalities because of my fault? Pfft! No matter as long as the piece of trash sitting on the Frozen Throne will get what he deserves!

This was pretty much visible after Wrathgate when Varimathras and Putress tried to take over Undercity and Alliance and the Horde saw what she is doing inside the city. Still fine, it was in character, she was doing EVERYTHING to take revenge on Arthas. Everything. That’s why she existed, why she kept going. Even back then, I didn’t hate her. She was still a very well-written character. This is what a character in her position would do. 

But once everything was done, the Lich King was taken care of, she realized there is no point in her existence. She saw the Lich King was not destroyed. They only replaced him. So she threw herself from the Icecrown Citadel and fell on saronite spikes, the only thing that could definitely kill her.

And she ended up in a dark place. And the pain she felt was not like anything she felt before. It was the most horrible, the most inconsolable place. But val’kyras came down to her and sacrificed for her to get her back. Now we know what happened as we progress in the Shadowlands but... let’s say this was the beginning of the end for a good character Sylvanas once was. This was a start of cliché, inconsistency, and a great example that good characters should be allowed to go and leave so they can be remembered as a good characters.

WHAT CHANGED

Look, I came to WoW really late. I was playing on WotLK free servers as I could not afford to pay for official servers. But I knew the story in WotLK and I was still pretty ok with Sylvanas. I don’t remember hating her this much. She was well written.

It was Cataclysm Firelands patch when I finally could come to official servers. And Sylvanas was already doing pretty shady and disgusting stuff. I played Forsaken starting quest line so I know. Raising undead like the Lich King did? No problem for her. She even said she is like Arthas but she is working for the Horde (she never cared for them anyway, it was just more beneficial for her). What happened in Gilneas was not alright. Who gases the whole zone and making it inhabitable? Alright, let’s say Horde was expanding and Gilneas was next to Lordaeron. Alright. But back then, I finally dove deep into lore and I’ve noticed many people are really devoted to Sylvanas. It seemed almost like a cult. And every time I asked people, why they love this psyhopathic banshee, they were like: “She is my Queen! I love her, I would die for her! She is cool, she is taking care of us, she has a good heart!”

Something was amiss here... I couldn’t understand this. I couldn’t see what they saw. I saw a shady, ruthless and careless psychopath who is using her loyal subjects to save herself from something. And many people believed it even in BfA. Me and my friend had to show them excerpts from short stories where she say that “once they were arrows in her quiver, now they are bulwark against the darkness”. They couldn’t believe they loved Queen would not love them back!

But hey, still, I wanted to understand why people love her. I would understand if it would be still Warcraft III or WotLK, that’s fine. But Cata? Legion? BfA? Shadowlands? 

So I started reading all books, short stories where she was. Articles about her. I tried to catch the glimpse of why people loved her: the majority told me she is still good and has a good heart and she is an amazing person. But I didn’t see it. Maybe I am stupid and I don’t understand, I am missing something... So I kept studying, trying to see anything good in her, I was failing. I saw a character falling more down into a pit full of anger and hate. Her loyalists said she was an amazing creature, loving, caring.

And the more I was told by people that she is caring and she has a good heart, the more I was getting disgusted and angry because the more I was reading about her and the more her loyalists told me, the more I saw what Sylvanas is: inconsistent character.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH SYLVANAS

In one book she was written like this. In another book, she was written like that. In one quest it was like this, then it was like that. In one expansion she behaved this way, in the next expansion, it was that way. She was doing more and more twisted things and her loyalists kept telling me she has a good heart. My frustration was growing to the point I could not stand her. It felt like I’ve met the person I knew was torturing her friends but when I met them, they told me with bruises on their faces and definitely mentally abused that she is amazing and it’s not her fault, she is just misunderstood and I should love her too.

When she killed Liam Greymane, loyalists were like: “I have no clue why Genn hates her so much! That stupid dog should die!” Yeah right, somebody kills your son and destroys your home, you have no reason to be angry, it’s ok.

She burns down Teldrassil and they said: “Why Tyrande wants to kill her? I hope Sylvanas kills her first!” Sure, somebody burns down a city with thousands of innocent people, it’s fine, let them go, no hard feelings. And sometimes these people are able to justify her actions with: “But this is fantasy! There is different morale than in real world!” Please, guys, never ever write a story. Never touch it. You will end up like Steve Danuser making characters to behave like idiots and without emotions. Stay away. Please. Do world the favor.

I was trying really hard. Trying to figure out what kind of character she is. Find a pattern. Because you can write a chaotic character and still find a pattern and it can be still a consistent character. But Sylvanas? I felt more and more that not even Blizzard knows what to do with her, how to write her... she felt more and more inconsistent and out of place with every expansion. And you know what? That happens to characters which are kept in the story longer than they should. If character losts a meaning of their existence, there are only two options: you either let them go or you have to find them a new meaning. And in case of Sylvanas, the second option led to a narrative disaster.

We were told by Blizzard: “Don’t worry! Everything falls in place! It makes sense what she does!” But after the Sanctum of Domination finale? It was a big fat lie...

Before I come to the cinematic, let me tell you what made me hate her beyond every possible measure: her fandom.

HITLER HAD A GOOD HEART!

In Legion, she was doing shady stuff. But in BfA? She became a Hitler. She burned down Teldrassil because... IDK she snapped and wanted to show one elven archer that you can kill hope? And what kind of catapults she had has reach 20 km? What kind of catapults can burn down incredibly big tree SOAKED in water with thick bark. Was that azerite or... no, I am not gonna get angry. And I won’t even start with the b*shit Blizzard pulled: “Look, just because Sylvanas is right in front of Teldrassil doesn’t mean it was her who burned it down!” They had to lie to us to look that they can create a better story than what it actually is.

She destroyed Undercity so Forsaken lost their home. Is this how you take care of your subjects if you are loving and caring? I think not.

And with her actions, millions of souls from the whole cosmos are going right into the Maw for eternal suffering. And why? Because she was scared. Because instead of thinking about herself and trying to change, she rather schemed with the god of death... who was responsible for her misery. And even teamed with Kel’Thuzad, who was reason of her fate in the first place! And yet, after all this, after mass genocide, destroying souls, millions, maybe billions of souls are suffering because of her... and you can still tell me there is still good in her and she deserves redemption arch... And with love say: “She got us into this, she will get us out of this <3 ^_^” So somebody is making everybody suffer and some people are like “Ooooh it’s fine, I support her! I bet she will realize what she is doing and she will save us!” Would you say the same about Hitler? That he was misunderstood, he was trying to fix something that’s why he murdered millions of people? I am just asking what kind of people her loyalists are in real life.

I have a question... would you still love her if she was a man? Or decomposing undead? Or if she wouldn’t be sexy elf at all? If she would be ugly? I think we all know the answer (disclaimer, beautiful people are not always kind and nice, what a surprise). I bet she would be already killed or hated by majority of the community at least two expansions back. Why Garrosh had to stand trial for war crimes and Sylvanas doesn’t? To be honest, I never liked Garrosh, I hated him, but I never hated him as much I hate Sylvanas. He was at least consistent to his very last moment. But I am fed up by the fact that everybody keeps excusing what she does just because she is a sexy elf. This is not character I can respect. How can you say about such character that she is cool when you know she is commiting genocide? Let’s replace her with ugly elf and let’s see how many of you will still love her.

If you love her because she is a crazy homicidal maniac and you want her to do evil stuff, go ahead, nothing wrong with you, it’s fine. You love her because you think that she has a good heart and she is sending millions of souls into hell because she wants to help us? Take your pills and think twice before going on date with a manipulative person who will use you, beat you but will tell you they love you so much while cheating on you. Thanks.

If you are lying to yourself that she is good and has a good heart because you are afraid you wouldn’t like her anymore as a bad guy, then you love illusion you made around her, not the character itself. And you should seriously think if you really love the character if you need to change it that much in your mind to keep loving her.

GRAND FINALE

“If they are gonna give her redemption arch, I am gonna puke.” Many people told me, they would not. They are not gonna do it. She is beyond redemption, she is antagonist, period. Guess what, they did. The cheapest way possible.

Blizzard kept telling us everything will make sense in the end, why she did all these things. But it did not. And it only confirmed my greatest fear: Sylvanas is an inconsistent character since Cataclysm.

Sylvanas was afraid to go to the Maw. So she got an amazing idea. Let’s free the god of death, the malevolent creature trapped there because for sure he is suffering just like me, and injustice was done to him. He is the reason of my suffering because he made Helm of Domination and Frostmourne, that’s why I was killed and I am like this? I am sure he is a good guy, in the end, let’s remake reality so there is no life and death! That guy must be pretty ok. Oh wait his job is to torture souls? No, I don’t believe he is bad.

So when Jailer gets all he wanted, ofc he say that he will remake all reality and everybody will serve. And Sylvanas realizes: “Oh my, he is just like the Lich King! I didn’t want this! I will never serve!” Even she served him for the past few expansions. And suddenly she sees he is a bad guy. Suddenly.

And then, Jailer gives her half of her soul back... So... this is the explanation? She was doing all this because she was not whole? Is this an excuse for genocide? Now we will all feel sorry for her? Tell her it’s ok, you were not yourself?

I am saying this all the years and I will say it again: the Ebon Blade are order full of those with a fate like Sylvanas. The whole order. Multiple characters suffered under the Lich King like her, lost themselves, were made to kill their friends, their families. And they, too, took revenge on him. But instead of going crazy and trying to hurt everybody because they were hurt, they tried to help and protect people. Maybe they are missing part of their souls too. But are they running around, burning innocents, committing genocide? No. So please, the is no excuse, she was aware of what she was doing. I am not buying this and for sure this won’t make me feel sorry for her. It was her choice. You can be depressed and hurt into the very core and still decide not to be homicidal maniac.

Another annoying thing is, Blizzard kept telling us she is a master strategist and she is highly inteligent. Would a highly inteligent person try to help somebody responsible for her suffering? Being ok with them? There was not shown how come she is ok with the Jailer! Look I thought she is smart but after the cinematic, she does not look like that.

What was her plan anyway? Did she believe such creature won’t betray her, he won’t dump her? I was hoping he will dump her and kill her. That would be the only ending fitting for the character. I didn’t want another Kerrigan, I didn’t want redemption arch for her... I was hoping I will finally like her as a villain. Now I can’t... there is no way I will like her ever again because Blizzard probably can’t do just evil characters. There always must be something behind, some explanation why they are like this. “I was good this whole time!” And I am tired of this... Suddenly I like Garrosh because he was an asshole but he was consistent. He had a good ending. He “died” like a boss.

THEY SHOULD HAVE LET HER DIE

And I mean it. If they would let her go after WotLK, it would be a good ending for her. Tragic end for the tragic character. She fulfilled her purpose and she would be remembered as a good consistent character. But she is making a lot of money, many people love her (not anymore, even people who liked her hate her now and her fanbase is getting smaller) so Blizzard decided they have to milk her as much as possible.

I think everything good should come to an end. “You would either die as a hero or live long enough to become a villain.” In this case “You would either die as a good character or live long enough to become inconsistent and annoying character.” And it happened.

Remember how people were angry how Thrall is getting a lot of attention in Cata? Haha, good old times. How about Sylvanas in 3 expansion cinematics (and some side cinematics like Reckoning, etc) and 2 expansions fully focusing on her (and some other expansions where she is a lot too). How about the 15th figure in a row. And 4th Blizzcon art. And I can keep going.

Metzen had favorite characters... but they were never overused as much as Sylvanas. Vol’jin was warchief for 1 expansion where he did nothing and then he died so she could take lead in story. So many characters are forgotten, pushed down so she can be on the spotlight. And I am sick of it. This is not single player, this is MMORPG. The world feels ridiculously small thanks to this, we have more characters than Sylvanas + 5 characters they keep using and recycling all the time.

And keep using Sylvanas and putting her into the spotlight all the time did not help. You can start hating character you liked before just because you have enough of them and you want to see other characters. This world has a big potential. So many characters are unused because of Sylvanas. Because the lead narrative designer loves her so much that he had to make her the main character of WoW and doesn’t care there is a whole world to take care of. And he does the worst job possible. Because he tried to make her complicated and complex and in the end he was just trying to make it look like that but it didn’t work out. It was just inconsistent. It didn’t fall in place.

Her plot armor is so laughable and it’s the most annoying thing about Sylvanas. How characters around her are so stupid and dumb so they can let her do such stuff (hello Horde in BfA). The whole universe and Blizzard especially is protecting Sylvanas of any harm. How can you like such character when it behaves like Mary Sue? I didn’t want to see cinematic how she comes and beat up really powerful guy without any issues. You know how interesting would be if Four Horsemen managed to arrive earlier and they wouldn’t know if to fight the Lich King or Sylvanas? No, Blizzard wanted to show lady Sylvanas Plotarmor.

And the worst thing is, I feel like Shadowlands are my last expansion in WoW. This is where the story ends for me. And I know that many characters won’t get resolution, many story arcs will never close because they’ve put too much effort to work on Sylvanas and ignore other characters. So many characters could have met. Lore in Shadowlands could have been expanded about The Scourge, death knights, rune magic, etc... it did not. 

So no, Sylvanas is not one of the best characters created. If this is the best WoW can muster then there is nothing to be proud of. We would have good or better characters if Blizzard tried to work with more characters and give them space and a chance to develop. But we will never have them because Sylvanas took the spotlight.

Sylvanas for me is the character who will be put on guidelines on how to not use a character. This character will be perfect for DO NOT character development guidelines. And the whole story of WoW at least in BfA and Shadowlands is a great example of how to destroy the world with an amazing setting and characters. 

I hope I’ve made this clear why many people hate her. Because it’s much more complex problem. This character was misused, written horribly, overused, was given a poor and cheap story arch, made look stupid and it no longer makes sense. And on top of that, many characters will never get a resolution, many storylines won’t be finished because all story was focused on her and not on the world. World which was supposed to be “everybody’s story” was made story about Sylvanas. Just because she sells.

Good job Danuser, I hope you are happy.

Tl;Dr: Sylvanas is inconsistent since Cataclysm because Blizzard tried to make her complex character artificially and failed horribly. She should have died after WotLK and never made Warchief. They should have let her go so we can remember her as a good consistent character

P.S.: I am not native speaker, sorry for grammar errors.

[bitch-for-a-rainbow]

So there's a blanddcheadcanons post that says that "Kara is the mortal avatar of Rao" and I really don't like it, especially in the context of SG 3x04 (The Faithful). At best, as was pointed out to me by a friend with whom I discussed this post, the House of El is likely blessed and somewhat sponsored by Rao, which probably doesn't do much but produce Krypton's greatest heroes, given what the word "El" **means** in Kryptonian. I'm interested in your thoughts on this (pls post your answer).

    I reject the headcannon solely because if it were true it would mean Coville was right and I fucking hate that bitch.

     In all seriousness, though, this is an idea I've seen a lot and I'm not a huge fan of. I don't know much about Raoism beyond what appears in the show and that which can be inferred off of the show. One thing I would point out though is that El in Kryptonian (while obviously being intended to mean God by the original comic writers) can mean Sun or Stars, and since the Kryptonians in the show are, as far as I can tell, monotheistic, and worshipped only one particular star, the El family is not necessarily named God. It would, however, signify their enormous prestige on Krypton and contribute to the famous El pride (or rather, arrogance). I’m not sure it would necessarily have to mean anything more than that-- that the Els are a respected house who have produced a variety of successful politicians, civil servants, and scientists. And (this time reaching a little bit) that they are perhaps so old and respected that their house name was once a title. 

      There is a certain allure to the theory, for sure. Kara is a paragon character. She always, always does what she thinks is right, regardless of the cost, personal or global, and regardless of what other people might think of it. She has a very direct moral compass, and there are only a handful of times when she doesn’t follow it, all of which involve saving Lena. Ship who you want, but it is notable that Kara routinely prioritzes Lena’s life over that of others given the rarity of that happening otherwise. She never even considered breaking Rick Thompson’s father out of prison when he kidnapped Alex, and all he’d committed was bank robbery. Kara has lines she does not cross (though murder is clearly not one of them). She is a character that has seen some of the worst that sentient life is capable of, has seen more death and suffering than most people could imagine, and she came out of it with an all-encompassing desire to protect others. She lives to give people hope. Plus, the humor of having Kara-- the one person most offended by the idea of being an Avatar of Rao-- turn out to be an Avatar of Rao is great.

       But, I would also say that having Kara want to do good because she is the avatar of a benevolent god is reductive and not particularly true to her character. It is true that helping and protecting people is a large part of the core of who Kara is. But there is a difference between altruism and the self-destructive, bordering of suicidal desperation to save absolutely everyone that Kara practices. And to anyone who doubts the suicidal bit, I direct you to the season 1 finale where Kara literally goes on a goodbye tour because she thinks if she goes out to fight Non she’ll die. She still goes because she has hope, but that hope is that she can at least save Earth with her life. She doesn’t fight because she is certain in the ultimate victory of good and justice. She does it because she more afraid to lose another family than she is to die. Kara doesn’t become Supergirl and risk her own life because she believes in good, she does it because she can’t stand to listen to people suffer-- because she has suffered. To use Alex’s words in 1x13 “You fight everyday to keep people from struggling like you have.” Notably also in 1x13, Kara wakes up from the Black Mercy and her first words are “Who did this to me?” and then she goes after Non in what could arguably be described as a homicidal rage-- a rage that is fueled entirely for personal reasons, not the greater good of Earth (though that comes as an added benefit), which is.... not very befitting the avatar of a benevolent god. 

     A major part of season 1 is Kara dealing with grief and rage. She nearly breaks a guy's arm in episode 6 because he screamed at her for damaging his car, to hell with the children he'd almost hit with it. In season 3's Midvale flashbacks we see her first put both hands through a lunch table, then attack Jake when she suspects him for Kenny's death. She gets better at controlling it as the seasons progress, but during Crisis she very nearly melts Lex. Also not particularly godly of her. 

     Then there is the fact that so much of who Kara is is shaped by fear: fear of the government, fear of humanity, fear of abandonment, and fear of herself. In her civilian life, Kara is, for the most part, unnoticeable. She's polite, soft-spoken, doesn't wear a lot of bold colors or styles, and is often a pushover. As shown by her encounter with Red Kryptonite, Kara would not dress or speak the same way to people without the pressure of hiding her identity (though much of her dialogue is purely the loss of her "don't be an asshole" filter, some of it is stuff she had every right to say before and just didn't). I have always found that episode to be very interesting purely for the fact that Kara doesn't actually seem to be seeking harm on others so much as seeking their attention. Her argument with Alex is almost entirely about how much she hates having to hide and pretend to be less than she is. Kara drops Cat off the balcony and then catches her. She attacks the police when they point weapons at her but doesn't kill or even hurt them that badly, instead of destroying the car they're using as shelter. Red-K removed her inhibitions, made her angrier, yes, but if her goal was to actually hurt people, she could have done so-- would have done so, and with great ease. She goes to a public bar and uses super strength to smash bottles by flicking peanuts. Why do that at a crowded bar? Why not just flick potato chips at the windows in her own apartment?

      This is Kara at her absolute worst-- but does she seek out the DEO agents who shot her out of the sky? Does she go after Maxwell Lord or Non? No. She tries to make people pay attention to her. Her most shameful and hideous desire is for people to give her respect. (Admittedly, respect gained through fear, but still.). Kara's a nice person-- much, much nicer than average-- but a lot of that "nice" is just her avoiding conflict to avoid attention.

      Kara is a good person. Kara inspires people. But that is because Kara gets up every day and chooses to be good and to inspire. It's one of the reasons I enjoy Non as a villain so much-- he and Astra are Kara's narrative foils. They also remember Krypton and grieve its loss. They also were trapped in the Phantom Zone. But where Kara had the Danvers to convince her that some good people existed and would risk themselves just to help others, Non and Astra had Alura sentencing them to eternal suffering rather than helping them save their planet (through the means they thought necessary) and then landed on Earth and found it headed on the same path as the planet they'd just lost. Kara had people to help her grieve. Non and Astra were surrounded by misery. They lost hope. Kara discovered it.

     Kara is the Paragon of Hope because she has been hopeless. Because she has suffered so much, seen so much, and because she chooses to believe in a better future. She didn't have hope her first time in the Phantom Zone. She didn't even have hope for a while on earth. From what we can gather, Kara's choice to start actually believing in the future was a gradual shift that occurred sometime after Kenny's death and has lasted her ever since. For Kara, hope is learned. She chose to hope and she won't let it go, and to assign that incredible victory off to her being a God is an insult to her growth and to her character. 

   Now I personally thought “The Faithful” handled this concept very well. 3x04 is one of my favorite episodes of television in general, let alone in Supergirl. Season 3 is my second favorite season, and that says a lot for its good episodes when the bad of season 3 is so, so very bad (To say nothing of the episode to episode production value, we have the waste of Argo, Mon El’s return as obviously he’s grown he has a beard Mon El, and whatever the hell was going on with Kryptonian genetic engineering eclipse causing witches). To this day I don’t know why Kara had magic dreams. The show did nothing to explain it and I can’t imagine up a reason. 

     But “The Faithful” works because it highlights the whole paragon part of who Kara is. When you realize that every person in the room of Coville’s cult is a person she has personally saved-- that hits hard. Especially since only a fraction of the people she’s saved would ever set foot inside that building with the totally not-creepy, entirely wholesome way they deliver the invitations. (“Your daughter is special. She has been chosen. As have you.”) It works because it focuses on how the average human must view Kara, the ones who don’t see her argue with her sister over potstickers and crush her phone when she gets mad. It works because of how desperately hard Kara tries to be a human. It works because the writers know that we, the audience, do not see Kara as anything but a regular person with irregular abilities: a kind and remarkably devoted person, but not a god. 

[dahlia-coccinea]

A few thoughts on the scene of Catherine returning to the Heights after her stay with the Linton’s - it is commonly cited in discussions about her character and generally, the narrative goes that she shows herself to be vain and narcissistic in laughing at Heathcliff, and this honestly confuses me? I think that is quite selective in what details are noted about the scene and misses placing it in a wider context. To start I think its best to reference the scene in its entirety, sorry it is quite long (bolding is mine):

Heathcliff was hard to discover, at first. If he were careless, and uncared for, before Catherine’s absence, he had been ten times more so since. Nobody but I even did him the kindness to call him a dirty boy, and bid him wash himself, once a week; and children of his age seldom have a natural pleasure in soap and water. Therefore, not to mention his clothes, which had seen three months’ service in mire and dust, and his thick uncombed hair, the surface of his face and hands was dismally beclouded. He might well skulk behind the settle, on beholding such a bright, graceful damsel enter the house, instead of a rough-headed counterpart of himself, as he expected. “Is Heathcliff not here?” she demanded, pulling off her gloves, and displaying fingers wonderfully whitened with doing nothing and staying indoors.

“Heathcliff, you may come forward,” cried Mr. Hindley, enjoying his discomfiture, and gratified to see what a forbidding young blackguard he would be compelled to present himself. “You may come and wish Miss Catherine welcome, like the other servants.”

Cathy, catching a glimpse of her friend in his concealment, flew to embrace him; she bestowed seven or eight kisses on his cheek within the second, and then stopped, and drawing back, burst into a laugh, exclaiming, “Why, how very black and cross you look! and how—how funny and grim! But that’s because I’m used to Edgar and Isabella Linton. Well, Heathcliff, have you forgotten me?”

She had some reason to put the question, for shame and pride threw double gloom over his countenance, and kept him immovable. 

“Shake hands, Heathcliff,” said Mr. Earnshaw, condescendingly; “once in a way that is permitted.”

“I shall not,” replied the boy, finding his tongue at last; “I shall not stand to be laughed at. I shall not bear it!” And he would have broken from the circle, but Miss Cathy seized him again.

“I did not mean to laugh at you,” she said; “I could not hinder myself: Heathcliff, shake hands at least! What are you sulky for? It was only that you looked odd. If you wash your face and brush your hair, it will be all right: but you are so dirty!”

She gazed concernedly at the dusky fingers she held in her own, and also at her dress; which she feared had gained no embellishment from its contact with his.

“You needn’t have touched me!” he answered, following her eye and snatching away his hand. “I shall be as dirty as I please: and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty.”

With that he dashed headforemost out of the room, amid the merriment of the master and mistress, and to the serious disturbance of Catherine; who could not comprehend how her remarks should have produced such an exhibition of bad temper.

Importantly Nelly specifies that Heathcliff isn’t just his usual level of childish dirtiness and unkemptness, which assumedly Catherine wouldn’t have noticed when she comes home eager to find him. She wasn’t expecting him to be so neglected and her worst fault here is carelessly misplacing the reason for Heathcliff’s dirtiness, and not recognizing the larger neglect done by Hindley and how laughing could very understandably have hurt him (I don’t think many 12 year-olds are particularly emotionally intelligent though). Initially, she doesn’t seem to notice his state since she runs to him and gives seven or eight kisses. What she does not do, is she does not come back and say she’s better than him, acts embarrassed of him, or indicates she doesn’t want to be friends anymore - she says “it will be fine,” he just needs a wash. 

Catherine’s presence must have been part of what kept him tidier as Nelly notes that it during her absence is when he fell into such neglect. This would be in line with Nelly’s previous description of the two of them of when Hindley first comes home: “Heathcliff bore his degradation pretty well at first, because Cathy taught him what she learnt, and worked or played with him in the fields.” Just as she would teach him what she learned and worked with him in the fields I’d say in this scene she’s simply consistently showing care for his wellbeing, even if she isn’t completely considerate when expressing it.

Not to get too off subject but I think this is pertinent - the line, “They both promised fair to grow up as rude as savages” might be another quote that is taken too literally at times - I don’t think they were just running around dirty all the time as Nelly noted that Heathcliff isn’t generally this uncared for. Also, this line ends up being understood as their rejection of all society and their resistance towards growing up which I think may only be partly true. While I love that Nelly calls them “unfriended creatures,” I don’t take this to mean that they are simply elements of nature. Along with @astrangechoiceoffavourites’ recent post about how “Heathcliff does not reject Culture. Culture rejects him,” I think it’s also often overlooked that they both admire the beauty of the Grange. He describes the house in great detail: 

“ah! it was beautiful—a splendid place carpeted with crimson, and crimson-covered chairs and tables, and a pure white ceiling bordered by gold, a shower of glass-drops hanging in silver chains from the centre, and shimmering with little soft tapers.”

He tells Nelly if they were in Edgar’s and Isabella’s position, “We should have thought ourselves in heaven.” Catherine is not more vain or materialistic than Heathcliff, or vapid just because she tells a 13-year-old boy who works on a farm and is only washing once a week he needs to wash more.

Still, Heathcliff has every right to feel hurt, he’s facing terrible physical and emotional abuse and as mentioned previously this has repercussions on his self-esteem for his whole life. Hindley in this scene is clearly trying to demean him to the level of a servant in the eyes of Catherine. A few months previously he was loved and cared for by Mr. Earnshaw but now any bright future is quickly disappearing. Heathcliff must know his situation won’t change under Hindley. The encounter with the wealth of the Linton family and Catherine’s acceptance into their world is also a stark example of Catherine’s ability to have something better than being with him forever. They both will grow up one day and she will eventually marry and there is no way Hindley would allow them to do so, nor would he give Heathcliff any means or education to provide for a family and have a home. 

Seeing Catherine obviously well cared for I think ignites a little jealously and fear that he is already losing her company. He seems at least mildly aware of Edgar as a potential rival as we see the next day during his conversation with Nelly when he tells her, “...if I knocked him down twenty times, that wouldn’t make him less handsome or me more so. I wish I had light hair and a fair skin, and was dressed and behaved as well, and had a chance of being as rich as he will be!” He did already note Edgar’s reaction to Catherine at the Garage saying, “Edgar stood gaping at a distance...I saw they were full of stupid admiration.” It seems easy to assume he is at least starting to be aware of her - three months prior he mentions to Nelly Catherine’s “beautiful hair,” “enchanting face” and says, Catherine is “immeasurably superior to them—to everybody on earth.” Catherine of course doesn’t necessarily know he feels this way and most likely isn’t fully aware of all his feelings about the situation he’s in. Seems reasonable to assume that she’s somewhat blind to his inner conflicts - later when talking to Nelly she seems to think that Heathcliff understands her completely yet its apparent they aren’t on the same page. She is as blind to the extent of his feelings, as he is of her’s. 

Anyway (getting a little off topic), Catherine’s subsequent reaction to this scene is totally out of line with the narrative of a wildly self-loving and cruel girl, and again we get a glimpse of a morose Heathcliff, nursing his pride and slowly pulling away from her. The fact that he storms off and they don’t immediately go back to their former relationship before her stay at Thrushcross Grange completely shocks her. After this encounter Catherine shows feelings of guilt and distress over the sour encounter. “She cried when I told her you were off again this morning,” Nelly tells Heathcliff the next day. And later again Catherine cries over Heathcliff’s mistreat by Hindley upon the Linton’s arrival. Later that evening when he’s locked in a garret Nelly details how she sneaks off to visit him:

“She made no stay at the stairs’-head, but mounted farther, the garret where Heathcliff was confined, and called him. He stubbornly declined answering for a while: she persevered, and finally persuaded him to hold communion with her through the boards. I let the poor things converse unmolested, till I supposed the songs were going to cease, and the singers to get some refreshment: then I clambered up the ladder to warn her. Instead of finding her outside, I heard her voice within. The little monkey had crept by the skylight of one garret, along the roof, into the skylight of the other, and it was with the utmost difficulty I could coax her out again.”

Later on she tells Nelly that his miseries have been her miseries - and she certainly isn’t ever as classist in her treatment of Heathcliff as her daughter is towards Hareton. When she misses Heathcliff for three years she’s only missing a “ploughboy,” as Edgar calls him. When he returns a gentleman she scoffs at Edgar’s suggestion that Heathcliff be let into the kitchen and mockingly gives the order: “Set two tables here, Ellen: one for your master and Miss Isabella, being gentry; the other for Heathcliff and myself, being of the lower orders.” And later tells him “Heathcliff was now worthy of anyone’s regard,” which shows she’s obviously blind to how many will always perceive him as an outsider and never a true gentleman.  

For fun, here is how this scene was adapted for the 1939 film - in the scene Catherine dreads seeing Heathcliff and upon seeing him makes no move to embrace him, then they have this AWFUL exchange: 

Heathcliff: Why did you stay so long? Catherine: Why? Because I was having a wonderful time. A delightful, fascinating, wonderful time...among human beings. Go and wash your face and hands, and comb your hair...so that I needn't be ashamed of you in front of the guests.

I have a lot of questions. Number one: how dare they? lol How did they extrapolate that from the book? This has become the lasting memory of her for many film viewers, and also somehow for people that have read the book. 

I know there are many conversations that could be had on Catherine saying it would degrade her to marry Heathcliff, or at various time saying he is a baby, a pitiless wolfish man, and a brute. I’m not trying to gloss over when she is demanding and not always kind to him or other characters but people really choose to be blind to some of her actions in order to paint her as the villain of the story. Catherine Earnshaw is a wonderfully flawed and human character and these interpretations make her so 2D. 

I feel like a lot of these views are an expansion on this discussion as well as this other post (credit to @princesssarisa) about the relationship between Catherine and Heathcliff before he leaves - I’ve found so few critics talk about them in a realistic, rather than metaphysical, way. Fewer yet discuss Heathcliff’s role in their failed relationship. More commonly they assert that Heathcliff’s feelings for her are true and hers are based on a shallow self love or whatever. So I guess I’ll just have to write it myself lol.

[bemtevis]

OK RANDOM HARD QUESTIONS

Getting the kamala and Alastair friendship but kamanna is still a thing that becomes canon or Kamala leaves Anna but Alastair has a scene where he begs for Mathews forgiveness

Joshwood is canon but Charlestairs gets back together or Thomastair is canon but fairstairs is endgame (as in Mathew and Cordelia) (and yes in this scenario you still dont get joshwood)

Mathew blindly accepts thomastair with no character development whatsoever and the narrative proves Alastair was being ridiculous or James and Alastair become besties by the end of chot

Eugenia Lightwood gets more pagetime or Kamala Joshi gets to have a personality beside Anna

Christopher gets better friends and realizes he doesnt like how Mateo y Tiago treat him or a scene where Charles get thrown into the Thames (by anyone)

Mathew or Charles

Anyways these are hard ik but hjdjjf found it funny

ZIA WHAT THE FUCK

you know what? fuck you *unsleeping at lasts your favorite characters*

1. Alastair Kamala friendship because you didn't specify if Anna is still an asshole in this scenario 😤 and Alastair would NEVER. I WON'T LET HIM

2. I'ma go with Thomastair endgame because Charlestair is canonically very toxic while Matthew still has a chance not to be a manipulative douchebag (tho he's almost there). I WANT MY JOSHWOOD THO?? DON'T DO THIS TO ME

3. I AM ONCE AGAIN ASKING WHY. Alastair and mr. I'm Better than You become besties cuz I can't handle Thomas being closeted for yearsout of fear and Alastair giving away his chance at happiness just so CC can prove that Matthew is a Great guy.

4. look, I don't trust CC to write Eugenia without ruining her character, but the same applies to Kamala. can I just?? write them myself? no? okay, Kamala gets a personality 😔

5. *sigh* I'm giving up Charles' misery for Christopher's happiness. he deserves better friends and Chuck can catch these hands ✊👊

6. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU /lh. Matthew because he can still redeem himself I guess? I'm always gonna hate him but at least he didn't prey on a 14 year old lol

[anothermcytblog]

Of Theseus, Of Echo || Tommy and Tubbo Interlude

Style: One Shot Word Count: 1669 CW: None that I can think of!

Summary: The story of Theseus popular on this server, and Tommy wonders which Theseus people think of. // As he walks into New L'manberg, Tubbo wonders if Echo would have exiled her best friend. // "Besides, who wants to admit they didn't notice gods among men?"

Contrary to popular belief, Tommy was not an idiot. Impulsive, reckless, loud, childish, possessive- All true, but he isn't an idiot. He knew that perhaps his choices weren't the best- but come on! Exile seemed a bit extreme. He deliberately told Tubbo he didn't want to be vice president yet- not while Dream still had his discs- but did anyone listen? Nooo, they just continued to act like he was still vice president! And he wasn't just going to repeat himself, it would make him seem like a coward! And Tommy Watson-Innit was no coward!

Still, as he sits on the shore of the beach with a fishing rod in hand, he can't help but wonder if perhaps he really was an idiot. Why did he stick up for Ranboo? A guy he barely knew. Sure he was Nikis' old friend (Younger brother? Tommy really didn't know. Gentlemens' rule of the SMP, you don't ask about someone's past) but he didn't need to lie for him and take the sole blame. Ranboo may have stuck up for him but was it really worth it? ("Of course it was," a Wilbur- Not Ghostbur- sounding voice told him, "That's how I raised you. Always be kind unless given a reason not to be. You're not a bad person Tommy, you're just a child.")

Dream appears beside him and Tommy half wants to snarkily ask him if Dream wants to blow up his fishing rod but he holds his tongue. No use arguing with Dream now, not when Dream is his only real person to talk to outside of unreliable messages with Ranboo and an amnesiac ghost who's just a shadow of his older brother. "I wouldn't take you as a fisher," Dream says after a moment. It's hard to tell but Tommy thinks Dream is looking at him from the corner of his eyes, but it's almost impossible to know with his dumb fucking mask.

"There's a lot you don't know about me bitch," He responds, reeling in the rod and grabbing the fish, tossing it back into the ocean as he waits for another bite.

"Really?" Dream asks and Tommy knows Dream is baiting him to reveal some grand secret, a chance to 'one-up him' in something big, "Like what?"

"My real name is actually Theseus," He says, unable to hide the pleased look on his face when Dream physically turns to him in what Tommy assumes is surprise, "Techno named me and Phil just agreed to it to make him happy. Wil-" His name gets caught in his throat and he knows that Dream heard it, "He gave me the nickname Tommy and I much prefer it. Though, I can't help but wonder," Tommy says, laughing so Dream can't hear the way his voice wavers as he tries to hold off of mourning whatever he had left to feel about Techno, "Do you think he knew? That I'd grow up to my namesake? Once a hero, now exiled. All that's left is dying in disgrace."

Dream stays silent, and Tommy can't help the pride he feels to have caught Dream off guard. He half wonders what Dream is thinking right now, and he almost asks before Ghostbur interrupts and asks Tommy if he'd like some blue.

The story of Theseus popular on this server, and Tommy wonders which Theseus people think of.

--

New L'manberg is pretty at night, Tubbo has to admit. The lanterns Ghostbur made light up the sky and the paths between areas, giving Tubbo the warmth he's been slowly losing. In the back of his mind, he wonders if this is what Wilbur meant when he said he was always cold. Walking along the path, Tubbo makes his way to L'mantree and sits outside of the obsidian encasing the tree. "Ah, Mr. President!" Someone calls for him, and for a moment Tubbo believes it to be Ranboo but a flash of green next to him tells him it isn't.

"Dream!" Tubbo greets, giving the masked man a smile, "You're out late, are you on a walk?" ("He's using you kid," Schlatt whispers in his ear, voice soft in a way it hadn't for a while, "You need to open your eyes. Dream has never been on your side. He made you exile your best friend, remember? Dream isn't your friend here, just like I wasn't your friend.")

"I could say the same to you!" Dream laughs, light hearted and friendly, "Just like you said, I'm taking a walk. How about you?"

"Just thinkin'" He shrugs- because it's true! Technically, at least. The entire reason he went on a walk was to clear his head, the upcoming Green Festival weighing heavy on his mind. When Dream tilts his head, Tubbo realizes he needs to come up with something- what did Schlatt tell him? The best lies were based on truth? "About Techno," He tells Dream, turning to face him, "He used to tell me this story- an Old Myth- whenever he and Phil would come home from adventuring. I... I miss hearing about it, Wilbur did his best to tell them but he was more of a Modern Myth slash Sky God story kind of guy. He spoke so much about then you think the Sky Gods actually told them the stories themselves!" He laughs a bit, "Do you know the story he'd tell me?"

"Theseus?" Dream asks, making a confused noise when Tubbo shakes his head.

"Echo," Tubbo says, smiling a bit, "He wanted to name me Echo actually, though Wilbur put a stop to it and since Techno named Tommy, Phil let Wilbur name me. Have you heard the story of Echo?" He asks, almost perking up when Dream shakes his head no, "Right- Okay, it's been a while since I've heard it so I might get a couple things wrong but! Echo was a mountain nymph and Zeus was just in love having sex with nymphs and would visit the overworld a lot because of it! Hera naturally became suspicious and tried to catch Zeus in the act with a Nymph but Echo, under Zeus order, kept distracting Hera. Eventually, Hera found this out and took her wrath out on Echo and cursed Echo so she could only repeat the last thing she heard! Echos' misery doesn't end here though, because she fell in love with the handsome Narcissus! However, she was never able to tell Narcissus how she felt- not like Narcissus liked her anyways- and eventually Narcissus was cursed to fall in love with his own reflection and Echo was forced to watch Narcissus perish due to his own vanity! No one really knows what happened to Echo after that though, I feel bad for her. She was pretty much forced to become everyones yes man after she was punished because Zeus told her to protect him from his wife even though Zeus was in the wrong. I think Techno was trying to warn me."

"Warn you?" Dream echos back, a curious tone in his voice.

"Yeah!" Tubbo nods, "I mean..." He trails off for a moment, suddenly remembering who he is talking to and how he needs to be careful, "Like, I've always been Tommys yes man you know? I go along with what he says and does what he asks- sort of like how Echo, well, echos back whatever people say! Then with Schlatt I did everything he asked of me, even when it led to my own exe... execution- Like Echo did what Zeus said even though it got her cursed! Ooo do you think Techno can see the future?"

"Maybe," Dream says, content for now, "You should head on back though, mobs are beginning to spawn and you're not very armed. Maybe you can tell me more Old Myths later."

Tubbo nods, giving Dream a wave goodbye. As he walks into New L'manberg, Tubbo wonders if Echo would have exiled her best friend. He shakes his head, picking up his pace as he hears a Zombie groan- Of course Echo would have, only if Zeus asked her though... If Tubbo is Echo, would that make Quackity his Zeus?

--

Sitting on top of a grand tree, Wilbur looks over at his dead ram friend, the pool of water around them shimmering as the image of Tuboo walking into New L'manberg fades, "Think they'll be okay?"  He asks, although he already knew the answer to that.

"Ehhhh..." Schlatt replies, "Depends on if they listen to us or not. Though, we haven't done this in a while so who knows how effective it'll be."

WIlbur snorts, as Schlatt waves his hand over the water, switching it to a sleeping Ranboo, "You think Connor would be able to sense us, or at least you."

Schlatt shrugs, laying on his back as he looks at the sky, "He was never the most magically adapt, he was better at the human shit. Besides, Mr. Sky God, it isn't like he knows what Dreams aura is. The tricky bastard likes keeping his secrets."

"Well, Mr. Sky Champion," Wilbur responds, the familiar cocky grin on his face as he looks up from the water, "It seems like the narrative is going to get a lot more interesting from here on out. Dream seems to be preparing for something. I always have been a fan of history rhyming and the God of the End has always been a word smith."  

"Gods of old I forgot how much you talk," Schlatt groans, "I forgot how fucking cryptid and nonsensical you are as well."

Wilbur cackles, "Well, you have an eternity to remember at least. They won't figure us out for a while at least, I have zero faith in them. Besides, who wants to admit they didn't notice gods among men?"

Rain falls somewhere in the distance as TNT explodes, a pool of lava bubbling somewhere below though the god and half-god don't pay much attention to it. They've already dealt with the rhythm of betrayal from them.

[k-corner]

Ashes of Love: The Problem with the ‘Protagonists’ Actions and Characterization, and an In-Depth Look at their Concerning ‘Romance’ Part 2

This is a continuation from Part One. Feel free to head on over there to take a look.

Part Two: Issues with Characterization –

Some points mentioned here have already been lightly touched on in part one as they deal with the plot, but they’re going to be looked at more in a characterization sort of way and in a ‘how that comes across to the audience’.

Now, since Ashes of Love is a romance story, it’s natural to assume that there’s going to be some sort of meet-cute, some sort of flirting or courting stage and then some sort of getting together stage that might be accompanied by something a little more concrete physically like kissing or sex or what have you depending on the rating of the show and the image it’s trying to get across.

Now in Ashes of Love, the main two love interests are Xu Feng and Jin Mi, whose characterizations should have some sort of weight to them that allows for a long-standing love story to spring up from them. This can be seen in the ideas of ‘introvert meets extrovert’ or ‘opposites attract’ or ‘birds of a feather flock together’ or some other variation of what personality and characteristics that these characters have that draws them in and is supposed to draw in the audience as well.

Here is where I would say the weakest part of the entire story of Ashes of Love stands. Not in the sometimes dragging storylines that make up the 60+ episode season, but in the base understandings of the two main characters that we as the audience are supposed to root for.

Xu Feng – AKA The Sexual Predator:

One of my biggest pet peeves in a ‘romance’ drama is anytime the two main love interests have some sort of accident – trip and fall, stumble into each other, get pushed into the same small space, etc. – and ‘OMG! Somehow despite height differences and just a basic understanding of how gravity and momentum works’ they’ll fall into a sweet, gentle kiss or somehow just press their lips together and I guess we’re supposed to swoon at the audience at something that really doesn’t mean anything. The fact that no one smashed each other’s noses or foreheads or something is the more impressive moment being seen in that scenario.

I digress though, but unfortunately Ashes of Love has moments like this. Unfortunately it also has moments that are so much worse. Xu Feng takes the kissing and courting parts of the storyline and runs with them from eyeroll territory and into concerned side-eye country. There are several moments, especially early in the show, when Xu Feng chooses to press his luck with Jin Mi and come onto her in a sexual/kissing/pawing at her and starting to take off her clothes while she lays there and looks up at him almost uncomprehendingly sort of way. He’s putting it all out there and out on the line, but somehow he’s not able to catch onto the fact that Jin Mi isn’t picking it up or worse, he doesn’t care and continues to press because it’s what he wants/desires.

Xu Feng’s character is a mess of ‘but she didn’t say no’ and ‘I don’t care that she’s chosen someone else I know she loves me so I have to keep pushing’ and my absolute favorite ‘Uncle, be a bro and tie us together using your mortal love fate strings for no reason other than I want to go get it on with my brother’s fiancé while I pretend I’m doing it to protect her and not take advantage of her in a vulnerable situation but it’s okay because I swear we truly love each other even though she’s never said it because she can’t actually say it right now but it’s going to be just fine just you wait’.

This is also the character who – and I would call this scene a full on assault scene regardless of him stopping himself before he goes too far and I’ll explain why – that got drunk and practically threw Jin Mi onto the bed before climbing over her and pulling at her clothes while she just laid there and blinked up at him with a kind of look that seemed innocent, uncomprehending and trusting. She had no clue what was happening in that moment as he pushes his luck. I’ll give – he stops himself though, as he should but not for the reasons he should. Why does he stop? Because at this point he thinks that there’s a possibility that she’s his sister. If he hadn’t thought that, would he have pushed harder? Would he have gone further? Who knows.

On top of creepy entitled behaviors that he shows to Jin Mi, he also takes pleasure in being unnecessarily cruel to her. The little back and forth in the Heaven Realm when he turned her into all of the various items to ‘teach her a lesson’ was not cute to me. It was borderline sadistic and just downright fucked up.

Leaving Jin Mi behind, Xu Feng still falls short when it comes to his characterization. He’s portrayed as a kind of Gary Stu. He’s the best at everything. The most powerful. He’s unchallenged by any other character – look at how the entire demon army flees before him! Look at how undefeatable he is in battle! Look at how easily he talks back to his mother with no repercussions! Look at how easily he ignores any possible feelings his brother might have and just keeps on pushing! Look at how every other side character prefers him! What a stud! (note sarcasm). Honestly Xu Feng is a character with no obstacles. The only one he has is that he is in love with his brother’s fiancé and his brother won’t give her up to him because he loves her too. How dare he! He’s evil incarnate! (note sarcasm again)

Plus, we have the narrative trying to portray Xu Feng as a supposedly moral and upright character in contrast to Run Yu who is a schemer. There’s just one problem. It’s easy to be lighthearted and benevolent and chill when you’ve never faced a day of hardship in your life, when you’ve clearly never been told no before and when the roulette wheel of fate always spins in your favor. What hardships has Xu Feng truly had to overcome? Everyone loves him and he is the Greatest at Everything™. We see his narrow world view though and how only what happens to him matters when he deals with the information about the Heavenly Empress’s tyrannical torture and killing fests. He doesn’t care that Run Yu has just lost his mother and has been tortured for the survivors he wants to talk about him and get Jin Mi. He doesn’t care that his mother murdered thousands of people because the Heavenly Emperor couldn’t keep it in his pants, how dare Run Yu disrespect her. Who cares if Xu Feng is the one who started them all down this path of misery by refusing to stop chasing after a woman who told him to stop and just kept pushing until he eventually won, he’s going to feel like he’s righteous enough to tell his brother to be alone for eternity as a price to be paid for what’s happened while Xu Feng goes to find a way to flounce off with Jin Mi and live happily ever after. Who cares if Xu Feng stripped Sui He of her powers and her sanity and threw her out to be tortured and eaten by demons without a trial or anything like that, everyone cheered him and he got the girl! Clearly he was right!

Jin Mi – AKA Born Sexy Yesterday:

Jin Mi’s whole characters storyline and plot depends and hangs onto the fact that Jin Mi is ‘naïve and sheltered’ and that she doesn’t have the ability to either consent or not consent to a male leads love. It’s because she doesn’t know what that is and can’t recognize these weird things he does! Like kiss her? Like start pulling off her clothes? Why would she say no? It’s all innocent fun!

Oh but wait, now she’s going to fall in love with this person because…because he’s constantly there and pawing at her regardless of what she says or does or how she reacts! Yay! True Love FTW! But it’s all okay because it might be that she was in love with him the whole time but it’s a good thing that he recognized it because she can’t figure out her own feelings and wrapping her mind around complicated things like love is just too hard so all of his attentions are okay somehow even though they were still done without consent but that’s okay because deep down she truly loved him. [flips a table in the distance].

Unfortunately Jin Mi’s whole story is all about her lack of agency or characters taking it away. Her mother gives her the pill. Her father sells her away before he even knows that she’s been born in an engagement to the Heaven Realm. Xu Feng continuously ignores what she says and pushes himself into her sphere and hounds her over and over again. Run Yu restores the pill and later holds her captive in the Heaven Realm. The Moon Immortal and Yan You literally turn her into a puppet to put her in wedding clothes and shove her at Xu Feng without her permission. How is any of this okay? Jin Mi needs to get the fuck out.

Plus, the story never seems to understand the limits of the pill. She can feel love, just not romantic love because she feels sibling/friendship love for her cactus friend and mourns her death. She acknowledges that she likes people like Run Yu and understands the concept of marriage and mothers and fathers despite somehow not understanding that Xu Feng is a boy and has different equipment. At certain points her level of ditzy and uncomprehending everything and anything was baffling for a woman who is thousands of years old. Sure, she lived sheltered in the Flower Realm so that’s why she got confused at a dick and wanted to cut it off…. but wait…there are men in the Flower Realm which means she would have come to understand the differences. A child catches onto them pretty quickly and that’s within two to five years. Why can Jin Mi not figure that out after four or five thousand?

This all adds up to the most irritating moment of characterization for Jin Mi. Wherein she decides based off of information that she has – before it’s verified or investigated into – to kill Xu Feng with her own hands. This is an action that Jin Mi chooses to take. Run Yu does not push her into this. Run Yu does not tell her to do this. He does not force her to kill Xu Feng. Later though, because of her guilt she throws the responsibility for her actions onto him and blames him and tears him down because of her own guilt. This is not okay for the supposedly main female lead. It’s not okay for anyone to demonize someone else and leave them holding the bag for something they had no control over. Learn to take responsibility for your own actions. It sucks, but you did it. He didn’t. Blaming him and saying that he doesn’t feel/understand love crossed a line after everything.

 The extra characterizations of the other main characters I’m not going to go into but I will sum up as this:

Supposedly Smart Characters Doing Stupid/Crazy/Out of Character/WTF Things Because of ‘Plot’:

Sui He – Bechdel Tests Worst Nightmare AKA Female Character Only Exists To Further Male Story And Fawn Over Him.

Run Yu – But By God He’s Pretty When He Suffers AKA Actually a Disney Prince Cast Into Role Of Sea Witch For Reasons Unknown.

Tu Yao – Obvious Over The Top Bad Guy Is Obvious And Will Never Let You Forget It

Tai Wei – Satan’s Butthole.

[unreachablevoice]

Moving In Is What Started It All

Summary:

With Marinette’s parents being away with work, she is left in the care of one of their supposedly family friend; who just so happened to be someone who she has always been idolizing. And throw in the fact that she is having a hard time with friendships experiencing hardships, bridges being burned, and secrets unraveling and her parents unintentionally (plus being clueless with their daughter’s suffering) throwing their daughter in a pit of misery.

Note:

This fanfic will not contain Miraculous. Though, This does still contain the concept and some of the episodes of the show just cut out the parts of Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Previous | Next | Masterlist | AO3

Chapter 2 |A Little Bonding Before The Discussion|

Narrative POV

Marinette shouted while popping her head outside their car's window, clearly being shocked by their visit to her crush's house. Her mouth was wide open, too paralyzed, shocked, and excited to even move a muscle.

"Careful honey. You'll catch flies."

Marinette was dumbfounded, she couldn't form the words she wanted to say inside her mouth. Arriving in the doorstep, their chauffeur opened the door for them and took Marinette's luggage out of the trunk. She and her parents stood there, waiting for the gates to be opened for them, while their silver car bid them goodbye and went away, and drove somewhere else.

"Gabriel, they're here," Nathalie spoke, as soon as she saw, through the camera, the two adults and one teen standing in front of the gate.

Gabriel showed a gigantic smile, excited to meet the visitors. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let them in!" he said filled with happiness, his stern demeanor somehow gone.

As Nathalie let the three in, Gabriel welcomed them while adrien stood still.

He was feeling mixed emotions, excitement, happiness, and shock. Each emotion swarmed his face too fast to even comprehend.

Both he and Marinette are clearly shocked by the sudden interactions of their family to one another. Their parents guided them to couches where they could sit and left Marinette's luggage in the hands of Nathalie, Gabriel's assistant. Not a second after Adrien sat, he looked at his father and glared at him.

"How come you didn't tell me that Marinette and her parents are going to visit?!?!" Adrien whisper-yelled, just as he pulled his father away from the adults and the teenager, and into the kitchen where they'd talk and nobody could hear.

His father shrugged, "I wanted it to be a surprise! I know you and Miss Marinette here are close, plus she won my derby hat competition right? And on top of that, her parents and I have known each other for a long time now so..."

Angered by his father's remarks and by his father's assistant who did not tell him or even gave him a clue, he stormed off back to their living room. That feeling came off ones he saw Marinette waiting in their living room, and was instead replaced by a different feeling.

I guess it's still a good thing that Father didn't tell me. I mean, if not being told means that the surprise will be something as good as this. Then, by all means, don't inform me! Adrien thought to himself as he walked back silently to his seat.

His father didn't follow him, thinking the two teens needed space to chat. So he beckoned Marinette's parents, also his assistant Nathalie, to their dining room, moving their meeting to a different room from the teens.

"H-Hey, A-Adrien! So this wuess gas—gah! I mean! S-So I guess this w-was why we both refused A-Alya's offer! Hehe..." Marinette scratched her head through muffled voices, clearly being embarrassed, while Adrien looked at her weirdly. He had one of his eyebrows up and is showing a huge uncanny looking grin. Smiling as if Marinette just made a full-on perfect sentence, as if she didn't make any mistake at all.

Adrien slowly moved and went to sit down at one of the couches. "Yeah, I guess so. B-By the way, what are you doing he--" Adrien bit his tongue before he could even finish his also awkward comment. Embarrassed by his own foolishness in front of Marinette, he scolded himself internally, hoping he could just crawl and hide into a hole somewhere. He felt a bit pissed off at himslef.

Shoot1 Great job Adrien! Now Marinette will think you're crazy and will probably be disgusted by your actions. And leave you, and don't want to be friends with you, and hate you!

While Adrien was overthinking things, Marinette, on the other hand, was also panicking. She didn't know what to do, Adrien wasn't talking and to top it all off, he looks kind of perplexed!

"A-Adrien? A-Are you okay? It kind of looks like you bit your tongue, is-is it bleeding?" Marinette asked, worry clearly being visible in her eyes. Adrien looked at her surprised.

Is-Is she worried about m-me? Shoot, she's too cute, looking all fretful. Wait–what?!?! No, I did not just say that!!

Suddenly, an idea popped on Adrien's head and he knew exactly what to do. Showing a mischievous smirk, an intention was clearly being shown. Marinette was now feeling tensed of how Adrien was acting. Slowly, Adrien moved in closer, shortening the distance between their faces until he was sitting on the same sofa and was leaning close to Marinette's face. A gulp was heard, coming from Marinette, while Adrien's face grew even closer and his smile grew even smugger.

"Then, why don't you check if it has any wounds?" Adrien commented, slightly opening his mouth and showing his tongue, teasing Marinette.

His mouth really is bleeding! Marinette thought, being shocked by the situation in front of her. "A-Adrien, your tongue! It's-It's bleeding!!! Are you alright?! Do you need a bandage or something?!?! Why don't we call your father's assistant??!!" she rambled as she panicked, looking for something that could help patch up Adrien's wound.

Adrien chuckled, "Marinette... Why don't you use your tongue to heal it? I think that would work effectively.," he smirked. Marinette's face heated up in an instant and became crimson red by what Adrien just said. The seduction in his voice added even more justice to the flirty look Adrien was giving and it made Marinette almost lose her balance and faint on the couch.

She couldn't handle the situation, her head was spinning, her pulse was getting faster, and her face was getting redder each second Adrien's breath brushed against her lips. His voice felt like a drug, a drug that could make her obey whatever he commanded her to do. And he knew exactly how to use it.

Adrien grew tired of waiting so he decided to take the matter into his own hands. His head started moving even closer, eyeing Marinette's plump, glossy lips, impatiently craving for a taste.

A series of events flashed in Marinette's head, Are we really going to do this here in Adrien's living room?!?! What would his parents think of me?!!? B-But it wouldn't hurt for just a peck, right?

Slowly, the eyes of the two teenagers closed, getting ready for the steamy situation that's going to happen between them.

But alas, their little moment had to end when a fit of laughter was heard from a distance. There in the dining room, both of their parents were laughing, having a time of their life, catching up while opening the door a bit to come out. Which made both Marinette and Adrien jump and scramble back to their own seats.

Why did I just do that??!!! Am I crazy or what??! To do that to my best friend??! Do I want her to hate me or something?! Adrien thought.

Not a moment later, their parents went out of the said room, eyeing the look on the two teenagers' faces. Looking at them uncannily, confused about why their faces were flushed. Though leaving it at that was their decision.

"By the way Miss Marinette, I forgot to tell you. The hat that you made and Adrien modeled was really magnifique, a really huge step for someone who's just an amateur. I hope you can come by my office and help me with my work from time to time." Gabriel smiled.

Marinette couldn't believe what she just heard. Did THE Gabriel Agreste just ask HER to help HIM with HIS designs? Maybe Marinette's luck is now turning for a change!

All Marinette could reply was with a shy smile and a small nod. But inside, her stomach was making summersaults, jumping, and churning. Feeling delighted that she was given such an offer. Though her little partying had to wait for Sabine, Tom, and Gabriel had to discuss with them about the whole situation.

"And Miss Marinette, we still have to discuss this whole move-in thing with Sabine and Tom here. And I believe I still haven't informed Adrien, so I think now's the best time for it."

"Oh! Um... Marinette's fine, Mister Agreste." Marinette said as she let out a small awkward chuckle.

"Well... You can call me 'Uncle Gabriel' or 'Uncle Gabe' for short since we are technically going to live together for as long as it's needed."

Marinette responded with a little nod at the end, not knowing what she should do. Gabriel Agreste just told HER to call HIM 'Uncle Gabriel'! How wonderful is that?!

While Marinette was in cloud nine, Sabine, Marinette's mother, interrupted the slight blonde and her daughter's uncanny stares and smiles at each other. "Ahem... Anyway, Sweetie, the friend that we were talking about is Gabe here, and you will be moving in with him for a while. I hope you won't cause any trouble for him, okay?" Sabine giggled as she finished her sentence, followed by a few chuckles coming from the two adults at the back.

"And you don't have to worry about your luggage anymore. Nathalie already put it in the room you're going to stay in. Right, Nath?" Tom, Marinette's father, said as he finger gunned at the prim and proper lady standing behind them all. A chuckle was all the woman could give in return to the gesture that was made to her.

"Wait–What?! So let me get this straight. Marinette is going to move in OUR house? Because her parents have work-related problems?! How come you didn't inform ME of this? I could've held a welcoming party for Pete's sake!!" Adrien said as he pouted and crossed his arms.

In return, a faint laugh was heard coming from Marinette, followed by the adults' heavy ones. Marinette's cheeks had a tint of pink and her eyes were a bit teary from the laughter, but her gaze didn't tear away from Adrien. "Haha... You don't have to worry Adrien! I found out a bit late too. Plus, you can just hold a welcome party for me some other time with Alya and Nino!"

Though her voice was soft, careful not to offend Adrien from laughing too much. Marinette thought he was cute, getting worried over something like her moving in for a while.

"Haha... It's so adorable that you're making a fuss over something like this," she added between giggles.

Shoot! What did I just say! Now Adrien's going to hate me for sure! Marinette thought nervously while still smiling, hoping no one would notice her inner turmoil.

Oblivious to what the girl was thinking in front of him, Adrien also thought she looked cute. Looking cute while laughing hard at something he said, he just couldn't resist telling it to her.

"Look who's talking. Between you and me, I think you're the cute one here."

It wasn't too long before Adrien snapped out of his daydream, his face was immediately painted a bright red and he got embarrassed at himself. Shoot, I just acted like a little kid in front of Marinette! And the worst thing is, I just told her that she's cute! What am I thinking!! Oh God, now she's going to think I'm a creep!!

"Uhh... Hehe... T-Thanks Adrien." Marinette smiled, ecstatic at the fact that Adrien just complimented her.

A clearing of the throat was heard. It came from Gabriel Agreste indicating that they should pay attention to their surroundings. "We're still here you know. Stop flirting in front of us you lovebirds, especially ME. I'll get envious." he pouts and mock-glares at the two.

The two other adults just laughed in return, finding it funny on how a grown man can get envious on something like that. While the two teens were blushing furiously at the statement that was just declared in front of them.

Why am I blushing??!! Did we really look like a couple in front of them? Adrien thought, worried if Marinette didn't like being partnered up with him. But mostly because he was happy being shipped with her.

"I-I think you're mistaken Mister Agre—err, Uncle Gabriel. W-We're not--" Marinette said right before she got interrupted by Adrien.

"Y-Yeah Father! Marinette and I are not like that! Isn't it obvious? She doesn't see me like that!" Adrien angrily mumbled the last part.

Marinette turned her head, now looking at the blonde. "What was that? I didn't quite hear."

Adrien panicked. Shaking his head furiously, hoping Marinette didn't hear what he just mumbled. "N-Nothing! Maybe you're just hearing things Marinette! Hehe..."

Marinette swore that she just heard something about being obvious, but just decided to brush it off, thinking that it may not be that important.

[signoraviolettavalery]

strategist-scientia replied to your post “I know Carina is bringing Malex into the light and I am infinitely...”

Kinda scared now tbh because Carina said "Yes" when someone suggested that Michael is probably reminded of Jesse Manes's hand in causing the deaths of his people whenever he looks at Alex. ������

I hope it’s ok that I use your response as the jumping-off point for some meta, because I’ve been wanting to write this since i saw Carina’s tweets, and the inevitable Malex panicking that ensued. There’s a couple tweets about Michael’s headspace that she made that I want to get into, as I consider where Michael’s character will go next season and what that might mean for Malex. 

Now, my immediate response to this is: Yes?? Good?? Carina is saying Michael is going to have a character arc next season, and this is a good thing. Characters need arcs, and frankly, I’ve been frustrated that most of his “arc” this season has just been taking care of other people. Equally frankly, I’m glad that this will be the arc, because Michael is completely traumatized right now. He not only lost his family right after finding them, but he’s witnessed the genocide of his race. I’m glad the show is going to deal with that instead of sweep it under the rug. That’s what Michael s a character deserves. And I know it sucks to put queer characters through trauma and misery and suffering, because it seems like that’s the only thing they ever get to experience in narratives. But in a well-written story, you can’t shield your characters from the world and have nothing bad ever happen to them. There need to be low points in order for there to be development, as long as there are high points. 

The other tweet that people have been worrying about is this one, about how Michael will react to Alex and how their relationship will changed, based on the fact that Alex’s family is responsible for literally all of the suffering of Michael’s: 

This is where people start worrying that Malex will crash and burn, or that Michael will blame Alex for what happened even though it’s not actually Alex’s fault. 

So, first of all, I’m going to point out the obvious: it doesn’t sound like English is this person’s first language (which isn’t a dig at them, but just the observation that there may be a language/communication barrier here). Carina’s “yes” is vague af, and twitter is a really shitty medium to sort-of-but-not-really hint at character motivations and what’s coming. 

Moving on from that, my  thoughts are that Michael isn’t going to outright blame Alex - after all, Alex didn’t do anything. In fact, Alex has literally shut down project Shepard and blackmailed his father to protect Michael, and if Michael knows about project shepard he knows this. Logically, he understands this. But I do think that Michael will pull away from Alex - just as he’ll pull away from Max, Isobel, Maria, and even Liz. He’s going to need space, and he might get self-destructive in all his relationships, not just the one with Alex, because he’s going to blame himself for what happened. It’ll be difficult to watch, but I think that Alex, who himself has extensive experience sabotaging his own relationship as a result of fear and trauma, will understand where he’s coming from and try to help. 

I do also think Michael will have a hard time with Alex specifically. Again, it’s not that he’ll blame Alex, because he clearly didn’t blame Alex for his hand, if his desire to rekindle a relationship ten years later is any indication. But Alex will be a living, breathing reminder of the Manes legacy, which has taken literally everything from Michael, starting with his hand and ending with his family. It’s going to get complicated, because just last episode, Michael was telling Max that he believes that there’s no place for him here (on Earth) - something that Jesse made him believe, and something of which his hand serves as a reminder. And now he has even more proof, painful, heartrending, visceral proof, that there is no place for him on this planet, in the sense that humanity as a whole does not accept him for what he is. And the Manes legacy is largely responsible for this. 

But. The irony is that while the Manes family has destroyed his family, his life, his home, and his hope, Alex has been all of those things for him. Alex offered him a home when he had none. Alex told him “you’re my family.” Alex, as Michael said in 1x11, made him believe there’s is a place for him here on earth. Home can be a person, and Alex has been his. 

And I think Michael will realize that. If Liz can get over the fact that Max covered up her sister’s murder and was responsible for her family suffering hate crimes for ten years, then Michael can get over Alex having a legacy that he has completely and utterly rejected. But it will take time, because trauma isn’t rational, and because Alex did enlist in the military and become a “Manes man” before he ultimately chose Michael. So Michael will have to reconcile those two things - what Alex’s family took from him, and the fact that Alex himself gave back all those things to him. Honestly, I think it’s going to be the culmination of the arc that they’ve been planting the seeds of this season - that home can be a person. Michael Vlamis also hinted that Micheal probably won’t be deciding whether to leave the planet this season, so perhaps this will be a decision he’ll have to make next season. Alex will give him the spaceship piece and set him free, understanding that Michael has never felt like he belongs on Earth and that now he feels like he belongs even less, and that his family is responsible for it. And Michael will have to realize that despite Alex’s legacy, which he has outright rejected, Alex is his home. 

It’ll be a long journey, but I honestly think it’ll be fine in the end. Think of it this way: ships, just like characters, need arcs. I know we all say we’d happily watch an entire season of them just cuddling in bed, but come on. None of us actually would. We’d like an actual story. That’s why we tuned in. We want to see characters facing challenges and overcoming them. And yes, just like with queer characters, we don’t want queer pairings to just keep suffering endlessly. But we do want them to have actual, meaningful storylines. And what Carina is hinting at above sounds like an actual storyline. It’s Michael working through legitimate trauma instead of sweeping it under the rug, and Alex learning to live with the legacy of his family. If done well, this is a good storyline. The alternative is either no storyline, or contrived relationship drama, and no one wants that. Remember when, on The Vampire Diaries, Damon and Elena finally got together and the writers had to come up with a dozen reasons to break them up (the sire bond, Katherine possessing Elena, Damon temporarily dying and Elena erasing her memories of him and about a dozen other “plots’)? We really, really don’t want that. We want an actual arc. 

Of course, how much you believe Carina and the writers will do justice to this arc depends on how much you trust them to actually meaningfully write it, and that’s up to each viewer to decide on their own. Based on my own personal experience, I think it’ll be fine, because whatever the various flaws of season 1 of Roswell (and they definitely exist), the emotional beats have rung true to me. I understand why characters behave the way they do, their fears, their traumas, and their progress (with some exceptions). So, I think we’ll be fine. 

Part of the reason I’m so confident is because every other time we panicked because of a tweet, a promo, or a promo photo, we turned out to be pretty wrong to panic. Let’s recap: 

1x09 This is the OG throwback episode, and when Shiri leaked that photo of Michael and Maria naked in the desert, we panicked. We thought Michael and Maria would have a full-blown romance and Michael would leave behind Alex and forget about him, or that Maria would sleep with Michael while knowing about Alex, or any number of worst-case scenarios. 

What actually happened: Alex ended things, with finality. Previously, he’d walked away - and we’re led to believe he’s done this multiple times, which means that he’s also come back multiple times, because to walk away again, he had to come back first. But now, for the first time ever in ten years, probably, he said “we’re definitely over.” The love of Michael’s life broke his fucking heart by making him believe they could never have a future together, and Michael’s response was literal suicidal ideation. That line about “I’m just wishing a meteor would strike me down and end my suffering”? That’s suicidal ideation, y’all. 

So yeah, he hooked up with Maria because he needed comfort and a connection with someone - but one that he was 100% certain wouldn’t get romantically complicated and messy. He picked Maria because he had a connection with her but thought there wasn’t a chance in the world that she’d catch feelings. 

And then Alex came back to him and he took him back and bared his fucking soul and revealed every single one of his deepest secrets. 

1x11 This was the UFO emporium re-opening episode, and everybody panicked that Michael and Maria would talk and kiss and/or hook up in the place of Malex’s first kiss. Come on, guys. Like, I get panic, but this was a bit much. 

What happened instead: Michael misses Maria, who was pretty much his only friend, and tries to get back onto the same page they were (flirty banter that meant nothing), but which is pretty hard to do once you’ve slept together. Michael believes he and Alex are completely over, and....he skips the Emporium reopening (probably because it’s too painful). Then, Maria, the person he pretty much considers his only friend, gets roofied and possessed by an alien serial killer. So yeah, he’s concerned, and he watches over her, because Michael Guerin is, at heart, a protector who takes care of people, and frankly, if he wasn’t worried about Maria, I’d like him slightly less as a person. Maria drunkenly indicates potential feelings for him, which he shows absolutely no indication of actually reciprocating (he looks concerned and frustrated at best). 

1x12 We all thought Malex was going to break up in this episode, despite the fact that they were already broken up and Michael thought they were “over.” We knew there was a tear-inducing Malex moment and we listened to Tyler’s song and I saw no end of posts going around saying Malex was going to break up. 

What happened instead: Alex confessed his love for Michael, called Michael family, stayed by him in the face of literal certain death, and physically and emotionally supported him during a moment of devastating heartbreak. 

So yes, I get the worry. I especially get the worry because apparently The Magicians fucked over their queer viewers just last night. Believe me, I understand, and I’m not a person to have faith easily. I’ve been through Supernatural fandom and the great Destiel queerbait that was season 8. I’ve been through Sherlock fandom and The Johnlock Conspiracy of seasons 3/4. I am intimately familiar with the nonsense shows pull on queer viewers, and I understand the context in which queer viewers are wary of trusting and investing emotionally. I’m a queer viewer as well, and I get it. I really do. But my personal experience of Roswell has been one of the fandom panicking (because we’ve been burned so many times), followed by us getting literal fanfiction on our screens, with actual love confessions and words like “cosmic” and all the tropes. So in this particular case, I choose to trust, because thus far, I think the show has done well by Malex for the most part, and because so far, almost all of our worries have turned out to be for nothing. And I’m also excited for Malex to have meaningful storylines and things to work through. 

That’s my two cents. Thanks for letting me ramble. Feel free to reblog if you think we could stand to spread some positivity. 

[seasaltmemories]

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein Review/Analysis

Really expanding my pallet by tackling a book instead of anime like I’ve done in the past, but I have a lot of complex thoughts about this that I pretty much need to spill out immediately

Summary time:

Elizabeth Lavenza hasn't had a proper meal in weeks. Her thin arms are covered with bruises from her "caregiver," and she is on the verge of being thrown into the streets . . . until she is brought to the home of Victor Frankenstein, an unsmiling, solitary boy who has everything--except a friend. Victor is her escape from misery. Elizabeth does everything she can to make herself indispensable--and it works. She is taken in by the Frankenstein family and rewarded with a warm bed, delicious food, and dresses of the finest silk. Soon she and Victor are inseparable. But her new life comes at a price. As the years pass, Elizabeth's survival depends on managing Victor's dangerous temper and entertaining his every whim, no matter how depraved. Behind her blue eyes and sweet smile lies the calculating heart of a girl determined to stay alive no matter the cost . . . as the world she knows is consumed by darkness.

All my reviews are extremely personal, but this is going to get even more personal bc of the unique relationship I have with the original Frankenstein, I read that back in my senior year of high school and while it wasn’t a favorite of mine, I had my fun with it, I wasn’t the most diligent student, skipping much of the latter half bc I wanted to focus more on my senior thesis, but I really enjoyed Victor as a protagonist.  In contrast to how adaptions portray him, he’s a pathetic teenager/20-something who drops out of college bc he gets offended when his science professors laugh at him for wanting to study alchemy instead of a real field of science.  He gets sick at the drop of the hat, is so self-centered he really only acknowledges others when they are right in front of him, and a coward who can’t take responsibility for any of the problems he creates, all without being particularly malicious, I more enjoy laughing at him than fangirling over him, but there is a lot of humanity there that I find endearing in its own way

But I was an Elizabeth fangirl, the girl goes through equal amounts of hell without knowing it is all the fault of the man she adores.  While the narrative mostly kept her as “love interest” I felt their could be a lot of pathos to her tale and even wrote an essay about it.  However as I looked for academic material/retellings, I couldn’t find any that shared my sentiment

Recently I was brought back to Frankenstein because of a local writing contest that was celebrating its 200th birthday.  While it was looking for horror submissions in general, I wrote a modern retelling with the intent of giving it a female perspective and subsequently won first place for it

So when I discovered this book, published around the same time as when I wrote my own retelling, it seemed made for me.  And oh those first few chapters were a treat, it felt exactly like something I might even write: Elizabeth is someone who plays the angel bc she fears she won’t survive if she is anything less perfect, and no matter the situation this suffocating anxiety grips her every action as she tests people’s reaction to her, I was on cloud nine for all of act 1, other reviews seem to dislike the slow past of that part as it all takes place in one slow day with lots of flashbacks, but I loved marinating in Elizabeth’s inner world as I hadn’t be able to before

Act 2 is where some complicated feelings mixed in, and to talk about then completely I’m gonna go into spoilers.  If you are interested in it so far or tend to like my writing of worn-down girls trying to survive in worlds where their image can decide their fate, then I recommend it.  For full effect it helps to have read Frankenstein since there is so much of the novel is tied to the original and it pays a lot of love to the cultural icon it has become as a whole, but apparently other reviewers have enjoyed it without that prior knowledge.  If you are still on the fence/don’t care about spoilers, let’s dive into the next 2/3rds of it

First of all, this novel reads so much like fanfic.  I say that as not a measure of the quality of its writing, bc at its core it is fanfic, and since it falls into that genre, it shapes many of its strengths and flaws.  For example, Act 2 is the weakest section of all bc so much of the plot is recounting plot point by plot point or the original, and aside while the POV switch makes certain events, like Justine’s death hit harder and in a different way, it also inherits some less tightly-written sections, like Victor traveling to England to build the bride.  But in a way I can excuse that because by then I had started to treat it like fanfiction and took that as a sunk cost that couldn’t be avoided bc of the format

What really shows that this is fanfic is the fact that rather than simply retell the original, it uses the material left behind to build an original story of a woman trying to find an identity that has never felt her own, and I don’t find any fault in that because I have done the same, hell I’ve written about blonde teenage Elizabeths in the 19th century who tailor their entire personality for their dark, morally ambiguous cousin that they are in love with it, but because I can so closely relate to the mere concept of writing a story like this, I find I am much more critical of matters of personal taste than I would be otherwise

To put it bluntly, TDDEF’s Victor is not Shelley’s Victor.  And while it tries to play that “untold story” angle to explain the discrepancies, it does not work.  Here Victor is like one step away from being a literal demon child, lacking any care for anyone besides Elizabeth and always ready to cut someone/thing open with a knife.  He is completely obsessed with her, being inspired to conquer death not because of losing his mother, but because he realized her morality when she catch a life-threatening illness, and while it works for the story TDDEF wants to tell, it is not the Victor I know as he goes on to do even worse things than Shelley’s version

Now again I am faced with having done the same before, taking much less morally gray characters and in fanon dying then a few shades darker, but while this is nitpicky, it makes a lot of the details between the two works not line up so well, even before the narratives diverge

Like for example I never bought Victor’s love or even obsession for Elizabeth here, like Shelley’s version they are often apart and even when together Victor is stuck in his studies, yet here she becomes his entire motivation, part of this was because TDDEF wanted to highlight the problematic elements of the original relationship, but I feel like it still could have been done while veering closer to the original depiction, like despite all Elizabeth does for him, he treats her more like a pet he has to remember to feed and allows her to go through a lot of trauma to save his own skin, that’s still a damning portrayal without falling into the evil cartooniness TDDEF’s version sometimes does, but even within that criticism I can see my biases getting in the way bc I like and write male love interests who mean well but can still fall into toxic behaviors

Regardless, Act 3 is where the narrative really comes into its own, and while I still prefer Act 1, it preferable to the safeness and predictability of Act 2.  It is completely unsubtle about the message it wants to send, and while I can’t fault it for it, that’s when the YA label really starts to show, my feelings about the YA genre could fill an entirely different post, but to explain what I mean about feeling YA  in the most simplest terms, well I would have absolutely adored it if I was younger, sometimes it may get cheesy or self-indulgent but I know if I was the target audience it would have shaken my entire worldview on what books could do and say.  And a lot of that is bc it caters to the adolescent appeal of fanfic, like the narrative could have ended two chapters before its true end, but it instead goes on what feels like a fan’s post-canon imaginings, which while a bit too sappy and simplistic for me, is the type of closure younger me would be starved for

So I am in an odd position, feeling on one hand almost betrayed for it drifting from the vision I found perfect, but also knowing it did so to be true to a vision younger!me would have needed, I guess the best way to describe it is that while Act 1 is still something I personally enjoy, the rest is something I more appreciate from an academic/impersonal perspective.  And while I can’t say I am completely satisfied to be there, I feel like maybe a high school girl who reads Frankenstein for her English class and falls for Elizabeth like I did may now be able to find others giving her the type of love she needs Elizabeth to get

[guileheroine]

wait for the night

part one. a chance encounter with a common young man befalls the crown princess just as a court crisis does, and they both change her life / 11k / ao3  

🏰❤️ masami royalty au! (bg irosami)

“Alright, I brought you something too, and it’s not the Ember Island octopus. That won’t be ready until the party tomorrow.” She takes the morning’s sweet from her pocket and slips it into his. “For your lunch break.”

It’s 4am on the junk store rooftop; Asami’s head is swimming in a good way for the first time all day and night. She snaps back to their surroundings when a noise alerts her to the presence of the shopkeeper’s cat, who they find glaring at their backs.

“He knows I’m not supposed to be here,” Mako laughs, glancing back momentarily at its unblinking face.

“Well, neither am I, you’re not so special.” Asami nudges her elbow into his arm, glancing up for the anticipated eye roll. It comes, and so does the arm, around her shoulders.

“Whatever, drink your champagne.”

She smooths the sleeve of his jacket under her hand, shivering in the slight breeze. “Toast,” she sips and announces quietly into the night, feeling the liquid slosh in the thin metal of the can.

“And to what now?” He says, probably rolling his eyes again.

Asami shrugs. “Us.” She isn’t sure if her heart shrinks or grows at the saying aloud; and tries to work it out as she stares coolly ahead. The sea way out on the horizon is still too dark to discern, but the city lights mellow against the bluing sky as she huddles closer. “I wish we could run away.”

Mako is unresponsive for a long moment. Though his grasp around her shoulders betrays nothing, she can practically sense the words hesitating in his mouth, disappearing somewhere between a swallow and a slight cough, before he eventually says, “So, uh. That’s the champagne talking…?”

“Oh, what, am I embarrassing you?” Asami’s turn to laugh, as she removes her hand from his to pull her knees in against the chill. She tilts her face up to shake her hair back, feeling the dull weight of sleep on her brow bone. “Just let me dream for a moment.”

He cracks a smile at last. He withdraws his arm and takes another sip of beer. “Ember Island octopus waiting, and you’re dreaming of me?”

~ PART ONE

Having parked and dismounted her moped, Opal pauses for a moment to brush her hands off on her trousers before speaking.

“Anyway, girls’ night. If you’re still alive after your little date with Lord Longshot or whatever on Sunday -”

“Longyang. Not Sunday, Opal. I have to write this - announcement. The engagement.” Asami’s nose wrinkles of its own accord and she mentally wards off the impending cloud of dread, well practised at it at this point. “I mean I’ve got a template… in my head...” She shakes her head as if to shake the very thought off.

Opal raises a curious brow as they walk together out of the garage. The warden bows his head as they leave and Asami inclines hers politely in return. “Wait, you have to write...? Can’t you just give them a quote or something...”

Asami shrugs. “Everybody wants me to start taking the reins, speaking for myself -”

Her schedule is torture. Her father is ever so smart. Anything public-facing (increasingly, anyone -facing) is delegated to her - for a smooth transition , urges Raiko’s slimy voice in her head. They dress the burden up like a privilege and Asami, with no other options, doesn’t have it in her to resist except nominally to the odd sympathetic ear, in private moments of utter frustration. Giving her father the cold shoulder means only that it’s harder for her to go and argue any of these stifling demands, slid her way easier than ever all of a sudden. A long line of aides, advisers and other courtiers ensure King Hiroshi reaches her all the same. She feels desperately unequipped.

“Show ‘em you have control of the narrative, right...” Opal finishes, clenching her fist, the gesture comical on her sweet face with no genuine ire behind it. “Okay, but why this? It’s... frivolous.”

“I have to be more accessible, too.” Her father - being mired in deadly secrecy having been his downfall - is sort of the roundabout architect of that as well.

Opal rolls her eyes. “Oh, Asami, you weren’t ‘accessible’ the first five times I talked to you. And I got to talk to you . I wish they’d leave you alone.”

Asami shrugs in resignation, her accord unnecessary, implicit, long voiced-out. “The illusion of control,” she says wryly, returning to Opal’s initial comment. “Jiro wants me to meet this lord whatever but he practically handed me a script. Which I’m pretty sure my father wrote. I swear I’d be glad for him to go if -”

If she didn’t have to take his mantle, of course. Opal lays a soft hand on her arm. They stop just on the doorstep of the teahouse on the edge of the Beifong estate. “Look, Asami… I don’t want to sound - pushy. And I’m not saying you haven’t thought about it but… well, have you thought how much of a difference you’re going to make in his shoes…?” She pouts entreatingly. “Bright side, right?”

“Appeal to incurable innocence, I like it,” announces the voice of Bataar Jr at doorway. He pushes in between them to go slump on the divan in the outer parlour.

“Well, I don’t feel innocent,” Asami says as she unties her muddy boots, not in the mood today.

He huffs and they share a tenderly mocking glance.

“It was a compliment, Asami.”

-

The United Kingdom of Nations had always been in a tug of war between the two ancient powers of whose blood it was constituted, out of which had emerged in defiance an enlightened, enterprising spirit neither offensive like the Fire Nation nor lofty and ancient like the Earth Kingdom.

The first queen was the daughter of the first king, who had been installed by the Fire Lord to take care of a colony secured but longer particularly prized since the exhaustion of its mineral reserves. A century or so later, the second ascended after her brother the King died in the conflict that preceded secession from the Earth Kingdom after a temporary reabsorption. The third queen remained the namesake of Yue Bay after annexing all its islands. A fourth did not exist, yet.

It’s Sunday and Asami has been moved to read history.

And scarcely in its long history has their country had an unmarried regent, is what she (re)discovers poring through the archives in the central library for...

...Inspiration. So she’d like to tell herself, but now she’s sparing only guilty glances to her notepaper, most of her attention sucked into the record books and papers she had spent the afternoon searching out.

The task at hand is simple. The quiet misery it represents, the uncertainty that mounts each time she considers it (the heavy certainty that its completion will symbolise), on the other hand, are enough that two hours in the library have yielded about as many words. Somehow being in here still holds more appeal than facing the Longyang delegation before they leave, though she’ll have to at some point, eventually.

Asami is here to sit and mull, to be frank, which is the closest thing to peace and quiet for her these days. The last of the autumn leaves stick to the domed window in the rain - autumn already.

She’s good at avoiding people. For the most part.

-

Midnight after the day that her personal hell had broken loose, Asami was finally alone.

Thirty minutes alone with her thoughts almost feels like too many, her hands clenched painfully over the handlebars in the cold; so if not for the terrible risk that her imminent crash represents, it might actually feel welcome.

As it happens, it’s sudden, frightening and very unwelcome. More frightened is the look on this unsuspecting jaywalker's face, and more unwelcome is the bang as his head hits the only street lamp lighting this alley.

“I am so sorry!” Asami dismounts faster than she can think, the image of the figure in the dim light branded on her mind.

She rushes to the man - and she’s the one practically paralysed; steeped to the neck in the panic that hits ruthlessly. Where had her mind gone? Nowhere fast: Lien was right, she was in no state to be driving (well, that was why she had taken her bike. Anyway-)

As she kneels and schools her breath the second jolt of dread reroutes her mind - here is a sure fire way to attract attention. Not the good kind, she hears her father’s retinue of specially vetted PR coaches in her mind, as if there is a good kind.

At least it’s late and dark and fairly empty on this street. Dark enough for her to have missed the shadowy figure. So she consoles herself, and steadies her voice.

“Are you alright?”

Asami reaches tentatively for him. The young man sits up, declining her hand as though he hasn’t even noticed it (she realises he probably hasn’t), rubbing the back of his head where it had made contact with the metal. Asami’s hand curls in the air before her, helpless. The man shakes his head and blinks.

Blinks.

Asami’s heart quails. What are the chances that he would recognise her? He looks young, smart - his uniform tells her he must have to remain... well-versed on current events (her chest roils painfully again, the wound fresh.) She deliberates whether to confess everything right now and have it over with. And meanwhile, he braces himself on his hand, and his eyes leave her face at last.

They go straight down - he’s embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, a little breathless, feeling her own face colour. Her tentative hand returns, and she sets it gently on his arm this time.

If there had been much irritation on his face, she only catches the last of it. He straightens his spine and his expression, then screws his eyes as if to recover his senses, slightly disoriented. “It’s - it’s okay.”

She extends her hand properly to help him up, willing silently that he would speak more. That he won’t have recognised her face. Won’t go selling some story of being run over by the Princess sneaking around in the middle of the night, sketchy, under cover of dark - well, just like -

There she goes again. Asami refocuses.

He’s tall. She takes her hand from his grip. Closer to the light she finds that it’s a face she knows.

It’s a good in, or a good way to get even before he… realises anything.

“Wait, I recognise you…” His eyes widen just as hers do. “I’m sorry,” she says, for the hundredth time, but this time it’s inquisitive.

“Do you… did you ever play for the Fire Ferrets?” Some of Asami’s agitation settles at the absurd happenstance: this feels slightly less like an accident of pure inconvenience. Her mind scrambles for his name.

He shrugs and rubs his nose. “Uh, yeah.” Then he sticks his hand out, the getsure a little delayed. He clears his throat. Only when he raises his eyes to hers does she notice it’s the first time he has done so since she pulled him up. The light falls awfully favourably on the planes of his face. “I’m Mako.”

Asami’s turn to come back slow. She shakes Mako’s hand. “Asami.” She snatches her hand back, clasping both in front of her chest now. “Mako. Are you - you’re sure you’re alright?”

The vague daze of his response tells her probably no. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“I promise, this isn’t like, a habit of mine…” Asami laughs, out of nowhere, a rush to explain herself (not very well) under his slightly abashed gaze.

He laughs a little too, and smooths the shoulder bag at his side, as if making to leave. “Really? Uh, maybe you should teach me how to ride one of those, you know, to be safe.” She has the distinct impression that jokes are not his forte; but that this isn’t his first attempt today nonetheless. Something makes up for that. She smiles wider. He remains slightly absent.

Asami - relief, concern and the slightest excitement mingling - stops him from leaving with a grip on his forearm again. “Hey, no. Let me get you some water or something. I wanna make it up to you.”

It turns out Officer Mako had been on his way home from a late shift. Many of his shifts were late; he didn’t mind staying back at the precinct for the night shift. Hewas a probending champion, from the world tournament Asami had followed obsessively in her teens. Only her recurrent concern interrupts the incessant questioning once this has been cleared up.

“Asami -” Mako looks her squarely in the eye, the wobbliness of a moment before gone. The grip around her glass tightens as he speaks her name - her name unadorned - for the first time. She has to wonder if it’s such an intimate thing for any one of these others milling around in the garden behind this tavern, crowding it with ghostly breaths. “I promise I’m fine.”

“Anyway, what happened?” She swallows and takes a draw of the peppery tea she had bought herself along with Mako’s, opting wisely against another real drink this weekend. “You guys were amazing.”

Mako shrugs. “Grew up.” He wipes his mouth. “Nah, I figured it was time to get a real job, you know, full time.” His eyebrows flash knowingly. “Bills are year round. So you were quite the probending fan?” His brow arches again.

Asami shakes her smile away. “Why does that surprise you? You hardly know me.”  

“I don’t know you,” he says plainly. “And I’m not saying it does, you just seem…” He rubs the back of his head where he had bumped it again, a glance over her person so gentle it feels barely conspicuous; even though she’s waiting for it, open for it - even though they both are vibrantly aware of it. She stiffens a little, in her crisp slacks and her neat suede jacket.

Mako’s eyes fall briefly with his attention (the twitch in his jaw tells her it’s the pain, poor thing) but then as he returns it almost immediately, there’s a smile that turns sheepish. Asami thinks about his gaze on her face, as it rests there, again, long, despite his vague diffidence. She doesn’t know by what miracle he’s failed to recognise her - or if he has - but it’s difficult to disentangle that anxiety from the other one sparking up her stomach.

“Okay, I know that you had more than your fair share of fangirls back in the day,” she says, sukcing her tongue. “Not that I was one of them.”

Mako rolls his eyes. She wishes badly that it were light enough to see his face properly. He changes the subject a little awkwardly. “So what about you? You were in a rush tonight. I know I’m off duty, but I’m pretty sure you were past the speed limit back there.”

She gives him an incredulous look. Alright, he definitely doesn’t know who he’s just threatened to ticket. His question, however, can leave her nothing but sober. “I don’t know…” she tries, frowning.

“You seemed off.”

“I thought you didn’t know me.”

He laughs.

Asami can’t join him. “Well, yeah, bad night.” She picks at a calloused spot of skin on her forefinger with her thumb. Someone’s elbow knocks hers at her side, but she continues to look down.

From the corner of her vision she still registers the slow nod that Mako gives, clearly wondering if he should expect her to continue. She decides a kind stranger is perhaps the best person she could find tonight.

“Um, family problems. My dad, he… he dropped a real bombshell on- on me today. So I’m a little cut up right now. I was distracted.” She shrugs, feeling defiantly noncommittal as soon as she turns her thought fully to the situation, not allowing it to creep up on her again. She takes a long sip of her lukewarm tea.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Mako says. So laconic. She isn’t deterred by his terseness, but she won’t leave him feeling awkward.

“Yeah. I just... need some time. You definitely don’t have to hear it.” She sighs deeply, giving him a reassuring nod, to which he smiles wryly. “Private drama.” Terribly public private drama. The casual dismissal serves to stamp on it in her mind, like calling it small will make it so. But she’s already gone, back a quarter of the clock, back to her father’s huge study and a sheaf of papers heavy as lead. Her breath is a little short.

“It’s alright, actually,” Mako says suddenly. “My life’s a little short on the drama right now.”

She has to smile at him even as her insides churn. “Well, it’s a pretty big deal. I don’t know what to feel about it, but I’m not happy. And - ” She looks to his eyes for understanding, to know he’s with her so far, and happy to take what she’s dealing. “I’m not sure how it’s all gonna work out right now. My father, he’s not an easy man. He’s not the man I thought.”

It’s not much of a weight off her shoulders but she finds she can breathe easier for the admission.

Mako nods conspicuously. What else can he say? She lets the chatter and the clink of glasses around blur her thought momentarily until he speaks. “That’s… tough. I’m sorry. Is your mom in the picture? Siblings?”

She meets his eyes and shakes her head. “Actually, my mom died a long time ago.”

And he can’t know the particular poignance of that fact to her present agitation: he’s going to see the tears in her eyes and close right up.

Mako’s eyes do jump, but then he takes her hand. “I’m sorry,” for the third, most heartfelt time. And then he says, “I lost my parents, too. I was eight.”

It’s not what she expected. “You did? Oh.” She sets her glass down instantly, her other hand coming up to clasp over the one he has taken. The laughter of a rowdy group behind them flares and she leans in, wanting to shield their moment.

“They were killed by firebenders,” Mako explains; and if he hasn’t long made peace with the fact, it doesn’t show on his face. Asami’s gut twists again.

“...My mother, too.” Should she be amazed? She has to leave it at that, of course, no matter how tempting it is to pour her heart out.

That leaves her with his hand in both of hers. Asami squeezes, takes her hands back and clasps them in front of her. His gaze is light and long and strange again. For a second it practically bares her, but it’s too light for the moment, and too long for the man who she was quite sure was blushing under her gaze a minute ago.

“Are you alright?”

“Just a little dizzy,” Mako admits, finally.

She pushes away the glow that keeps jostling with the heaviness in her chest and brings him back with a grasp on the wrist. “Hey, I think it might be best if we took you to see a doctor, just to be safe. You can hop on my bike.”

She’s concerned about the adrenaline just in case he isn’t all right, so she tells Mako to put her arms around her and close his eyes. That way he can feel the breeze and relax. There’s a night clinic out by the big Four Elements near midtown, not too far from here.

-

Anyway, she remembers that her history tutor had claimed it unusual, that so few of their rulers had been unmarried. In the Earth Kingdom it was perfectly acceptable for kings at least to keep concubines, though the highest-born of these were effectively queens by another name. Not so different in the Fire Nation, only there the female Fire Lords kept many lovers, too.

The Kingdom of Nations, ever the deviator.

The queens regnant were in fact even fewer and farther between than unmarried regents: just a handful in a millennium, and none since the full departure of the Fire Nation from their lands. Most of them still married young. Asami frowns. The memory of their histories swirl in her mind as she crosses her arms and lays her head over the book.

She casts a weary glance to her notepaper. It isn’t blank, at least: she’d managed to scratch out the date. 13th Day of the Eleventh Month, 178 A.G.Almost a year.

-

Asami chews her nail.

The doctor turns to her awkwardly, fumbling through half a bow. “Er, Your Highness, Princess.” He clears his throat. “Your bike is waiting outside, if you wouldn’t mind… Back entrance, we don’t want to cause a scene, of course.” He gestures helplessly to the door. Asami assures him on his way as best as she can, practically ushering him out in.

Then she turns her sinking face on Mako.

He looks like he’s about to pass out for real this time.

“Wait, maybe, I think - Asami, I do have a concussion.”

Asami can’t help her burst of laughter. As it passes she comes back to him and softens. Then panics.

“Actually... well, maybe now’s not the best time…” She raises her hands, placating. Mako shoots straight up in his chair, blinking, his face white. Asami winces.

“Wait, you - I -” He closes his eyes and exhales through his nostrils.

Asami almost smiles behind the curled fist fluttering before her nervous mouth. “You don’t have to say anything,” she continues gently. The words flow, whatever she needs to calibrate their realities and ground him right now. “I just...I like to go out and clear my head sometimes. It’s not a big deal. I didn’t mean to hurt you, of course. And I - I liked talking, it was just easier…”

Eventually one of his eyes cracks open. Mako scrutinises her blankly, there’s the slightest of creases in his brow. Asami just wants to reach out and smooth it. She bites her lip.

“Wait. I just - need a moment-” He eyes her almost warily.

“Asami,” she says. “You can call me Asami.”

His brow knots again as if to say, are you sure? Trepidation mixes strangely, sharply with a bubble of affection. Asami breathes and tries not to smile again. Then she gives in. Seconds fly and fly.

“Mako?”

He blows out a long breath, finally. Asami follows his line of sight to the newspaper on the bedside, the one with her father’s face on the cover.

“I’m an idiot.”

Outside it’s chillier than ever. She pulls on the gloves some attendant at the clinic had found for her, which she had accepted with gratitude. “I never forget my gloves.” Except today, naturally - she feels dismal.

Mako lags slightly behind her. When she looks to him, he still seems a little rattled. Her sadness vanishes at the sight of him; his apprehension vanishes at her grin.

“Where to?” Asami smiles. “Don’t give me that look. I’m taking you home. Mako!”

-

Asami closes the book with a slap before returning to her draft, sending particles of dust into the air. Enough procrastinating. She pushes it to the corner of the desk beside her work gloves and turns to the clippings she had found to help her craft her words..

She takes up her pen for the first time in an hour. I am glad to share the news of my engagement, to which my father has given his enthusiastic consent.

-

Her fist lay clenched on the wad of papers, the torn confidential seal from the thick folder in her other hand.

“How could you?” Asami’s voice is so much smaller than she’d have liked. The bitterness in it doesn’t cut but trembles. She can see the pitying cast of regret swim in her father’s eyes, darkening all the time that he gazes on her.

Asami doesn’t want pity for her to be the condition of his regret.

She pushes her chair back from the table, the friction of the legs on the polished wood of her father’s study loud and harsh. Her fists fall in her lap and she breathes. Questions and more questions clamour for space in her head, her heart breaking over and over above them - making enough of a din that none manage to come to the fore. She remains speechless. She puts her pounding head in her hands.

The news broke before any of her father’s people could get to it - it was one of the tabloids in the city, the Daily Spirits or something like that, that worked faster from their crummy downtown offices than anyone in the palace could. Hot off the press! A Royal Scandal: King Hiroshi in bed with the United Brotherhood. A fresh investigation reveals the king’s pet project is not as clean as…

Innocent he obviously wasn’t, but she had searched desperately for the signs of his ignorance in the seventy-page report. It detailed the fruits (and fruitful it was) of a private corruption investigation into Future Corp, the brainchild of her father’s favourite school friend - of them both, many said - and benefactor of his royal investment, the holdings built on some of the family land that had paid their House’s way for centuries.

For years the court had thought him too close to an organization that swam in rumours of extremist sympathy almost monthly. Despite such concerns it had been something the press were more loath to capitalise on, painting him rather as the poor widower, the brave resilient King.

Now all that was effectively vaporised: Future Corp’s most loyal customers, it turned out, were the United Brotherhood.

The very United Brotherhood that targeted anarchist benders and republicans alike in the name of establishing a kingdom, a haven, of non-benders and non-benders alone. Arms were not supposed to be on Future Corp’s production line, and yet that’s exactly what they had been making, and shipping straight to the headquarters of the Brotherhood militia.

Then the death knell, on page seventy-two, underlined twice by their head press secretary in the copy that circulated the entire court: the detective who combed through the company’s finances had traced the funding of the under-the-counter weapons straight to the King’s private purse.

Asami’s head had not stopped swimming since she closed the file on page seventy-two. She had had no idea there had even been a private investigation. She saw emergency meeting with the President on the daily programme that Lien handed her when she woke up, something she definitely had not planned herself, and then she had gone straight to her father’s secretary to do the hard work of finding out.

By the time her father can give her the time of day, it’s twilight.

“How could you?”

He’s spent the last half hour saying this is not how he wanted her to find out, as if the issue here is her finding out.

“Asami, you have to understand…” He takes a strange breath as he changes his tack. “It’s not a bad cause. It’s our cause.”

Her head shoots out of her hands. “It is?!”

He takes the seat opposite her and she represses the urge to leap out of her own. Her father’s eyes narrow. “They aren’t bad people, you know. They protect the likes of us from - from...” He swallows as though he’s about draw a weapon he he wishes he didn’t have to. “The men who killed your mother. They’re gone now, and we have the Brotherhood to thank.”

Asami’s tears leak before she can stop them. It’s not that invocation, not the memory, it’s that this - the vicious way he’s guilting her - is the proof that her father is too far gone to be saved. “I lost her, too, you know. The United Brotherhood -” she spits the name, “they’re killing people - your subjects - in the name of the country, in our name. You -” Her nails dig into her palm and she forces her hand open. “You don’t care, you’re - you’ve practically beensanctioning it.”

There’s nothing placatory about her father now.

“You are being insolent. Do you see what’s happening out there? There are people calling for our removal. The benders have long been allied with the anarchists, they’re not sure what the point of effete leaders like us is exactly.” He snarls. “You would be wise to take less for granted. I am simply protecting my place - your place. How can we serve if we aren’t here to do so? Do you want to end up like your mother?”

She could cry. There is one thing endangering his precious legacy; and it’s the beast of revenge that has infested his mind.

“You’re not much of a king. You’re a zealot.”

Hiroshi claps his fist on the table. “Leave. We’ll talk about this when you’re in less of a state.” His teeth are clenched.

Right, there’s damage control to do. For all his insane defense, her father knows he’s made a grave mistake.

Asami needs air, needs to be far away from the chaos already wracking the palace. But she grinds her heel in the floor, unmoving. “Mom would have hated you for this.”

-

The paper forgotten again, she comes eventually to the last of the fading oil portraits in the reference album, many of which are accompanied by grainy pictures made with the earliest sliding cameras. The first clear photograph belongs to her grandfather and his wife, printed in fading sepia. Then there’s her parents, not long after their wedding by the look of it, and one of all four together. Her parents again, after their coronation.

Asami’s focus rests on her mother’s smiling face. She thinks about what the next few entries will look like, how she will be in none; what she thought of marrying into the royal house, of being in these pictures.

She won’t think of him.

-

“Where are we going? Is it a surprise?”

“Oh,” Mako flashes her a nonchalant sort of smile, “seriously, nowhere special.” His mouth twists in concentration as he continues down the street, eyeing for somewhere to park. He’s very careful in her car, more wary of the paces he goes through as he turns or shifts the gear than Asami thinks she has ever been. “You said you wanted to see where I grew up, right?”

They’ve come to a part of town she’s never had much reason to venture in, though she remembers a couple of blocks back a school she had visited on a charity job a few months ago. They park on the corner of a grocery market and Mako leads her down a steep alley she hadn’t noticed between the densely packed outlets, hopping down the last few paces where the slope has been tiled into wonky steps.

They emerge on a bustling, sunlit street. She recognises it, not by name or even the specific appearance: this is one of the old migrant settlements dotted around town; crowded and more organic than the neighbourhoods delineated in the original city plan. It would have been a slum twenty years ago. Asami smiles at Mako.

“I remember my mom used to bring us here,” he says, as they pass by a small bakery with a floury handprint on the window. A bell barely audible over the drone of the ovens tinkles when they enter. Asami buys a small parcel of cakes and they sit outside on an elevated section of the kerb in the shade of a tree.

“They’re better this way, I think,” Mako says, picking up a cake as Asami is about to.

“What are you -”

He produces a tiny flame in his other hand like a blowtorch, and heats around the edges until they’re brown. It crumbles and melts in Asami’s mouth, the burnt aftertaste heavenly.

She’s impressed. “Experiment,” she explains, holding a finger up, picking up an unburnt cake. Mako watches with mild affront as she affirms his statement for herself - she’s unable to help her merry scoff at his frown. “Wow, you’re right,” she laughs. She feeds him the rest, as cavalierly as possible with her heart in her throat.

There’s a hapless energy to his nostalgia. “I don’t really - recall,” he says, when Asami asks if it was the same old woman at the counter in there. A couple of vendors pass, carting their wares and calling them out into the muggy air.

A dog comes and curls in the spot in the shade next to Asami, and she feeds it before it can make a fuss, though Mako gives it a wary glance.

“Bolin and I - after mom and dad died, we had to leave, just to survive. My parents didn’t have much of a network in the city. They met here but they had only come for work, in the beginning.”

“What did they do?”

“They both started in the factories. My dad was an earthbender - pretty good money here since there aren’t that many benders. Mom was in the kitchen stalls at the market, and she worked as a clerk too once they made her a manager.”

He doesn’t want to know if she finds that quaint, and she doesn’t know how she finds it either. Foreign - that’s all. She has to wonder, no matter how premature the thought feels, how they might have found her.

“Where did you and Bolin go afterwards?”

“All over,” Mako says cryptically. “But across the station, that’s Triple Threats turf.”

“I read about them,” Asami says. She draws the scarf over her bound hair further up, feeling her head throb in the heat already. It’s uncharacteristically warm for the beginning of spring, but then, it feels like it could never be winter here.

Mako cups her hand with the cake in it this time, and scorches it deftly so that all she feels is a quick ring of warmth in her palm, though the touch of his hand is warmer. First he finds her eyes for her assent; Asami is touched at his forethought.

He continues for a while as she absorbs the sights and sounds with his commentary. “There’s a bookstore somewhere around here that my mom loved. Also there weren’t so many cars before. Over that way is Dragon Heath -”

Asami pulls the name that those words evoke to the fore of her mind like a thread. “Isn’t Crooked Chao from around here?” There was a time she knew every name in probending within a hundred miles of the city. And this fellow was as notorious as they came, dodging his way out of multiple cheating scandals scott free, who knew how.

Mako smirks. “We trained together once. I prefer Toza’s place.” At that Asami turns to him, a sly smile playing on her lips. He reads it in an instant and returns her playful tone. “Oh, I’m sorry, you have to be able to lightning bend to visit Crooked Chao’s den.”

Asami’s eyes widen. “You can lightning bend? Where did you learn that?”

Mako is unreadable for a second. “Just a job.” He scratches his chin. “So have you ever-” He puts his arm around her shoulders to draw her out of the way when someone drags their rusty bicycle across the pavement behind them. Asami feels it all the way down to her fingertips. “Have you ever been down around here before?”

“Just up where we parked. I told you about my engineering program,” she reminds him. “We do school visits to get the kids into it. I visit the girls on the scholarship sometimes, it was one of those trips.”

“They must love that,” he says, with genuine admiration.

“They’re so much fun.” Asami smiles as she glances around again. “I think a few of them are probably from around here.”

She’s thinking out loud now. “I just - never really thought of coming just to visit. I mean - I’ve never sat on the kerb before…” They both laugh and Mako pulls the slipping scarf back over the crown of her head.

“You must think I’m so -” She holds her palms out and shrugs, trusting him to understand.

Mako frowns, his eyes glinting with humour. “Mm, well. You took me to thehospital for a little bruise.”

Asami’s face falls in indignation before she laughs. “Hey, I was worried about you.”

“Okay, Princess.” He bites away his smile at her embarrassment.

“What if - what if you, like, passed out on the street and some car ran you over?”

“Then it would have been my time.” He gives her nothing, but the affection is evident in his gaze. Asami shakes her head, rearranging her long skirt to let the faint breeze skim over her legs. She shares some of the water in her bag with him.

When she puts the bottle away she wipes the condensation from her hands on her the skirt. “You know, I thought I knew the city but I don’t. Well, I know a map of it.”

Mako is watching her thoughtfully. “I’m guessing you wouldn’t get a chance.” She sighs in dejection - he guesses correctly.

So after that they go everywhere.

First the bookstore, where Asami balks at the fact that he reads history books for fun , and Mako asks her why in the hell he would want to look at a crime novel after a grueling week detectiving at work. The bursting bazaar in the old tradesmen’s district that Asami’s only ever smelled from the outside; where the fruit is twice as large and five times as cheap as what they import in the palace kitchens; and where Asami learns, for all her skill with numbers, that she can’t barter for her life. The uptown bars where she reserves a balcony seat, orders drinks from the top shelf and makes him guess their names; names all the flush clientele in the saloon below and makes him guess their dirtiest scandals. The smoky clubs where neither of them are supposed to be, where it has to be dark and they have to be ever so close lest someone that shouldn’t recognise her.

-

Asami leafs back through all the records she dusted off relating to the Fire Nation specifically. And to the imperial family, to him. She needs a refresher, someone else’s read on this, with her own mind all blocked up with resentment and fatigue. She rifles through the more recent clippings - there’s one about Asami’s own graduation...

No whisper of the Asami’s now rumoured former flame Fire Prince Iroh, though sources close to both prince and princess tell us it’s officially a day for the famous young couple. This week the dashing prince sails back to the Fire Nation, carrying the hopes of all the city’s bachelorettes...

Where a month ago she might have looked on this as a bittersweet memory, here in the library she feels her stomach churn at the thought of Iroh. This is the simple trigger. Oh no - she’s going to hate him. And she hates more the inevitability of the fact. Of all the things to encourage such surety.

She never wanted to, but she’ll hate him for what neither of them are really to blame for. For being convenient, for letting Asami consign herself to a future of regret and alienation. Forget love. They may just have to work on like, on a mere cordiality, if Asami can’t get her head straight in time.

-

A shame, because they had been more than cordial for a long time.

“Asami.”

He approaches her with a polite smile. It’s been a while - the last time they had met properly had been the gala where Emi met Rajiv, a minor noble from Kirachu Island, and now they are at their engagement party (though granted, Emi works fast.)

After a drink she leads Iroh to the dancefloor, where he’s happier, uncharacteristically, to trip over his feet while he talks about his latest campaign.

She smiles up at him. “Don’t they teach a proper waltz in the Fire Nation?”

Iroh laughs congenially. “You sound like my sister.”

“Well, we are cousins.” They laugh in unison - an old (though not forgotten, apparently) inside joke about the long tradition of intermarriage between their kingdoms that had been a great deal funnier with the distant potential prospect of another.

“You’re breaking my heart, Asami.”

The comment confuses her, until she remembers and perks up. “Wait, I taught you this dance!” She gives a sheepish snort, a little ashamed, but not truly affected by the lapse in her memory.

“We went to that resort at Chameleon Bay, remember - that trip with your flying society during winter break.”

“Right! I was crazy about you.”

The memory suddenly fresh - and farther than ever. It’s in her very tone, the wistful indifference of the words that would have cost her her entire dignity that winter. The same can’t be said for Iroh, whose bearing stiffens somewhat, in a blink, at her blase remark.

-

Su and Baatar’s anniversary soiree is at seven o’clock at their sumptuous mansion. They married at the end of spring, like Asami has always wanted to.

Smaller though it may be, Asami much prefers this house to the palace, with its experimental modern architecture and sumptuous gardens. Mako is here - not reluctantly, but not quite eagerly either - so dapper in the suit Asami picked out for him that if he were on anyone else’s arm she knows she’d be stupidly jealous.

“You should have more of your clothes tailored,” she says, pulling him by the cuff to take his hand.

“I do have them tailored, I just do it myself. So tell me who’s who.”

The band in the corner picks up to a pleasant if bland tune, the perfect conversation accompaniment. Asami guides his gaze across the room.

“You know Opal from last week. Those are her parents,” she nods in the direction of their hosts. Perhaps the parents she wishes she had - so easy and free-spirited that their slightly overbearing nature is almost liberating. “They’re doing these huge construction projects down in Zaofu - that’s why she’s Duchess Zaofu, the real Beifong estate is down there… But they had some land up here too and he loves working with the university…”

“That’s Bataar Jr.” Mako knows about him; Bataar and Asami are frequent companions. “And then…” She scans around. “Oh, the twins. Wing and Wei. I bet you can’t tell them apart.” She takes a glass of wine from the waiter and sips disdainfully as Mako looks where she directed him, before continuing. “They’re campaigning to have metalbenders included in probending,” she says unenthusiastically, a purist.

Mako frowns and they share a scoff of fervent dismissal, insisting over one another how metalbending isn’t separate from earthbending. Asami giggles into his sparkling eyes, before turning and finding the most distinctive shock of hair in the mill of heads.

“That’s Huan. He’s… he’s still in school doing art, but he loves his amateur theatre too. Now he’s directing a dance reinterpretation of Love Amongst the Dragons with two empresses in the lead,” she says fondly.

“I’m sure you recognise Emi and Iroh.” She nods towards the stately pair deep in conversation with one of Bataar’s friends by the elaborately draped table with the cake.

“Remind me who’s older.”

“She is, just barely. And she could be the Fire Lord tomorrow, she’s got the chops. I went to school with Iroh,” she says mildly, almost as an afterthought.

Mako leans into her just a little and asks teasingly, “Does she scare you?”

“Of course not. She’s intense, like her mom,” Asami adds, to make the situation objective, smoothing the front of her jade green dress casually. “I always got on with Iroh better.”

As if on cue, Iroh turns and catches her eye. Then he strides over to greet them. Asami introduces Mako, slinking her arm into his. Iroh glances between them before shaking Mako’s hand.

It’s not until a couple of hours later, reveling in Asami’s laughter as she drags him away from a lively, normal (Mako’s words) group of Opal and her college friends, that he learns about Asami and Iroh.

“You… you dated him?” Mako’s face falls despite his best effort. He smooths his expression with an effort. “The Fire Prince ?”

“You don’t keep up with the Daily Spirits, do you?”

She laughs, a tipple or two from wine drunk, slipping some of the pastry in her hand into his mouth. Mako chews absently as his brow furrows again without the careful conscious smoothing.

“When I was studying, until he left to join the Imperial Air Force. It was just a college thing.” She smiles, grasping his chin. “You jealous?”

“Of course not.”

She recognises his mimicry of her earlier immediately.

Maybe she doesn’t quite expect it; Mako’s immediate lightness in spite of the obvious displeasure. She takes him by the arm again. “Are you having fun ?”

He gives a noncommittal shrug, just to tease her. Asami huffs in exasperation, before it dissolves back into laughter. She pulls him behind one of Su’s florid sculptures in the hall, Mako grumbling half-heartedly; leans up to whisper in his ear. “What, you’re not having fun?” She bumps her helpless smile up into his, watching his warm eyes flutter, “let’s make this a little more fun.”

He straightens momentarily, bright red, when she kisses him; kisses his neck. A moment to close her eyes and find her bearings, while they remain snickering into each other’s shoulders, so that Asami can orient them to the nearest of the myriad guest rooms in this huge house.

-

It hadn’t been long before the party that their secret relationship stopped being very secret.

Asami supposes she had known what she was doing: official duty or not, broad daylight or not, the shoes you wear to a function as public as the yearly Spring Festival are a statement, so getting security to let through an attractive young man to keep on your arm for the rest of the celebration can be nothing but.

Afterwards, she makes a thoughtful decision to sit quiet through the noise - pointed whispers between various personnel when she runs past them on the staircase. She declines her father’s oblique request to talk about it, sending his messenger back wide-eyed, and calls Opal (who already knows) instead to tell her how she didn’t dare go anywhere near public relations office today. She does glimpse Jiro glaring at her back in the mirror when he thinks she can’t see; and even Lien approaches her before she goes to bed the next day, somewhat confusedly. Asami apologises for any confusion, and explains that she met Mako when he was assigned to her security detail by the very helpful Chief of Police when one of her usual people had fallen ill halfway through an outing, yes, and she took to him instantly.

The real furore is outside the palace.

“You know, you’ve finally given people something about my family to root for again,” she chuckles, sitting in Mako’s apartment late in the evening, having told Lien she would be at the Beifong estate that night.

Mako, still mortified, holds the newspaper someone apparently handed him this morning up gingerly. “What, by -”

“Infiltrating our ranks! And you’re a heartthrob !” Asami laughs, helping herself to the final sip of the bottle of wine on the coffee table between them. Then she turns serious, more cognizant of what she’s saying with the evidence of her lack of sobriety in her hand. “I’m sorry. It’ll blow over, I promise. I just wish…”

“What?” Mako says, nudging her knee when she trails off.

“I just want to protect you.”

He looks down sharply, embarrassed. “I’m telling you, Asami, this is the most interesting my life has been in - maybe ever…” She can tell this unnerves him, though, but the reassurance is enough to placate her for now.

“How was work, Mako?”

“Like I said, interesting. You know they don’t allow press in the station.” He smirks. “And my boss… not too impressed,” he admits. “So if you’re worried about me losing perspective -”

“Shut up,” she says, rising and taking him by the shoulders; smiling, ready to kiss him as soon she can bear her weight down somewhere.

Mako uncrosses his legs so that she can straddle him, but he’s pensive as she waits for his gaze again.

“What about you? How is it with… I know you’re stressed,” he says, sounding reticent despite the firm phrasing.

Asami shrugs, letting a hand fall to her side again, before she lifts it to tuck her hair back. “I haven’t spoken to my father about anything, if that’s what you’re asking.” She sighs. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen. And I hate it. It feels like…” she sighs, resolved to the fact, “they’re waiting on me to fix it or something, and I’m only - making it worse, apparently - and I don’t care…I want a break.”

She smiles fancifully once her attention rests on his face again. “They do this speedboat race on Whaletail Island that I’m dying to try.”

Mako perks up. “I’ve been wanting to go forever!”

“I’ll take you. Before the summer’s up.” She has no idea when or how, but she’s determined to figure it out.

He looks hesitant. “I’ve been saving up for a while, actually, I don’t really - I guess I wanna deserve it, you know?”

Asami feels a little foolish then. He doesn’t believe in being whisked away on a whim, rightly so - and she’s still learning it’s not always an option, not for everyone. “Right, of course.” She can’t help but droop.

He must feel the strain she’s under, though: maybe it’s something that he can’t quite know. He says after a second, “Well, maybe if the Chief lets me take my holidays all at once…” Mako tightens his arms around her.

Asami presses her cheek to his, pulling the strands of his hair between her fingertips. “I’ll make it special, I promise.”

-

Asami strikes a line through glad , a word weak enough it could possibly expose her, replacing it with… delighted . There. The pen she worries at her mouth is encased and nibbed in classic Earth Kingdom silver, the kind she’d spent the afternoon testing alloys of with Bataar Jr in his lab. It reminds her of what he had said the other day. Innocent.

Is it her, hoping for the unrealistic best as always?

-

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me about this earlier,” Asami says, crossing her arms, but it’s more confusion and disappoint than ire that underscores her words. Any of that has been long subsumed. She scuffs a boot against the leg of the table between them in frustration.

Mako averts his gaze, clasping his hands together. He doesn’t answer for a moment, focusing on his drink. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was something that - would come into this…”

Which is fair, but it doesn’t sound entirely truthful; Mako, if anything, is overly cautious. He had asked what to call her, for crying out loud.

Asami uncrosses her arms. Before she can continue, he speaks again.

“I guess I didn’t want to disappoint you…”

She shakes her head. “You know I don’t care about that stuff.” She stops him with a gentle hand on the shoulder, is sure to have his eyes for her firm reminder. “It’s not who you are. I know that.”

He sighs dismissively at that. “Oh, sure, but do they?”

The ready reminder makes Asami tense again. She can’t say the news of Mako’s connection with the triads surprised her upon the slightest reflection - she should have gleaned enough from the careful slivers of his past that he revealed from time to time - but the way it broke, to the world, did. It plasters papers that yesterday had carried adulatory pieces about their fairytale romance, or whatever; everything she tried her sometimes paltry best to pay no mind to, so that Mako wouldn’t, would have none of that on his shoulders.

Asami narrows her eyes. “I don’t care what they think. Neither should you.”

To her mild surprise and mild hurt, he lets his head cock and and laughs, not meanly. “That’s sweet. But it’s your job to care.”

It’s the worst job in the world, to care about what people think - appease their half-understandings of the world, of her world. Her father would have been adamantly against this from the start, of course, if she was on speaking terms with him. But she could guess his distaste at this news well enough, and found it laughably ironic. Cruelly, the world and the court were on his side - who in their casual injustice could pardon him despite awful and wilful transgressions, ensure him the cushiest send-off, while holding Mako under the microscope for things long and well beyond his choice and control.

Mako. She wants desperately to protect him.

Asami has a hunch deep and uncomfortable in her belly about where and who these triad connections had surfaced from.

The discomfort gnaws and gnaws at her, and when she learns at Mako’s later that night that he has received a telegram from one of her father’s secretaries - finally flares the anger.

But in the same breath that she’s never wanted more to drop everything and run, she knows with finality that it’s the last thing she can do. The one thing she can’t do. It’s heavy on her shoulders, on her mind - so heavy on her heart that she can barely keep her eyes open as she sits at the lake early in the morning with Mako’s side pressed all along the length of hers, feet dangling over the pier on the restricted side, lashes grazing his shoulder. He recounts, with brief searching pauses, the stories his parents told about the now faded murals on the embankment - a version of people-watching apt for the people-less scene here - while she pulls her fingers softly over the planes and sinews of his arm, the lines of his hand; feels her calloused fingertips catch on the fading burn scar on his wrist, again and again just to make sure this isn’t the last time.

-

President Raiko knows better than most people that PR is tricky. This awareness sits awkwardly between them when he requests a private meeting with Asami, without her father’s knowledge.

He coughs. It’s a stuffy room, boiling in the mid-afternoon heat like the glowing window is an oven door. And Asami is trapped in here.

She waits to sit so that he will have to, so he’s damn near sneering with discomfort by the time he does.

“Your Highness,” he begins, “we know there have been a lot of - tensions - around the court lately. Now, I don’t wish to impose anything on you -”

But you will.

“It’s unfortunate the position His Majesty has been left in. For us all,” he hurries to clarify. This language is odious. Why can’t he just blame her father like everyone outside this wretched establishment has sense enough to? “And so, of course, it looks a certain way when…” His fists clench on his thighs. He looks her in the eye with some gusto. “We don’t want any more associations with any kind of - anyone underhand.”

She has to admit to herself that she hadn’t expected him to be so forthright. She flashes hot inside.

Is a master at keeping it inside.

Asami stares unblinkingly. Raiko’s discomfort mounts and mounts.

“Your Highness, I only want to implore you… to consider that you have - a remarkable opportunity.”

The least she can do is make him spell it out. “What do you mean, Mr President?” She can play the fool if she wants, everyone is all too ready to believe it despite anything she achieves to the contrary.

Raiko looks a little startled, and he adjusts his glasses to give himself a moment. “Well, what I mean to say is…” He splays his fingers so that his hands make a triangle, oddly conciliatory now. It only grates on Asami. “You’re going to be the Queen of the Kingdom of Nations, sooner rather than later, as we all know now. I know you regard such a responsibility - a privilege - with the utmost gravity. And with it comes a chance you should not forsake.”

As he speaks, her anger wilts into despair. That, of course. She can’t contest that. A princess can do some things for herself; a queen - has no self. She can no longer keep her steely gaze.

Without it, Raiko is emboldened; every word splits her further. “To rebuild, to fortify. If you forge the right alliances,” his eyes shift to the side briefly, “well, it could save this monarchy.”

Maybe it doesn’t deserve that , is her final defiant thought. But queen keeps ringing in her ears like the sentence from a juror. It’s not a responsibility she can defy in good conscience. Nor is it one she can defer much longer, like every day doesn’t bring her closer to the dead end. She - they - were doomed from the moment she learnt of it.

That was the day she had known .

-

“Your father…?”

She fights to raise her teary eyes to Mako’s, the slightest rueful nod. It’s news that couldn’t wait, as much as she wants it to.

“I -” Asami coughs, turning down to swipe quickly with the back of her hand, before she finds she has nothing to hide under his unflinching gaze. “Yeah, I mean, not him, but everyone… Well, I guess it was a matter of time. It would be silly to think he could stay.”

She skirts around it, pretends like it’s all about him, when the core of the issue is that now it’s about her.

“So that means…”

Asami nods hesitantly, watching his eyes.

Mako frowns in consideration. “Well…” He looks about, before laughing a little. “That’s… certainly more of a promotion.”

Not a reaction she has yet had. Asami hides her face in her hands in her incredulity, but when she lifts it back up she’s laughing loud; Mako shrugging in the corner of her vision.

Then she sighs gravely, and Mako turns thoughtful again beside her. She answers his unasked questions, setting the facts out partially for her own benefit, now that his presence here can ground her out of delirium.

“Jiro - my father’s first secretary - he told me he’s going to face the press around this time next month, right after the official announcement. I read the draft of the release.”

Mako’s eyebrows rise, though he tempers his expression. “That soon?” He takes a sip of his bottle of beer, eyes pensive.

The implications are filing through his mind, while Asami looks pointedly away. She wishes she could brush his concerns off, had the power or the plans in place to do so. She tries her best.

“It won’t happen for a while, another six months at least.” Only in the voicing does it strike her how little a timespan that is. “These things take time. And not everybody considers this that much of a constitutional crisis, believe it or not. We have so many things to work out before - before I can succeed him.”

He smiles a little awkwardly, but the sadness is evident in his face. “I don’t know what I should say - congratulations?” He tries. “Good luck?” Asami shrugs, equally helpless. What she feels like is a commiseration but it’s the last thing she wants to see on his face; this flicker of defeat is enough to break her heart.

“I hope we can still go on that trip… I don’t know, before the summer’s up.”

“Of course!” Asami sighs. “I don’t… Not yet, Mako.” She says, almost pleadingly. Not yet what remains too fresh and immense to really conquer right now, but the silent agreement to think about it later is well understood.

She wants to take the moments she can, for as long as she can. Mako is here at their favourite spot to see the ocean and the city at once, with the beer he puckishly calls champagne, and he’s wrong, tonight is about his promotion, since that’s the one actually worth celebrating (she thinks, wryly not ruefully, with determination.) She toasts to him and ruffles his hair. It’s nearly morning now, she made it here a little later than planned. But she had been determined to make it - for him, she said, maybe because he might not understand just how much a respite for her each rendezvous with him is, breaths of pure air in her ever more suffocating daily life.

“So tomorr- today, is my birthday,” Asami says. To change the subject - he knows, of course. “Su ordered this special octopus from Ember Island,” she tells him.

“Well? Where is it?” He catches Asami off guard again and she rolls her eyes. Then he continues, reaching into his work bag. He’s going straight to work after this - always considerate, she knows, careful to work around Asami’s chokehold of a schedule despite the insistences that he has nothing important going on, anyway. “I got you a gift.”

Whatever Asami expected, it isn’t this, and she isn’t sure why. She softens immediately, turning her full attention to him. “You did…”

“It’s not much. I remember you said you wanted to read this. I’m sure you could find a copy, but - this is mine. I’ve had it ever since I had a place, and I marked out the parts I liked…Besides,” he smirks, “You should remember this stuff’s not all bad.”

Mako hands her the book she had found him with, the first time she met him not on time, in a cafe on the edge of town right at the beginning of summer. It’s a beautiful volume that collects the observations of some ancient imperial astrologers. Half almanac, half history book - but ‘more like legend’, as Mako had insisted, so she’ll let it pass.

“I want you to keep it. So, happy birthday.”

Asami, listening and brimming with love, knows better than to argue. The prospect of accepting something with this kind of sentimental value should daunt her, upset her with what she knows is coming their way - and it does. But accepting it nonetheless is just... that much more heartening. She wants every little piece of him that she can keep. Asami takes it, running a finger over the worn leather of the cover, before pressing it to her chest.

“Thank you,” she says. Mako kisses the top of her head, making her weightless, disarming her with the suddenness of her joy. It’s almost miraculous to be overjoyed in this moment from the despair she had felt at the proclamation that sealed her fate mere hours ago.

Asami smiles, though he can’t see it. “I love you, you know.”

It’s the very words that make him pull away, and then he kisses her lips.

-

Asami sighs onto the paper, careful not to smudge the ink when she slumps. Delighted - is a measured kind of word. A new business obligation kind of word.

Maybe all these words feel such a way not for their inherent quality, but simply being an instrument of this abject lie. She crosses it out.

I am overjoyed to share the news...

-

It’s a mere two months after the fulfilment of her tragic mutual understanding with Mako that Asami can find it in her to bite the bullet her father, Jiro, the Fire Lord, likely, and the entire court have waiting on a spoon for her.

Iroh is a pillar of strength and stability. Exactly what the country needs, what the court demands, - even if Asami is left blowing hot and cold. It’s just that whatever her personal misgivings are, they still leave one versus a million, and her thought turns naturally to the million. Would it kill her to be selfish once in her life?

He frames his offer in terms they both know suit her best: let’s get you some peace of mind. “Yes,” she tells him, torn in two. What she can’t promise is happiness, but if he can promise stability, then she can, too. He still loves her terribly, and resents the lack of reciprocity more and more, to the point that it will test that love very soon, if it isn’t already. “I love you, too,” Asami says, blinking away tears. And it’s not as if it isn’t true, right?

-

She puts the pen down, the gap between the first and last sentence filled, and stretches. It feels like a season since she started.

-

A season ago, she had said (a final test of her fate), “Don’t you love me?”

It’s supposed to be a rhetorical question, something to pierce through the confusion, his armour - but Asami finds suddenly that she doesn’t know the answer for sure, and doesn’t want to know. She has a vice grip on his wrist; and the white of his clenched knuckles on the parapet, stark against the grainy stone, tell her it’s not easy for him either. It’s a salve to her pain and an excruciating amplifier at once.

He doesn’t love her for asking , for sure - she bites her tongue a second late. That was so unkind to them both. He winced when she asked.

“I’m not sure how much that matters, Asami.”  

She breathes a long breath through her mouth. He’s right, and he’s saying it and laying it out so she doesn't have to. Hold it together.

“You need to be okay , now and for the future. You’ll figure it out, Asami.” His voice is tight. “You can worry about being happy later.”

He uses his eyes to encourage her, they steel to brace the statement, lend it resolve. None of this quite obscures the pain and frustration in those clear amber eyes. But little of that frustration is at her, all of the pain for her. Again, that only makes it harder. Asami reaches up to kiss his cheek, so chaste she wishes she hadn’t bothered: it is not what they deserve.

“I know, I know. I’ll never forget you.”

-

The Royal Court Circular of The United Kingdom of Nations

14th Day of the Eleventh Month, 178 AG

The King is glad to announce the engagement of Princess Asami to His Royal Highness Prince Iroh of the Fire Nation, General of the United Forces. The King and the Fire Lord and their respective families are joined by both courts in extending their heartiest congratulations.

The Crown Princess says in an exclusive profile to be printed in the UKN Times this weekend (please see the press office for a copy Sunday morning):

“I am delighted to share the news of my engagement, to which my father has given his enthusiastic consent. I know that Iroh and I will continue to enrich the relationship we have nurtured since childhood. Words can hardly express my feelings at this time.”

[rosylipsandcheeks]

Compassion and Suffering: The Redemption of Rodion Raskolnikov

I am a huge fan of the character of Kylo Ren/Ben Solo. I’ve been thinking about my favourite literary human disasters and their fates. Dostoyevsky’s Rodion Raskolnikov is high up in my ranking of protagonists so broken, so misguided, and so lost. Both Star Wars and Crime & Punishment carry a message that “It’s not too late [to make amends and choose the path of good]” and “No one’s ever really gone”. Thus this fan of both compiled the post below :)

A cursory knowledge of the plot and themes of the novel and its context is really handy, I encourage you to click through these if you never heard about C&P before (I provide a morsel of that under the cut):

Read a quick synopsis here 

Wikipedia 

Here’s an extra bonus, a fragment describing Raskolnikov’s appearance:

An expression of the profoundest disgust gleamed for a moment in the young man’s refined face. He was, by the way, exceptionally handsome, above the average in height, slim, well-built, with beautiful dark eyes and dark brown hair.

tell me I’m not the only one casting Adam Driver in this role!

DISCLAIMER: I’m NOT claiming there’s a direct parallel between Rodion and Kylo Ren, nor Rodion/Sonia and Rey/Kylo Ren. These are very different stories: C&P is a realist novel while SW is a modern monomyth. Rey and Kylo Ren are equal protagonists (it’s her story) - the R/S dynamic IS a product of its era (19th c. tsarist Orthodox Russia). I’m a literature major and I believe in exploring the richness and thematic similarity across history, geography, and media.

I didn’t give much commentary - my main aim was to put some interesting quotes to the light. I’m open to discussion with merit. Pointless anti-ism and anti-intellectual arguments will not be addressed.  A long read-more, enjoy!

To quote this summary,

A former student, Raskolnikov lives in poverty and chaos and is eventually driven to murdering an aged woman (a pawnbroker) and her sister. He believes he has devised the perfect crime, as no one will regret the loss of his victims. It is a crime novel without a mystery, as from the very outset of the novel Dostoyevsky draws the reader into the interior of Raskolnikov’s mental life; the reader knows “who did it” (i.e., the crime) and sees his reasoning and can explain his actions.

The narrative’s feverish, compelling tone follows the twists and turns of Raskolnikov’s emotions and elaborates his struggle with his conscience and his mounting sense of horror as he wanders the city’s hot, crowded streets, and the novel’s status as a masterpiece is chiefly a result of its narrative intensity and moving depiction of the recovery of a diseased spirit.

The story is set in the 1860s, in the bowels of Saint Petersburg, tsarist Russia, bathed in the creed of the Eastern Orthodox Church. Dostoyevsky’s novel remains one of the most vital texts and literary achievements in European culture.

I have gathered several fragments of Rodion’s scenes with Sonia; I think the way they discuss morality, sin, and forgiveness could be an interesting reading for those interested in the theme of redemption in culture.

Rodion’s deed has been tormenting him increasingly.

‘Of course you’re right, Sonia,’ he said softly at last. He was suddenly changed. His tone of assumed arrogance and helpless defiance was gone. Even his voice was suddenly weak. ‘I told you yesterday that I was not coming to ask forgiveness and almost the first thing I’ve said is to ask forgiveness…. (...) I was asking forgiveness, Sonia….’

He tried to smile, but there was something helpless and incomplete in his pale smile. He bowed his head and hid his face in his hands. And suddenly a strange, surprising sensation of a sort of bitter hatred for Sonia passed through his heart. As it were wondering and frightened of this sensation, he raised his head and looked intently at her; but he met her uneasy and painfully anxious eyes fixed on him; there was love in them; his hatred vanished like a phantom. It was not the real feeling; he had taken the one feeling for the other. It only meant that that minute had come.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Sonia, dreadfully frightened.

He could not utter a word. This was not at all, not at all the way he had intended to ‘tell’ and he did not understand what was happening to him now. She went up to him, softly, sat down on the bed beside him and waited, not taking her eyes off him. Her heart throbbed and sank. It was unendurable; he turned his deadly pale face to her. His lips worked, helplessly struggling to utter something. A pang of terror passed through Sonia’s heart.

‘What’s the matter?’ she repeated, drawing a little away from him.

‘Nothing, Sonia, don’t be frightened…. It’s nonsense. It really is nonsense, if you think of it,’ he muttered, like a man in delirium. ‘Why have I come to torture you?’ he added suddenly, looking at her. ‘Why, really? I keep asking myself that question, Sonia….’

He had perhaps been asking himself that question a quarter of an hour before, but now he spoke helplessly, hardly knowing what he said and feeling a continual tremor all over.

‘Oh, how you are suffering!’ she muttered in distress, looking intently at him.

Her terror infected him. The same fear showed itself on his face. In the same way he stared at her and almost with the same childish smile.

‘Have you guessed?’ he whispered at last.

‘Good God!’ broke in an awful wail from her bosom.

She sank helplessly on the bed with her face in the pillows, but a moment later she got up, moved quickly to him, seized both his hands and, gripping them tight in her thin fingers, began looking into his face again with the same intent stare. In this last desperate look she tried to look into him and catch some last hope. But there was no hope; there was no doubt remaining; it was all true! Later on, indeed, when she recalled that moment, she thought it strange and wondered why she had seen at once that there was no doubt. She could not have said, for instance, that she had foreseen something of the sort—and yet now, as soon as he told her, she suddenly fancied that she had really foreseen this very thing.

‘Stop, Sonia, enough! don’t torture me,’ he begged her miserably.

It was not at all, not at all like this he had thought of telling her, but this is how it happened.

She jumped up, seeming not to know what she was doing, and, wringing her hands, walked into the middle of the room; but quickly went back and sat down again beside him, her shoulder almost touching his. All of a sudden she started as though she had been stabbed, uttered a cry and fell on her knees before him, she did not know why.

‘What have you done—what have you done to yourself?’ she said in despair, and, jumping up, she flung herself on his neck, threw her arms round him, and held him tightly.

Raskolnikov drew back and looked at her with a mournful smile.

‘You are a strange girl, Sonia—you kiss me and hug me when I tell you about that…. You don’t think what you are doing.’

‘There is no one—no one in the whole world now so unhappy as you!’ she cried in a frenzy, not hearing what he said, and she suddenly broke into violent hysterical weeping.

A feeling long unfamiliar to him flooded his heart and softened it at once. He did not struggle against it. Two tears started into his eyes and hung on his eyelashes.

‘Then you won’t leave me, Sonia?’ he said, looking at her almost with hope.

‘No, no, never, nowhere!’ cried Sonia. ‘I will follow you, I will follow you everywhere. Oh, my God! Oh, how miserable I am! … Why, why didn’t I know you before! Why didn’t you come before? Oh, dear!’

‘Here I have come.’

‘Yes, now! What’s to be done now? … Together, together!’ she repeated as it were unconsciously, and she hugged him again. ‘I’ll follow you to Siberia!’

He recoiled at this, and the same hostile, almost haughty smile came to his lips. ‘Perhaps I don’t want to go to Siberia yet, Sonia,’ he said.

Sonia looked at him quickly.

Again after her first passionate, agonising sympathy for the unhappy man the terrible idea of the murder overwhelmed her. In his changed tone she seemed to hear the murderer speaking.

‘And why, why did I tell her? Why did I let her know?’ he cried a minute later in despair, looking with infinite anguish at her. ‘Here you expect an explanation from me, Sonia; you are sitting and waiting for it, I see that. But what can I tell you? You won’t understand and will only suffer misery … on my account! Well, you are crying and embracing me again. Why do you do it? Because I couldn’t bear my burden and have come to throw it on another: you suffer too, and I shall feel better! And can you love such a mean wretch?’

‘But aren’t you suffering, too?’ cried Sonia.

Again a wave of the same feeling surged into his heart, and again for an instant softened it.

‘Sonia, I have a bad heart, take note of that. It may explain a great deal. I have come because I am bad. There are men who wouldn’t have come. But I am a coward and… a mean wretch. But … never mind! That’s not the point. I must speak now, but I don’t know how to begin.’ 

He paused and sank into thought.

‘Ah, we are so different,’ he cried again, ‘we are not alike. And why, why did I come? I shall never forgive myself that.’

‘No, no, it was a good thing you came,’ cried Sonia. ‘It’s better I should know, far better!’

(...)Do you understand now?’

‘N-no,’ Sonia whispered naïvely and timidly. ‘Only speak, speak, I shall understand, I shall understand in myself!’ she kept begging him.

‘Oh hush, hush,’ cried Sonia, clasping her hands. ‘You turned away from God and God has smitten you, has given you over to the devil!’

‘Then Sonia, when I used to lie there in the dark and all this became clear to me, was it a temptation of the devil, eh?’

‘Hush, don’t laugh, blasphemer! You don’t understand, you don’t understand! Oh God! He won’t understand!’

‘Hush, Sonia! I am not laughing. I know myself that it was the devil leading me. Hush, Sonia, hush!’ he repeated with gloomy insistence. ‘I know it all, I have thought it all over and over and whispered it all over to myself, lying there in the dark…. I’ve argued it all over with myself, every point of it, and I know it all, all! And how sick, how sick I was then of going over it all! I have kept wanting to forget it and make a new beginning, Sonia, and leave off thinking.

‘Don’t interrupt me, Sonia. I want to prove one thing only, that the devil led me on then and he has shown me since that I had not the right to take that path, because I am just such a louse as all the rest. He was mocking me and here I’ve come to you now! Welcome your guest! If I were not a louse, should I have come to you? Listen: when I went then to the old woman’s I only went to try…. You may be sure of that!’

‘And you murdered her!’

‘But how did I murder her? Is that how men do murders? Do men go to commit a murder as I went then? I will tell you some day how I went! Did I murder the old woman? I murdered myself, not her! I crushed myself once for all, for ever…. But it was the devil that killed that old woman, not I. Enough, enough, Sonia, enough! Let me be!’ he cried in a sudden spasm of agony, ‘let me be!’

He leaned his elbows on his knees and squeezed his head in his hands as in a vise.

‘What suffering!’ A wail of anguish broke from Sonia.

‘Well, what am I to do now?’ he asked, suddenly raising his head and looking at her with a face hideously distorted by despair.

‘What are you to do?’ she cried, jumping up, and her eyes that had been full of tears suddenly began to shine. ‘Stand up!’ (She seized him by the shoulder, he got up, looking at her almost bewildered.) ‘Go at once, this very minute, stand at the cross-roads, bow down, first kiss the earth which you have defiled and then bow down to all the world and say to all men aloud, ‘I am a murderer!’ Then God will send you life again. Will you go, will you go?’ she asked him, trembling all over, snatching his two hands, squeezing them tight in hers and gazing at him with eyes full of fire.

He was amazed at her sudden ecstasy.

‘You mean Siberia, Sonia? I must give myself up?’ he asked gloomily. ‘Suffer and expiate your sin by it, that’s what you must do.’

‘No! I am not going to them, Sonia!’

‘But how will you go on living? What will you live for?’ cried Sonia, ‘how is it possible now? Why, how can you talk to your mother? (Oh, what will become of them now?) But what am I saying? You have abandoned your mother and your sister already. He has abandoned them already! Oh, God!’ she cried, ‘why, he knows it all himself. How, how can he live by himself! What will become of you now?’

‘Don’t be a child, Sonia,’ he said softly. ‘What wrong have I done them? Why should I go to them? What should I say to them? That’s only a phantom…. They destroy men by millions themselves and look on it as a virtue. They are knaves and scoundrels, Sonia! I am not going to them. And what should I say to them—that I murdered her, but did not dare to take the money and hid it under a stone?’ he added with a bitter smile. ‘Why, they would laugh at me, and would call me a fool for not getting it. A coward and a fool! They wouldn’t understand and they don’t deserve to understand. Why should I go to them? I won’t. Don’t be a child, Sonia….’ ‘It will be too much for you to bear, too much!’ she repeated, holding out her hands in despairing supplication.

‘Perhaps I’ve been unfair to myself,’ he observed gloomily, pondering, ‘perhaps after all I am a man and not a louse and I’ve been in too great a hurry to condemn myself. I’ll make another fight for it.’

A haughty smile appeared on his lips.

‘What a burden to bear! And your whole life, your whole life!’

‘I shall get used to it,’ he said grimly and thoughtfully.

‘Listen,’ he began a minute later, ‘stop crying, it’s time to talk of the facts: I’ve come to tell you that the police are after me, on my track….’

‘Ah!’ Sonia cried in terror.

They sat side by side, both mournful and dejected, as though they had been cast up by the tempest alone on some deserted shore. He looked at Sonia and felt how great was her love for him, and strange to say he felt it suddenly burdensome and painful to be so loved. Yes, it was a strange and awful sensation! On his way to see Sonia he had felt that all his hopes rested on her; he expected to be rid of at least part of his suffering, and now, when all her heart turned towards him, he suddenly felt that he was immeasurably unhappier than before.

‘Sonia,’ he said, ‘you’d better not come and see me when I am in prison.’

(all quotes above from Part V, Chapter IV)

Raskolnikov decides to turn himself in, he visits Sonya though leaves her without a goodbye, goes to the market square and prostrates himself on the ground as she told him to, almost confessing his deed out loud. People think he’s drunk. At the station it turns out that the man who suspected him shot himself, Raskolnikov is relieved, but:

He went out; he reeled, he was overtaken with giddiness and did not know what he was doing. He began going down the stairs, supporting himself with his right hand against the wall. He fancied that a porter pushed past him on his way upstairs to the police office, that a dog in the lower storey kept up a shrill barking and that a woman flung a rolling-pin at it and shouted. He went down and out into the yard. There, not far from the entrance, stood Sonia, pale and horror- stricken. She looked wildly at him. He stood still before her. There was a look of poignant agony, of despair, in her face. She clasped her hands. His lips worked in an ugly, meaningless smile. He stood still a minute, grinned and went back to the police office. (Part VI, Chapter VIII)

EPILOGUE

Rodion confesses and is convicted to 8 years of penal servitude in Siberia after many people supplied evidence of him helping them and being a good but troubled man. His mother dies, his sister marries the man she wanted, Sonia follows him there.

His clothes were warm and suited to his manner of life. He did not even feel the fetters. Was he ashamed of his shaven head and parti-coloured coat? Before whom? Before Sonia? Sonia was afraid of him, how could he be ashamed before her? 

And yet he was ashamed even before Sonia, whom he tortured because of it with his contemptuous rough manner. But it was not his shaven head and his fetters he was ashamed of: his pride had been stung to the quick. It was wounded pride that made him ill. Oh, how happy he would have been if he could have blamed himself! He could have borne anything then, even shame and disgrace. But he judged himself severely, and his exasperated conscience found no particularly terrible fault in his past, except a simple blunder which might happen to anyone. He was ashamed just because he, Raskolnikov, had so hopelessly, stupidly come to grief through some decree of blind fate, and must humble himself and submit to ‘the idiocy’ of a sentence, if he were anyhow to be at peace.

Vague and objectless anxiety in the present, and in the future a continual sacrifice leading to nothing—that was all that lay before him. And what comfort was it to him that at the end of eight years he would only be thirty-two and able to begin a new life! What had he to live for? What had he to look forward to? Why should he strive? To live in order to exist? Why, he had been ready a thousand times before to give up existence for the sake of an idea, for a hope, even for a fancy. Mere existence had always been too little for him; he had always wanted more. Perhaps it was just because of the strength of his desires that he had thought himself a man to whom more was permissible than to others.

And if only fate would have sent him repentance— burning repentance that would have torn his heart and robbed him of sleep, that repentance, the awful agony of which brings visions of hanging or drowning! Oh, he would have been glad of it! Tears and agonies would at least have been life. But he did not repent of his crime.

Sonia works in the town, befriends the prisoners and their families, becomes a liaison between them. She’s adored while Rodion is disliked and people don’t understand why she’s there for him.

Here’s the very ending of the novel and the moment of Rodion’s change of heart.

On reaching the prison he learnt from the convicts that Sofya Semyonovna was lying ill at home and was unable to go out.

He was very uneasy and sent to inquire after her; he soon learnt that her illness was not dangerous. Hearing that he was anxious about her, Sonia sent him a pencilled note, telling him that she was much better, that she had a slight cold and that she would soon, very soon come and see him at his work. His heart throbbed painfully as he read it.

Again it was a warm bright day. Early in the morning, at six o’clock, he went off to work on the river bank, where they used to pound alabaster and where there was a kiln for baking it in a shed. There were only three of them sent. One of the convicts went with the guard to the fortress to fetch a tool; the other began getting the wood ready and laying it in the kiln. Raskolnikov came out of the shed on to the river bank, sat down on a heap of logs by the shed and began gazing at the wide deserted river. From the high bank a broad landscape opened before him, the sound of singing floated faintly audible from the other bank. In the vast steppe, bathed in sunshine, he could just see, like black specks, the nomads’ tents. There there was freedom, there other men were living, utterly unlike those here; there time itself seemed to stand still, as though the age of Abraham and his flocks had not passed. Raskolnikov sat gazing, his thoughts passed into daydreams, into contemplation; he thought of nothing, but a vague restlessness excited and troubled him. Suddenly he found Sonia beside him; she had come up noiselessly and sat down at his side. It was still quite early; the morning chill was still keen. She wore her poor old burnous and the green shawl; her face still showed signs of illness, it was thinner and paler. She gave him a joyful smile of welcome, but held out her hand with her usual timidity. She was always timid of holding out her hand to him and sometimes did not offer it at all, as though afraid he would repel it. He always took her hand as though with repugnance, always seemed vexed to meet her and was sometimes obstinately silent throughout her visit. Sometimes she trembled before him and went away deeply grieved. But now their hands did not part. He stole a rapid glance at her and dropped his eyes on the ground without speaking. They were alone, no one had seen them. The guard had turned away for the time.

How it happened he did not know. But all at once something seemed to seize him and fling him at her feet. He wept and threw his arms round her knees. For the first instant she was terribly frightened and she turned pale. She jumped up and looked at him trembling. But at the same moment she understood, and a light of infinite happiness came into her eyes. She knew and had no doubt that he loved her beyond everything and that at last the moment had come….

They wanted to speak, but could not; tears stood in their eyes. They were both pale and thin; but those sick pale faces were bright with the dawn of a new future, of a full resurrection into a new life. They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite sources of life for the heart of the other.

They resolved to wait and be patient. They had another seven years to wait, and what terrible suffering and what infinite happiness before them! But he had risen again and he knew it and felt it in all his being, while she—she only lived in his life.

On the evening of the same day, when the barracks were locked, Raskolnikov lay on his plank bed and thought of her. He had even fancied that day that all the convicts who had been his enemies looked at him differently; he had even entered into talk with them and they answered him in a friendly way. He remembered that now, and thought it was bound to be so. Wasn’t everything now bound to be changed?

He thought of her. He remembered how continually he had tormented her and wounded her heart. He remembered her pale and thin little face. But these recollections scarcely troubled him now; he knew with what infinite love he would now repay all her sufferings.

And what were all, all the agonies of the past! Everything, even his crime, his sentence and imprisonment, seemed to him now in the first rush of feeling an external, strange fact with which he had no concern. But he could not think for long together of anything that evening, and he could not have analysed anything consciously; he was simply feeling. Life had stepped into the place of theory and something quite different would work itself out in his mind.

Under his pillow lay the New Testament. He took it up mechanically. The book belonged to Sonia; it was the one from which she had read the raising of Lazarus to him. At first he was afraid that she would worry him about religion, would talk about the gospel and pester him with books. But to his great surprise she had not once approached the subject and had not even offered him the Testament. He had asked her for it himself not long before his illness and she brought him the book without a word. Till now he had not opened it. He did not open it now, but one thought passed through his mind: ‘Can her convictions not be mine now? Her feelings, her aspirations at least….’

She too had been greatly agitated that day, and at night she was taken ill again. But she was so happy—and so unexpectedly happy—that she was almost frightened of her happiness. Seven years, only seven years! At the beginning of their happiness at some moments they were both ready to look on those seven years as though they were seven days. He did not know that the new life would not be given him for nothing, that he would have to pay dearly for it, that it would cost him great striving, great suffering.

But that is the beginning of a new story—the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing from one world into another, of his initiation into a new unknown life. That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is ended.

If you made it this far, I hope you got something out of it! Read the book, it will leave you with the best literary fever :) 

[the-ego-estate-storyblog]

Chapter 7.1.

The Host waits for a second, before he continues on. “So, you want to know about Dark and the Dark path.” He says. “If you insist, of course I’ll tell you.”

You don’t remember having made this choice. Still you walk with him down a shady trail.

“Sassy would like to know what I know about Dark’s manipulation, since I’ve implied I’ve witnessed it before. I have, in fact. Many times. He’s done it to everyone in the house, except the Jims. He makes you do bad things, makes you think its for the right reason, and soon you’re doing them regardless of good or evil. Pitting Google and Bing against each other, convincing the good doctor everyone he knows is dying, Bim’s overflated ego… He twists people. It used to be worse. You’re seeing the watered down remnants of his work.”

You shudder and keep listening to him, unsure of what to say.

“One of the Anonymous asked about Dark’s motivations. If there’s a reason aside from just being manipulative and making people his toys.” The Host trips on a rock, and you catch him before he can topple. “The answer is,” He carries on. “No. He gets bored and loves to make people suffer. Loves to watch them crumble in on themselves.”

You hold onto his arm as you guys walk, scared he’ll trip again. “Continuing on,” He insists. “Punknerdmusings asked about the house. And,” He laughs. “No, no the house doesn’t make sense. It’s constantly changing to fit its whims. But it’s not malicious like Markiplier Manor. It won’t let us kill each other, but it does help to heal us if accidents were to happen. For us to die, it would take an outside influence.

"Which leads smoothly into Ironwoman’s question,” The Host nods. “Am I liberty to say why I want to keep the Protagonist away from Dark? I am, but I thought perhaps it would seem a little over the top to just outright state why I want to keep You away from Dark. He can use the Protagonist to kill us. Dark can’t do it himself, but having You here as a pawn makes it possible. Giving into his power is the only true bad ending, and it will mean the end of my life, and probably everyone else’s.

"Not many were super interested in the Dark ending until somebody went and posted the first step down that path.” He mutters.

You’re not sure who he’s referring to.

The Host scoffs and carries on. “Another Anonymous asked what is the Dark ending like. It has blood, loss and misery, as well as you missing your ability to choose. This narrative will become linear. No more polls. Just Dark calling the shots. He isn’t very fond of choices. Not since…”

He sighs. “Well, Aduialz, might as well answer your question now. Yes, I know his past, and Wilford’s. I know what went down at Markiplier Manor. He doesn’t like that I know. In fact, if he got you under his thumb, he’d have you kill me first.”

The Host grips your arm tighter, and you reciprocate the touch, hoping to comfort him. He’s scared, but carries on.

“The last question, again Anonymous, asks if you all are safe from Dark.” He shakes his head. “Unless you take certain actions, he will always be there, tempting you. When you go back to the main post, you can see your options in the poll. Oh, one last thing before you go.”

He turns to face you, and you stare at the bandages were his eyes should be. “When you cast your vote, remember that Dark is the sum of two parts. One of your options will have to deal with that.”

The Host makes himself smile. “Alright, go on back to the main post. I hope this cleared up some issues.”

[mikeyd1986]

MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 83, December 2017

On Monday morning, Mum and I did the annual tradition of visiting the Myer Melbourne Christmas Windows and the Myer Christmas Giftorium in the city. Firstly, we went to have lunch at the 1932 Cafe & Restaurant on Collins Street. The cafe is located inside the Manchester Unity Building which is a throwback to the 1930’s Art Deco architectural style. The service and food at the cafe were both excellent. Mum and I ordered the Golden Gaytime Hotcakes with a serving of rockmelon, strawberries and blueberries. So good! http://manchesterunitybuilding.com.au/...

Next we walked over to the Melbourne Town Hall and saw the incredible (and edible) display that was the Gingerbread Village by Epicure. All of Melbourne’s iconic locations including the Melbourne Zoo, MCG, Luna Park, Albert Park lake, Flinders Street station and Federation Square had been made out of gingerbread in miniature model form. It was very detailed with lots of LED lights and people placed into each location. https://whatson.melbourne.vic.gov.au/...

After this, we ventured onto Bourke Street to check out the Myer Christmas Windows. This year’s theme centered around Elf who is trying to fit in and have the “perfect Christmas” but sadly always seems to be out of place in the world. The story is about being able to embrace and be okay with your individuality and imperfections when it comes to celebrating Christmas. Being a Monday, the queue for the windows was pretty tolerable and we had plenty of time to enjoy looking into each of the windows. https://whatson.melbourne.vic.gov.au/...

Heading up to Level 6, Mum and I had a browse through all the Christmas decorations, ornaments, cards, wrapping and stockings inside the Giftorium. Despite having a 40% off sale, most of the items were very overpriced but being Myer, I was far from surprised. Hence why this is a once-a-year trip because it’s generally out of my price range. However, I did pick up the latest Spirit of Christmas CD featuring all Australian artists including Guy Sebastian, Paul Kelly, Anthony Callea and The Wiggles.  https://www.myer.com.au/c/promotion...

On Tuesday morning, I had to say my final goodbyes to my 1998 Hyundai Excel Glx as I got the car towed away by Metro Car Removals in Dandenong. The worker seemed really disgruntled and annoyed especially when he discovered that my car won’t start at all. To say that I was feeling intensely uncomfortable would be an understatement. He opened up the bonnet to check the oil cap and radiator, shaking his head and giving off negative body language. Part of me thought the worst...that he wouldn’t even bother taking the car away.

He said he could only offer me 50 bucks. I took the offer because I just wanted to get it over with and didn’t have the energy to argue with him. I actually felt a little heartbroken watching my old car being pulled onto the tow truck. I got myself emotionally attached to it because it was part of my life for 6 years. It was just a massive relief that he actually took the car. I didn’t really care about the money so much.

On Tuesday afternoon, Mum and I went down to the Springvale Botanical Cemetery to visit her parents and my grandparents. It’s hard to believe that it’s been 15 years since my Granddad passed away and almost 4 since my Grandma passed away. It really helps to put things into perspective and appreciate how valuable your life is. Mum played a couple of Christmas songs from her phone and we placed two bunches of Dahlias into the plastic floral vases on the marble headstone.

On Thursday morning, I had some last minute errands and shopping to do at Cranbourne Park Shopping Centre and Casey Central Shopping Centre. I swear you really have to be careful driving on the roads at this time of the year especially. Drivers can just be so rude, impatient and careless. And don’t even get me started on shopping centre car parks. People reverse without looking, cut you off, don’t stop or tail gate you. Hence why I purposefully drive cautiously and get my errands and shopping done as quickly as possible.

On Thursday afternoon, I had my last appointment with my counsellor Ruth at Piece Together Counselling in Narre Warren. Today’s session was about reflection and acceptance. The past month has been chaotic to say the least and I’ve had to be okay with many things including writing my car off, dealing with financial issues, opening my first VCAT case, the stress and pressure of retail during the Christmas period and not being able to fit in as many fitness classes as I’d like this week. I think I’m learning to cut myself some slack and realise that I’m doing well when it comes to coping with the above.

Ruth also asked me about my goals for 2018. Honestly, I wasn’t feeling very mindful or focused about it but I do have a few important ones in mind. Travelling is a big one for me, to get out of my comfort zone, gain more independence and confidence, experience the world outside of where I live. In terms of my fitness goals, I’m still uncertain at this point but I do need to find a better sense of balance and figure out which trainer and gym will be a good fit for me. I also really need to buy myself a new car early in the new year.

There’s also the prospect of volunteering at an animal shelter of some kind, looking after domestic pets and getting some hands-on experience. Essentially trying to find what I have a real passion for. My blog writing and reviews could also be explored further next year and hopefully open up bigger opportunities. This year’s been one of experimentation and whilst I’ve made mistakes, I don’t regret any of it because it’s made me stronger, wiser and better.

On Friday morning, Mum and I both had haircut appointments with Katrina at Creative Hair Design in Narre Warren South. We spent about 1.5 hours catching up on the past month leading up to Christmas. Katrina’s dog Austin was boisterous and overly excited as usual but he did like a good pat whilst Tess was content just lying down in the corner near the front door.

Next I had my last appointment for the year with Dr. Yasmin Baliz at CNS: Comprehensive Neuropsychological Services in Narre Warren. Today we discussed options for the Autism Spectrum Disorder services that I could possibly look into for next year. This included several support group with Aspergers Victoria (For Young Adults) in Blackburn who hold meetings every month at a community centre. Yasmin informed me that they also organise social activities such as indoor rock climbing which could help me in the area of social development and self confidence. http://www.aspergersvic.org.au/our-...

We also talked about the NDIS (National Disability Scheme) which provides support and funding to those who are formally diagnosed on the Autism spectrum. Yasmin provided me with some information about planning my pathway, goal setting and getting my application ready for next year. The Casey-Cardinia area will be able to access the services by the start of September, 2018. It was all very overwhelming but also very helpful advice as it could help me gain more skills and independence for my future. https://www.ndis.gov.au/about-us/ou...

In the afternoon, I dropped into work for the Team Christmas Lunch. I ended up getting a large bag of Cadbury selected chocolates from our Kris Kringle which I was really pleased about. I also caught up with a few workmates in the tearoom and down in the cafe before heading off to Eden Rise. Sadly, it was far too busy to get a massage done today at Best Body Massage but by this point, I was well and truly exhausted. I could feel that I was burning the candle at both ends and needed to just go home and rest.

On Friday night, I went to the Full Moon Meditation held at YMCA Casey ARC in Narre Warren. If ever there was a time I needed to meditate, tonight was it. The moment my head hit the pillow, I was ready to doze off. Just felt so good being still and doing absolutely nothing for 45 minutes. The music was a mixture of beautiful Zen vibrations and birds chirping which was calming to listen to. Instructor Michelle guided us through the usual deep breathing, deep muscle relaxation and guided imagery of the Japanese garden and temple. https://www.trybooking.com/book/eve...

I hope that everyone has a wonderful time with family and friends on Christmas Day!

“It's the most wonderful time of the year. With the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you be of good cheer. It's the most wonderful time of the year. It's the hap-happiest season of all. With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings when friends come to call. It's the hap-happiest season of all. There'll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting and caroling out in the snow. There'll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of the Christmases long, long ago.” Andy Williams - It’s The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year (1963)

“And all of this happens because the world is waiting. Waiting for one child. Black, white, yellow, no-one knows. But a child that will grow up and turn tears to laughter. Hate to love, war to peace and everyone to everyone's neighbour. And misery and suffering will be words to be forgotten, forever.” Johnny Mathis - When A Child Is Born (1976)

“Joy to the world. The Lord is come. Let earth receive her King. Let every heart prepare Him room. And heaven and nature sing. And heaven and nature sing. And heaven and heaven and nature sing.” Mariah Carey - Joy To The World (1994)