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felikatze · 3 years

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give me the a brainworms i am deeply invested in this man

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okay first of all you asked for this. second of all if i am a little off track from the game that is explained by me just building thoughts like building blocks without looking back. third i was supposed to be studying for an exam but this counts as practice right? it's character analysis anyway lmao.

buckle the fuck up, my dearest anon, because I have sub headings.

1. A as the Player Character

Let me begin with why I am obsessed with this horrid little guy in the first place: he's a silent protagonist. I am always obsessed with protagonists. It's a law of nature. I love taking hollow characters and dissecting them for scraps. It's a long standing practice of mine.

Being a silent protagonist, A, as X, does not have a set personality. However, there are patterns. Firstly, as any semi-silent protagonist, A is a reactive character. He does not start incidents, he only responds to situations, presented by the Sephirah, as they arise. He does not actively seek out new information, merely going about the routine of expanding departments, but expresses curiosity when information is presented to him.

I'm aware fandom likes to characterize X and A differently, likely because they are initially presented as different characters. I, on the other hand, would like to pose the theory that they are more similar than expected.

I believe that A is also a reactive character, rather than active. Despite the fandom wiki describing him as stubborn, the goal A pursues with such fervor, the completion of the Seed of Light, is not actually a goal he set for himself. Carmen is the one who set this goal for him by leaving him her legacy.

Throughout the backstory we get relating to the Cogito Project, A is Carmen's assistant, whereas Carmen is the driving researcher. This is how many of the City's inhabitants seem to be; going with the flow of goals set for them by superiors. Yes I will get into his attachment to Carmen later.

The above is not to say A isn't stubborn. Once he has accepted a goal as his own, he will pursue it at all costs, as is obvious from any and all flashbacks leading to horrible deaths. But the point isn't his pursuit of the goal, but where that goal comes from. Even Lobcorp itself supports this, despite what Hokma may say; A as X follows the "simple" task of managing the Corp's day to day activities, and executes any mission given to him by the Sephirah. He outranks them, and doesn't actually need to do their missions, but does so anyway. Players are driven by the reward offered by those missions, of course, and A might be the same in that regard. Nonetheless, at no point in gameplay do you do anything somebody else hasn't told you to.

The overarching narrative of the Script would be the most obvious example. Every single person in the game follows the script, whether they know it or not.

Lastly on this note, a phrase we hear attributed to A, "Machines must behave as machines." Now, Angela may be attached to this phrase because it bears significance to herself as a machine, and informs most of A's unjust treatmeant of her. However, what if it doesn't just apply to machines? The phrase reads as such, "Everyone must act according to their own role."

2. A, Carmen, and the disease of the mind

So, A will at any cost pursue goals Carmen set for him. Question is, why? The obvious answer would be saying he's in love with her, which like, true. But also, how did Carmen come to be so precious to him?

Let us return to the comparison, "This is how many of the City's inhabitants seem to be." We don't really know why exactly most characters joined Carmen, excluding mainly Daniel and Benjamin. But this does not mean we can't have theories.

Carmen's ideal was curing the "disease of the mind." What is the disease? Complete hopelessness. The inability to form aspirations and dreams, to think of a better future. A is a very reactive character who does not set goals for himself. Therefore, I personally conclude, that initially, Carmen's ideology resonated with him because he could identify with the disease.

This is the point where I start rewatching Lobcorp story clips. Dear god.

So, by briefly binging day 27 onward, I've come up with lines that very much support this lil theory of mine:

First, from Carmen, a description of the disease, "People lock away their own potential."

Second, a line from Angela, after the memory synchronization, "You've locked yourself in this prison without bars."

Carmen describes A as humble, and Benjamin thinks he is warm. If I suppose A was one of the diseased initially, Carmen would be the catalyst for this change. Carmen was someone with big aspirations, with plans to heal what is wrong with the City, and it gave him hope. He was one of the diseased, but through time with Carmen, with that relentless optimistic spirit, he may have been cured, for a time. It's not a stretch to say that she was his light.

But lor shows us what happens when the seed of light sprouts wrong, doesn't it? It distorts. A grasped hope for the first time and then it is ruthlessly crushed. Carmen was everything. Yes, A is described as a jack-of-all-trades, as a genius in all pursuits he puts his mind to, but what does that matter in the face of someone who can unite people? Who can give them hope of a better world? Who can inspire them to actually use the talents they have?

And what kind of pressure is it to put the legacy of a messiah in the hands of the diseased?

3. A and the Perception Filter: A is weak to White damage

No, I am serious about that. He's extremely weak mentally. Obviously death of a loved one is a changing experience for absolutely anybody, but Carmen's death destroyed him.

Not only did he refuse to confide this grief to anyone and bottled it up, now everybody looked to him to lead the project, but he just isn't Carmen. He isn't an ambitious person, he doesn't have the same optimism, he can't bring people together, but people expected him to, and he failed. Hard.

While he was without a doubt talented in science, he was also just an average guy.

After her death, A grew to hate humans. He lost trust in them. He refused to confide in anyone, and be confided in by anyone. Thus, the team fell apart.

In both lobcorp and lor, we get interesting tidbits about precations taken to protect the manager.

Firstly, Lobcorp's perception filter. The cartoony art-style of the game is a result of the game being in first person. Through the eyes of the manager, everything is cartoony!

This is a measure undertaken to specifically protect the manager's psyche. Angela tells us that, before it was deployed, the manager would frequently go insane, one notable incident including the manager trying to hang himself. When we first hear this, the previous managers and X are still separate in our minds. However, they're all A! A went insane multiple times without it.

This is understandable, considering that employees also frequently go insane and try to kill both themselves and others. But they're there in action, confronting the Abnormalities directly. Just watching them made the manager go mad. They could not handle the responsibility for the employees' deaths.

In lor, Angela explains why she picked the Rabbit Team from R Corp as their main contractor instead of any other team. One team was simply too big for L Corp's narrow hallways, and the other team... dealt in psychic damage. It was simply too big of a risk for the manager. But the manager is always secure behind the cameras. Would that teams methods just be that brutal visually, or would their attacks have reached the manager?

Combined with his immense grief at all of his friends and coworkers dying in part because of him, A cannot bear to look at death.

4. A's greatest flaw: Avoidance

A common thread during Core Meltdown flashbacks: A refuses to look at suffering. He just can't. Whether it be looking away from Elijah writhing on the floor or hanging up on Daniel's panicked report of death.

This is actually the thing Angela takes the biggest issue with, and what hurt her most. A would never look at her, acknowledge her, and she did not understand why. But I think A did not refuse to look at her out of maliciousness. Rather, it was out of grief over Carmen. He could not look at her without being reminded of what he lost.

Angela's creation came about because A wanted someone to guide him, someone like Carmen. He threw himself into the project to the point it made Benjamin happy that A was passionate about anything again. But as soon as the project he distracted himself with is complete, he is filled with regret. Carmen cannot be replicated, and he breaks again.

Furthermore, tying this back to my first point about A being a reactive person, we see Angela take charge over A. She's the one recruiting employees and leading the business. It was likely a relief for him to be able to step down from the leading position.

But avoiding it made everything worse. He did not act when he saw Elijah's unchecked ambition, he did not act beyond a simple check at Gabriel's decay, he gave Giovanni the same hope he clung to to no avail, et cetera et cetera.

Avoiding his problems is making them worse and sending everything down the drain (including his psyche), so he deals with it the only way he knows how, avoiding them more!

Biggest example of A's big avoidance problem as his psyche crumbles: the memory wipe. A, in perhaps his one singular moment of acknowledging his emotions, recognizes that he is incapable of fulfilling the Script in his current state. His grief is just too much.

By erasing his own memory, he could start fresh without his grief, because he might've really killed himself otherwise. His suffering became bigger and bigger, and he coped by avoiding it.

The memory wipe allowed him to distangle his problems. Through his interactions with the Sephirah (which I will not individually detail for the sake of my sanity and because I dumped all this on a friend on discord already), he can deal with and actually process his issues one at a time.

As the motto describes, only by facing the fear can he build the future. Only by finally facing his grief and acknowleding it, seeing that the past cannot be changed and he has no choice to move forward, can he actually do so.

5. The Sephirah as ghosts

Lobotomy Corporation feels like a ghost story. I've touched upon this in my previous A post.

As you reach the Corp's lower levels, there are less Sephirah. First there are four. They act like normal employees, and do not breach into the story's underbelly until you reach their core supressions and the facade breaks. Second, counting Tiphereth as one, there are three. They still go about their duties, but they know what they are. Third, there are two, and the facade is gone. They know what they are, and they will tell you about the sins of the past.

And finally, you reach Keter, and there is only one.

This gradual decay of the facade is what really gets to me. I said that by interacting with the Sephirah, A deals with his issues one by one, but that's what the Sephirah are, in this case. Representations.

The people the Sephirah used to be are dead, and the Sephirah are their ghosts. The core supression involve putting these ghosts to rest. Doesn't it match the progression of a typical ghost story? Find the ghost, find what they used to be, and help them move on.

So, if everyone is a ghost, then A is alone.

But, behind the scenes, the Sephirah are still there. They are still people, and they have changed for the better, too. As always, A simply does not look.

(Does he even see the good others see in him? Does he look away from praise, too? Did he even realize Benjamin's admiration for him? Will we ever know?)

6. A's end.

A's progression of moving on would be fine and dandy if it did not end as thus: A does kill himself.

A sees himself beyond the point of no return. Everyone is dead. He is alone. Carmen is never coming back. He can't call it quits now, or else everything has been in vain. (Even if the last days show us a part of him wants to just quit, so badly.)

So, there's only one thing left to do: follow the Script to its ending. Fulfill Carmen's legacy at all costs. Death as the ultimate release.

This is the point where I admit I do not like the death as release trope. But the game does a good enough job as presenting it as the only option A had, or the only option he saw himself as having.

However, I've mentioned it before, I'll mention it again: A was not alone. Death was his release, but he left wreckage. In order to end his own suffering, he inflicted the same pain he went through on others.

Throughout the game, he moves on and pushes through. The ending shows that in reality... he didn't.

At least in lor the characters stick together and help each other heal.

This has been most of my thoughts on A, amounting to my longest analysis post ever, having taken me approximately two and a half hours to complete, and clocking in at 2337 words including up to this paragraph.

Thank you anon for giving me the incentive to verbalize all of this, so I can finally be at ease having inflicted my thoughts on everybody else.

#Feli gets asked #lobotomy corporation #ayin #library of ruina #also i saw apparently another fandom besides lc uses the ayin tag which is just fun to watch honestly #many characters could rival this word vomit probably but as i said i already inflicted most of my thoughts abt netz on my good pal borgor #thank you borgor for dragging me back into projmoon stuff. also curse you terribly #long post #Feli speaks

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helena-thessaloniki · 3 years

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Eren, and that f*cking white bird

Okaaaaay so, here’s an absolutely nonsensical, self-indulgent crack fic alternate scene for you all. Inspired by this comment from Slutty Pennywise @a-slut-for-smut that made me scream, fall out of my chair, and laugh for five! minutes! straight.

Babes, you’re a genius and despite what you say, I think you’d make an excellent writer. This comment is proof of it. Hope you enjoy this nonsense. 🖤

Lord, please forgive me. Eremika sympathizers, do not read this. Rated T. Unedited. Content Warning: description of thoughts on animal abuse/cruelty and foul language. Without further ado:

Levi lifts his chin, ignoring the hammering of his pulse, the desperate need to take a deeper breath. “You don’t like it.”

Her lids flutter, surprised, but then Levi watches the defensive arching of her taut shoulders, the half-curl of her free hand forming into a fist. The hand holding the necklace grips tighter, her knuckles turning white.

“That’s not it,” Mikasa says carefully, chewing her bottom lip. Her tepidness is dissolved by the time she releases it. “I love it, Levi. It’s perfect. Growing up, I… I imagined a house— a home— like this one. And by the end of the war, after everything we went through; a place like this, this freedom, this peace… it’s all I wanted.”

He can tell she means every word that she says, the same as he can tell there’s still more she is reluctant to say. Mikasa takes in the vaulted pine ceilings, the grand open floor plan, the oil-painting worthy view of the coast from the front windows. It’s not that she’s been unseeing, Levi realizes. It’s that she’s seeing something he cannot. Like she’s seeing ghosts.

Mikasa turns back to him, openly distraught. “It’s everything I’ve wanted, but it’s… it’s not—...”

Her words are wrecked with grief. Her watery, washed-out gray irises are drenched with it. A grief viscously different but no less despondent than others he’s witnessed from her.

It’s not…

Waiting for the rest of her words is like standing next in line at the gallows. Levi waits, the quicksand no longer just beneath his feet, but filling into all four chambers of his heart.

Mikasa tries and fails to finish the sentiment. She looks everywhere around the room, at her boxes, at the enormous front windows, at the fireplace in the adjacent living room, at the staircase leading to the upstairs rooms, but not to him. She looks everywhere except to him.

There’s only silence between them, a horrible, throbbing sort of silence. It stretches on, tense and endless, until a seagull cries in the distance. A sharp, abrasive shriek that instantly spikes Levi’s agitation.

Retired or not, soldiers’ instincts kick in. Both Levi and Mikasa turn toward the avian cry, intently focused on the interruption. The window they search appears empty at first, but the second Levi blinks, planning to turn away from it, the gull comes into view.

No ordinary gull, the bird is a large, white creature, its plume of feathers spread out so majestically, Levi has to blink twice to be sure he’s seeing it right. The bird all but floats down onto the windowsill, it’s tail feathers arched toward them to bow down.

What a pompous, stupid-ass little fucker bird, Levi thinks first.

But when he glances at Mikasa, her distraught eyes widened by recognition, another thought registers. Eren.

A cold, heavy reality settles over Levi. When the understanding comes to him, it's the noose tightened around his neck. It isn’t ghosts that Mikasa is seeing; it’s a Ghost.

It’s not who she wanted, Levi suddenly understands. That’s what she meant to say: It’s everything I wanted, but it’s not who I wanted it to be with.

Levi glares at the pompous, stupid-ass little fucker bird, and the pompous, stupid-ass little fucker bird glares right back. It’s black, beady eyes are eerily reminiscent of a flash of green during youthful cries for vengeance. Eren’s ghost lingers beneath those white plumes. And Levi knows, in that moment, Mikasa isn’t the only one being haunted.

He stands there, stone-still, not at a desperate loss, but with a dismal certainty. Even from the grave, Eren has managed to cockblock him.

The gull cries out again, a shrill, stomach-curdling wail, and Levi can almost hear it’s demands. For Titans to be destroyed, all of them wiped out from their world. I’ll kill all of them, the bird shrieks. Every last one of them!

If only the loud-mouthed brat had been half as passionate about the woman who loved him.

Levi can’t help but wonder. Can he roundhouse kick the little fucker bird off the windowsill just like he did to Jaeger in the courtroom? While he fantasizes, Mikasa sighs, forcing her teary-eyed gaze from the white bird.

She looks as though she’s about to speak, but before she does, Levi interrupts.

“Alright,” he says, carefully if not coldly. “I see.”

Mikasa’s owlish blink is more than just weary, but he doesn’t have the ability to focus on it.

Levi looks at her like she’s a collapsing house of cards. A deck he shuffled and a hand he dealt to himself. The precarious arrangement made possible by his stubborn refusal to acknowledge its inevitable outcome: they were built to fold inward and fall apart.

“See what?” Her confusion is laced with an edge of warning, a question as much as a threat.

Levi plans to ignore her warning. The harsh words are about to fly out, but then the seagull cries, once, twice, thrice. It wails, repeatedly, and every muscle in Levi’s body twitches with the impulsive need to launch forward and snap the little fucker bird’s neck.

“What the fu…,” Mikasa mutters, shock quickly turning into agitation. “What is wrong with that thing?”

Levi huffs. “Tch.”

What wasn’t wrong with Eren? He’s about to answer, a bitter retort on the tip of his tongue, when the little fucker bird cranes its neck all the way to the side, appraising him. Levi narrows his eyes, bracing himself for whatever it does next. His battle-scarred hands clench into fists, itching to get a hold of the avian cockblocker.

Mikasa takes a hesitant step toward it. “Maybe it’s hurt?”

“Maybe it’s stupi--”

The gull launches itself face first into the window, its frantic beak darting against the glass pane with wild impatience. Despite connecting with the glass, it continues to throw itself forward, squalling again. Its cries become so viciously, obnoxiously loud, Levi has to push his fists into his side to stop from covering his ears.

“I’m going to throttle it,” he announces, projecting over the whining gull.

Mikasa takes a hurried step forward. “No, no, you can’t.”

“Why not?” Levi throws another lethal glare at the bird, unwilling to sympathize with it. “The little fucker is just going to kill itself first.”

Mikasa tries to approach the bird on the window, but it's cries become more despondent, it’s thrashing more haphazard. The white bird squalls so loudly at her nearing approach, she has to jump back.

“Walls,” Mikasa swears, frowning. “Well..., maybe we should put it out of its misery.”

Levi almost sighs aloud in relief. “Yes, we should.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before she’s brandishing a knife, pulling the weapon out from God-knows-where with God-like speed.

She is Godlike. Strong and perfect, beautiful and fierce. Her dark hair falls in messy, sensual waves, her clothes still half-wet from her recent swim. They cling onto her figure, displaying every curve, and he’s reminded of what’s beneath them. How she feels when his hands take violent hold of her, how she arches while he glides his tongue up, over, and in her. The glint of steel flashes at her side, an expert hold on the knife between her anything-but-delicate hands, hands that have pushed through his hair, roamed over his chest, took confident hold of his coc—

“Levi,” she says, amused.

He looks up to her face, surprised at the dark glimmer of mischief and lust in her eyes. Only a moment before, she’d been upset.

“What?” he asks. Realizing how hoarse he sounds, he subtly clears his throat.

She gestures to his waist, with a feline grin and mewl of breathless laughter that tells him exactly what he’ll find before he even looks down to check.

Watching Mikasa Ackerman pull a knife out on the bird in Eren’s image has given him a hard-on.

“Hmm. This turns you on,” Mikasa acknowledges slowly, smiling wickedly.

Levi is shameless. He reaches down to readjust himself better in his pants, unblinking while he meets her gaze. “Yes. Yes, it does.”

She tightens her hold on the knife, lips parting, and drops her focus onto his hand’s familiar hold on the bulge beneath his pants. She’d rather be holding him.

“Oh,” she breathes. If the gull is still shrieking, neither of them hear it. “Well then. What do you want me to do about it?”

Mikasa lifts the knife, twirling it deliberately with one hand, and waits for his reply.

Levi decides not to remove his hand now that he’s finished readjusting. Instead, he grips himself harder.

“I want,” Levi starts, low and guttural, “... I want you to kill that pompous, stupid-ass little fucker bird.”

Mikasa hums briefly, a moan of approval, and bites down onto her bottom lip. “Gladly.”

#think i'm going to hell #beyond the walls fic #rivamika beyond the walls #crack fanfic #fandom friends are the best friends #rivamika #rivamika fanfic #rivamika fanfiction #lena writes

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minaslittleone · 3 years

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Fission & Fusion (Part 2)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: How did the refined and proper Wilhemina Venable end up working for two coked-up tech bros out of the back of a van?

An origin story of sorts, dedicated to the amazing @lucyintheskywithxanax who has developed such a beautiful and nuanced depiction of Mina. This was inspired by her incredible story "And I failed to climb the mountain".

Word count: ~2700

The hours after that were fuzzy. After storming out of her parents house with little more than the bare essentials and no intention of returning Wilhemina didn't really have much of a plan. She had never fantasized about running away as a child, she hadn't even been brave enough to rebel vicariously and yet here she was, with no plan and no where to go. And terrified.

But Wilhemina was nothing if not practical so she sequestered all of those doubts and anxieties down into the deepest corners of her brain to be dealt with later, she told herself. Really to be dealt with never.

Practically speaking, money was her first concern. She knew that her mother's threat to cut her off had not been idle, but she also hoped that her mother would continue to underestimate her long enough that she would be able to clear the remaining funds out of her account before her mother froze it. Her pride raged against the idea of taking the idea of taking the money religiously placed into her "allowance" once a month by her father, hating how spoiled that made her sound and wanting to be free of any lingering ties to her parents. She would have gladly traded every last dime for any other monthly ritual with her father, for anything with him really. But she was a casualty of her parents' failing marriage, the only thing that they hated more than each other was the idea of acknowledging that their marriage had long since fallen apart. Her father avoided the house like the plague, and her by extension, throwing himself deeper and deeper into his professional life to mask the failure of his personal one. And so their relationship had become almost completely transactional, her father attempting to atone for his absence by providing her with everything she could ever dream of, save for the one thing she truly wanted - his affection. But as much as she hated the money and everything it represented, she really wasn't left with much of a choice.

That was how she found herself standing in front of a bank teller at 1:30pm on a Wednesday afternoon, lying through her teeth and praying that her voice wasn't shaking as much as her hands. Exactly how she had got there she wasn't sure - a bus? Surely she hadn't walked this far - she was completely focused on getting what money she could and getting out.

The process was certainly made easier by the fact that she had been coming to this branch since her father had opened the account on her sixteenth birthday. And maybe for once in her life her twisted frame would be an asset - it was difficult to forget a girl her age with flaming red hair and a cane.

So she lied. She told the teller that she was using the money to put towards a car but that her parents were unfortunately too busy to accompany her. That part wasn't even really a lie, her parents were always too busy. Either way the teller didn't seem to see anything unusual about depositing the entire $5000 balance into Wilhemina's hand, before politely wishing her a pleasant day.

She had thought she would feel safer with the money in hand, feel like she had more control over the situation. In fact all it did was make her realise how vulnerable she was. How she would never be able to defend herself if someone decided they wanted to take it from her. Maybe her mother had been right, maybe she really was too broken and useless to survive on her own.

She could feel her heart racing. She had to find somewhere to stay. Find somewhere that she could get off the street. Maybe then she would feel safer. Maybe.

Except she didn't know how long she would need to make that $5000 last. She had no job and had effectively forfeited her degree the minute she walked out her parents' front door. Any future prospects she had were tied to their connections anyway. Oh god, what was she going to do? She had no experience and no qualifications, and any jobs that would have been open to her without those were made impossible by her twisted spine. She wouldn't have been able to stand for long enough to finish a shift as a waitress, let alone carry much whilst also maneuvering her cane.

So she would have to make the money last. At least until she managed to come up with a better plan. Which is how she found herself unpacking her meagre possessions into a battered shell of a room in a run down hotel that offered rooms by the hour. As she eased herself down onto the bed, finally allowing her back some respite after hours on her feet, she reasoned that this was the best choice for now. And she would think of something, this was only temporary.

But it hurt. The adrenaline from her triumphant exit earlier that morning was long gone and now she was left with the painful reality of what life on her own would look like. At the moment it consisted of a sea of mismatched floral patterned fabrics, a green melamine kitchenette and far too many questionable stains.

She felt like she was suffocating, that the battered walls with their pealing wallpaper were steadily encroaching on her, squeezing the last ounces of calm and confidence out of her by force. She had to get out, had to keep moving, had to keep busy lest the reality of her situation catch up to her and drown her in its melancholy.

She burst from the room, shaking fingers struggling clumsily against the lock. She had to get away, to be anywhere but here. Away from the stale smelling room with the pealing wallpaper. Away from the lumpy bed swathed in garish floral covers of questionable cleanliness. Away from the suffocating reminder of how alone she was.

It shouldn't have surprised her that she would end up back in the college library, it's where she spent most of her time any way, finding any excuse she could not to go home. It was quiet and it was safe. Between the warm, dim lighting and the earthy smell of the old wooden shelves and the books themselves Wilhemina finally began to calm. She could feel the tension to funnel out of her trembling fingers, feel heart finally stop racing and draw her first real breath in hours.

She didn't know how long she sat there, not really seeing or hearing the world around her, just being, adjusting. Letting her body and mind begin to come to terms with her situation. Start to reset her parameters and realise that she wasn't going home tonight, that there wasn't a home to go anymore. Perhaps there never had been, not in the ways that mattered.

She was drawn from her haze by the gentle but insistent whispering of her name that indicated that this wasn't the first time the owner had tried to rouse her. As her vision cleared she was met with the kind, if not slightly concerned countenance of her adviser, Professor Thompson.

"Is everything alright, Wilhemina?" She could only nod dumbly in response. "I missed you in class this morning" the older woman added. "I know you said had a specialist appointment and might be late, but I got worried when you never showed up. Did everything go ok?" Wilhemina couldn't find the words to answer, couldn't find a way to explain how her life had been pulled out from under her in the preceding few hours. Her mouth guppied in response, producing several sounds that could have been the start of ideas but nothing intelligible.

Professor Thompson's brow furrowed. Over the years that she had known Wilhemina Venable she had always been impressed by her tenacity. For all this young woman had endured, she had refused to let it define her. She was always the first present in class, sitting front and centre, attention never wavering, even on the days Professor Thompson could see the tell tale signs of pain breaking through her indifferent facade. The tension in her brow and jaw, the twitch of her lips and narrowing of her eyes at each spasm, the shifting in her seat in a desperate effort to find some level of comfort. There was a hardness, a determination in the eyes of that girl which said she refused to give up which was notably absent now, replaced by a glazed, foggy expression that made Professor Thompson's heart hurt.

"Wilhemina," she tried again, "would it be easier if we discussed this in my office?" The redhead's eyes rolled up to meet hers almost drunkenly, obviously still not entirely processing the world around her. She managed a small nod, vacant eyes focusing somewhere in the middle distance. "Here, let me take your bag" she offered, hands floating just beyond Wilhemina's shoulders as the redhead hoisted herself to her feet, swaying slightly as she found some semblance of equilibrium.

Professor Thompson couldn't help but bring a hand to gently cup Wilhemina's upper arm, causing the younger woman to finally meet her gaze. Oh and didn't it just break her heart, the pleading terrified desperation she found in those deep brown eyes. "Come on, dear" she coaxed, "this way."

Wilhemina felt herself start to come back into her own body as she sat in Professor Thompson's office, old worn leather chair beneath her and warm cup of sweetened tea pressed into her trembling hands.

Professor Thompson noticed the change as well. "Easy, dear" she cautioned, as Wilhemina's shaking hands tried to raise the warm mug to her lips. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes" Wilhemina managed to rasp.

Professor Thompson reached out her hand to rest on Wilhemina's knee, rubbing slow comforting circles. "Do you think you can me what happened? Was it something at your appointment? Do you need another surgery?"

"No" Wilhemina whispered, teeth worrying her bottom lip before lifting her eyes to the older woman, who's warm gaze encouraged her to continue. "The surgeon doesn't want to do anything, doesn't think it's necessary to do anything. My mother on the other hand is not satisfied and won't be until I look *normal*"

"I'm sure she just wants the best for you" the older woman tried.

"She wants me to stop being an embarrassment. She flat out told the surgeon she doesn't care about my pain, she only wants him to fix how hideous I look." It was happening again, Wilhemina realised, the years of repressed pain and frustration spewing out of her unbidden. "The surgeon stopped recommending procedures when I was eighteen because they weren't likely to help but my mother kept insisting because I looked so hideous she couldn't stand it. She put me through years of pain because I was so ugly and she was so ashamed of me." Her voiced cracked as the tears she had tried so hard contain broke free down her cheeks.

"She was trying to do it again" Wilhemina choked. "She was trying to convince him to operate again and I finally told her no."

"And how did she take that?" Professor Thompson asked, almost fearing the answer. Wilhemina let out a self-depricating laugh through her tears, rolling her eyes. "Wilhemina," she added urgently, gently squeezing her knee to get her attention, "she didn't hurt you, did she?"

Wilhemina stopped at that. "Not physically, no." A beat of understanding passed between the two women before Wilhemina continued. "She threw me out, cut me off, told me I was completely on my own unless I agree to have the surgery. Told me I can kiss my degree goodbye." The older woman gasped. "I told her she could have it, I was done with her controlling my life."

Professor Thompson reached out to take Wilhemina's hands, squeezing them in her own. "That was so incredibly brave." Wilhemina let out a wry chuckle "You don't think I'm completely mad?" Another warm squeeze of her hands. "Absolutely not. I think you are so strong."

Wilhemina raised her eyes again to meet those of her professor, searching them for the signs of a lie. Finding none she felt her chin begin to tremble as she fought against the tears.

She lost. The tears came bubbling out of her against her will. Tears for the years of pain she had endured, both physical and emotional, at her mother's hands. Tears for the little girl who spent years in pain trying to convince her parents that it wasn't all in her head. For her childhood that had been stolen from her. For the little girl alone in a hospital, who's parents were far too busy to visit, who was left to rely on nurses for comfort and support. For the twenty four year old woman who had just lost everything.

She curled in on herself as much as her twisted spine would allow, rocking rhythmically backwards and forwards, trying in vain to offer herself some comfort. She felt the chair next to her dip and then she was being cradled in her advisors arms - how embarassing. But try as she might she couldn't quiet the hysterical sobs.

Eventually pulled herself out of the older womans arms, trying to regain some level of dignity. Professor Thompson gave her hands one last squeeze as she let her go.

"We will find a solution to all of this" she assured "but for now all of that can wait. You need to eat and you need to sleep. You must be exhausted" Wilhemina nodded, still frantically pawing at her tear-stained cheeks. There was no point hiding anymore, not after her earlier display.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Professor Thompson asked. "You're welcome to my spare room if not"

"No it's fine" Wilhemina replied, glad to avoid imposing on her professor further. "I have a hotel room."

"Ok I'll drive you" Wilhemina tried valiantly to rebuff Professor Thompson's kindness, but the older woman would not be dissuaded. And once Wilhemina realised how dark it had gotten she was secretly grateful.

As the car came to a stop in front what currently passed for Wilhemina's lodgings, Professor Thompson took her hand once more. "After work tomorrow" she pressed "I am picking you up and you are having dinner with me. It will give us a chance to come up with a plan for what happens next. I refuse to see someone as smart and driven as you are, Wilhemina, be sabotaged by negligent parenting. We will figure this out."

Wilhemina couldn't even bring herself to try and rebuff such kindness, for how her heart ached for it. Instead all she could manage was a watery "okay" and tremulous smile. As she walked back to her room she felt lighter than she had all day, tension finally beginning to drain from her body like water trickling down her arms and plummeting from her fingertips.

Exhaustion quickly rose to fill vacancy making her limbs heavy and fingers clumsy. Almost there, she told herself as she struggled with foreign keychain, not much longer. Just inside the door and then you can rest. But try as she might her exhausted mind could not make sense of the lock nor could it co-ordinate her trembling fingers well enough to keep hold of the keys which fell limply to the concrete just beyond her door.

It was as if the universe was laughing at her, she thought, as she gingerly squatted down, bending her legs to compensate for her immobilised spine. After all the humiliation she had endured today she could not be allowed to rest without at least one more reminder of her inadequacy. So fucking useless, the voice in ear chided, so fucking stupid. Hurry up and pick up the god damn keys and open the door like a normal, functional human being. Can you manage that much at least?

And maybe she could have managed it had the hand she extended to reach for her keys not been firmly crushed into the concrete and pulled away from her by a steal-capped boot, upsetting her precarious equilibrium and sending her sprawling face first into the concrete.

"Now, what's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?"

A/N: Ok, so number one - I'm sorry (ducks). I promise I won't hurt her too much. This part wasn't even in my original plan but then the angsty little plot demons took over and here we are. Number two - for those of you who are interested I wrote Professor Thompson with Prof. Stromwell (Holland's character from legally blonde) in mind because I think she is exactly the type of tough but caring person that baby Mina would be drawn to. But also because I'm dying to see Sarah and Holland work on a project together, so this was my own vicarious little head cannon.

#sarah paulson #wilhemina venable #lucyintheskywithxanax #mina #baby mina

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seyaryminamoto · 3 years

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One of the big things about "The Beach" to me is that it seems to suggest that Zuko may be the least empathetic among the Fire teens. Azula shows the most empathy to her brother and her friends, Ty Lee shows the second most, Mai the third most, and Zuko the least. So the point of the episode was to portray the three girls sympathetically while highlighting Zuko's limitations. The issue then is that they never really went back to Zuko's lack of empathy. Thoughts?

Eh, well... the show refuses to go back on a lot of Zuko’s exposed flaws, no matter how they may be highlighted and shown as a problem, so I guess I’d just say what’s one more, in the end, among a pile of many unresolved personal issues? :’D

I think some people would try to argue that Azula wasn’t empathetic at all, but I’d say the key element in these regards is that Azula seemed to backtrack at least once with Ty Lee when she apologizes to her after reducing her friend to tears with her harsh words. It’s fair enough that Azula was very insulting, but she takes it back quickly and admits she knows what her actual problem is, implying there’s self-reflection, self-awareness and remorse enough to not only acknowledge her behavior was out of place, but to know why she impulsively acted the way she did.

Meanwhile, Zuko mocks and calls Ty Lee a circus freak (and, yes, Azula laughs about it), and nothing he says suggests he regrets hurting her. That, honestly, is the core of the problem as far as I can tell: maybe Zuko felt bad for saying what he did? But nowhere in the episode will you find him saying it aloud, which is the typical Zuko issue: more than once he does genuine damage with his actions or words to real people, whether people who were kind to him or people who should be important to him, and he barely ever vocalizes any apologies or remorse for those actions. Heck, right after insulting Ty Lee he tries to rile up Mai to fight Ty Lee because she insulted Mai’s aura? And all of it really is reduced to “he’s angry at himself”. See... I don’t mind the explanation one bit. But I do mind that he not only faces next to no consequences for that behavior (since merely acknowledging what he’s angry about is no actual display of remorse for how he behaved), but he also displays no signs of change or wanting to act differently, and the whole thing’s swept under a rug just because his firebending outburst looks very cool and dramatic. Thus, yes, it’s very easy to conclude, as you did, that Zuko lacks empathy and fails to recognize this as a problem altogether.

Though I will disagree with you in one regard and that is Mai. I... don’t think she displayed any empathy, frankly. She’s more down-to-earth than the others, I’d say, but the way she talks to both Azula and Ty Lee doesn’t really suggest any empathy to me. She’s adamant about making sure Zuko knows she’s mad at him, and while she kisses him at the end, it’s not some sort of “omg I’m so sorry Zuko I didn’t stop to think about your feelings :(((” sort of kiss, it’s a way of showing him she cares about him even if he’s a trainwreck... which, sure, might make Zuko happier, but it doesn’t necessarily mean she “understands” him or is particularly invested in helping him out of his cycle of self-hatred.

I guess that’s one potential factor why Zuko and Mai are so conflictive in canon, I don’t think either one is particularly empathetic with the other -- or with anyone else, maybe except Iroh in Zuko’s case, and only in Book 3. This is certainly why the two of them really should grow up, A LOT, before being in a relationship, but I suppose it’s one thing where ATLA is ironically terrible and brilliant simultaneously: they don’t sugarcoat how conflictive they can be, the way a fanfic writer might reduce their problems to nothingness and absolute irrelevance just because they ship it. So their relationship is absolutely not “romance goals”, but it feels like a genuine teenage romance because of that.

Still, that’s not what we’re talking about: I agree on the most part, Anon, though I suspect the conclusion you’ve reached, and that many of us can and will reach, isn’t quite what the writers and showrunners intended for us to conclude with that episode. We’ve always heard that Book 3 was supposed to feature a storyline about Azula being arranged in marriage to someone, a plotline that was scrapped because she would have had far more focus than they could afford giving her (and what a mistake that was xD). This episode is said to be a minimized version of that plotline, to explore these characters and their dynamics (as well as introducing the factor of Combustion Man’s hunt of Aang, which starts in this episode), only, it may have highlighted a few issues with the characters (especially with Zuko) that simply aren’t dealt with properly, probably because this episode wasn’t intended to do that. Sadly, many episodes weren’t intended to do that with Zuko :’)

A lot of people have criticized The Beach for a myriad of reasons, most of all that the episode is “meaningless filler” (I couldn’t disagree more, but not everyone can appreciate downtime for characters, not even when it expands your understanding of who they are), or that the Fire Nation gang shouldn’t be framed as a happy group of friends we all should love when they vandalized and burned down a house just because they were mad at perfectly innocent (if dumb) teenagers :’D but I guess maybe one secret reason some Zuko fans might not be happy with this episode is that it really doesn’t paint him in a good light altogether and they’re appalled by that?

Either way, I genuinely enjoy this episode because it humanized the characters, I’d say, and whether that humanization was flattering or not isn’t quite the most important element of the character work that was done this time. I guess I’ll spiral back to what I said above with Mai and Zuko: the show doesn’t sugarcoat the problems these four have, just as it doesn’t attempt to resolve them. Would I rather it had resolved them, at least a few of them? Personally, yes, though I doubt they could have done it in the span of a single episode. At the same time, I’m glad they didn’t hide these problems in the characters because they easily could have, so I’m grateful they didn’t do that. As usual, the problem with Zuko lies in the fact that a lot of people credit him with growth he never did, and values that he never displayed, that we would have to assume he learned just because he’s a better person now, not so much because we have solid evidence that proves he learned them at all. So it’s yet another issue with his character, and another thorn that pokes out of his redemption arc that shows it’s absolutely not as perfect and well-rounded as most his fans (and a lot of ATLA viewers) have convinced themselves it is.

#anon #I am sorry to everyone waiting for a reply #because I have been #a little consumed by a little story that isn't little at all #and well...#my heart's breaking in a million ways every day #might as well answer now before I start the mandatory waterworks tonight #sorry again for the delay <3

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crystalrose555 · 4 years

Text

Don't make me slap you pt 26

“Levi...”

“I’m fine.”

“Levi, you’ve been by her side all night, you need to rest.”

“I’ve done more all-nighters than I can count, I’m not leaving.”

“What’s the point of taking shifts if you’re just going to do all of them?”

Levi refused to answer Satan as he continued to stare at Marley’s arm that peaked out from underneath the black cover. He badly wanted to reach out and hold her hand but based on what he could see and hear, it would only cause her unnecessary pain. He watched her steady breathing become interrupted by sudden jolts of pain throughout the night which ended in sniffling and groans. He wanted to do more but he couldn’t think of anything besides staying by her side. Satan had already tried to help her with every spell he could think of but all it did was dull the pain for a short time.

“...What are the others doing?”

“Mammon, Lucifer, and Belphie are still in Lucifer’s room doing who knows what. Beel’s dragging himself back and forth from the kitchen and his room and Asmo’s gone out.”

Levi scoffed heavily before placing his head down on the bed, his fingers inches away from Marley’s. Satan leaned against the door frame and sighed, watching over the stillness of the room.

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

Asmodeus paced back and forth impatiently while tapping his fingers against his arms. Despite looking flawless, his brain was wrinkled with worry and his impatience was starting to show. He stopped only to glance over at the glowing aura surrounding Solomon’s work station in his room.

“Is it working yet?”

“Nothing yet, Asmo.”

“Then what’s the problem? You said you can fix it.”

“I said I would try, Asmo. I’ve never dealt with a selkie’s pelt before, this is the first time I’ve seen one up close.” Solomon claimed as he gently rubbed his hand over the blackened fur.

He lifted his hand away to see his fingertips stained black by the ash which only flaked away with the slightest motion. Solomon released a heavy sigh before trying a new spell from the beginning. The sound of incantations filled the room while Simeon walked into the room with his arms crossed.

“How are things going?”

Asmo sighed. “Solomon is trying something else. Simeon, can’t you do something? Maybe your celestial magic can fix it.”

“It’s not that simple, Asmo. In all honesty, I would rather not approach it.”

Before Asmo could interject, the faint sound of shattering filled his ears as Solomon’s spell failed once more. He exhaled heavily as he shook his head again, he turned to Simeon and motioned to the pelt. Simeon simply shook his head back in response. Asmo looked back and forth between the two men and gave a firm and frustrated huff. The tension was only broken as the door was opened by a grunting Luke carrying a heavy tea set with a snack tray balancing on top of it.

“Thank you, Luke, I needed a break.” Solomon claimed as he took the tea set from the struggling child and placed it upon the lounge table, motioning everyone to join him.

Everyone sat around the table but remained stoic and silent before Luke managed to break the stillness.

“Can’t we just get her another fur, Solomon? Mochi, I mean Marley, just needs it to turn into a seal. I’m sure she’ll be happy to get a new one.”

Solomon shook his head before putting his teacup down.

“Marley’s fur isn’t just a fur she found, it’s alive, Luke.”

“Alive? Like a pet or something?”

Simeon smiled softly before resting his hand on top of Luke’s head.

“Not exactly, Luke. She was born with it and it’s a part of her, so it’s very precious to her.”

Solomon gave a nod in agreement.

“There are many legends surrounding a selkie’s fur. Some say that it houses their soul and if you managed to steal it, they’ll be a slave to your will. That’s why they guard it so intensely.”

Luke looked over to the table where the charred fur laid.

“So, Marley’s really hurt, huh? What happened to her, Asmo?” Asmo twitched at the sudden question and swallowed his tongue, not wanting to answer. Seeing this, Simeon drew Luke’s attention back to his smile.

“Luke, why don’t you go and put together a basket for Marley? I’m sure she’ll be happy to get one.”

Luke hesitantly gave a nod before getting up and leaving the room, leaving the adults alone. Asmo watched the door close and returned to Solomon.

“...Solomon?”

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

The morning came and left as Levi remained still by Marley’s bedside. His head was pressed firmly against the mattress, motionless with his hand inches away from Marley’s side. For hours, he remained still with his D.D.D. ringing and alerting with various texts and calls, none of which were answered by the recluse. Nighttime drew upon him as the bright moon spilled into the room and drenched him in its light. Occasionally, he could feel someone standing in the doorframe behind him but he refused to acknowledge them before they slipped away. For once in a very long time, Levi was unplugged in every sense of the word. He couldn’t even feel Satan’s hand upon his shoulder in an attempt to get him to move from his position. Everything was just numbed to him.

The clock ticked away filling the room and his ears could only hear Marley’s fainting breathing. He didn’t even hear Asmodeus call his name, he barely registered him placing something gently next to Marley’s side. Asmo shook his shoulder to get his attention.

“Levi, you should go take care of yourself. You haven’t moved in hours.” He softly suggested.

Levi didn’t bother wasting words as he pulled his shoulder away. Asmo sighed slowly as he tried to sit upon the bed beside him.

“Don’t sit on the bed, Asmo.”

“So now you’re talking to me.” He jested softly.

“Get off, Asmo.”

“Levi-”

“Get. Off.”

Asmo sighed and got off the bed as instructed.

“...What did Solomon say?”

“...”

“Well?”

“If I tell you, it would just upset you more.”

“Then what good are you?”

Asmo’s mouth clamped closed from his elder brother’s stinging retort. It didn’t happen often but he was at a loss for words and it was caused by his shut-in brother. He could hear more venom seeping out of his brother’s mouth. However, it wasn’t directed to him but to Beel who sheepishly clung to the doorframe.

“What do you want?” Levi hissed.

Beel refused to answer as he gripped the frame tighter, his shoulders shrinking away. Seeing this, Asmo tried to come to his brother’s aid.

“Levi, you shouldn’t-”

Asmo’s words were cut short as the room grew darker as Lotan’s shadow crept and swam along the wall.

“Get out of here. Both of you.”

“Levi-”

“I SAID GET OUT!!!” Levi screamed, lifting his head to bare his fangs and horns to his younger brothers.

Levi’s blood ran hot and boiled over. He needed to blame someone and he was willing to take anything he could, even if it was his younger brothers taking his anger and frustration. However, before he could lash out, he felt something squeeze his skin, He turned back to see Marley’s trembling hand had grasped his own and was weakly pinching his skin. He shakily faced the weakened woman and could barely keep his voice from trembling as she turned her head toward him. Even though she was covered head to toe with the blanket, he could tell she was looking at him with a gentle smile laced with a bit of snark. Her quiet voice reached his ears and caused his eyes to water.

“Don’t bully...your brothers...ya guppy...” She heaved out hoarsely.

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gstqaobc · 4 years

Text

THE ROYAL FASCINATOR

Friday, March 12/2021

Hello, royal watchers and all those intrigued by what’s going on inside the House of Windsor. This is another special edition of your dose of royal news and analysis.

Reading this online? Sign up here to get this delivered to your inbox.

Janet Davison Royal Expert

The Harry and Meghan interview: Beyond the turmoil

While sifting through everything Prince Harry and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, had to say to Oprah Winfrey Sunday night, many saw parallels to other troubled times for the Royal Family.

The interview raised concerns particularly around race and mental health, and many found in it reminders of what Harry’s mother, Diana, experienced, as she laid bare the lack of support she felt after her ill-fated marriage to Prince Charles.

But the Diana period, which came as the clock wound down on the 20th century, was hardly the first time of family turmoil.

And in those earlier experiences going back decades — and centuries — there could lie hints of the House of Windsor’s fate after this latest crisis.

“I don’t think the history of this Royal Family, which has been written off so many times, tells you anything other than they know how to survive,” said John Fraser, author of The Secret of the Crown: Canada's Affair with Royalty, and founding president of the Institute for the Study of the Crown in Canada.

“Going back, back, back, there has never been a reign that hasn’t had some domestic problems.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly for an institution that emphasizes keeping calm and carrying on, there have been only the slimmest of hints this week of what will come next.

In a 61-word statement issued by Buckingham Palace Tuesday, the Queen said she and her family were saddened to learn of Harry and Meghan’s experiences, and that issues raised, particularly of race, would be addressed privately by the family.

In response to a question from a reporter while at an engagement at a school in east London on Thursday, Prince William said, ”We're very much not a racist family.”

BBC royal correspondent Sarah Campbell said William could have ignored the question.

“Despite the Queen's statement saying the race issue would be dealt with privately, the prince clearly felt he had to push back on what has become a very public and damaging allegation," Campbell wrote on the BBC website. “Remaining silent, he felt, was not the best option.”

In the interview with Winfrey, Meghan and Harry said there was a conversation — or conversations — with an unnamed family member in which concerns were raised about the colour of the skin of their first child before he was born.

It was perhaps the most damaging moment of the interview for the family, and one that is still surrounded in murkiness.

While Harry told Winfrey later that neither of his grandparents — Queen Elizabeth or Prince Philip — was part of that particular conversation, he refused to say during the interview who was.

“The fact that [Harry’s] on the outs with his father leads everyone to believe it must have been Charles, or possibly William, and until that’s dealt with, it’s this huge problem if they’re going to be future sovereigns,” said Fraser.

He said he finds it “unbelievable” that Charles, the man who walked Meghan halfway down the aisle at her wedding, would be worried about the colour of his grandson’s skin.

“Nothing in his life suggests that he is that callous or stupid,” Fraser said.

Still, it’s not clear who might have said it.

“It’s been left like a timebomb,” said Fraser. “How can [Charles] be the head of the Commonwealth, which has so many Black nations, until this is resolved? It’s a real dilemma.”

Fraser expects we will eventually learn who was involved in the conversation in question. “It’s just the nature of the way things go.”

But Fraser hopes it will be a given a context, and that it will be worked out within the family, “at some point down the road when they’ve got some distance from the immediate hurt that everyone must be feeling at the moment.”

Shola Mos-Shogbamimu, a lawyer and human rights activist in London, says the family’s circumstances are not beyond repair.

“But the point is Buckingham Palace better take this seriously, not come out with any stiff-upper-lip nonsense,” she told Adrienne Arsenault, senior correspondent and co-host of CBC’s The National, this week, before the statement from the palace.

“Nobody’s going to stand for it. Not for the racist comment, not for their lack of support for Meghan’s mental health, suicidal thoughts, not that fact that Prince Charles apparently failed to even speak to his son….

“All of those things should be answered and they should be answered humanely, like the Royal Family is in touch with what the public expects from it.”

Maybe there is at least one more signal of efforts within the family to work things out. While the relationship between William and Harry has been deeply strained, William said Thursday he will be speaking with his brother.

Who can be a prince or princess

Amid the many issues Meghan raised during the interview, one that seemed particularly troubling for her concerned conversations before Archie’s birth.

“They were saying they didn’t want him to be a prince or a princess — not knowing what the gender would be — which would be different from protocol, and that he wasn’t going to receive security,” she said.

That got a lot of people wondering about just what provisions there are for determining who becomes a prince or princess.

Under provisions of a letter patent issued by King George V in 1917, Archie would not at this point in his life be eligible to be a prince.

But his cousin — Prince William’s eldest son, seven-year-old George, who is in direct line to the throne — is a prince. George’s siblings can be a prince or princess, too, under provisions of a letter patent issued in 2012 by Queen Elizabeth, before George was born.

But that’s where it ends for that generation of royal great-grandchildren of the monarch, as things stand now.

“None of Harry’s children automatically get to be a prince except if there’s some reason that the Queen would bestow it on them,” said Fraser.

Grandchildren of a monarch can be princes or princesses, however, and things could change for Archie when his grandfather, Charles, becomes the monarch.

Whether Meghan’s comments might refer to what might happen then isn’t clear.

There is a broad understanding that Charles is looking toward a more streamlined monarchy, with fewer working members.

"I saw that Meghan mentioned that there were plans to narrow eligibility and I imagine that this is a reference to the Prince of Wales's stated view that the size of the Royal Family needs to be reduced," Bob Morris from the constitution unit at University College London told the BBC.

"However, he has not so far as I know given details of how it should be accomplished."

Fascinator readers write

Readers of the Royal Fascinator shared their views in droves after the Winfrey interview. Here’s a sampling of emails and excerpts from longer messages that reflect the wide range of thoughts offered on Harry, Meghan and what they said on Sunday.

From Linda: “I was saddened by the interview. It could have been a great opportunity for the royals to move forward and acknowledge mental health issues, but The Firm refused to take that route. Shocked to hear how the men in grey suits direct so much of the agenda.”

From Susan: “Unsubstantiated accusations are very damaging. It’s easy to allege things were said and then refuse to say who said them. Then it’s just a case of he said, she said. But the damage is done.”

From Charlie: “I feel for Harry and Meghan and I don't blame them one bit for the decision they made for leaving the U.K. and the Royal Family, in search for a more peaceful, sane and healthy lifestyle and mental health. I have never been a royal watcher or a fan of all the pomp that goes into it. I personally think Canada should abolish all that nonsense as it relates to a Governor General as the representative of the Queen in Canada (who is still our head of state). Canada should maintain close ties with the U.K., for sure, as partners, allies and friends, but this monarchy BS is a waste of taxpayer dollars.”

From Margaret: “I am still grappling with the intent of the interview and tell-all. And what is to be gained by the couple? Probably more paparazzi and Hollywood-like behaviours…. The constant referral back to Diana gives one pause for thought as well. Yes, Harry was totally traumatized by his mother’s death…. That said, although there are some similarities in press and media reporting, Diana was very young and naive when she joined ‘The Firm,’ whereas Harry and Meagan were well into their 30s when they married and should have known full well what could happen…. I do not mean to downplay or negate the comments on race/skin colour. Hopefully there will be some conversations around that at the palace level.”

From Tina: “I felt so much of this interview resonated with the Diana era. It left me with many questions, but mostly: How on earth can a parent stop taking calls from their child? How on earth can a parent not want to keep their family safe? How on earth can a parent allow the words of racism to be spoken amongst anyone, never mind their own? How on earth can a parent knowingly watch your child go through such pain and not reach out?... I applaud the two of them for coming out to the world and letting people be reminded, once again, of a dated monarchy who cares more about how they are perceived to the world than that of their own. One can only hope for Meghan and Harry to have a life of joy with their little family and always be safe .... and perhaps maybe Harry's wish that 'time heals all' comes true and his family come to their senses.”

From Paul: “Unless I misheard Meghan, she mentioned that she was not informed/prepared with the protocols of ‘The Firm.’ I find this difficult to believe. She is an intelligent, successful woman with a mind of her own.... I am not naive enough to not know there would be some racial problems. But I do believe too much emphasis was placed on the racial issue. As for protection being dropped for Harry, why not? He is in a foreign country, by choice…. With all Harry and Meghan's money, they should be paying for their own protection. Remember, they optioned out of the U.K. Nevertheless, I wish them the best in their endeavours.”

From Anna: “I do not feel this interview will damage the Royal Family. There are differences of opinion in all families. I do not feel the whole Royal Family should be painted with the same brush. This interview will be so hard on the Queen. My heart goes out to her.”

We’ll continue to include comments from readers in future editions of the Royal Fascinator

Royal reads

1. Harry and Meghan’s interview might have some thinking it’s time for Canada to retire the Queen and its connection to the monarchy, but it wouldn’t be that simple to do, writes CBC’s Aaron Wherry.

2. Harry talked of an “invisible contract” between the media and the Royal Family. The BBC took a closer look at what it is.

3. Journalist and TV presenter Piers Morgan left British broadcaster ITV after long-running criticism of Meghan that reached a crescendo after the interview with Winfrey. [CBC

Cheers

I’m always happy to hear from you. Send your ideas, comments, feedback and notes to [email protected]. Problems with the newsletter? Please let me know about any typos, errors or glitches.

GSTQAOBC🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

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rhaenyraisadyke · 3 years

Text

This is an analysis of the last Clone Wars episode I wrote exactly a year ago today. I feel like sharing it because why not so tada.

I'm also kinda posting this for me so you seriously don't have to read it- unless you want to idk I can't exactly stop you. And if yall want more, I did them all on the last 8 episodes of the Clone Wars because I felt like it.

Victory and Death

Before you go through this. I just want to say that the Clone Wars and primarily Ahsoka have been in my life for as along as I can remember. I have grown up on this TV Show. So for it to finally get the ending it deserves, is in a way a dream come true. My heart and soul is poured into this show. But with the Clone Wars ending, I know this won’t be the last of Ahsoka.

* This opening music is called Victory and Death

* It’s very similar to the music played at Padmè’s funeral, I guess you could say its a reminder of what death is lurking.

* I’ve never seen such a crisp Venator class Star Destroyer.

* It’s so detailed and for that reason, its going to make this all hurt even more then it already will.

* We are back from where we were left off moments ago in Shattered.

* Ahsoka still doesn’t want to kill any of the clones. She knows they can’t control it, and she wants to be able to help them. Just like she did with Rex. Ahsoka and Rex are the only ones who know its not their fault.

* This isn’t her first rodeo, she dealt with a similar thing in brain invaders with the Genosians.

* Similar with the Brain invaders, she didn’t want to be the one to personally kill them.

* She knew they were willing to die if it meant she would be dead.

* She just couldn’t deal with the fact that she would have killed clones who chose to be with her. Who CHOSE to stand by her on this mission and serve with her against Maul on Mandalore. She knew just about every single one of the clone’s names. She took the time to acknowledge them all. And they all are ready to die because of her. So as the person Ahsoka is, to make that decision and refuse to kill them is untimely better then being the one to personally “pull the trigger”

* The reason why in Shattered that she killed a few of the troopers was because at the time she didn’t know they were unable to control their actions. She had no idea what was happening. She was in fight or flight mode.

* Watching Rex and Ahsoka go right into attack mode on their brothers is just brutal, but beautiful at the same time.

* Ahsoka is in a defensive position and guarding Rex with every move, while allowing Rex to be on the offense.

* I find it interesting about how Ahsoka doesn’t try to hide at all that she let Maul out.

* In reality it was either she let him out and create a diversion to survive or allow him to die and have every single clone looking for her. Although no answer is the right one, considering her odds, it was the only one left.

* The worst part about the entire clone wars, is that every character is always put in a situation where they have to compromise their morals for this war. No matter what side you were on in this war, you were sacrificing so much when none of it ever mattered in the end, because no one won.

* No matter what choice Ahsoka mode in that moment, she was stuck with the deaths of troopers on her hands, and there was nothing she could do about it. Because in the end, no one wins the clone wars.

* Maul is on another rampage and it’s terrifying

* He uses a 332nd HELMET AS A SHIELD

* He’s so incredibly powerful and it’s just crazy.

* I loved how the bridge looked when they came out of hyperspace. Really cinematic

* All of the lives Maul is taking is also taking a toll on Ahsoka. When she tells Rex she let him out, you can tell there’s a bit of guilt in there. She knows what Maul is capable of, and by Ahsoka letting him out. She’s allowing all of these clones to die. In the end it’s a fight for survival, and she’s doing everything she can to survive. So by allowing Maul do what he will do, it’s the best choice out of a really bad situation.

* The way the ship comes out of Hyperspace is insane.

* Knowing this ship is going to crash on this moon, and there’s nothing Ahsoka can do to save all of the clones is ripping her apart.

* In all of her life, she has only ever wanted to help people. But everyone on this ship wants to kill her, and yet she still wants to help. Knowing this ship is going down is terrifying for her because she can’t save them all.

* This is important because in the Martez sisters arc, Ahsoka learns what truly goes wrong when the people who need help most aren’t able to be helped.

* The Martez sisters taught her that everyone deserves a chance to be saved. Their parents should have been saved because that’s what a Jedi is supposed to do. They are supposed to save the people who need it most. Not catching criminals when they are interfering with a Jedi’s work.

* As the ship is getting into orbit, and becoming more and more destroyed, it just furthers the fact of how the clones are programed to purely just follow order 66.

* Their humanity is lost. Their worry for their lives is completely out the window.

* They don’t care that the ship is breaking apart around them.

* Every single clone is hyper focused to complete the mission, because in the end, good soldiers follow orders.

* All that the clones can think about and is programed to do, is to kill Ahsoka Tano.

* What makes this moment worse, is that Ahsoka doesn’t want to hurt them. She knows this isn’t really them.

* Rex on the other hand for the first time ever, has distanced himself from his brothers.

* Rex knows deep down that there’s no way to save them all. He knows threes nothing he can do about it, so for him to distance himself in the moment, is his best bet to survive.

* When Rex is trying to get Ahsoka to understand that she can’t save them all, he is wearing his helmet.

* That helmet is what the empire wanted

* They wanted the helmets to be a sign of emptiness and unable to show expression for what had to be done.

* Rex didn’t want Ahsoka to see his face because he was being emotional. It in a sense was a sign of weakness but in reality, the helmet was what separated him and the mind controlled clones.

* Under the helmet, Rex still had his humanity.

* Under the helmets of the other clones, they were just a blank slate, made to be destroyed.

* So when Rex cries and doesn’t look at Ahsoka in that moment. It’s because he wants to hide his humanity and not let it get in the way of getting the job done. Getting to safety.

* When Ahsoka says “While they may be willing to die. I will not be the one who is to kill them” It’s bittersweet. She knows they are beyond saving, but she knows that if she kills them, then she will have the blood on her hands of someone who was unable to control themselves and in a sense fight back.

* Rex just wants to do the right thing. And he knew what it was like being on the other side. To execute the order and to be completely okay with loosing his life for it.

* Rex just was so vulnerable in this moment, because he was completely helpless.

* When Rex goes into being defeated and everything, he is never one to back off and surrender, so for him to surrender, it’s just painful. By Rex surrendering to him, I think it means he failed Ahsoka, and in the last episode. Rex calling Ahsoka kid, his younger sister, for him to fail her, is something Rex would have never ever wanted to do.

* This moment, is very Anakin and Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan did it at the battle of Christiopsis, and Anakin did it on Yerbana.

* The way every single one of the clones goes from at attention to aiming at Ahsoka and Rex is just terrifying. They are truly no longer human, and are droids.

* These soldiers who chose to be with Ahsoka on this ship, and chose to fight along side her at the Siege of Mandalore, are in the end wearing her markings and holding her at gunpoint.

* When Rex says the order was to execute the Jedi in all fairness its a fair point. She’s not a Jedi.

* But in the end, Ahsoka was an important person in Anakin’s life, so in order for her to not interfere with Sidious’s plans, she had to be eliminated.

* This whole scene with Rex and Jesse is just so heartbreaking because after everything Jesse went through, he still couldn’t catch a break

* Rex was most likely worried sick when he found out Maul took Jesse.

* Jesse was tortured by Maul and we all through something horrible was going to happen to him with Maul. The Satine and Obi-Wan scene was HUGLY paralleling the scene when Jesse goes back to Rex.

* But then when Rex thought him and Jesse would be finally okay, Order 66 happens.

* And Rex’s brother, one of his closest, turned on him.

* It’s such a bittersweet moment, because Rex is stalling, and him no longer being a commander is just iconic. He wanted to stay a captain so he could be on the front lines.

* In this moment, Vaders theme I think is slowed down.

* It’s such a tense moment with hundreds of clones ready to fire at Ahsoka and Rex, and with the ship going down too, the anxiety in both of Ahsoka and Rex is very prominent

* Ahsoka’s plan of dropping the clones under with the help of the droids is so smart. It allows her to have the upper hand while they recover.

* And even with hundreds of clones, she is still not wanting to kill a single one.

* Ahsoka is ready to kill Maul.

* She spared him and did what the council wanted. But now with for all Ahsoka knows the order crumbling in every moment, Maul is going to hinder her, and she can’t allow that.

* So when Maul says “You wanted this chaos” It’s brilliant because she really did, but because she could defeat Maul, she underestimated the clones potential to stop/kill him.

* I love how RG-G1 (the black and gold droid) almost laughed at the fact the clones were locked out of the control panel.

* Watching Maul start to get away and seeing how clone the ship was to the surface is terrifying. You know what is going to come, and although we know both Ahsoka and Rex’s fate, we are still on the edge of our seats.

* It’s such a Vader & Starkiller, Maybe even Rey moment, when Ahsoka is using the force to pull back the ship.

* It truly just shows how powerful she is.

* During the first battle of Felucia, after Ahsoka got carried away and realized that she was going to be overrun and as Anakin said “You just don’t see it yet”. Once they got back to the temple and go over what happened with the Jedi Council,

* Anakin talks about how he forgot how young Ahsoka was because of how powerful she is.

* From the beginning Ahsoka has always been powerful with the force.

* She was at first thought to be from Anakin himself, “aren’t you too young to be a padawan” which Ahsoka replies that “Master Yoda thinks I’m ready”

* This was just another moment that showed some of her true potential. Her power is the reason why she was assigned to Anakin and not to Obi-Wan. She needed someone as/more powerful than her to give her the best jedi training possible.

* Version of imperial march is there when Ahsoka is really starting to pull when Rex grabs onto Ahsoka.

* When she sees R7 get shot down, that loss hits, her hard and she loses focus for a second because this droid had been with her from the Battle of Ryloth, her first proper mission in a starfighter.

* Then when Rex gets shot, thats just when for her it clicks that she can’t lose anyone else.

* Up until this point She had lost Kalifa (Jedi Lost- Trandosion arc) Master Piell, Tryla (Carlac), Steela Gerrera, Barriss, Anakin, Plo, and everyone who lost faith in her for leaving the order.

* Rex was the only person that after everything, he refused to give up on her. He saw her for who she was, and not for being in the order, but as a person who fought alongside him in the Clone War.

* Rex was the last person Ahsoka had left, and so when he got shot, she couldn’t let him die in exchange for Maul.

* When we see Maul leave, the sight of how close the ship is to the surface is terrifying. They are running out of time, but Ahsoka can save her friend for the time being.

* Ahsoka isn’t breaking a sweat. She’s doing everything in her power to protect herself and Rex.

* Anakin taught her everything she needed to know to survive. “When I was out there, alone, all I had was your training and the lessons you taught me. And because of you, I did survive. And not only that, I was able to lead others to survive as well.” And she was able to allow Rex to survive.

* The way she cuts the ground to save both herself and Rex is genius. They can’t go up so they might as well go down.

* It’s very much an Anakin moment with her not telling Rex what she Is going to do.

* As Rex and Ahsoka gain their footing from that drop, and we see how close they are getting to the surface, if you listen closely, we get duel of the fates in a higher key.

* The music just escalates as we see the clones who were brought to the bottom are all ready to fire on Ahsoka and Rex.

* Cheep and RG try to save Rex and Ahsoka by bringing the clones back up, which ultimately lead to their demise.

* This is the first time we have seen a droid be murdered. Because Cheep and RG were helping Ahsoka and Rex, just like if they were human, they were murdered in cold blood.

* When Ahsoka gets shot again, in that moment you can really tell she’s starting to get tired. She has been fighting non stop for quite a bit now and like any person its taking a toll on her, but her persistence to survive is what gets her through the next few moments.

* The music gets more intense and slivers of duel of the fates kick into action. When she makes that jump just before she throws Rex, the keys as ROTS starts in Race you to the top play and its just a beautiful cinematic parallel.

* She’s really starting to struggle now. It’s just her against hundreds of clones.

* And the ship really starts to take a turn for the worse.

* Rex is clearly terrified for Ahsoka once the ship starts to really deteriorate, and as Ahsoka jumps to get into the Y-Wing, it’s almost too late. The ship is falling apart.

* But Rex isn’t giving up on her. He never has and never will.

* And as she looses her grip on the ship, more notes from Race you to the surface kick in.

* The way she falls but catches herself while running just shows how determined she is to stay alive. She knows that all, or believes that all Jedi have died in this order and she is the only survivor. She can’t let the history and the hope with the Jedi die with this war. She can’t let Rex die alone, so she keeps going.

* While she’s running it just really shows how MASSIVE these ships are in comparison to a person. They are just gigantic.

* Ahsoka and Rex truly got out on the very last second.

* This war has taken a toll on both of them. That fight took a toll. They just fought tooth and bone against their brothers in an effort to survive. Every single one of those clones was ready to give up their lives if it meant for Ahsoka and Rex to die.

* The silence from when they get into the Y-Wing is just perfect. We don’t need any dialogue to represent how powerful this moment is. No words are needed to explain how painful this moment was. After everything Ahsoka and Rex had went through, no words were needed.

* The ship is completely destroyed and same with the republic/grand army of the republic. We even see the Open Circle Fleet logo.

* Ahsoka and Rex are surrounded by the ruins and graves of everything they tried to save. They tried so hard to save the clones. The Jedi tried to save the galaxy. None of them could save the thing they wanted to most.

* Everything Ahsoka and Rex had fought for died. There was so much hope for their futures. Ahsoka talking with Yoda- she could have come back into the order, and she could have been happy.

* Ahsoka and Rex took the time to find R7, and as many clones as they could find. They didn’t JUST put the helmets on the sticks, she buried the bodies of the clones. Every single one they could find.

* These were clones that chose to fight with her. They chose to serve Ahsoka in the Siege of Mandalore.

* The entire planet is shown in more earth-colored tones, lots of browns and tans. It tells us exactly what her and Rex’s mood is, that there is warmth still there, but it’s been dulled and grayed out, she’s devastated and numb, everything she worked so incredibly hard to save is in ashes. Everything she loved is dead or lost.

* She cloaked in Grey, which parallels her in the end of Rebels with the white cloak. Similar to Gandalf, which ( I have confirmation from Dave, this WAS INTENTIONAL)

* She is looking over all the death and destruction from the end of the Clone War. “She was alone, something she was never meant to be”

* As we pan to the Clones helmets up close, we see all of these clones that fought for Ahsoka and chose to be with her until the very end.

* And then we get Jesse.

* A clone who had been fighting alongside her and Anakin since he became a proper clone. He was the last remaining member of the domino squad, who had been through so much, from Umbara to Maul, and then was just another clone. Made to follow order 66 and be expendable.

* Ahsoka’s theme plays.

* so the last time ahsoka’s theme plays (the classic six-note melody) when she lets go of her sabers, it never actually resolves to its sixth and last note—the melody left hanging and incomplete, and it just fades away, just like how this chapter of ahsoka’s life has been abruptly and cruelly cut off because of Palpatine and order 66. Go to 1:42 https://open.spotify.com/track/2EgVDzhE9yBHO7DgMdWCwk?si=z7rGUvqXR6Gd6iCSeFfiPg

* She took the time to bury every single one, so they could have an end of their story, but because of their deaths Ahsoka couldn't with hers, and the music having her theme play unfinished just futures that. She could have come back into the order. She could have saved Anakin. She could have been able to have a peaceful life at the temple with Anakin and Obi-Wan and all of the other Jedi. She could have been able to peacefully explore her potential of being the physical light side embodiment of the force. It's not just the tragedy of Anakin Skywalker. It's the tragedy of everyone he ever cared about too, and them having to face the consequences of his actions.

* She then hesitates to leave her lightsaber. That moment of hesitation before she drops it, that this is so hard for her to let go of, the last piece of Anakin that she had, the last piece of the Jedi that she had. The Jedi Order that she wanted to go back to someday, but they’re gone now. Her connection to them is gone, just like her connection to anything of the Republic. The one thing Anakin had told her and had been consistent from the start, to never lose it. “Your lightsaber is your life. Don’t lose it”

* Ahsoka drops it because she has no hope anymore, she believes Anakin is dead.

* And in this moment Ahsoka Tano died on that moon. Just like Obi-Wan and Anakin did on Mustafar.

* She had to leave everything behind, including her lightsaber. All her hopes for the future, her connections to the people she cared about, the things she wanted to do, her name, everything that made her her. She would go into hiding, become Ashla, and just try to survive.

* Theres no hope. Absolutely no hope for Ashla and Rex.

* This is the first time and the last in the Clone Wars we see that kind of transition of fading out.

* The music that plays is just so sinister. It makes you feel cold, and eludes to the fact that Vader is now there and not Anakin, but yet, it also doesn’t feel like Vader.

* literally every other film depiction of Darth Vader is something very simple, but the way he moves, is just different. He doesn’t’ move like any version we have seen of Vader. He moves like Anakin Skywalker.

* In contrast to what was said about where Ahsoka was, its a frozen wasteland, cold and empty just like Vader.

* “Everything is bleached out. Everything is pretty stark. Everything’s washed away color-wise, which is what George did it at the end of Revenge of the Sith. A lot of things I do are just ways of taking what George did and reasserting them, enhancing them, showing that this is what his half of Star Wars is about, ultimately, and how the heroes will prevail through it, despite all of the wickedness of the enemy.” - Dave Filoni

* And thats what the dark side is. It’s cold. It’s empty.

* In Rebels Ezra shivers from it when he feels a wave of it crash over him, people who are falling into it suddenly feel cold inside, despite that it’s perfectly warm outside.

* It just shows how lost he is. How there were warm yet cold colors with Ahsoka. She’s held onto the light, she’ll return to it when she’s had time to heal, but Anakin has fully embraced it.

* The cruiser is frozen over. Vader walking through the ruins.

* Hearing Vaders breathing is just horrifying. Never have we heard in the clone wars, such a breathtaking sound.

* Ahsoka’s lightsaber.

* This lightsaber is frozen in memory.

* He cradles it in his hand, brushing the snow away again with the other.

* When Anakin goes also to pick up Ahsoka’s saber, its a perfect parallel to Obi-Wan picking up Anakin’s saber.

* Then, inexplicably, he flicks it on and we see Vader wielding a blue lightsaber for the very last time onscreen. Who knows why he turned it on. Maybe he couldn’t quite believe it was Ahsoka’s and that she’d lost it once more. Because he always taught her that “this weapon is your life.”

* Maybe he was testing to see if it still worked or if the color was still that brilliant blue he tweaked it into.

* We then see Vader look to Morai.

* We see the eyes of Anakin. NOT Vader. We see Anakin Skywalker again. The last time in the Clone Wars.

* It’s a clear parallel to Twilight of the Apprentice when Ahsoka destroys the side of his mask with her ‘sabre and Anakin leaks through.

* It’s so, so obviously clear that he still loves Ahsoka in this moment. That Ahsoka still brings out the good in him.

* That this is, awfully, their final goodbye as they knew each other.

* We always read about how Ahsoka and the Convor are linked and how it’s really Ahsoka and the Light Side of the Force that’s linked.

* But I don’t think we’ve ever really seen anything about how Anakin is linked to the Convor and Ahsoka.

* The thing is, I think the Convor also represents the link between Anakin and Ahsoka.

* During the Mortis Arc, Ahsoka essentially dies. The Son kills her, inadvertently mortally wounding his own sister in the process. As the Father grieves, Anakin rushes over to Ahsoka and pleads with the Father. But Anakin in the moment is the one who is the conduit of the Daughter’s life-force as its transferred to Ahsoka.

* Right after the Mortis Arc, Ahsoka gets kidnapped. It’s the first time she’s ever really been alone and forced to fight to survive. But she manages it, despite the other Padawans on the island giving up or succumbing to their fate. Again, out of everyone, Ahsoka survives. This is also the first time we see the convorees.

* During this arc, Anakin is left alone, as well. Fearful and lost, he worries for Ahsoka, but Plo, the Master who found Ahsoka in the first place, guides him. “What is Ahsoka’s strength?” Plo asks him.“She is fearless,” Anakin replies. “That can also be a weakness. Is she a worthy apprentice?” “No one has her kind of determination.”“Except you.”“I’ll find her.”“This may not be within your power.”“Whatever you’re trying to say Master Plo, just say it!”“I am suggesting that perhaps if you have trained her well, she’ll take care of herself and find a way back to you.” This, again, is so, so important. “Except you,” Plo says.

* No one has Ahsoka’s determination except for Anakin. No one has her hope except for him. Ahsoka was already a wonderful, resilient person, but Anakin brought it out in her. He taught her, guided her, and now those lessons must guide her as she faces the world alone. This is only reiterated when Anakin and Ahsoka reunite.

* “Ahsoka, I am so sorry,” “For what?”“For letting you go, for letting you get taken. It was my fault.”“No, Master, it wasn’t your fault.”“I should’ve paid more attention. I should’ve tried harder. I…”“You already did everything you could, everything you had to do. When I was out there, alone, all I had was your training and the lessons you taught me. And because of you, I did survive. And not only that, I was able to lead others to survive as well.”

* Thats a huge recurring theme in Star Wars. Ahsoka preservers and survives. She saves and guides people. Ahsoka will always be Anakin’s Padawan, his legacy.

* She embodies all his best qualities, including, of course, his ever-lingering hope.

* And that is one of the reasons why Ahsoka is so important: Anakin’s goodness lives on within her. Of course she is her own person, I wouldn’t love her as much as I do if she wasn’t, but being Anakin Skywalker’s Padawan shaped her into the woman we know today.

* “You never would have made it as Obi-Wan’s Padawan,” Anakin told her in that very first movie so many years ago. “But you might make it as mine.”That has never been more true.If Ahsoka had been Obi-Wan’s Padawan, she’d be dead along with the rest of the Order. If she’d been Obi-Wan’s Padawan, yes she’d be skilled, and yes she would have learned to persevere throughout hardship— But there’s a certain passion for life and hope in Anakin that Obi-Wan simply doesn’t possess.

* Ahsoka inherited that from him.So now we circle back to the convor. In various cultures owls represent death and wisdom. Filoni has even confirmed that in the Star Wars universe, it is the same. This isn’t surprising when Anakin and Ahsoka are constantly facing off death and rising above it, becoming wiser because of it. And, horribly, I’m reminded that this finale is the death of them. They cannot be who they once were, and they cannot be to each other who they once were. But owls can also represent luck and good fortune.

* “Master Kenobi always said there’s no such thing as luck.”“Good thing I taught you otherwise.”

* All throughout her life, Anakin’s lessons and influence guide her, and after the Mortis Arc in moments of great struggle: a convor appears. What I’m trying to say, I suppose, is that the convor not only symbolizes the Light Side of the Force. It also symbolizes Anakin Skywalker.

* And maybe that’s because Anakin Skywalker does embody the Light Side of the Force. Despite everything he goes through and everything he does, Anakin Skywalker clutches onto that bit of hope and comes back to the Light. He brings Balance to the Force.

* The convor lingers above Anakin at the end of the Clone Wars after Ahsoka has survived despite the odds. It appears again after their duel in Twilight of the Apprentice. Morai watches Anakin limp out of the Temple, and then returns to Ahsoka after guiding her back from the World Between Worlds. After guiding her back to Anakin.

* “I am suggesting that perhaps if you have trained her well, she’ll take care of herself and find a way back to you,” Plo told Anakin that first time Ahsoka was lost. And he’s right. Ahsoka does find her way back. Again and again and again.

* She loves him. He’s her brother and he taught her everything he knew, and she survives because of it. Ahsoka won’t ever let that bit of Anakin go. She won’t ever lose sight of the good in him, or in anyone else.

* “I won’t leave you,” she promises him. “Not this time.”

* It’s more a promise of hope than anything else. A declaration of loyalty and determination and love. She still believes in him, and she wants, no needs him to know that.

* we talk a lot about how the Daughter and Ahsoka are connected through the convor, but we never talk about how Anakin was that conduit in the first place. The Light and life flowed through him into Ahsoka and so she survived.

* In the moments when Anakin holds Ahsoka’s saber it points him towards the light, and TOWARDS Morai, and we see him for who he is, and who he will become.

* Ahsoka has survived through Anakin. And she continues to survive. And maybe it’s still making me cry as I write this, but we know how this story ends, and we’re reminded when Anakin, not Vader, looks up into the sky, Ahsoka’s lightsaber in hand and watches Morai circle above. Star Wars is about hope. It always has been. Despite everything they’ve gone through, there is hope for Anakin Skywalker. And there is hope for Ahsoka Tano, too.

* Vader takes the lightsaber it with him, just like he did with Obi-Wans years later. but even more symbolically–the helmet that has her markings on it, the helmet of a clone trooper of the Republic, with Vader’s reflection walking away from it, forgotten and left behind in the snow, as dead as everything else.

* The last shot we are given of the Clone Wars ever is of the trooper helmet with Ahsoka’s markings and Vader in the shadow.

* It’s the last thing ever we get of the clone wars and represents everything the Clone Wars was about.

* It was about Ahsoka and Rex’s story, and the tie into the fall of Anakin Skywalker.

* Dave Filoni did everything he intended to do with these last episodes. To give us the ending we didn’t just want, but the ending that we deserved.

* Star Wars has always been about hope. Every Star Wars anything has ended on hope, even RotS has hope! (Luke and Leia)

* The audience knows what will happen and that there is hope..

* But Ahsoka and Rex don’t know that. Theres no hope for them.

* This is the first time in Star Wars that something has closed on a Hopeless note.

I would be lying to you if I told you I didn’t cry every time writing a piece of this, and that I wouldn’t be here without the Clone Wars. I would be lying if I said that I won’t ever get over this ending, and I won’t. But the fact that we have an ending, and a really solid one, is everything I need.

#ahsoka tano #ahsoka #star wars #victory and death #clone wars

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blancheludis · 4 years

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@whumptober2020, Day 6, “Get it out”

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, JARVIS, Bruce Banner Tags: Hidden Injury, 2012 Avengers, Hurt Tony, Team as Family Words: 4.129

Summary:

During a battle, Tony is injured by getting stabbed with a piece of his own armour. He hides it, of course he does, because he always dealt with these things alone. He has not counted on JARVIS and the bots ratting him out, however, and much less on Steve actually rushing to his side. Maybe he's more a part of the team than he thought.

---

Once the doors of the workshop close behind Tony, breathing gets that much harder. Away from prying eyes, he does not have to stand so tall anymore, does not have to concentrate on making well-timed quips and generally live up to the invincible part of his name. He does not have to pretend he is one wrong movement away from passing out. Right now, there is only quiet, the flashing red of the alarm inside the HUD, and the pulsing pain in his abdomen, threatening to overwhelm him.

Tony is not quite sure what hit him. The outside of the suit looks fine – apart from the obvious dents, but it does not have any glaring holes in it. They were fighting a group of AIM soldiers, but they did not seem to be particularly well-equipped. Although Tony has to admit that a few spectacularly devastating things have come out of their lab before. So, they either created a missile able to penetrate the suit without leaving much trace on the outside, or Tony almost killed himself with his own creation again by leaving exploitable weak points.

It does not matter. He is not dead and now that he is home he can sit down and sleep this off. Nobody has to know and once his brain is not flushed by adrenaline anymore, he can try to reinforce the places where the suit has failed him.

Taking as deep a breath as the pain allows, Tony takes a step forward. He will not have gained anything from collapsing right inside the door to the workshop. It is agony. Every little movement sends new shocks through his body until it feels like he is burning. The flashing red inside the HUD intensifies as if Tony does not notice he has a serious problem right now. But there is a first-aid kit stashed somewhere and he is already halfway to the assembly station. While Tony would like nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a week or two, he needs to get the suit off first. He opens the face plate, relieved at the sudden lack of flashing red.

Another step, and JARVIS pipes up, sounding at once too formal and too urgent. His kid is worried. “Sir, if I might advise you to –”

“I won’t go to medical for a scratch,” Tony cuts him off and tries to put some authority in his tone, which is hampered by how little air he manages to get into his lungs.

“That scratch comes from a piece of your suit that has pierced your skin and runs approximately three inches deep,” JARVIS reports as if he thinks words will make Tony see reason. After an expectant pause, he adds, “With a considerable piece of metal still inside you.”

Bless modern technology, Tony thinks. What does he need the medical team for when his AI can diagnose him just as well, if not better? JARVIS knows him and does not needlessly prod him only to arrive at a conclusion Tony knew beforehand.

What a way to go, though, impaled on his own suit. The press would certainly call it poetic justice, and Tony might be inclined to agree with them. He does not plan on dying, though. A lot of trouble is still ahead of them and the team still needs him if they want to stand a chance against the army closing in on them from space.

With a last shaking step, Tony gets on the platform and steadies himself by grabbing one of the robotic arms. “Well, then we need to get it out.”

Tony does not need a medical doctorate to know that is not the best of ideas, not without proper preparation. He believes in JARVIS’ abilities, though.

“Let me alert someone at least,” JARVIS all but pleads. “Dr. Banner –”

“- is not that kind of doctor. Weren’t you listening to him?” Tony asks and manages half a smile. He knows perfectly well that Bruce would be put out if he ever found out Tony refused to call him in for help, no matter his constant protest that they have trained professionals for that.

“And yet he’s more proficient at stitching people back together than you are,” JARVIS argues, sounding like he is one wrong word away from open rebellion.

“He’s not more proficient at stitching me back together, though.” And that, in Tony’s opinion, is the absolute truth. He does not make it easy on people – or AIs – he knows, but he takes care of himself and tries not to be too much of a problem for other people. That is just human decency. Especially considering how many issues he has.

“Sir.”

When JARVIS resorts to quiet disapproval, Tony almost feels bad, but he is too miserable to let anybody else in. “It’s okay, JARVIS, I’ll be right as rain in a minute.” He just hopes they will not be called out for another mission any time soon. The pain might get better once the metal is out, but he will still have a hole in his side, which will make moving, much less fighting, a tad difficult. “Now, get the suit off.”

The robotic arms stay still and Tony thinks for the thousandth time that he needs to create a better system for that. A suit of armour is nice to have, but he needs an easier way to get out of it without ruining the suit than stepping on the platform in his workshop and hoping that his AI is in the mood to indulge him.

“It’s highly inadvisable to just rip out the piece of metal inside you.” If JARVIS had a foot, Tony is sure he would stomp angrily.

“I’m sure that’s still better than leaving it in,” Tony answers, trying to remain standing. “I don’t have the best of immune systems, if you remember.” He pats the arc reactor gently.

Tony is half-convinced that JARVIS is playing for time. The longer he waits, the more likely it is that Tony will collapse, and then he will not have any other choice but to call for help. Well, that only makes Tony fight harder to stay conscious. Worse than handing himself over to medical is being handed over while he does not know what is happening to him.

“At least get the rest of it off,” he suggests, wondering why his kids have to be so stubborn.

Nothing happens for another long moment. Then the machine whirs to life, slower than usual. Tony is sure JARVIS works as gently as he can and yet the process hurts. The removal jostles him, pressing against bruises and the pulsing wound in his abdomen. Waves of black roll through Tony’s vision and it is all he can do to stay upright.

When the chest plate is lifted, the dented pieces cling to each other, tugging on Tony’s abdomen in a way that has hot red pain shooting through him, making his knees buckle. JARVIS catches him with the robotic arms, the chest plate clattering carelessly to the ground.

“I really must insist –” JARVIS’ voice sounds from far away, barely audible over the ringing in Tony’s ears.

Still, Tony shakes his head, or maybe the world is just spinning in front of him. He is not sure what is happening anymore. Then familiar beeping reaches him as JARVIS has the robotic arms deliver him into the fretful hold of DUM-E.

“Hey there, buddy,” Tony mutters. It ends in a groan as a chair is pushed against the backs of his knees and he involuntarily falls into it. Manhandled by his own kids. It is probably for the best. Even sitting down, it is hard to stay upright instead of falling right down to the floor.

This is okay, he tells himself over and over again. A mantra to cling to. He has had worse. It just hurts. Looking down at himself, he sees the dented piece of the suit. It is not even bleeding much.

“I am sure you are aware it will start bleeding the moment you try to move that piece.”

Sluggishly, Tony blinks up at the ceiling, wondering when JARVIS learned to read his mind. That could come in handy – at least when JARVIS is not admonishing him.

“I must insist you allow me to call someone,” JARVIS goes on, sounding almost frantic now.

Tony wonders whether he really looks that bad. It almost feels okay now. The pain is dulled, almost like a second heartbeat. He could just go to sleep and wake up when everything is over.

“Just get it out,” Tony says. He is tired and just wants to get this over with. Sitting up straighter despite the pain, Tony clarifies, “Butterfingers, get the firs-aid kit. U, hold me. And DUM-E, get it out.”

This is probably not the best task to give to DUM-E, whose motor control is leagues behind Butterfingers’, but he is Tony’s oldest and least likely to rebel, if only because Tony never programmed any common sense into him.

Closing his eyes, Tony grabs the sides of the chair and braces himself for more pain – only nothing happens, nothing even moves. He glints and finds all his bots looking at him, DUM-E at least with an air of shame.

“JARVIS,” Tony bites out between clenched teeth. He does not have the energy to do everything himself. “Could you please not keep the bots from doing what I tell them to do?”

“My first priority is your well-being, sir,” JARVIS answers stiffly.

“And that means getting this damned metal spike out of my body, yes?” Tony snaps and glares at his bots.

“In a safe manner. I will not watch you bleed out right in front of me.”

If Tony were in less pain, he might acknowledge the trace of fear in JARVIS’ voice, but he does not have many alternatives to dealing with these things himself. There is no way he could go to Medical without the rest of the team finding out and they do not need the reminder that Tony is just a rather squishy human in a tin can. He does not know how Clint does it, who always comes out of fights with scrapes and bruises, unenhanced as he is. But Steve does not doubt his abilities as much as he does Tony’s.

“I won’t –”

Tony is interrupted by the door opening – which should not happen because he is sure that he ordered a complete lockdown. He always does when he comes home injured or when he needs to repair some serious damage done to the armour.

Drained and weary, he is unable to react quickly, does not even manage to really straighten in the chair. When he tries, fire spreads through his abdomen that has him flinch, unsettling his entire balance. It is all he can do not to slide right to the ground. And thus, barely hanging on to consciousness – and the last scraps of his dignity – Tony has to watch Captain America himself hurry into his workshop, his face already drawn into an unhappy frown.

This is it, he guesses. He does not have the energy for another shouting match about all the things he has done wrong, so he will likely say something unforgiveable just to get it over with or pass out. In Tony’s head, there is no way this will end with him still on the team. Irresponsible as he is, endangering the actually useful members of the team – he can already see where this is going.

“Cap, to what do I owe the honour?” Even to his own ears, Tony sounds strained, and his lips feel ready to crack when he pulls them into an estimate of a grin. It is a poor attempt at keeping up appearances, but Tony is too much of a Stark not to try.

Steve’s face grows considerably darker. “Don’t waste your energy, Tony. What were you thinking?”

These words should warrant a harsher voice and yet there is something careful to the way Steve moves. He comes closer, the bots getting out of his way without a fuss, and studies the way Tony is curled around the last piece of armour on his body.

“I thought we’d all take a nice post-mission shower and then meet up for dinner,” Tony says conversationally, doing his best to pretend Steve cannot see his shame. He is offering them an out. It would be easy for Steve to nod and leave, to let Tony himself deal with this mess. That is not how this works, however.

Steve looks like he will start yelling any minute now, and the familiarity of it relaxes Tony a bit, despite the pain. Some things will never change, and Steve’s disapproval of him and everything he does is one of them.

Then, Steve seems to think better of it and steps even closer, crouching down right in front of Tony. He reaches out as if to touch Tony’s side but his hand keeps hovering over the dented piece of armour.

“How bad is it?” Steve asks in a clinical tone.

Before Tony can even open his mouth to answer something dismissive, JARVIS speaks up, making him feel like he has been deemed unworthy to be a part of this conversation any longer.

“My preliminary scan shows that no vital organs or large blood vessels were hit, but there was considerable blood loss. Which will get worse when we try to mobilize the piece of the armour.” JARVIS sounds just as disapproving as Steve and in his haziness, Tony can just imagine the old Jarvis coming back from the dead only to appear right next to Steve, watching him with the same pinched expression.

In response, Steve pulls away his hand as if burned, as if his mere proximity might do more damage. Tony might be imagining things, though, since black is creeping in on his vision until he sees everything around him as if through a long dark tunnel.

“What hit him?” Steve asks, still with that worry.

Once again, Tony is too slow to keep the catastrophe from unravelling, and has to listen to JARVIS say, “It was blunt force that pushed parts of the suit inside Sir.” The honorific feels like a terrible mockery, considering that JARVIS is blurting out how irresponsible Tony was. What if he got a teammate hurt because he put himself out of commission and could not be there to help? “It is a stability issue of the seams that has been ignored in favour of more manoeuvrability.”

The glare Steve sends at Tony is enough to make his pulse race from more than the pain. They will have an argument about this later, Tony knows, and it will be ugly. If he is not thrown off the team altogether. Certain weak points have to be accepted if he wants to remain at peak usefulness. He is not sure where the difference is to Clint jumping off buildings every opportunity he gets without confirming someone is close by to catch him. The purely human members of the team have to take some risks at times – and they usually deal with it just fine.

Tony looks at where he knows one of JARVIS’ cameras is located and mouths, “Traitor.” Then he pushes himself away from Steve only to have the chair collide with Butterfingers, who is still right behind him. The unexpected jostling drives a whimper to his lips that he is too slow to swallow. He closes his eyes in shame, wishing this was just a bad dream.

“All right,” Steve says as if he has only just made up his mind about what he will do. “Can we move him to Medical or do we need to get a team here?”

“I’m perfectly fine with –” Tony bites out, his voice coming out much quieter than he wanted. It does not even surprise him anymore when he is ignored.

“I advise not to move Sir too much, although the piece should be removed in a sterile environment,” JARVIS says, no doubt thinking of Tony’s suppressed immune system. He has dealt just fine with that before. He does not need them to hold his hand through something he has done by himself a thousand times.

“Let’s get him a stretcher, then,” Steve decides and gets to his feet, although he keeps hovering over Tony as if he is just waiting for him to fall.

It is too much. The pain, the impending doom of Steve telling him he has outlived his usefulness, people deciding over his head what to do with him – Tony has enough.

“I’m not an invalid, damn it,” he snaps, glaring at Steve with all the energy he has left. “I can speak for myself and I can walk if I have to. I just fought a battle with you.”

Perhaps he should not have reminded them of the fight because Steve’s expression falls at that before settling into another frown.

“While injured,” he replies shortly. “That alone makes me doubt your mental capacity at the moment.”

This is so unfair. If Tony had bowed out of the fight just because of a scratch, he would have gotten a lecture about abandoning his team. Now that he kept on fighting, he is called irresponsible. Tony always knew that Captain America would disapprove of him but this is like dealing with Howard all over again and being unable to ever do anything right.

“Cap,” Tony tries but is cut off harshly.

“Don’t test me right now, Tony. I will not lose one of my team to his stubbornness. It’s bad enough that you didn’t tell anyone you are hurt.” The words do not quite fit the stormy expression. Then again, Steve has that helper syndrome where even losing just Tony would make him feel bad. “Why would you insist on going through this alone?”

The question hangs in the air between them for a minute, leaving Tony stunned with the desperate note clinging to the words. Then, Steve turns around abruptly and brings some distance between them before snapping at the air, “Where are you, Bruce? We need a med team up here immediately.”

Still stunned by the outburst, Tony is glad that Steve’s attention is not on him anymore. Otherwise, he might have just made a rather embarrassing admission like What if you decide to throw me off the team if you’re reminded how easily I’m hurt? or, worse, It’s better to hide than to find out nobody cares.

Tony does not believe that last thing, not really. He might not be a full-fledged member of the team, but they would care and they would help. Some lessons are hard to unlearn, however, and Tony has never been allowed to be vulnerable before.

“Steve,” Tony says, although he is not sure how to continue. He feels the urge to thank Steve. For coming. For not starting to yell immediately.

He does not come that far, however, because Steve whirls around to him and cuts him off. “No, I don’t want to hear any stupid excuses.”

That is more like it. Disappointment wars with relief in Tony’s chest. In the end, the familiar scorn is better than treading into the unknown and hoping for things to change. So, Tony swallows the words rising up in his throats and leans back in the chair. This time, he is prepared for the pain and keeps his face impassive. He is getting tired of this, and since his input is apparently not needed, he might as well close his eyes for a moment and get some rest.

“Tony? Are you –” A few hurried steps and Tony feels Steve right back at his side, sounding worried again. “I mean, is it getting worse?”

Tony is not sure. The pain is bearable when he does not move. His thoughts are very slow, which is not at all what he is used to, but that could just be the exhaustion.

“I’m fine,” he says because what else is there to do? “Everything’s fine.”

He keeps his eyes closed, does not want to see Steve, does not want to face reality at the moment. The darkness is pulling him under and he does not fight it. What for? Help is on the way, JARVIS and Steve will not let him do anything on his own. Might as well pass out and not have to face the fear of other people’s hands all over him.

“Stay with me, Tony,” Steve’s voice sounds from a distance.

That sounds like a bad idea. Staying with Steve means shame and arguments. No, he will stay like this and do his best to miss all the excitement. He might not like things happening to him that he is not fully aware of but it sounds nice to wake up once everything is over and he is alone again. He could –

Pain shoots through him, more acute than before, that makes him snap up his head and blink against the sudden light. He is not sitting in his workshop anymore. Instead, he is lying down, tight straps over his chest and legs, and the ceiling is flying by. Panic rises in him and he does not have any energy left to fight it.

“We’re here, Tony,” Bruce’s voice reaches him, calm and familiar, right before his face appears like a dark blob above Tony.

Only a second later, Steve shows up on the other side. “They’ll take care of you.”

“Don’t –” Tony says, but his mouth is too dry to continue.

Don’t watch, he means. Don’t let them take out my heart. Don’t let them put another battery in me.

“We’ll stay with you,” Steve says and it sounds like a promise, like he understands Tony’s fear, although they have never talked about his time in that cave. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Those two things are not the same, Tony wants to point out, but darkness comes creeping back in from the corners of his vision.

“Hold –” you to that, he wants to say.

Instead, the last thing he feels before unconsciousness claims him is something grabbing his hand and holding on tight.

---

When Tony wakes up, he is in his room. At first, he thinks he dreamt up all the excitement, his fantasy spurred into motion by blood loss and exhaustion. Some part of his incorrigible heart keeps wishing to be saved, no matter how much he fights it.

Then he hears the familiar beeping of a heart monitor and feels the pressure of bandages around his abdomen. That alone is a clear indicator he got outside help. If he had done this one his own, DUM-E would have gotten tangled up in the bandages until Tony decided a band aid would have to be enough. And he would have passed out in the workshop. Maybe he would have gotten to the couch. But his bed? Never.

Shame wells up inside him, but he stomps down on it. There is no use in dwelling on something he cannot change anymore. Now, he must soldier on and deal with the consequences.

When Tony opens his eyes fully and looks around, he is greeted by the strangest sight. On the sides of his bed sit Bruce and Steve, both asleep and looking like they would desperately need a bed of their own. Worse, Steve is still in his uniform, which means he really has not left Tony’s side since finding him in the workshop.

That thought does strange things to Tony’s stomach, which he cannot dully blame on his hole in his abdomen. He distantly remembers them promising they would stay with him, but that is just what people tell those who are injured and would rather jump off the rood of the tower than get actual, medical help. They were not meant to actually do that.

Opening his mouth, Tony means to clear his throat, to say something, to send them off to bed. Before he can get a single sound over his lips, however, his eyes fall on his hand. Specifically, his hand that is held by Steve.

Oh. Tony’s mind is blank, wondering what to make of that.

As it is, the lights around him dim a bit more, just enough to catch Tony’s attention. JARVIS, then, telling him that everything is all right – and probably admonishing him to shut up and let things be.

Later, Tony will blame it on exhaustion, but he complies without a second thought. With one last glance at their intertwined hands, Tony closes his eyes.

Maybe he is not in as much trouble as he thought. Or, in any case, a different kind than expected.

#whumptober2020 #no. 6 #get it out #marvel #fanfiction #tony stark #steve rogers #hidden injury #ao3 #my writing

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hopelesslygazingthestars · 4 years

Text

Update: A Dance Of Love And Duty

- Engulfed By Dragon Fire

Elia/Rhaegar (+ mentions Elia/Ashara)

Elia Martell was the prized sun of Dorne. Her mother had searched high and low for a match worthy of such light. Yet, as knowledgeable and formidable as the old Princess of Dorne had been, even she could not have predicted that in the Seven Kingdoms only dragon-fire was looked upon.

Elia did not know she could hate a person so much. But she did. She hated her husband.

She hated how he made her feel; how she beamed in the shadows as the Silver Prince defeated Ser Barristan in the final tilt, how she clapped as he looped the crown of winter roses over his lance and started his horse in her direction, and how she bowed as he rode past her.

Her face burned like the feverish Dornish sun in utter humiliation when Rhaegar laid the wreath of flowers onto the lap of Lyanna Stark. He named a maiden barely a woman grown the Queen of Love and Beauty, and with that single act, undid all their months-long efforts to see their ascension to the Iron Throne.

Not only had he insulted her before the lords of Westeros, but simultaneously disrespected the Warden of the North and his own cousin by choosing Robert Baratheon’s betrothed.

However, Elia’s hurt extended beyond the insult given, and the gasps of shock, and the Mad King’s cackling; hers was a breath-taking anguish from broken treaties.

And when the wolf girl accepted the roses, looking as embarrassed as Elia felt, the Dornish princess somehow schooled her pained expression into one of unphased indifference. Despite the boiling in her blood, and the prince inside her that fussed in protest; Elia refused to crumble. She would not prove the lies of Dornish savages right, nor the tales of her unworthiness for the beloved Targaryen prince.

“Are you not furious?”

Oberyn seethed when she fastened her hand around his wrist so tightly that she drew blood. Prince Lewyn and Arthur also had their hands on Oberyn in anticipation, but Elia saw that both men battled their own fury too.

“A fire rages inside me hot enough to make even dragons sweat,” Elia replied lowly as she lifted her chin proudly and kept herself very still, hyper aware of all the eyes watching the commotion at the Stark stands.

She was reminded again that the dragons had engulfed the sun, when she noted that none outside of her own retinue even cared as to observe for her reaction.

“Whatever you would have us do, let me be the first to get my hands on him.” Ashara snarled through gritted teeth.

Although Elia had never felt such a strong desire to kill Rhaegar, to incinerate him from the inside out, violence was not her reaction.

“You will do nothing.”

Oberyn and Ashara’s heads snapped to her in unison, for as hot-tempered and blinded by love as they were, they could not see what Elia knew.

“But-”

“I, and I alone shall deal with my husband.” She spat out the term she once said in endearment.

Tearing her eyes away from the display, she saw Oberyn gauge her before relenting; but Ashara, remained tense like she was contemplating a most terrible act of treason.

“Ser Arthur, please escort Lady Ashara to her quarters.”

“Elia I will not-”

“Immediately.” She commanded.

Arthur all but lifted and dragged Ashara from her side, and luckily, the spitting protests were largely overshadowed by Brandon Stark being physically restrained by his brother and kinsmen.

If Elia once questioned her husband’s affinity for madness, she certainly no longer did now. She thought him absolutely insane, especially when he turned his horse towards her. Whatever act of reconciliation he intended was of no interest to her. She would not give the Westerosi the satisfaction of a reaction, but she also refused to be remembered as having been remotely in favour of Rhaegar’s actions. Thus, heartbeat still thundering in her ears, her hands tightened on the material of her foreign robes, and she turned away just as Rhaegar finally acknowledged her.

The Dornish party followed without instruction. Dorne was a proud kingdom, and a snub to her, was a snub to them all. She walked with a strength her brittle bones had never known, and for the first time, she wore the skin of the Queen she intended to be. Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.

When she eventually reached her chambers, she noticed the decorated red and black walls, Rhaegar’s beloved harp, dragons on every surface, and yearned to tear it all apart.

“Leave me be.”

Reluctantly, her retinue left, and when the door shut, her resolve collapsed.

Traitorous tears pricked at her eyes and her hands shook violently suppressing a volatile rage. Frantically, she searched for something that might anchor and remind her of home – of her. She laughed bitterly when it dawned that she too – pregnant with his promised prince – was a belonging of Rhaegar Targaryen.

She grabbed the closest item to her, ironically, a vase of winter roses, and with all her strength heaved it at the window. It shattered on impact and splinters embedded into her palm. Staring down at the crystalline glass pieces smeared by blood, they almost appeared like rubies.

The crimson mess reminded her of the fateful prophetic dream which had led her to Rhaegar. Fantasies in which she accepted offerings of dripping rubies and winter roses. Elia cursed Nymeria’s gifts and the gods that had carved out a life of failed promises. A suffocating darkness swirled in the pit of her stomach, for she knew, as minor as Rhaegar’s actions were, they were the beginning of something far worse. She knew with vivid clarity that if he humiliated her once, he would do it again.

Still, she could not decide which pain was worse – the public embarrassment or the private heartbreak. She did not care so much if he thought the Stark girl more beautiful, or even wished to bed her, but their marriage was a political identity separated from such sundry as personal feelings. Elia was his lawfully wedded wife, his queen-to-be, and mother of his heirs and with that single act he had threatened her position.

Granted, their marriage had not been without its challenges, but not even the worst fights ever made her feel so violated, betrayed, and so completely debased.

Elia was bought out of her musings when she heard raised voices from beyond the door. She did not need to open it to know it was Rhaegar and Ashara.

“Is this not exactly what you wanted?!”

“Do you expect me to thank you for this-”

Elia opened the door, and both sets of purple eyes turned to her. She found it strange how despite being such similar shades, violet orbs filled her with life, and indigo ones, with vitriol.

“I just wanted to make sure you were…” Ashara divulged, noticing her bleeding hand.

Ashara turned sharply, but Arthur appeared suddenly, and grabbed her wrist before she could throw a fist. She struggled against him and only calmed when Elia’s voice sounded.

“Asha, I’m alright, you don’t need to lose your decency over this,” she answered, voice wavering.

Ashara gave her a once over, before searching her eyes for the truth.

Elia could not find it in herself to smile, no matter how pleased she was that Ashara had remained loyal despite everything she put her through.

The white cloak put her down, but his grip on her wrist did not falter.

“I do need you to do something for me, however…”

“Anything.”

“…call upon lady Lyanna.”

Ashara looked like everything in her wanted to protest but she simply nodded, and Elia closed the door to address her husband.

Before she could unleash hell-fire upon him, he pulled them together into a tight embrace. She felt overheated and suffocated in his arms rather than comforted, and she knew that was exactly what he attempted to do.

“Listen to me.” It came out hard, and Elia felt his words in her body.

Where her heart once skipped a beat at his meagre affection, now it repulsed her, and she forced herself from his grip.

“Elia, wife, I know what it looks like, but I couldn’t explain –”

“No. I deserve an explanation for this. Explain why you have insulted and humiliated me for all the realm to see! Where is the husband that rallied against his King and father in defence of his family, where is that man?”

Passing her for Lyanna was a public message that Elia was lacking in his eyes and validated the anti-Dornish sentiments of everyone who thought her unworthy of Rhaegar. Worse still, she knew his display damaged her place in their future court, because Rhaegar’s snub reinforced the insult Aerys dealt her at Rhaenys’ presentation. She wanted to know what was so worth besmirching her dignity.

“I am right here, except –” he implored, but she was firm in her resolve.

For so long, she had withered away in his shadow, hoping to secure their future. Yet, that was not who she was raised to be, and formerly-quelled Martell fire returned anew.

“I want to know why.” Her voice was steel made sound.

He gestured for her to come, but she would not, and resignedly he moved to her, hand reaching for her swollen belly, then for her injured hand. Again and again, she jerked away from his touch. Rhaegar had a history of adeptly slithering his way out of strife and into her heart and she refused to be disarmed by tender touches or conciliated by soft words.

Elia glared at him with chilly hostility, until her ice extinguished his fire, and he relented.

“I met her for the first time on the search for the Knight of the Laughing Tree. I thought I had found him, and when I unmasked the perpetrator, it was her…” he explained.

Rhaegar’s search last several days and now that Elia knew he was with her, she wondered just what had developed.

“... she surprised me. She is strong and wilful, even in the face of me and…”

Despite the situation, Elia could hear the warmth in his voice and her blood ran cold. It was one thing that he might wish Lyanna his mistress, it was another that he might wish her in his heart. Especially, when Elia had cut away pieces of herself so that she could fit in there.

“…she had noble reasons for entering the lists, and performed so valiantly I didn’t think it fair that she not be recognised somehow. I only wished to honour her.”

“By dishonouring me,” she concluded.

“That was never my intent.”

“And yet that was the result.”

She knew Rhaegar believed her naïve to the great lords of Westeros, but Elia could see greater than he, the precarious position they were in, and she saw the iron throne melting beneath them. That he could be so short-sighted vexed her.

“Your actions will not be received well by court, and we can probably kiss goodbye to any great council without Lord Stark or Robert, likely Jon Arryn too.” She commented.

“I can make amends,” he insisted adamantly.

Elia sighed deeply, and ran her hands through her hair, attempting to preserve the churning anger within. She was not satisfied with his answers, and she understood her husband well enough to know when he placated her with half-truths. Rhaegar was not dumb and yet he made an extremely ill-advised decision. He broke chivalric code and alienated two paramount families in one stroke, it was an insult to her and to the perceived honour of Lyanna. Despite all these considerations, Rhaegar still chose to do it. Elia wondered if Rhaegar’s actions were actually designed to appeal directly to Lyanna herself, and that painted everything in a new light.

“Do you love her?”

There was something about the mere mention of Lyanna which lit up his face in a way that nothing else ever did, and Elia knew the answer, even if he did not yet.

“I love our family,” he answered, moving closer.

There was no true love between them, and Elia was exhausted of pretending otherwise, to him, and to herself.

“That’s not what I asked… do you love Lyanna?”

Silver brows knotted in confusion and she simply observed, willing him to say the words.

“Why – so you can run back to Ashara?” He snapped.

Before she could stop herself, she slapped his face, causing him to double over. She knew it wrong to strike her husband, her future king, but that he even attempted to drag Ashara’s name into it enraged her. More than that, she wanted him to feel a fraction of the pain she had endured.

“I did everything you asked! I have given you everything, and yet again I am left with nothing but hurt!”

Her chest burned, searing flames of betrayal and shame engulfing her because she hated that it affected her so, because it meant that somehow, she still loved him, despite no longer wanting to.

“I know, I didn’t m–”

Elia was tired of giving to a man that took her for granted, and always loved something else more; and left her with nothing but measly scraps. However, she would not allow him to rob her of the last thing she had left, her voice.

“I sacrificed for the future of your family name because that’s what you needed. I abandoned my home, my traditions AND Ashara because that’s what you asked…”

She had done the impossible and pushed away the person she loved the most. For too long, she endured dragon-fire and now that she was nearly ash, her own inferno awakened.

“I did EVERYTHING. I gave up my body for you despite –”

Her voice faltered when old resentments surfaced.

“Despite what?”

“Despite the child that died in my body for me to mourn alone.”

He looked back at her with surprise and an expression akin to shame washed over him. His actions had broken the unbreakable and he did not even know it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was a whisper.

For a moment, his indigo irises looked so haunted Elia almost felt remorse for informing him so callously.

She laughed hollowly, dark and filled with resentment.

“You know why.”

And he did. His silence told as much. She would have been cast aside for a mistress sooner.

He reached for her swollen stomach, and this time, she allowed the caress. Inside her, the babe kicked hard. So hard it made her wince. Rhaegar felt it on his hand, and maneuvered to his knees, resting his hands and head on her belly.

Elia looked away, resigned to the inevitable. She did not want him manipulating her into remembering feelings she would rather forget.

“I’m sorry Elia.”

What he was sorry for, Elia did not know, but she nodded and said nothing more.

She distanced herself, and when she met his pensive gaze, translucent eyes swirled with some realisation. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, before syllables formed.

“This means – he could – he is th–”

“If you mention your damned prophecy right now, I swear by the gods I will scream bloody murder Rhaegar.”

Once she recovered from rehashed emotions, she found herself burned out. They stood on opposite ends of their chambers staring at each other like strangers.

Elia breathed hard, her eyes watery, and hands balled into fists. Rhaegar hung his head low in shame, looking guilty and afraid.

“Love, I can forgo, but I demand your respect, Rhaegar.”

“I would give you both. What can I do to mend us?” His tone was pleading.

However, Elia was well past giving him the benefit of the doubt. Rhaegar had broken her trust for the last time.

In that moment, Furiosa haunted her, making her remember her duty to Dorne.

‘You must ensure your husband sits that throne and that your children do after him… Do not let yourself be duped... And if something needs to be said, do not hesitate to speak for yourself.’

Elia was not so young as to forget the explicitly anti-Dornish Blackfyre rebellions, nor how a noble-mothered bastard could pose a threat to Dornish-blooded monarchs. Elia needed to hold onto Rhaegar no matter how much she despised him.

“If a mistress it what you so desire then seek whoever you wish, discreetly, but I beg you, not Lyanna... and not until you have fulfilled your bargains to me.”

Elia carried another child, despite her health, and pushed Ashara away as he had asked. Now it was his turn to make her a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Her gaze pierced into him and he shifted uncomfortably under it.

“Rhaegar.” She prompted.

His reluctance told her everything she needed to know. Rhaegar loved Lyanna. Yet, if she had sacrificed her heart for him, it was only fair that he do the same.

“Very well. Your wish is my command.”

#fanfic #dorne #elia martell #house martell #elia x ashara #fanfiction #game of thrones #asoiaf #elia x rhaegar #lyanna #lyanna x rhaegar #anti rhaegar #asoiaf fic #harrenhal

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

Note

It might be the 2020 talking here, but the Mantle citizens being oppressed feels less like the fascism claim that gets thrown around and more like anti maskers angry at not being allowed to go outside and get eaten by grimm in retrospect. Power outage? I'll just go outside where I know the grimm are while in a bad mood instead of my home that has insulation, barricades, and/or a fireplace. Nothing can go wrong with that idea. Destroy those anti grimm robots too! We won't need those in a minute!

The issue with those “This is a fascism/police brutality allegory” arguments (despite the fact that it’s pretty clear RT wants that to be the interpretation. Here I’m talking about what we actually get on screen, not what the authors my have intended to create) is twofold:

1. They fail to acknowledge the grimm as an objective, immediate, 100% indisputable threat that if not addressed will lead to the killing/eating of the populace. Unlike the various bigoted complexities surrounding the claim that other people are a threat to the populace in our real world, the grimm have no ethical questions attached to either the danger they present or how they should be dealt with. They will kill you. You should shoot them. That’s that. RWBY’s grimm have not been constructed as representations of misunderstood minorities/outsiders—they’re literal monsters and thus any precautions taken to keep them from attacking you is weighted towards being a good thing. (The caveat: Provided any technologies created in the pursuit of safety are not so deadly that they pose a threat to the people if they fall into the wrong hands which, as we’ve seen in RWBY’s story, is something Salem managed beautifully. There are ethical questions attached to when the “This may pose a threat later” outweighs “But it’s helpful right now,” but that’s not the issue we’re covering today. This is a “Yes there are grimm and yes you should take extreme measures to protect yourself because they are 1000% a deadly threat” acknowledgement).

2. They fail to acknowledge that RWBY hasn’t done the work of showing how these measures are hurting the people. The embargo hurts them economically, absolutely, but that’s a separate issue from the military control Ironwood keeps over the kingdom in response to the grimm/Salem — the presumed oppression we’re discussing. When we talk about that kind of control in real life we acknowledge the very real repercussions it has, everything from “The armed forces in our streets resorted to shooting at us when we peacefully protested their presence” to “The armed forces in the streets deny us basic human rights.” In the real world measures like these are a threat, but we see none of this in RWBY. Are Ironwood’s forces maliciously attacking people without cause, demonstrating that their protection may not be worth the harm they cause? No. We just see them doing their job of fighting grimm, allowing civilians to escape in the process. Are they denying the people their right to go about their lives peacefully? No. The people we see are not hindered by these safety measures. There are only two details I can think of to potentially support this: the bot that takes pictures of the group without their consent (which in 2020 would work better as a commentary on big corporations/privacy concerns in the digital age) and the fact that the people aren’t allowed to go out late at night... but that just circles right back around to Point #1: there are monsters out on those streets that want to kill you. Things like RWBY’s curfew aren’t implemented as a way of hindering protesters and silencing people—as they have been in the real world—but as a very basic “It’s harder to keep you alive at night so please stay in your homes to not get eaten.”

So though I’m always wary of drawing perfect 1:1 comparisons between the text and a real event (as you say, anon, there’s some 2020 feelings attached to all this lol)... yeah, I’d agree that how the show presents this conflict is much closer to our current Covid situation:

Government: You’re not allowed outside right now, you need to wear a mask, there’s no travel, no gatherings larger than ten people

People: You can’t do that! This is an infringement on my rights! You’re trying to keep me docile and complacent... can’t everyone see what’s happening? The government is trying to tell us what to do. Every modern action movie has taught you that’s automatically a bad, scary thing!

Government: No I’m... trying to keep you from spreading/catching a deadly virus, which can only happen if everyone obeys some — at times very tough — but still necessary rules. This is logic you should have learned in kindergarten. Everyone needs to work together and clean up the play area, even if they don’t want to, so that someone doesn’t trip over a toy. Except now ‘Oops I’ve tripped’ is ‘Oops I’m dead/in need of a transplant/chronically ill for an undetermined length of time.’”

People: This is anarchy

Government: It’s really not. It’s just a shitty situation that you’re refusing to help make better

Fans who reduce Volume 7 to “Ironwood is evil for making Mantle do things they obviously hate” fundamentally don’t understand—or simply refuse to acknowledge—the kind of threat these characters face. It’s indeed similar to looking at something like this

(Source)

and insisting on interpreting it as a poor woman being tortured under the laws of her government. “Military in the streets” has downsides attached to it (even if RWBY fails to accurately show them) in a similar way to how “Getting a swab stuffed up into what feels like your brain” has downsides too... but those downsides have to be weighed against the reason for these procedures existing in the first place: grimm and Covid.

Oh. These downsides are better than dying.

There’s nothing wrong with continually striving to lessen those downsides, as well as continually questioning authority in an effort to ensure that the power they hold isn’t abused... but we can’t let those fears blind us to the fact that sometimes horrible events require less than stellar solutions. At least for a time. The entire point here is the reasons behind why these actions were taken and whether their implementation remains necessary. An army among civilians due to racism and corrupt officials is not comparable to an army among civilians due to a continuous attack by literal monsters. An army that remains long after it’s necessary is not comparable to an army used during the height of a fantasy war. The ill-considered argument of “The Mantle people are oppressed because they are forced to live alongside robots and they don’t like it” does indeed have similarities with something like, “The people are oppressed because they are forced to wear masks and they don’t like it.” In both cases the consequences of obeying these orders (as shown in RWBY) are incredibly minimal and the benefit provided is staggering. It admittedly doesn’t help that Ironwood’s presumed oppression of Mantle is conflated with the severe class disparity and racism — things that are embedded into Atlas’ history and are mostly outside of his control— but the overall takeaway is that the knee-jerk response of “You can’t tell me what to do” should never outweigh the initial questions of, “Why do you want me to do this? What are the downsides of doing this? And are they worse than the repercussions attached to not doing this?” In the case of both “Trying to protect civilians from endless grimm/a magically powered queen” and “Trying to protect people from a truly horrifying virus,” these questions have some very compelling answers.

Basically,

#rwby #politics #US politics #covid #mymetas #Anonymous

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crimsonrae · 4 years

Text

A Matter of Degrees

Chapter Two

Summary: Dr. Emil Hamilton had been fascinated by Superman, but not afraid. Five years after his death Clark finds out why.

Clark Kent x OC

Rated: Mature

A/N: I’m not a big Superman fan, but after watching Snyder’s films and Henry, I wanted to explore a more broken/healing Clark. Slowish build on this. Let me know if you want to be tagged. :) - Clark in the next chapter: promise.

Metropolis

Lois sighed as she finished the last paragraph of her report on the new Senate nominee. As far as reports go, this one was pretty bland and even she could admit that it lacked a certain...spark. Her usual wit was failing her and she only could thank God that the article wasn't needed for another two days, it would give her time to scratch and polish.

Scratch and polish.

She snorted quietly to herself and shook her head.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been ahead on her articles, had time to do more than a quick polish before handing it over to an associate editor for a good scratching and polishing. Addie was probably going to die of shock when she noticed how error-free all of her work had become... Or maybe not.

The overly pregnant editor had been taking on lighter loads of work as she moved closer to her maternity leave and had bullied almost every reporter in the building into proofreading their own work three times before submitting it to lessen her stress. Lois had been one of the last to conform to Addie's authoritarian rule – not because she didn't want to lighten the woman's load, but because she usually didn't have the time to be that editorial thorough. Perry was good at keeping her busy, knowing that she could handle more than one assignment if she didn't have a big story brewing. She would have been amazed that she had the time now, but she had noticed he had been handing her less and less.

Her stomach twisted sourly at the thought.

Lois had to fight to not look in the direction of Perry's office or toward the desk of a certain tall undercover superhero. Not that it mattered... he wouldn't be there. She hadn't missed the concerned glances from the staff and the undercurrent of worry that touched Perry's tone whenever they talked lately. The office knew something was up with her and Clark... they just weren't sure what.

A good portion of the office had been at his funeral and they had seen firsthand how close she was to the Kent family. To say that everyone had been shocked by Clark's return from the dead was something of an understatement. It had been an open casket funeral after all. Surprisingly, it had been Perry that had weaved the lie that allowed Clark to come back after Lois had revealed who Clark really was to him. His star reporter had fallen afoul of the criminal element while investigating another award-winning story. The destruction from Doomsday had created a golden opportunity for the Feds to fake Clark's death until those responsible for the threat against him were apprehended.

Somehow, Clark had produced a story from that packet of bullshit and that seemed to quiet most of the reporters at the Planet. The rest still asking questions were the ones that dealt with the typical page six news. They wanted the gossip.

How long had she and Clark been an item?

Had she been aware that he had faked his death?

She had been so distraught at the funeral, surely, she hadn't known – she must be furious.

Is that why they barely seemed to be talking? The tension could be cut with a knife.

If anything, those particular encounters had solidified Lois's empathy for people who had a distaste for reporters. She had told Victoria to mind her own damn business and to go chase after Bruce Wayne more times than she could count at this point. Still, she would rather have the gossip columnist's attention on her than on Clark.

Clark.

Again, she had to fight from glancing towards his empty desk. She had to fight the sharp pang that filled her chest at the thought of him. She wasn't sure if it was better or worse that he was away on assignment.

It had taken Lois months to admit that the man she had fallen in love with was gone... and she didn't mean dead. The relief, the joy that had overwhelmed her when the Justice League had brought Clark back had made her blind to the pain that encompassed him. She should have realized that coming back to life would be a traumatic experience, that there would be repercussions... She had just been so happy to have his gentle gaze and shy smile again... and he was Superman. She didn't think that he would be affected by everything so drastically. It was a stupid assumption. Clark wasn't impervious to the world, to emotion, if anything he felt it more than any ten people combined.

It took her two months to notice the nightmares. He stopped sleeping all together after she confronted him about it. She wished she hadn't said anything, because she was rather sure that the lack of sleep was what spurned the flashes of temper he had become prone to.

Nothing big.

Nothing violent.

At least not overtly.

It was little things, like his cell phone needed to be replaced on an almost constant basis. She had found it crushed to bits on more than one occasion. It was reports of restrained criminals packaged nicely for the police having to be carted to the hospital because their binds had been tethered a little too tight. There was a car thief that had limited use of the fingers in his right hand from a lack of blood circulation.

And she couldn't get him to talk about it. Whatever he was thinking, whatever he was feeling – she was sure it had to do with whatever he had experienced while he had been dead. But he had shut her out. Clark refused to talk to her. At first, he had smiled and reassured her that everything was fine that he was still sorting himself out. Lois couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she stopped believing that smile, but she had watched it become more brittle the more she pushed. He withdrew from her. And their relationship became something she couldn't recognize as a relationship.

She felt like a lighthouse on a dark foggy night, but the ship she was guiding was heading for the rocks anyway.

It took her ten months before she gave up and returned her engagement ring.

Eleven before he finished moving out of her apartment.

They were now on the official one-year anniversary of his return and he wasn't even here.

Lois swallowed against the sudden constriction of her throat. She wished Clark was here if only to reassure herself that he was at the very least physically okay, even if he wasn't mentally – emotionally. She missed him and it hurt.

It had hurt for a while now.

She sighed and sent her article to Addie. She would be taking the rest of the day off.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Russia

It was ridiculously cold.

Rebecca clenched and unclenched her fists in her pocket in an unconscious attempt to keep her fingers from going numb. Even while sporting a fur-lined coat and gloves that would put a clown's to shame the icy chill of Moscow's winter still penetrated enough to lick at her skin. She usually didn't mind the cold, her body ran a little warmer than most peoples, but today that chill seemed to have a bite. She wondered distantly if she was getting sick... She hadn't thought she could anymore.

"You were just supposed to get pictures."

The reprimand was clear, the Slavic intonation making its owner's annoyance all the more apparent. Rebecca didn't move her eyes from the group of children receiving medical care not one-hundred feet from her, "Anatoli, tell me what would have happened if I had just taken pictures?"

Chocolate eyes softened as they studied the young woman before him. She had tucked her dark hair into a loose braid, her grey scarf musing the strands lose. She should be wearing a hat, he thought gruffly, but didn't say as such – she looked tired. He tried to remember if he had ever seen her smile, "You would not be leaving Moscow."

"And those children?"

Anatoli sighed, "Would be someplace else."

Her eyes blue, almost violet in color flashed as she looked balefully at him, "Starved, scared, orphaned. How much would they fetch to the right buyers, Anatoli? Someplace else... you don't need to sugar coat things with me. I know what that someplace else would be for these children. Still could be."

"They will be safe, my friend. I will find them good homes, I promise." He briefly spared the small group a glance, "You were reckless."

"No one saw." Rebecca whispered and pulled her gaze away when a small boy began to watch her curiously.

Anatoli snorted, "There was lightening. It was so bright and it made the truck stop. The mean man wouldn't move after it flashed... Don't tell me no one saw. I have ten little somethings that saw and in today's world such accounts would not be taken as a child's imagination."

Rebecca sighed, not wanting to admit he was right. She used to long for the day where people who were different, special, could be acknowledged, and with the appearance and resurrection of Superman, the arrival of the Flash, and Aquaman, Batman, Wonder Woman said people seemed to be coming out of the woodwork. In many places, even accepted for their differences, but there were more still where such uniqueness was seen as dangerous or worse valuable.

In the last half-decade, Rebecca wasn't sure how many suspicious labs she had stumbled upon.

Let's see what makes the freaks tick, she thought bitterly. Her fingers flexing as if she was about to discover she was in one such lab.

This time it wasn't a lab she stumbled upon, but it was something dark enough to make her stomach twist in knots. She still wasn't fully certain what had made her detour from the main city to the more industrialized sections. She felt like she had been called – like some sort of invisible tether had pulled her to the warehouse that had held the kids. It didn't take much to recognize the Bratva guard outside...they crawled all over the city. It took even less to deduce the children's purpose once she realized they resided inside. There had been no signs of the usual strangeness that seemed to attract her into these situations. No odd flares of light or smoke, no hum of different in the air. Just a feeling to come.

No. These children were normal, if not traumatized, and she hadn't been about to watch them be sold to whatever sexual sadist that lurked out there.

So yes, she had acted. She didn't regret it.

Except for the pair of icy eyes that watched her from the back of an ambulance. The little towheaded boy that hadn't taken his eyes off of her since being pulled from the truck. Rebecca had noticed he said less than the others – more observant, shy, wary. She was rather sure that little boy was the reason she had found them all. He certainly hadn't been surprised by her sudden appearance.

She pursed her lips as she studied him. There were no indications that he was other like her... nothing obvious anyway. She just had a feeling. A feeling not too dissimilar to what had led her here.

She held in a sigh, "Have the boy go to Marvin."

Anatoli raised a brow and followed her gaze to the ambulance, "He's like us?"

She nodded, despite the fact that she wasn't fully sure, but her gut rarely led her wrong. She cut her violet gaze back to the bear of a man next to her. A small stirring of guilt pulled at her and she smiled sadly, "I didn't mean to make trouble for you, Anatoli."

Moscow was Anatoli's home and he needed anonymity to help people, people who were different, find safe havens. She feared she had just shown a spotlight on his presence.

The older man snorted, an amused twinkle entered his chocolate eyes, "Agh, you come to visit, I know to expect some excitement. You lasted longer than I thought. I owe Marvin money now."

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "You two need a hobby."

"Who has time for hobbies?" Anatoli grunted before nudging her towards his car. He had packed her belongings in the back and made sure to have new travel papers for her. She needed to leave, now, before the Bratva came to inquire about her, "Take the car. Don't call me until your safe."

Reluctantly, she nodded. She hated to leave, she felt like she had left things half done, but she understood the immediacy of her departure. She climbed slowly behind the wheel and found the keys still in the ignition. Anatoli cast her a brief wave and her lips twitched in a subdued smile.

He was in her rearview in moments and her phone was out and on speaker seconds after that. She listened to the dull ringing for a dull moment before the connection came thru, "Hamilton, this you?"

"Hey, Sporty." She intoned quietly, "My trip to Russian's been cut short and it looks like I'll be stateside for a bit... was wondering if you had any work for me?"

There was a brief pause and the clinking of glass trickled over the line. She must have interrupted his lunch, "I don't have anything for you in Gotham. It's actually quiet here for once, but hold on. I'm having lunch with a friend from another paper, let me ask him if he's got anything."

Things went quiet before strains of muffled voices filtered to her. She raised a brow as she realized that Sporty had merely put his hand over the receiver. She wondered if he knew how to work the mute button. Abruptly sound rushed back as a smooth baritone greeted her ears, "Ms. Hamilton?"

"Speaking."

"This is Perry White from the Daily Planet. Sporty tells me that you're a writer – a good one."

Rebecca felt her brow arch higher, "Is there a question in there, Mr. White?"

"Yeah, why haven't I heard of you?"

"I publish under a pseudonym." She replied blandly, "Rachel Wisen."

There was a long silence and she could almost hear the dots connecting in this man's mind, "The travel blogger?"

She snorted and felt shades of her father hover around her. How many times had she heard him say those same words, "Yes, Mr. White... the travel blogger."

"Huh...Look, I don't have any reporting positions open, but one of my associate editors is about to go on maternity leave – I was actually thinking of having my travel editor take over her workload. I could use you to take over his position. It'd be a temporary arrangement."

"Daily Planet is in Metropolis, right?" Rebecca asked after a moment. She didn't know why. She knew exactly where the Planet was and that it was a city, she had no desire to visit. Shades of her father indeed.

"That's right."

Yet, she found herself saying, "Temporary sounds perfect, Mr. White. I can be there at the end of the week."

"Good. I'll get your contact info from Sporty and we can finalize the details when I get back to my office. Have a good day, Ms. Hamilton."

"You too -"

He hung up before she had a chance to finish. Rebecca sighed, remembering vaguely that Sporty was much the same when in business mode. She chalked it up to a newspaper reporter quirk but was thankful for the brevity. It was going to be an interesting few months.

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#man of steel #man of steel fanfiction #superman #superman fanfic #superman fanfiction #clark kent #henry cavill #lois lane #perry white #fanfiction #fanfic

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comradelionheart · 3 years

Text

This is where I feel safest.

In the blueness of this site, held in comfort as if under my blanket of soft fur.

No one here will ever know who I am or the people I speak of. No one can find me here. I have a questionable habit of running off to avoid being witnessed when I fail or am in pain, and this is where I run to. It is luckily not a boy this time. Well, it’s sort of that too, but not predominantly.

I haven’t shut G out this time. When I thought I’d lost my shot at the job I deleted my WhatsApp and all other social media, and refused to surface until I was willing to face people again. This isn’t unlike when I graduated college uncertain of what to do with life next and just... vanished. I’d a pretty promising presence on Facebook that could potentially have introduced him and I sooner, but I guess life unravels at its own pace and nothing can force it to go sooner or slower. I’ve grown rather accepting of failures because I have unfortunately grown accustomed to them. It’s almost like I expect to meet with resistance or failure each time something nearly works out and in this case I can’t say I willed it upon myself. I literally tested positive for TB. Which is amusing since those are my ex’s initials, and is yet another TB which seems to be hampering my progress.

Dry humour is what I’m best at if I’m being my authentic self. I must unfortunately smile and wave because I’m a woman and need to be likeable to get anywhere in my line of work. That isn’t to say I’m a sociopath or hate people. I just wish I didn’t have to pretend to be interested in their lives and feign amusement at their not so novel ideas. Pretty sure I’ve not so novel ideas too, but I don’t need to be indulged for the sake of my (not) fragile ego. Anyhow.

I applied for this job early in the year and didn't expect to hear from them (because the first few years of my work life had me flailing and coping with depression instead of steering my career, and I know I shouldn’t grudge her for this but I do). But I did hear from them. And everything went through. Including 3 rounds of aptitude tests and a personal interview (which I thought I bombed but didn't somehow). Until I tested positive on a skin patch test for TB. Why do these stupid standard sets of tests get prescribed world over? Honestly, if I’m ever supreme leader of anywhere I will ban standardised tests. Not in the way that I say medicine is a sham, not at all, but in the way that WE LIVE IN THE THIRD WORLD AND WILL OF COURSE HAVE TAKEN THE BCG OR HAVE BEEN EXPOSED TO THE BACTERIA AT SOME POINT BUT IT’S NOT NECESSARILY EVER GOING TO BE ACTIVE SO USE A BETTER AND MORE CONTEXT SPECIFIC TEST INSTEAD OF GIVING ME ANXIETY AND EXISTENTIAL CRISES LIKE THESE, JFC. 😭😭😭

But I’ve taken the other test and that’s also got the drawback of being unable to differentiate between inert and active TB. So I took an HRCT scan. I’m so sick of running around hospitals, there’s a literal virus in the air. But Monday is when I’ll know the medical verdict. And then there’s the whole security check process. I hate when this happens but I’ve lost so much time to grief, I simply cannot sit around moping any longer.

Earlier this year I interviewed with the **. I was given a verbal confirmation and had a text message implying an offer was made to me, because I received an acknowledgement to my acceptance of an offer. If I was the person I was in 2014, I’d have kicked up a fuss and made sure that offer was honoured, but 2021 me knows that working with bosses who go back on their word slyly and cave to nepotism usually need their cocks sucked. And I’m not only incapable of that, but have also dealt with enough workplace harassment elsewhere to be adamant about a brand at the risk of my mental health. But really, he can go suck it because I have confirmation from staff that he is EVERYTHING I read him to be. I’m not intuitive or anything, I just read people very well because I was hurt so bad by them (repeatedly since childhood) that reading people became a thing I did for survival. My sharp instincts serve me well, but are a trauma response. I am very self aware too, yes.

I then interviewed and got through an NGO that was willing to pay me 24L. I turned it down because the founders were running around like headless chicken with their inability to distinguish PR from Marketing Comms (me) from Marketing for business development. I know I was being paid a lot of money, but I will not kill myself performing all three functions while being acknowledged for just the one on my offer letter. I’ve learned to value my labour capacity and assert myself in the economic and political spheres.

Personally though? I sometimes still think I’m a romantic pushover.

But this is about work because I need to weep a little before being calm about how this year has treated me. Especially since I’m maintaining a cool demeanour in public and literally hate sharing things I’m burdened with. Idk man, it makes me feel vulnerable and I don’t like feeling like I’ll get a knife twisted in the spot that's most sore. I AM SCREAMING BECAUSE I HAVE LET G WITNESS ME IN PAIN THIS TIME INSTEAD OF RUNNING AWAY and will someday file copyright over An Enduring Romantic because that’s very honestly me. But ofc it isn’t going to be the legal Copyright, just the sham notice like the one I’d sent him to up his Instagram game. Or he could just operate my Twitter and I’ll run his gram. It’ll even feel natural.

Sometime around May an environmental journal asked me to come on board. Work from the office at the height of the pandemic with no travel compensation and very little money. I turned them down. Then came II**. Which I again turned down because they wouldn’t pay market rate for skills I’ve perfected in 4 years just because they wanted 8 years experience on paper for my quotation. I will do a lot for causes I love, but I also really enjoy being paid fairly and acknowledged for the value I bring to the table.

Then came the start up in Del. Which I turned down because the uncle running it in his wife’s name expected 24*7 labour availability for 12L with no health insurance.

The latest in my list of things I’ve turned down is the ** Gov. Which I can obviously go back to since my reason for turning it down was another job, but 14 days of leave all year? 7 day work week if needed? Hell no. I enjoy having labour rights. But also when I told the dude I’d be reporting to if I accepted that I cant accept due to covid concerns his reaction was “sure, send me an email so we can start looking for someone else immediately.” Like.... we just had a second wave, what if something was wrong? I wouldn’t risk losing my job because they expect work even if I were hypothetically coughing up blood. So best not to touch with a bargepole. Now I’m less sad, but also really hope the TB results are negative. This job I want and have said yes to ticks off all of the boxes in my head and I will truly be disappointed if I lose it to disease paranoia despite being completely suited and picked for the role 😞

Just to be on the safer side, I have taken one last shot at achieving my goal of ‘learn how political systems work so you know what you’re talking about first hand in that PhD.’ I hope my Plan A works out instead, though.

Since I’ve brought him up in this, it will be interesting to note that a year ago I did the erstwhile unthinkable act of cutting a friend of for attempting to steal a man I love. A year ago to the date, literally. Funny how this year is more calm, but I was maxed out on endorphins from him last year. Until this March even, if I’m being truthful. I don’t regret cutting her off.She crossed a vvvv red line. ALL my other friends are celebrating. They detested her.

Another thing that happened last year was me letting him know that I only get hotter with time, but along with this work drama I have also had a run in with intense grief which I thought was a mood disorder (because it was intense, I mentioned?), cholesterol, thyroid, sugar addiction and now, le TB (PLEASE BE A FALSE POSITIVE YESU KRISTU HALP). So needless to say, I haven’t been most fabulous and undergone my physical transformation and these mental health struggles (are getting better now) strapped me to my couch along with the pandemic and its many lockdowns. I have also not studied for the GRE because I’m stimulus seeking via social media and fear of sucking at math has kept me locked in place. I still have a lot to work through on this front and would really like to make his cover right too, but my creativity isn't working and I keep fucking it up. I am not as spectacular as I was last year. The separation has also weathered my dazzle out a little and while I’m living with it, I still have small waves of sadness that show up once in a while.

I might have also accidentally flirted with someone into falling for me. It was all fun and games and for my pride, but now I’ve to gently let them down since I’ve cold feet and am chicken. Because I’m as emotionally unavailable as a streetlamp. Is this why they call me a Gurgaoni fuckboi?

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inbarfink · 5 years

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Reasons why I would like Steven Universe Future to explore Connie’s trauma, both from her life-risking adventures with Steven and from her overbearing early upbringing

1. If we’re treating Steven’s trauma from his various adventures in a semi-realistic fashion, is it not only fair to treat Connie’s trauma the same way? Connie has not been through as much Shit as Steven had, but she has certainly dealt with far more Shit than the average human 15 year old has ever had to deal with!

2. We already know that Connie is much, much better at hiding and suppressing her feelings than Steven does, a remnant FROM the days where her parents were super overcontrolling. Like, Steven is “lucky” in the sense that his crys-for-help are super duper obvious even if he never expresses them out loud and not just because he’s got a terrible Poker Face but also because of Magical Powers Malfunctions. We can’t say “well, Connie *seems* happy and well-adjusted, so obviously she’s dealing with everything well” - as far as we know she’s breaking apart inside just as much as Steven does and is just better at hiding it because she’s not turning into the Not-So-Jolly Pink Giant.

3. We literally just got done with an episode exploring a character’s trauma from their overcontrolling upbringing, one that has been ‘free’ of his parents control for far longer than Connie has. And Steven has Very Spesific Emotions about Greg and how he ‘dealt’ with his upbringing and a lot of them are negative. I feel like Connie’s similar upbringing and the way *she* deals with them would be relevent in this conflict.

(Especially since, like, I get why Greg has a hard time convincing Steven that his Upbringing was Bad when he’s so hang up about it’s ‘normalcy’. When Greg the Dad talks about it, it’s a parental figure making bunch of excuses for his failures in raising Steven. If Connie the Friend\Girlfriend talks about it, it’s a peer explaining about how their life was different and not ‘better’ from the life of another peer. Greg never meant to do anything that will hurt Steven, but he did still screwed him up, so it’s valid for Steven to be mad at him and not listen to what he has to say. Connie never caused harm to Steven.)

(I especially think it’s notable that Steven feels isolated due to his upbringing. It’s hard for him to relate to humans, he never got to make friends at school, his human peergroup is mostly made up of older teens and adults save for Peedee and Connie [his age] and Onion [younger????] - and maybe he feels like the way Greg raised him robbed him of the ability to make more human friends. But Connie ALSO had a Mundanely Normal Abusive Human Upbringing and it didn’t actually make her better at human relationships at all! It just made her friendless until Steven came along and the only reason why she has friends now is because her parents started to loosen up. I think Steven might need to remember that.)

4. This is kinda stuff I talked about before, but in “Together Forever”, Steven had kinda turned Connie into his Rational Human Dream Girl that just Has Everything Figured Out and if they fused into Stevonnie than Steven could get away from all of his angst and flaws and... it’s not all that simple, not at all. I feel like Connie would have a LOT of reasons to be wary of this ‘proposal’ and Connie says that they’re too young for that (which IS true) because that’s easier than talking about All The Other Stuff.

You know, likw “that amount of emotional intimacy is actually kinda super scary for me as someone who was raised to be super secretive”, “I am still not Actually Sure what I want to do with life and I wouldn’t want to drag you around for what might be a mistake” or “Hey do you know how Stevonnie has hyper-realistic surrealist panic attacks? I hope you’re ready for PTSD^2, now with less connection to reality!” - all I think very likely reasons to be part of Connie’s refusal, but none of them are stuff Connie and Steven actually got to DISCUSS. Because SOMEONE decided to just shove his negative emotions inside a box and never talk about them ever.

A lot of people praised Connie’s gentleness and kindness when she refused Steven’s propsal, and I think the amount of emotional maturity she has shown IS admirable. But I do think it’s important to remember Connie is 15 years old and that her uber-powerful magic boyfriend just suggested that they’ll merge together into one being forever. I think that if her reaction was not-as-gentle, that would be perfectly valid and understandable.

5. Consider how well Steven originally responded to the revelation that Greg didn’t always know what to do with his life at the start of ‘Mr. Universe’; he’s been struggling with feelings of isolation, a feeling like nobody in the world can relate to the kinda Problems he has. And certainly no “Normal HumanTM” could. Again - ‘Mr. Universe’ kinda ends with Steven implying that he wouldn’t have any of his Issues if Greg raised him in a more “normal” enviorment. And while on some sense Steven’s issues are very unique, they are also very... universal to a lot of teenagers.

I think that if Steven’s other representative of Normal Humanity were to come to him and share that she’s also having Problems, with PTSD or with her parents or with not being 100% sure of what to do with her life... I think it will help him feel like less of a total freak. It’s not a case of “hooray! Steven DOES have someone to FIX instead of focusing on his problems!”, it’s a case of Steven and Connie realizing that their problems are Not So Different and they can’t ‘solve’ each other’s problems but they can relate and that’s a comfort.

6. Again, something we talked about before, but we *just had* that story-beat in Growing Pains about how Connie STILL keeps things hidden from her mom and maybe it could be, like, totally innocuous but then maybe don’t make kind of a Deal about it in the middle of the emotional climax of an episode about the long-lasting effects of trauma????

I guess the only reason I am not going “this is 100% something SUF is gonna acknowledge on some level” is because there’s only four fucking episodes left and none of the episode titles *scream* “this is a Connie episode!” and we still need to unpack Steven’s issues with the Crystal Gems because they are the parental guardians who messed up Steven the most and are also the main characters - but I am also not saying that we have 100% missed the opportunity to do something with it, the failed proposal is STILL the catalyst to Steven’s current donward spiral and Steven’s and Connie’s relationship was left in kind of a Weird Point in “Growing Pains”, I won’t be suprised if we go back to her again and kinda touch more about what’s going on beneath the surface that Steven can see.

#connie maheswaran #steven universe #Steven universe future #steven quartz universe #connverse

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carrotsofavonlea · 5 years

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If it's possible to ask for a prompt: during season 3 Gilbert gets really jealous over a boy flirting with Anne (trying to court her). So jealous that he confronts her and ends up confessing his feelings for her. I just love passionate fights and happy endings so I'd be so happy if you could write this. Thank you very much and happy Valentine's Day!

(Thank you for waiting, I know this took a while! I went on holiday literally the day after valentine’s so I had no time to write, not to mention being stuck at the airport because my plane home was cancelled :/ but I’m glad to be back and writing!)

/////////

Gilbert wasn’t one to get jealous, he tried to be happy with the cards he was dealt - no matter how rough they had been in recent years. But lately he felt an odd sinking feeling in his chest whenever Charlie Sloane brought up Anne.

It had started innocently enough, so innocently that Gilbert had barely registered Anne’s name in the conversation, smiling politely to his friend as he focused on his studies. All Charlie had said was, “Have you ever noticed Anne’s hair has gotten darker?”

Gilbert shrugged, glancing briefly at Anne before returning to his books. “It looks the same to me.”

But that was a lie. He certainly had noticed, although a part of him wished he hadn’t. He denied he ever did, but in the first few months of knowing her he had been drawn to her hair in class, always staring at it in awe of how it could capture the light so well it looked like she was on fire. Something he couldn’t touch but wanted to. Now he had “grown up” he wasn’t focused on silly school boy infatuations. He was focused on his studies, in denial that those same red braids would creep into the back of his mind when he was unawares.

Yet those innocent words from Charlie buried in him, deep down at first but slowly rising to the surface with every passing day.

Gilbert found more than once when he looked up from his studies, Charlie was glancing in the direction of Anne. He tried not to let it bother him. After all, why should he care who looked at Anne? But time after time this kept happening, and Gilbert found himself having to relax his jaw, not even realising he had clenched it in the first place.

***

The whole “take notice board” thing had never interested Gilbert. Being almost 2 years older than his other classmates never really felt different to Gilbert, but lately he was starting to feel it. He had better things to do than partake in these childish games. This bitterness certainly didn’t come from when Anne tried to get him to write about Ruby….not at all. As if he would ever write a note. If he was going to tell someone how he felt, he would want to tell her to her face. (He refused to acknowledge the brief moment of hope when Anne talked about the future.)

While his classmates hovered around the board, be preferred to spend time reading the papers with Miss Stacy. She’d recently just enlightened him on her doctor friend in Toronto, and lately Toronto sounded a lot better than Avonlea. He still found himself wondering at times why he even came back. A foolish part of him had said he missed his friends (but deep down he knew it had something to do with Anne whether or not he wanted to consciously admit it).

“A female doctor? How marvelous!” Anne’s voice came from behind him, clearly having eavesdropped on their conversation.

But he found himself relaxing around her, once again not realising he’d been tense before she appeared. Something about Anne’s presence just made him feel…safe. He didn’t feel like he had to pretend or be something he wasn’t. He could be just Gilbert.

But before he could open his mouth Diana had burst through the door, “Anne! You’re on the board! The take notice board! Charlie! He noticed you!”

Gilbert’s eyes met Anne’s; he wasn’t sure what he was feeling inside, but his stomach dropped at the mention of Anne being noticed. She had an apologetic look on her face as Diana grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

Gilbert sighed, sitting down in the chair perhaps too aggressively as Miss Stacy seemed to notice.

“I don’t mean to pry where I don’t belong,” Miss Stacy glanced over the top of her paper, “but I don’t agree with this take notice board.”

“That makes two of us.” Gilbert’s forehead creased, trying not to think about what could possibly be written about Anne on that board.

“But,” Miss Stacy continued, “telling someone how you feel may not be the worst thing in the world.”

Gilbert shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “When I find the right person, I’ll know.”

Miss Stacy lowered her paper to look at Gilbert, “I hope so.”

****

He didn’t know what had come over him, but here Gilbert was hand in hand with Anne as they danced in a circle in the middle of the school house. Moments ago he had been opposite her, but his hands had a mind of their own and had grabbed hold of Anne’s pulling her to stand beside him. He felt giddy, the feel of her hand in his so natural, everything he had imagined it would be. (Not that he had ever imagined it before…nope, not at all…)

Maybe he had been urged on by the words he had overheard yesterday:

“So Anne, are you going to dance with Charlie tomorrow?”

Something about the way the girls had giggled, as if dancing even meant anything romantic, had stuck in Gilbert’s mind all the way home. He’d been in a slightly sour mood at the thought of Anne dancing with Charlie, but once again he pushed the blame onto something else like merely feeling stressed about his studies and that was why he was in a bad mood. But when he got to school and saw how Charlie was calculating where to stand in order to dance with Anne (the only time he ever got a calculation correct), Gilbert had cringed.

Charlie Sloane was far from the romance that Anne deserved. Gilbert knew her well enough to know that she deserves someone who was her equal, who could match her not overpower her. He also knew Charlie well enough to know he was certainly not looking for a wife as outspoken as Anne, he wouldn’t understand her. The whole match just wouldn’t work.

He couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous his friend was acting, and somehow he turned that energy into playfulness. There was something about Anne and the music that made him forget who he was for a moment, stealing Anne away from Charlie before he even got the chance to dance with her properly.

When it was all over, Gilbert found himself unable to move from that place. Something had taken over him, reawoken some feelings he had tried to push deep down. Anne held his gaze, the same amused but also uncertain look on her face before she smiled and stepped back from him.

This was all wrong, Anne was his friend and he couldn’t have feelings for his friend. They wouldn’t work, they’d just argue. But lately they had been on such good terms, and any arguments had stemmed out of a place of passion for doing the right thing. Lately it hadn’t been Anne vs Gilbert, but rather Anne and Gilbert vs the world. They knew that whenever they fought it was because they cared, not because they wanted to hurt each other.

All these confusing thoughts kept running around Gilbert’s mind. Was Anne truly the one for him? When he tried to picture the future he couldn’t imagine one where Anne didn’t play some role in his life. But what was that role?

He’d been so deep in thought he had almost bumped into the girl in question, their eyes locked in a terrified gaze. She turned from him before he could even think of anything to say, running out the door.

He went to follow but then hung back, suddenly unsure. There was something he needed to say to her but he couldn’t figure out what, only that he knew he wanted to talk. Instead he paced up and down, stuck between the two paths: either follow Anne or return home alone.

With a deep breath he decided he would talk to her, just to say sorry for how he had acted during dance. Maybe he’d scared her off with his spontaneity, he had certainly scared himself a little, forgetting how he used to be before everything in his life had made him grow up far too fast.

But as he started in her direction, he felt lighter, holding himself higher. It was in that moment he realised Anne made him feel different but in a good way. She made him feel free, made him feel like he could be himself, someone who understood him. No one else could make him feel this way. It was a way he always wanted to feel.

His feet had picked up into a run, no clue what his mouth was supposed to say when he got there. But he never got the chance, his feet stopping himself just as quickly as they had started.

Charlie. He was talking to Anne. Walking with her. So that was it. Whatever had happened between them during dance had obviously been unrequited. He thought maybe she had felt that tension between them, the jolt when their hands touched, how alive it made him feel. But here she was walking home with Charlie Sloane….

****

Gilbert had been avoiding Anne, trying not to look at her during class or responding to her questions in monosyllabic sentences. It felt like they’d gone back a step, everything they’d worked for in the past year just gone. Back to square one where they barely interacted. He told himself he was better off focusing on his studies, it had been foolish of him to get distracted anyway.

But Anne clearly didn’t see it that way.

“What is your problem?” She stormed up to him after class one day after he barely acknowledged her goodbye.

Diana and the other girls had slowly formed a group behind her, Gilbert awkwardly looking between them and Anne.

“Uh, nothing?” He furrowed his brows, trying his best to act nonchalant but failing.

Anne turned to face her friends and a moment later they were slowly being led away by Diana, leaving just Anne and Gilbert.

“I just noticed you weren’t joining in with everyone as much this week. I thought… something had happened.”

Gilbert adjusted his bag strap, not making eye contact with Anne. He didn’t want her feeling bad about him. “All everyone seems to talk about anymore is who likes who and who walked who home. I have other things to worry about than courting that’s what everyone else seems to be occupied with…this waste of time.”

Anne scoffed, folding her arms. “Not everyone is talking about courting.”

Gilbert couldn’t help himself, “Oh please I’ve seen you and Charlie Sloane making eyes.”

“Making eyes? Is this what this is about? Why do you care anyway?”

“I don’t.” Gilbert shrugged and began to walk away, getting out before he said something else he’ll regret.

But Anne wasn’t leaving it alone. “What? Is it because someone is actually showing interest in me? I’m so repulsive that it’s a joke to you? That the whole idea is absurd?”

“What? Of course not.” Gilbert stopped walking, turning to face her again.

“Then what’s the problem?” Anne threw her hands in the air.

“I… forget it.” He shook his head.

“Are you….jealous?”

“No. I don’t care who you walk home with.”

Anne almost laughed, “You are! You’re jealous!” She pointed her finger at him, anger in her voice. “I can’t believe you.”

“Why would I be jealous?”

“I don’t know. One of your mind tricks to make me distracted so you can beat me in class?”

Gilbert’s shoulders deflated, “You think I’d stoop that low, mess with your feelings? Is that really what you think of me?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know…”

“Anne…” he whispered.

They held each other’s gaze for a while, and Gilbert couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t take the silence. He had to do something or Anne would think he hates her when right now that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

Without thinking his hand cupped her cheek, before he leaned in a kissed her.

But suddenly he pulled back, realising what he’d done. Anne stared up at him, eyes wide. He couldn’t tell what she was feeling, if he’d just ruined everything.

"I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I understand if you never want to see me again-“

His words were interrupted by Anne pressing her lips against his in return, her hands linking around his neck. It took a moment to react, before he kissed her back again, holding on to her waist trying to pull her closer.

They finally broke apart, Gilbert lightly touching his forehead to Anne’s.

"Anne… I don’t know why it took me so long to realise. But it’s you. It always has been.”

“For the record, I don’t like Charlie Sloane like that.”

“No?” Gilbert smiled, feeling Anne touch their noses together as she shook her head.

“No. Did you know he told me women who think too much can’t have children?”

“That’s… scientifically inaccurate.” He laughed, but there was a sour feeling in his chest that someone had the audacity to say something like that to Anne.

“Turns out he’s not a prince charming type.”

“Am I?” Gilbert playfully raised an eyebrow, and Anne rolled her eyes.

“We’ll have to see.”

“I hope I am."

"Me too.” She smiled, leaning in to kiss him once again.

#awae #shirbert #anne shirley #gilbert blythe #i've got loads of uni work coming up so i might take a short break from writing after this x

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