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logicalbookthief · 3 years

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Christmas Movies Ranked by How Anti-Capitalist They Are

It’s a Wonderful Life

Movies that make you want to pick a fight with the 1% and also weep with joy. Absolutely a classic and anti-capitalist at its very core. Will convince you we need to start oppressing landlords again.

“Just remember this, Mr. Potter, that this rabble you're talking about... they do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community. Well, is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath? Anyway, my father didn't think so. People were human beings to him. But to you, a warped, frustrated old man, they're cattle.”

SAY THAT!!! George Bailey said fuck landlords, all my homies hate landlords, they have NO rights. Local man believes poor people are human, dedicates his life to helping them, and in his time of the need literally the whole town comes together to support him and his family. Class solidarity ftw!

“Remember no man is a failure who has friends.” Bitch I CRY EVERY GODDAMN TIME.

10/10

Home Alone

Soundtrack goes hard, the wacky hijinks even harder.

Loses points because the bandits had a prime opportunity to seize and redistribute some of the wealth from this ritzy Chicago neighborhood and instead they focus their energy on trying to kill an 8-year-old who outsmarts them at every turn.

2/10

Elf

A family favorite in our house. Touches on the overworking and mistreatment of employees through Greenway Press – Walter forced to choose between being with his family on Christmas Eve or losing his job, it’s implied Deb has a pet grooming business on the side to makes ends meet despite being a receptionist at a NY publishing company, etc.

Honestly most of the points come from Jonie’s underrated yet highly relatable storyline. She works in retail, exhausted and cynical towards the high-paced Christmas season which gives her little to no relief or reward, since she’s surviving on ramen noodles and using the employee showers because her water was cut off. Not expanded on enough to be considered a true Marxist piece but the effort is appreciated.

5/10

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Although the meme is correct in that Rudolph’s red nose becomes desirable only once it proves to be useful, it does get points for exposing the harmful nature of forced conformity and those alienated by these capitalist ideals -- Rudolph, Hermie, the island of misfit toys -- are given a place to belong despite the perceived “flaws” that before made them undesirable.

Also the elves definitely have a free dental-plan now thanks to Hermie and are hopefully on their way to unionizing. Fucking superb you funky little misfit.

6/10

Klaus (2019)

Turns a member of the bourgeoisie into a man I’d trust to carry my mail. Respect for postal workers this movie contains was ahead of its time.

No direct takedown of the establishment but a heartwarming message -- “A true selfless act always sparks another” bITCH I may be crying -- that emphasizes the importance of giving to others even when there is no selfish motivation to do so, which is inherently anti-capitalist.

8/10

The Santa Clause

Scott Calvin starts as a toy executive who takes part in the commercialization of Christmas. He was probably a business major so automatically loses points.

The Santa dynasty itself seems to operate under the cutthroat rules of the business world where you must overthrow (or in this case, throw him off the roof) the former CEO in order to seize power.

Elves have not unionized or seized the means of production by the end.

0/10

A Christmas Carol

THE ORIGINAL. Charles Dickens was not even in the neighborhood of fucking around with this one. CREATED the anti-capitalist Christmas genre!!

Rich man treats his employees like shit and gets terrorized by three ghosts on Christmas Eve. Force him to redistribute his wealth by dragging him through a montage of his most epic fails -- oh, hey, remember when your fiancé left you? -- and make him listen as all his employees and relatives complain about his stingy ass.

They end this slideshow by throwing this dude into his own grave. DIRECT ACTION.

Like damn, the ghosts really said, “If you hoard your resources and ignore those in need when you could directly improve/save lives with no cost to yourself, you will die ALONE and you WILL pay for your crimes in hell.” Literally watching this movie is a catharsis for anyone who is or has been poor and working class.

I’m including all versions of this movie but a special shout out to the Muppet version because it fucks the hardest.

100/10

How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000)

Listen I’m not even in realms of joking with this one. This movie is THE anti-capitalist film of the holiday season.

WhoVille commercializing Christmas and a fixation on consumer culture to the point where anything and anyONE who cannot be commodified -- aka the GRINCH -- is alienated? The Whos rediscovering that people should be cherished over material items once it all is stolen and they must confront how empty the holiday has become??

Cindy Lou becoming disillusioned in Christmas -- at an age that coincides when many children (those who celebrate Christmas at least) lost belief in Santa and had to wrestle with what the holiday means with the magic gone and they’re more aware of the rampant consumerism that taints the season?? Her resolve to find a meaning that goes beyond material consumption because if a holiday founded on goodwill doesn’t extend that goodwill to everyone, even those society deems undesirable, then what’s the point???

The Grinch despising Christmas because he is unable to participate and isolated from the Whos and also the better qualities within himself? His alienation serving to demonize him further as it allows the public to narrow his valid criticisms of the holiday down to him being different and thus inherently predisposed to evil?? And hmm isn’t it interesting that a LOT of this demonization comes via Mayor Augustus “generously paid for by the tax-payers of Whoville” Maywho, Mr. 1% himself.

The upper vs working class divide evident in the light show competition between Martha May and Betty Lou Who?? The opening scene of the shopping frenzy that mirrors our own consumerist culture and overworking of retail/poster workers??? This entire monologue:

“That's what it's all about, isn't it? That's what it's always been about. Gifts, gifts... gifts, gifts, gifts, gifts, gifts! You wanna know what happens to your gifts? They all come to me. In your garbage. You see what I'm saying? In your garbage. I could hang myself with all the bad Christmas neckties I found at the dump. And the avarice... the avarice never ends! ‘I want golf clubs. I want diamonds. I want a pony so I can ride it twice, get bored and sell it to make glue.’"

MARXIST KING. MENTION IT ALL.

1000/10

#christmas #christmas movies #how the grinch stole christmas #a christmas carol #elf #klaus #rudolph the red nosed reindeer #home alone #it's a wonderful life #the santa clause #this was a labor of love please clap

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feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

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Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

#ask #my terrible headcanons #elros #elrond #maglor #elwing #earendil #feanorians #niphredilien #yellow feathered faerie #putting your old url in the tags for archival purposes #post nyanyannya askbox clearout #ironically it turned out almost as long as the songfic that clogged up my askbox in the first place #and it is DONE #fuck this took forever to write #stayed up late just to get it out the door so i don't have to think about it any more #this is a long ramble and i'm pretty sure the end is just me repeating myself ad nausem sorry #i'll admit to a certain pro-feanorian bias in my interpretation #but i also don't want elros and elrond to just. live in a neverending horrorshow for decades #the silm's cruel enough we don't need that #narratively i feel like elrond being All Of The Elves is a good mirror for elros being All Of The Humans #but it didn't really fit the angle i was going for #bleck #let's see how many followers i lose for this

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fulltimemoaner · 3 years

Text

Zhongli is prosecuted for giving his Gnosis to the Tsaritsa, leaving him and Childe no choice than to flee to Snezhnaya.

Basically, some thieves cut Zhongli’s hair and Childe slaughters them because he really liked his hair.

Childe’s warm hand had felt comforting on his waist, even if he was hidden in a cloak under the warm sun of Liyue, being sneaked out of his homeland like the fugitive that he had become, like the land below him had forgotten the gentle rumbling of his energy and the security of his spears. He had fought back the urge to cry, thousands of years of protecting his safe harbour pointing their treacherous fingers at him. Yet, unlike Azhdaha, there was no bitterness, no disgust towards his beloved humans that had so willingly shunned him after news of his contract with the Tsaritsa had surfaced. In fact, the adoring citizens of Liyue had issued a warrant for him, for the Archon’s head that had wished to sign with the Fatui and sell out their safety.

Zhongli did not wish for the dominion of his beliefs, nor for acceptance, because mortal life was too brief and brittle to understand the gamble of him keeping his Gnosis when he could feel the claws of erosion leeching into his sanity. To their eyes, he had been their loving and protective God, who couldn’t be wrong, who would continue to reign for the millennia to come. The rusty floorboards had creaked underneath his feet, and he had caught the last traces of his homeland’s sun before he had been ushered to the basement of the ship for the first few hours, until they had been a safe distance from Liyue.

The adepti had weeped for this outcome, yet he had begged them not to rain down their vengeance on the mortals, to be gentle and understanding. He had entrusted them with the continuous protection of their harbour.

And the next air he breathed was that of Snezhnaya, the first light he saw was cold and fragile. He had emerged from his murky cabin in the early morning and had approached the railing that separated them from the freezing ocean. The rippling wind whipped back the hood of the heavy coat Ajax had provided him with, and now his hair waved in the wind, his eyes staring emptily into the distance as his skin itched from the cold. The Tsaritsa had accepted him as a fugitive asking for protection, and now, as his hands gripped the railing, he realised he hadn’t been that far away from home since the Archon War.

He looked up, feeling the soft tears that clung to his eyelashes freezing over, the sun obscured by a thick layer of clouds. How he missed the gentle breeze already.

The same went for Snezhnaya itself, it was cold enough to make his breath catch in his throat and his lungs ache. Ajax had taken his scarf off and wrapped it around his neck at the sound of his laboured breathing, then adjusted it to make sure it was covering his mouth and nose. Zhongli’s eyes had been curious as to why the ginger had been so gentle the past couple days, even the snark and edge having left his voice. Perhaps he felt for him. At least the gaze of the locals was gentle and welcoming, for the most part, offering him local delicacies and flowers before he and Childe could even reach his home. The Harbinger had been welcomed back like a hero, with huge bouquets and a massive meal prepared by his family.

Zhongli had been catatonic, at best, but at least, he had found some comfort in talking to the children, who were, as always, excited and easily impressed by his stories of dragons and extinct creatures.

He had stayed indoors for the first couple of days, too reluctant to go exploring on these foreign lands, but eventually, his confidence started building up again, so he picked up the small bag of money that Childe left for him every morning. -Zhongli had given his allowance of the two previous days to the little kids, since he hadn’t gone outside and concepts such as saving were nonexistent in his brain-

The attire, that he was getting used to. He wasn’t a huge fan of wearing boots, but he could say their smooth leather sealed him from the snow pretty well, and that the heavy coat felt strangely comforting around his shoulders. More than once, he had overheard people calling him the golden devil, which he considered to be quite endearing in its own, clueless way.

He stepped by a merchant’s booth with imported stones, including what they described as Liyuen Cor Lapis and Noctilucous Jades. He leaned in a bit closer for observation, and the merchant seemed to shift uncomfortably, which pretty much told Zhongli that these were, in fact, fake. He straightened up again, unable to resist teasing the merchant. “Are these imported straight from the chasm?”

The shopkeeper’s eyes seemed to go wide, and he quickly tried to dodge the question. Thankfully, for him, a whistle tore through their ears and made the young foreigner turn, his eyes narrowed.

“Lovely accessory you have there, good sir.” A young man smiled, accompanied by three others. “Looks like the real thing too.” The Snezhnayan man caressed the piece of jewellery that held Zhongli’s hair into a neat ponytail in a leery way. The ex archon didn’t move, only observed with caution, his piercing gaze saying more than words ever could. “Say, you aren’t, by any chance, the Tsaritsa’s guest from Liyue harbour?”

The other men chuckled and Zhongli glanced at the merchant, who started packing up his items hurriedly, seemingly intimidated by the gang. “Why, yes, I am.” He said neutrally, his voice a notch lower than friendly.

“Huh, you have nerve, saying that so openly.” The Snezhnayan’s fist twisted around the half-golden ponytail and pulled Zhongli’s head back. “You owe us, since we so willingly welcomed you here.” The stranger smirked, reaching behind his back for a folded knife. “I’m sure we could sell Morax’s hair for quite a fortune.” Another yank to the head and Zhongli blinked apathetically. “Aren’t you fighting back?”

“I have no interest in fighting mortals.” Zhongli shrugged. “My hair is my hair. Three years to grow them back is like the blink of an eye to me.”

The man’s eyes flickered with fury at the stranger, and he brought that dagger into his coal hair, severing the strands roughly. Zhongli’s eyes stayed unmoving, hostile, hateful, in a way. The lump of hair fell into the snow unceremoniously, and one of the others scurried to grab it.

“Yo,”

Zhongli’s eyes flickered from the thief to the source of the familiar voice. Relief washed over him at the sight of ginger hair and ocean blue eyes, that slender figure hugged in his winter attire that Zhongli rarely saw him in. A primal sense of grounding gripped him, almost like the essence of his home, which he had eternally bound to Childe’s smiling face. Unorthodox, he knew, but he was like an oasis of familiarity that the weather hadn’t manage to freeze over yet.

“Where is your Snezhnayan upbringing, picking on the Tsaritsa’s guests?” Ajax sighed, walking leisurely towards Zhongli. “I have eyes and ears where my hands can’t reach, and right now, mr. Zhongli is under my supervision.” His hand found its familiar spot on the God’s waist, his eyes scanning for any traces of harm’s way on him. His hand reached the back of his head before his eyes did, and they narrowed dangerously. “Ah, is that what you were going for? It’s a shame.” Zhongli felt uncertainty creep up his spine at the shift in the Harbinger’s tone, still wishing for no harm towards the mortals.

“Ajax,”

“It’s a shame,” Childe continued, cracking his neck to the left, then to the right with a relieved smile. “Because I happened to love his hair, and I don’t take kindly to things being taken away from me.”

“Ajax, let’s go home.” Zhongli grabbed his wrist, the whole group of thieves frozen in fear at the sight of the Fatui.

“No, no. We can’t do that. When someone kisses you, they expect a kiss back, no?” Ajax stepped forward and stretched his arm out, his hydro dagger appearing into his hand. “You might not want to shift the tides here, mr. Zhongli, but these rascals are my own.”

“Run!” The leader of the thieves screamed, but they didn’t stand a chance. Childe threw the dagger first, hitting the middle one between his shoulder blades. Blood gushed out in waves and Ajax laughed joyfully, running to the gurgling body to pull his weapon out, then join it into a larger pole-arm. A jump and a couple of spins and heads went flying, legs were severed, and the snow was painted an abysmal red. Childe leaned his head back, feeling the wind swipe his hair back and freeze his smile in place. The weapons vaporised in his hands, and he slowly lowered his gaze to Zhongli, stood meekly by the scene of the slaughter. Childe wrestled the hair out of the dead man’s grip, for the sake of retreating the luxurious clip that his lover favoured since he first met him. “Measly thieves. Someone has to be the sacrificial lamb, the subject to teach the others a lesson,”

Zhongli’s eyes eased shut when Ajax closed in on his space, leaning close to his face and pushing the small accessory into his gloved hand. “I love you.” Ajax whispered, pressing a gentle kiss into the corner of Zhongli’s brow. “And I intend to keep you safe here.”

“They wouldn’t kill me, Ajax.” Zhongli sighed deeply, leaning into Childe’s neck. “They wouldn’t be able to.”

“No one will dare to try anymore.” The Harbinger’s hand nestled to the small of the ex archon’s back, pulling him close to his body. He started to caress the back of his head with his free hand, trying to feel the roughly cut strands through the fabric of his gloves. “I’m sorry they touched you.”

“You’re more sad about that than I am.” Zhongli smiled gently and pulled the Harbinger’s head down to press their foreheads together. “It will grow back in no time.”

“I’m a mortal like they are.” Ajax whispered sadly, his eyes easing shut. Zhongli pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips in response, trying to ease the pain in his lover’s voice.

“And I’m eroding, so let’s try to outlive each other.” Zhongli chuckled, making Childe squeeze him close, a neediness evident in his touch. “I want to live like mortals do, with you, Ajax. That’s why I’m here.”

“Please, don’t say such things to me.” The Harbinger breathed deeply, trying to choke down a few stray tears. “I promise I will make your stay worthwhile.”

“I know.” Zhongli kissed his jaw quickly. “You can start by taking me somewhere, I’m freezing.”

“Right.” Childe laughed, reaching out to grasp the ex archon’s hand and pull him away from the bloodied grounds. “I’m taking you for lunch. I will tell some underlings to clean up the mess.”

“You could had been more clean about it.”

#zhongchi #tartali #genshin impact #tartaglia x zhongli #childe x zhongli #zhongli #childe #childe genshin impact #zhongli genshin impact #chili

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

With the razor crest destroyed, din no longer has that tiny closet(?) to sleep in. Imagine when grogu goes, din and you take a break and go to Naboo just to relax, process things and live in a villa retreat. He just cherishes you and loves you desperately like no other cos he can’t lose you too. You guys enjoy all the spaceand peace you have but can’t help missing the little green bean 🥺😭

Did someone say hurt & comfort hours? Because I believe that’s in order. Please enjoy. I am...crying. 🥺🥺

Din Djarin x Fem!Reader; warnings: S2 Finale Spoilers!

The Mandalorian Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Din?" his name was soft - reverent - as you stirred from slumber. Stretching, you reached across the plush bed to reach for your riduur, but instead of his warm, soft body, you found nothing. Emptiness. Sighing lightly, you realized the sheets were long cold. Again.

Pulling the soft, plush blankets back, you slipped out of the bed. You pulled on your discarded robe before striding over to the balcony where you could see his exhausted frame. He was leaning over the stone railing, head hung low as he clasped his hands together, almost as if he was praying to something - anything.

Maybe he was. Maybe he was praying to Maker to keep him safe. You safe. To figure out everything that had happened in the last several weeks. Everything he had ever known and come to know was crumbling apart right in front of him. Except you; his rock, his partner, his everything.

Din Djarin had never been a religious man, not unless, of course, it was something to do with his creed. But even that was out the window now.

He had so many questions, and yet so few answers. All he had now was you. And it was enough, more than enough.

You grounded him, enveloped him in a sense of peace and warmth in the chaos that seemed to rule his life. He was sure you were the only thing between sanity and him giving up and becoming an unholy mess at the moment.

"Din," you whispered his name to keep from startling him. He remained silent, unmoving as you came up behind him, wrapping your arms his waist before resting your head on his shoulder, "my light and stars. You weren't in bed."

"Couldn't sleep," he murmured as he put a hand onto top of yours, the cool metal of his wedding band almost burning your skin as he offered a gentle squeeze to your hand. You mumbled something inaudible before pressing a few kisses to the bare golden skin of his shoulder.

"I know, Din," you said softly, "but you need to try and rest. You haven't slept much in weeks."

"Yes," you felt his shoulders slump as he exhaled slowly, "its just...its..."

"I know," you admitted quietly, "I know its hard right now. So hard. But it will be okay, he will be okay. This is not...this is not the end. We will see him again, Din. He is our son."

Your Mandalorian remained silent for a few moments, but you could hear his breathing grow ragged, and his inhales and exhales become more sporadic. It was quiet, only the soft sounds of the waves of the lake slapping into sand and the singing of songbirds could be heard. Eventually, you heard a few sniffles before feeling a few tears spill onto your hand.

"Shhh," you soothed him, stroking your thumb over the back of his hand. You hummed softly under your breath as you held him, wishing you could take his pain and hurt away. You were grieving too, the sorrow and pain ran deep, but you knew it wasn't forever. And right now you needed to he strong for him, for him and yourself, for Grogu.

"I'm..." he stopped himself as you kissed the back of his neck, squeezing him as tightly as possibly to let him know just how loved he was.

"Its okay, my love," you promised softly, "let it go, let it all out. Its not good to hold it all in."

And so he did. He let himself weep, to cry with reckless abandon as he turned around in your arms and engulfed you in his own, swallowing you up as he clung onto as though his life depended on it. Burrowing his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, you reached up and carded a hand through his dark curls. Rocking him back and forth softly, you rubbed his back in calming motions, and offered him tender words of reassurance, much as you would have done for your little one.

In that moment you radiated nothing but love onto him, trying to convey how much he meant to you, how he was the brightest star in your galaxy, how everything would be okay.

Eventually, his heart wrenching sobs turned to quiet sniffles, and after a time you were once again met with nothing but the tranquil stillness of nature.

Din pulled back from you, his large hands finding your face as he studied your features. Your hands went to his wrists as you held onto them gently. He leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to your forehead, "thank you mesh'la. I love you more than you will ever know."

"I love you too, Brown Eyes," you offered him a small smile as he eyes crinkled softly with the ghost of a smile, "you know I love you with all of my heart. You are everything to me, Din."

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he admitted softly as you pressed a kiss to his lips. He brought his hands down to your waist as you gently wiped away the remnants of his tears, "I can't lose you. Not after..."

"You didn't lose him, Din," you insisted, "this was what we knew might happen all along. The bond the two of you share is immeasurable. You will always find your back to each other. I swear it - and I will be by your side always. We’re a family, and that means no matter how great the distance or time, in the end we will always be together.”

"It hurts," he admitted with a shaky breath as you offered a nod in understanding, "when will it stop hurting? I don't want to feel like this forever. I thought it would get better.”

“I wish I had an answer for you,” you wrapped him back up in your touch, “it’s going to hurt, and that’s okay, it’s normal. But it won’t always be like this; it will get better and easier, but the most important thing is that you remember that what you did, the choice he made, was the right thing. You didn’t do anything bad or wrong, even though it might feel like that now.”

“I know,” he agreed with the smallest of smiles as he kissed the side of your, “this was my mission from the start....and he chose to reach out to the Jedi.”

“He did,” you concluded, “but that he doesn’t mean he didn’t want to be with you, or that he didn’t love you, or stop thinking of you as his father. He needs to do this for himself too.”

“You must think me foolish for getting so attached.”

“Never,” you promised sharply, turning his face so he was looking at you, “experiencing emotion is not a shameful thing. You loved - love - him, Din, and he feels the same. There is nothing wrong with opening your heart and loving. Look at us; did you ever think we’d end up here?”

“No,” he sniffled quietly as you laughed at the memory of your first encounter with Din Djarin, “you tried to blast me to pieces and then knocked me out.”

“I thought you were an intruder and I was trying to protect myself,” you insisted with a kiss to his cheek, “my point is that its okay to love and sometimes it is scary and daunting, but its okay. Love is...its everything. And with it, we’ll get through anything. You taught him so much and he did the same to you.”

“He did...before him, before you, I didn’t think I would ever...” he stopped and caught your gaze, his soft,dark eyes looking at with such intensity, but still so much vulnerability, “we’ll get him back. One day. And no matter how long it is, it doesn’t anything. We’ll always be aliit.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, scratching gently at his scalp as he keened into your touch, “family is everything, you know this. Besides, your story... his story is far from over. There is still much left to do in this life.”

“I think I’d like a long break first,” for the first time in weeks, since he’d made his tearful goodbye to Grogu, you hear him laugh. A genuine, warm, full bodied laugh. The sound was enough to make your heart warm and settle down in your chest. It was a beautiful sound that you had desperately missed, and hearing it was again set everything right in the galaxy. You hummed in agreement as you let him hold you and rested your head against his chest, “I’d like to spend some time alone with my riduur. To rest. To relax - to breathe.”

“We have all the time in the galaxy, Din,” you promised, “we can stay here as long as we want.”

“I like that,” he agreed, kissing the crown of your head, “besides, who knows what hellish adventure awaits whenever we decide to rejoin the world?”

“It’s never a dull day for Din Djarin, or should I say my Mand’alor?” you teased as you started to reached for his hands to pull him back inside so he could actually rest.

“Oh no,” he groaned jokingly, “please, not you too.”

“I jest,” you insisted as he let you pulled him inside, “if you’re the ruler of anything, you’re my King, Din. I am yours, always and forever.”

“I like the sound of that,” he sighed contentedly, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Din.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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thatonestarryhuman · 3 years

Text

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” Wilford Warfstache x Reader

The characters involved in this story will be William J Barnum, other wise known as Wilford Warfstache— and The District Attorney, formally known as The Viewer and Your name (Y/N). The Viewer in this story will be gender neutral, they/them. The Trigger Warnings for this story are— blood, guns, possible main character death, breakdowns, drinking/alcohol and possibly gore. This is the last warning you’ll get before entering the story, if any of the things said above make you uncomfortable it’s best to not read. You will be mentioned as ‘The Viewer’ in the story but whenever someone says your name it will be ‘Y/N’. Word Count: 1,789

The Viewer and William had known each other from childhood, they were best friends since they were little and starting kindergarten together. They were always doing something together and no one would be able to pull them apart, they were each other’s best friends as everyone else would think of them as weird and would make fun of them but that didn’t bother them much— after all they had each other. During the high school years it was much harder for the both of them, William and the Viewer— weren’t exactly the best students, they’d skip school often, they would get barely passing marks and would throw classroom pranks. They met Damien first from all the others, They met him while they were sneaking out of school, Damien was the Hall Monitor and noticed them sneaking off. He gave the two a warning slip and forced the two to go back to class— he wasn’t going to let the two skip class. During the lunch break he’d walk up to the two and tell them that it’s not good to skip school and would go on a ramble about how school was important, but at the end of the rant— he noticed they were sitting alone and he suggested that if they stop sneaking out he’d introduce them to his friends. Before William could say anything the Viewer agreed, because to be honest— they started to feel lonely and a bit bored, after all with only each other there wasn’t much to do after a while.

At first William was upset for them making the decision without asking him, but he’d go along with it after all it made the viewer happy so he wasn’t going to complain. The two of them were led to a table by Damien, at the table there was one other man and one woman. “This is my friend, Mark.” Damien introduced the male sitting at the table, who gave a bright smile and a nod. “And this is my sister, Celine.” She murmured a small hi before going back to reading a book. The Viewer smiled and waved “My name is Y/N and this is my best friend, William.” They said and introduced themself and William. The Viewer could tell this was going to be the start of a great friendship, but it would take some time to get to that place but the Viewer didn’t mind— as long as they all got along together and had fun in the end, it could take as long as it could.

The time after that went by fast to them, Williams first job as the Safari Hunter, Damien becoming a mayor, Celine and Mark getting together— with William being disappointed at that, and the Viewer becoming the District Attorney because of Damien. Williams issue was that not only did he like Celine but he also liked the Viewer, He didn’t know what to do about his little crush on Celine— He knew it was wrong but he did care, he wanted to let go of his crush but that quickly changed upon the two getting to spend time together alone. A drink turned into three and a flirt turned into a kiss, before they realized what both of them were doing it was far too late. William felt guilt and was the one who admitted what he had done to Mark, who didn’t take it very well. Mark lashed out on the two, he felt so hurt that because two of the closest people to him hurt him the most. Mark had stopped talking to anyone by that point, and was quiet for months— that was until everyone received a letter, an invitation to the party. William was surprise that he got one, he didn’t expect Mark to want him there— both the men weren’t doing well mentally after what had happened but William decided that if Mark wanted to try to be friends again then they could try, but William didn’t realize that was Marks intentions.

Everyone went to the party, except Celine as she wasn’t invited— because she technically still lived with Mark except she had went to visit family for a week. Everyone enjoyed the party, at least the beginning of it— Everyone danced, played poker and danced. The viewer passed out a little later into the night and Damien helped them to their room, he may have been drunk but he’d still be a gentle man, but as the Viewer was helped up they had noticed William pointing a gun at both the Detective and Mark, they were yelling and arguing with each other. In the morning Marks body was found and up came an investigation from the Detective, and the Viewer who was forced to be his partner, in solving the case that is. But there was one thing William would never forget, and that was you getting shot— by him, in his burst of anger at the detective keeping tabs on him and Celine. He didn’t want to shoot you, he never wanted to hurt anyone in the first place, he tried to save you and he tried his best but he wasn’t a skilled doctor and everyone left him after what had happened— leaving him alone with your body, unaware of what was going on in the mirror. He tried to bandage you, to get the bullet out, to stop the bleeding but he couldn’t and that was breaking him.

Wilford gasped awake from the dream, clenching the sheets as he sat up, breathing heavily as his eyes quickly scanned his surroundings. His hair was a mess as his wide eyes started gathering up tears, He quickly wiped them away though— getting up and dressing himself a bit more well so he wouldn’t go out in pyjamas, not that he’d care about that. He put on some shoes before leaving his house and going for a nightly stroll, He thought some fresh cold air could help him as it was what he’d usually do to calm himself even when he was young. He never liked his dreams, especially not now as all his dreams would be of his childhood and how he spent it, which would then fast forward to him shooting his best friend which always made him break down. He walked towards the park, staring at the concrete side walk that he was on, thinking of anything comforting and something he could do. His mind drifted back to the nightmare, he ran his fingers through his hair and lightly yet harshly enough to cause pain pulled on his hair, trying to focus on anything other than that.

“I’m sorry.” The tears pricked at his eyes again as he walked down the concrete path to the park. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He kept whispering himself, hoping that if they were somewhere out there that they could hear him and forgive him. He finally looked up from the concrete path and stared directly ahead, focusing on getting to the park as he held back tears. He saw a figure walking the way he has just came from, while they walked past him— he had gotten a glimpse of them, and their face. He stopped in his tracks as soon as he did, grabbing their arm and turning them to face him. The person was surprised at this and started to struggle as they thought it was an attack “Hey! Let me go!-“ They yelled before being cut off as they recognized his face, he had wide eyes as he cut them off and spoke. “Y/….N?” He asked, his tear stained face slowly curling up into a sad smile. “William?” The Viewer responded with a shocked expression, he gave a shaky nod before quickly pulling them into a hug “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” He weeped and sobbed into their shoulder.

They didn’t know how to react, they wrapped their arms back and gripped tightly in a comforting manner. He let out a hiccup as he sobbed quite heavily, tears pouring out of his eyes with no break “I’m so sorry— I didn’t want that to happen.” He whispered as he was sobbing into their shoulder, getting their shirt wet though the Viewer didn’t mind too much after all they’ve found their best friend after all the years for searching for him. “I didn’t think the gun was loaded, I didn’t know the gun was loaded.” He admitted as he sobbed. “It’s alright, after all, I’m here aren’t I?” The Viewer said to try and cheer him up “And we can catch up after all the years, I’ve missed you.” They admitted and he looked at them, sniffling as tears ran down his face, yet he managed to smile “Yeah.. I’ve missed you too.” He said shakily and slowly pulled away.

“You were heading towards the park right? I just came from there but we can go there and talk if you’d like?” They suggested, hoping it would cheer him up and clear his mind up a bit. He thought about it for a bit, giving them a chance to examine him— they noticed that he changed a bit in the looks, he had longer black hair, his clothing was more bright, and he had a… pink moustache. “Yeah… I’d like that, I’d like that a lot.” He gave a nod and a smile as he admitted “Shall we go then?” He put his hand out for them to link theirs with, They chuckled softly at that and linked their arm with his. “Of course, William.” They gave a nod as they started walking “Actually, I go by Wilford now.” He gave a sheepish smile, he didn’t mind his face was tear stained— he was happy they were here with him again. “Ah… Wilford.. hmm, it’s a nice name. I haven’t heard it before.” They gave a nod of approval as they walked.

”I forgot to ask… How and Why do you have your moustache pink?” “Ah, It’s a long story, Gumdrop.”

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chusui00 · 3 years

Text

Not Meant To Be

Word Count: 3,750

Summary: Anthony became the center of your attention, and it seemed as though his feelings were mutual for you. But in light of recent events, he’d only be able to comfort you in more ways than one. With the help of a loyal friend, you have no doubts that Simon will regret leaving you.

Pairing(s): Anthony Bridgerton x reader, Simon Basset x reader

Part 3/6

a/n: Sorry for the incredibly long wait! I knew that editing takes time, but I didn’t think that I would have writer’s block for, well, however long I’ve had it. So much has happened, and I lost motivation after motivation. Although, it’s not entirely fair for those of you who want to read Bridgerton fanfic. Without further delays, here’s part 3!!

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

One might think that when he stood outside my home with roses, Viscount Bridgerton had finally set himself on the route to having a family of his own. The Viscount was welcomed by Charles and invited inside, which caused Mama to almost fall over her feet. “Lord Bridgerton! Heavens! What a pleasant surprise this beautiful afternoon to see you!”

It took a lot of willpower not to roll my eyes at mama's change of mood from just minutes earlier. Lady Bridgerton wrote to me her apologies, that were not even pertinent at all, and mama blamed me of humiliating the Bridgertons yesterday. Papa didn't make his typical remarks, but I knew what he had been pondering regarding my misdeeds.

Other than that, Lord Bridgerton told them his hellos, and when he saw me in the family room, his smiling face grew greater. “Miss Denbow, good afternoon. As it always is, you never cease to look so exquisite.” If I wasn't mistaken, I assumed he was intending to flirt with me, and undoubtedly fooled mama with whatever act he was putting on.

“Lord Bridgerton, how kind of you to give my daughter compliments after seeing what she did yesterday at the picnic. In this town, you and your family are truly the most genuine.” Mama was eager to speak in my place, and when she tried to bring up the incident for the second or third time, I swallowed thickly.

Anthony’s mouth twitched at the corners, and he stepped over to me in order to gift his bouquet of roses. “Lady Denbow, I do not blame Miss Denbow for anything. She was suffering and knew no other way to communicate.” Before he slipped back, his fingers lightly stroked both of my hands, then he sat in an empty chair.

Cheeky bastard. He was making light of my missteps, which Mama considered especially inexcusable. And for his compassion, I could not have been more forever thankful. “Oh, Lord Bridgerton, thank you. To hear you say that alleviates my anxiety. And thank you for these roses.” I ran over the smooth petals with my thumb, then bent closer to take in the fragrance of them.

But once again, with more berating remarks on my ‘unladylike’ and ‘outrageous’ nature, Mama ruined the temporary pleasant environment. “I can't understand why, my lord, you want to court her. She may be my only child, but I'm sure she would be a far better choice for another lord of her equals.” My own mother had a toxic tongue which might ostracize her if she didn't take caution of others.

In order to defend against the offensive expressions she was thinking about me, as if I weren't really there, I opened my mouth, but Anthony decided to stand up from his seat and settled next to me. “I'm going to say this as politely as I can, Lady Denbow. What Miss Denbow did at the picnic was not wrong, and she's a wonderfully capable young lady. You are her mother, and I must admit that what you have said makes me very mortified.”

With discomposure, Mama's face grew red and, at last, she remained at a loss for words. “Lord Bridgerton, my apologies. Forgive your mama, y/n. My intention was not to negatively impact you such a way. I'm worried you can't even defend yourself.” Excuse after excuse were all I heard coming from her, but I needed to leave this conversation in the past.

“Mama, I'm forgiving you. But please don't think of me like that. When you do not see that I am well aware of what I'm doing and what I believe is important, I am in despair. I'm no longer a little girl.” Mama nodded, but in sensitivity, she refused to speak as she left Anthony and I in the room alone. "Well, either that may well have gotten out of hand, or the way I hoped it would.”

A chuckle escapes from the Viscount, and I recline against the back of the sofa with a tired sigh. I loved my mama and papa, but sometimes they treated me like I would never age from my childhood years. Despite having no brothers or sisters, I had friends who supported me and shared the same interests as I grew older.

Having Lord Bridgerton here was an enigma that I couldn’t fathom, but I appreciated how he stood up for me when mama complained without cease. Now that she was gone, I took the opportunity to ask him as to why he came to my home. “Anthony, can you tell me the reason for your visit? We both know that you don’t have intentions to court me contrary to what outsiders might believe.” I crossed my arms and waited for a reply, which was his hand resting on the top of my thigh. Perplexed, I looked over at him to see his eyes full of sympathy.

“Y/n, what Hastings said could have been less severe than they actually were, and Daphne chastised him for doing so.” Anthony began, his grip squeezing in reassurance, and he gently pulled it away once I’ve had enough time to comprehend what he told me. It warmed my heart to hear that Daphne was upset in my stead, although I’m sure anyone in their right mind would have done the same for me.

My thoughts wandered to how both the eldest child and the Duke of Hastings were famous rakes with great influence. One had brothers who would take his title and estate if he were to pass, whereas the other had no known relatives and only Lady Danbury to defend his name after his death. I found it funny that I’ve fallen in love with the latter, and he was treating me like I didn’t have a place in his place.

I must’ve been worrying Anthony with my lack of response because he waved a hand in front of my face to bring me back into reality. I shook my head of the unrelated topic and smiled sheepishly at him. “I’m sorry. I became lost before I realized that I’d drifted off.” “Oh, it’s quite alright. Trust me, I do the exact same thing when I’m alone.”

“I’ll be impartial with you, Anthony. I hadn’t given it consideration that your sister would do such a thing, and for me, no less. Perhaps I’ve had the wrong impression of her from the beginning. Everything is going terribly, and I haven’t been able to think properly.” I wore my heart on my sleeve for him to see, and I didn’t care about exposing my weaknesses to him. But Anthony seemed be torn between hugging me and giving a simple pat on my shoulder lest an unwanted third party were to walk in.

If anyone noticed the unusual display of affection, then news would spread that rather than waiting to fulfill the courtship rituals, I was advancing on a lord. He wouldn't be much of a gentleman, in Anthony's opinion, if he were to neglect a woman in distress. “When you weep, I don't like it. It so pains me when I'm labelled useless, but when you're laughing, you look the most spectacular, y/n. Simon's blind and ludicrous, but I know you really love him, don't you?”

“You're right, my lord. Again. I need to let go of my struggles and to live my life to its fullest. The Duke encouraged what I would like to go do, become, and pursue, but under false premises, he is intimately involved to your younger sister.” I forced my body to stand, and in confusion, but without doubt, Anthony quickly followed. In my own house, it felt too stifling, so I concluded that a stroll outside would hopefully help take my mind off what occupied it at the moment.

“Is there anything other than whining and moaning that I could do instead? Wait, Queen Charlotte is holding a ball for her nephew, is she not? I do believe his name is Prince Friedrich.” Anthony gave a short nod, and I could tell that he was already dreading a night of being surrounded by desperate mamas along with their unabashed daughters. Who would blame the Viscount for trying to discourage total strangers from making unwelcome advantages?

I was unexpectedly given the best idea by his affirmation, and I couldn't wait to put it into motion. I wanted to prove my worth to Simon, which would make Anthony and the Prince the ideal partners to irk him. “What say you to opening Simon's eyes in the notion that I attract His Highness tonight? I will have to be in the most magnificent ballgown, and I know that you can help me with this.”

“In the heat of the moment, it won't take a lot of effort to raise feelings of inadequacy in Hastings. He will be fixated on Daphne and attempting to keep conversations with literally everyone who comes across him, but I don't find it unlikely that he will be observing you with the Prince. I know I wouldn't have the means to take my eyes off you, my dear.” That was just what I expected to hear from him, and furthermore. I felt that I had done well enough to seek a Viscount who had awareness of everyone else around him.

Then that settled it. I was going to win the Prince's favor, and Simon would spectate from the sidelines with no likelihood of attempting to snatch me away. It felt invigorating even to think about how it would play out tonight, but it would be seamless with Anthony's help. “For your time and soothing words, I am beyond delighted, Anthony. Until the ball, there is more than enough time, so I want to use it to aim for perfection. Tonight, I hope to see you, my lord.”

“Miss Denbow, I am forever happy to console a lady when she is enduring pain. And indeed, tonight, to my great reluctance, you will see me. For now, I will leave you and I look forward to enjoying your progress.” Anthony bowed as he started to walk out of the family room, and with a curtsey and a goodbye, I accompanied him to our front door.

Since then, hours have passed, and I finally found a dress from Lady Delacroix that was incredible. She wasn't even from France, and her accent didn't fool me. Not important. My makeup was done by Marianne, my hair was styled by Lucinda, and mama lent me her diamond necklace to wear. It matched the diamond earrings I got from papa on my eighteenth birthday, and tonight, nothing could go wrong. I was positive of that.

The time had come, and I was one of the few to arrive at the castle fashionably late. The eyes of all were on me, making my chest swell with pride. I got a glimpse of Simon and Daphne who were standing by the refreshments, and they couldn't stop watching as I elegantly walked down the stairwell.

To my amusement, Prince Friedrich was the first one to approach me, and he held my hand and placed a feather-light kiss on the back of it. “Good evening, my lady. You are by far the most beautiful and hypnotizing center of attraction in this ballroom. May I inquire for your name?”

I concealed the lower half of my face with a fan and smiled with my eyes, captivated by his mannerisms. “I have the luxury of being graced by your presence, your highness. My name is y/n Denbow.” After I've presented myself, Prince Friedrich's face lit up, and he guided me off the the last two steps. “To my ears, your name is like music, and it's perfect for a maiden like you, Miss Denbow.”

His flattery would make any young lady practically beg the Prince for a dance at the ball. Well, if he could ever tear himself away from me, that was. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You make me feel like I've got my head in the clouds. If you keep complimenting her, you will certainly find yourself a maiden to court this evening.” From my comment, I swore he blushed a bright red.

“Ah, hello, Prince Friedrich! Miss Denbow! I see that you have made friends with each other. Y/n, I'm so happy you've arrived safe and sound back in London.” Lady Danbury tapped her cane on the ground twice to emphasize her excitement, and I couldn't have been more relieved to see a familiar face among those whose names I couldn't match.

“I have so much to tell you, Lady Danbury. But not here, especially when I came so late.” I apologized to the Prince and wrapped my arm around Lady Danbury as we walked into a more private area. She furrowed her eyebrows together, but she didn't inquire until we got to the place where we could be alone. “Well, speak to me, y/n. What are you so worried about? And why did you come by yourself?”

I bit my lower lip and exhaled deeply, which all the more displeased Lady Danbury. If I tried to explain my desperate condition to her, she was going to have countless questions, and I knew she would never let Simon live in the humiliation he brought upon himself. “I'm sure you've recently read Lady Whistledown's column, and my relationship with Simon, Lady Danbury, is complicated.”

“Unbeknownst to me, when I was in France, he and Miss Bridgerton declared their engagement. He did not give me a letter or even a note when I returned to London that he had gone ahead with a marriage proposal to a young woman he had never met before. I invited him and the Bridgertons to have a picnic just yesterday. I have never been able to remain quiet forever; you know this, Lady Danbury. He lashed out at me, claiming that if he had known that I would be so self-centered and petty, he would never have gotten to know me.”

She went on a tangent as I predicted about how she raised and trained "the shameless rake" to do better than what he did. During the length of her grievances, I remained silent, then patted her arm softly when she started to run out of words to illustrate the Duke. “Compared to his late father, he's not terrible, but he might just be so after he treated you, y/n, and I apologize on his behalf.”

In disagreement, I shook my head, not acknowledging her apologies because she had nothing to do with that. In the sense of flirting with Prince Friedrich, all I wanted from her was to be an addition to humiliate Simon. “If we succeed, then he'll see the good thing that he lost because he agreed to marry another needy girl.”

This caused Lady Danbury to chuckle at my remark, and I had an inkling that her mood improved just a little bit. “I’ll take part in your schemes, girl. Now, let us return to the ball before we’re asked of our whereabouts.” She winked playfully, then gently pushed me back the way we came from.

Men and women danced to their heart’s content, their veins pumping with champagne and even the possibility that they will be courting after tonight. I see Anthony and Simon quietly bickering where no one could eavesdrop on the conversation, but their secrets weren’t going to be hidden from me. “Lord Bridgerton, I thought you promised me a dance?”

I chimed into the midst of their argument, and Simon’s mouth hung open in shock. He quickly closed it, though, and I bowed to him as acknowledgment for his presence. Anthony gathered the remnants of his dignity before offering a hand for me to take. “My apologies, Miss Denbow. I promise you that never slipped my mind from the moment that I asked.”

After the brief yet nerve wracking encounter with the Duke of Hastings, I’m led to have a dance with the Viscount and my new partner of schemes. I felt everyone’s eyes glued to us, which makes me uncomfortable because of the unwanted attention, but it dissolves when Anthony nudges me to look up at him. That’s when I knew how much I admired the man, and perhaps, there wasn’t any obstacle that we wouldn’t be able to overcome.

I may have lost my first love to Daphne, but I also had the power to pull the necessary strings to get what I wanted. Anthony tightened his grip on my waist then closed the gap between us, and out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Simon glare at our swaying figures amongst the others. The spectacle made me laugh softly against the Viscount’s shoulder, and his chest rumbled with a quiet laugh of his own.

“I believe that taught him a harsh lesson, don’t you think, Miss Denbow?” Anthony whispered into my ear, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. After clearing my throat, I nodded in agreement. The man wasn’t exactly reputable in every way, but he damn well had my respect. “Yes, it most certainly did, Lord Bridgerton.” I replied, head tilted downwards to avoid eye contact with him.

Once our dance came to an end, I was approached by Prince Friedrich a second time this evening. Young and older women alike flocked around his highness, and I took a small step closer to Anthony in fear that I would be ridiculed by them. Wait, what am I thinking? I shouldn’t be afraid of the people that make their bosoms unnaturally larger than they actually are nor should I be backing away!

“Miss Denbow, may I have this next dance? It’d make me extremely delighted.” Prince Friedrich asked, unknowingly breaking the tension growing between myself and the disappointed women behind him. All I gave him was a smile along with an enthusiastic nod, and Anthony released his arms from around my waist. “I’d love to, your highness. And I could say the same about myself.”

The prince took my hand just when the next song began to play, and we danced as if we were one. If I were being completely honest, he needed a little more practice with his feet, but I was enjoying myself nonetheless. We shared a few words and I kept glancing over our shoulders to see if Simon was keeping an eye on us. In fact, he had been watching the entire time, and Anthony gave me a signal that our plan had succeeded.

I bowed deeply to the prince when our dance came to its regrettable end, and bid him farewell for the rest of the night. Simon appeared out of nowhere then pulled me to an empty area despite my cries of protest. “What do you think you’re doing?! Just because you’re jealous does not give you the right to drag me as you so please, Hastings!”

“Will you keep it down, Y/N?! We both know that I’m not the only jealous one here.” He huffs angrily, and for the first time in a long time, he’s rendered me utterly speechless. No, I won’t play by his rules. Not when there was so much more for me to accomplish. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m simply fulfilling my role as a maiden who hopes to have a courtship.”

Simon rolled his eyes in disbelief, turning away from me so that I’m only staring at his broad shoulders. I’m beginning to lose my calm composure, and the more I stay alone with him, the less I’ll want to leave. He can’t learn of the nights when I suffered alone in France, and he certainly couldn’t force me to risk my reputation for his sake.

“You’ve changed, Simon.” My voice broke at the end of my sentence, but I continued to speak. “I’m not doing anything for you, so don’t get your hopes up.” He scoffed, not convinced by my words, and turned back to face me. His arms find their way around my body like they used to in the past. The next thing I knew, we’re kissing passionately against the cold marble walls.

He had me mewling his name over and over again, begging for a release that was on his fingertips. Simon muffled my sighs of pleasure with his mouth, and we fixed the bridge that was crumbling between the two of us. When we were satisfied, he muttered apology after apology as he kissed my skin. But we both knew that we run away with the position that he was in.

“I’ll figure it out, so wait for me. Please, Y/N.” “Don’t make me promise you, Simon. I want you to prove to me that I’m the only woman you love.” I kissed his neck and cheek, my heartbeat slowing to its normal pace before I fixed my dress. We’ve both been gone for too long, and I didn’t doubt that I would be questioned of my whereabouts.

Simon understood the weight of my words as well as what we would both face when we left separately. He kissed me one last time, and made his return to the ballroom until I did the same. Thankfully, neither Anthony or Mama asked where I had been, and I could breathe easy again. But now I was even more conflicted than before. I made Simon jealous, which ignited sex and doubt that we would be together after all this time.

Although... if I were to adjust my original plans in order for us to have a wedding and deal with the consequences afterwards, then it shouldn’t be very difficult, would it? Well, we would just need to face the challenges when the time comes, and I was determined to have Simon all to myself again.

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #simon basset #reader x simon basset #anthony bridgerton

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sunnysviolin · 3 years

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currently having so many thoughts about aubrey getting sick of her moms mess one day and packing her bunny into her carrier and just leaving... she drifts about friends houses for a while before basil braves up to ask if she's okay :(( she's all out of energy + too stubborn to go home so she doesn't bother arguing and lets him take her to see polly (sorry me again with aubrey ramblings pls tell me to shush if you dont vibe w it)

Wow....I love this so much so I’m gonna combine it with that ask I got the other day and noodle on this a bit. Hope you don’t mind me taking your idea and running nonnie!!!

This got really long and kind of intense, so I’m putting it under a Read More. There’s also gonna be way more ahead!! This AU has caught me. But y’all Serious warning for emotional child abuse and neglect. Aubrey’s mother is decidedly not a good person, and their relationship is very damaged. Read only if you know you mentally can handle it, and no shame in skipping this. This part of it is heavy. TW: Child abuse and neglect. TW: Alcoholism TW: Running Away TW: Homelessness

In the end it’s the rain that does it. The rain, the drafts in their weary old house, and the bucket that sits in the corner of her room next to her half broken laundry basket

On the last night Aubrey spends in her mother’s house the rain is coming down in freezing icy sheets. It’s bitterly cold, and she is weary.

The summer of her 16th year has come and gone, and they are firm into the grip of September. It was a summer that had changed everything in her life. A summer where she found her way back to her chosen family, while becoming more isolated than ever from her real family. She had spent almost every hour out of the house- riding scooters with her gang, reconnecting with Basil, finding her way back into Kel’s loyal heart, letting her walls down around Hero, even discovering a hidden strength within her to forgive Sunny.

It was the best summer of her life, even beating out the perfect summers spent in her childhood with Mari. In those days Aubrey had been naive. She didn’t know what she had, she just assumed she would always have it. This summer she had seen every experience for what it was- a gift.

Fall coming had been difficult. Really almost nothing had changed, except it had.

Hero had gone back to college, promising to visit at every chance he could. Aubrey had pushed down the spike of jaded denial that had risen up inside her at his words, and put her arm around Kel who was misty eyed saying goodbye to his brother.

Sunny had spent most days in Faraway at either Kel or Basil’s house over the summer, but now he only came on weekends. He had started school again, a new school where no one knew his name or his face. He didn’t say much about it, but he hadn’t stopped going yet, so Aubrey considered it progress.

Kel and Basil had stuck close to her, and she was thankful for it. Aubrey knew now that nothing would ever separate the five of them again, but there was still the irrational fear inside of her that they would all leave her sooner or later. Her gang must’ve seen something too, because they had been awkwardly affectionate in a way that both irritated and comforted her.

But her mother....

Her mother had changed too.

By sixteen Aubrey knew her mothers rhythms like the back of her hand. She knew the cycles that played out. Her mother would circle through various moods- cleaning, ignoring, depressing, drinking, regretting, promising, and then cleaning again.

The regularity of it all had numbed her to the terrible conditions of her childhood home, and Aubrey spent most of her time out of the house anyway. (She had never been so grateful for nine hours at school, four hours after school goofing off in a big group, and the usual invitation to dinner with Polly or Kel’s mother. Aubrey usually only went home to sleep these days)

But her mother had added and taken away from her cycle. There was a new cycle now, and it was impossible to deal with.

Ignoring, Depressing, Drinking, Angry, Regretting. Rinse and Repeat.

Angry was new. Angry was (terrifying)....Angry was new.

Aubrey had never tried to disrupt her mother’s cycle before, but Angry was enough to get her to try. She would clean the house top to bottom, putting in an effort she had never put in before to make things nice. She had thrown away bottles, cleaned dishes, cooked food, on and on all in an effort to change what she knew was coming. It still came. Her mother still wailed like a banshee, shrieking and hollering loud enough neighbors had called.

The calls were the worst part. The low humiliation that sat in her stomach as she assured these people who didn’t really care that everything was fine, all while her mother continued to scream in the background.

With Angry, Regretting was also different too. Aubrey, never one to take things lying down, screamed back until angry tears burst from her eyes. She would break down and sob in front of her mother, her walls finally ripped apart brick by brick by the woman who was supposed to love her most.

Then her mom would hold her tight and promise things would be different. Regretting had mixed with Promising, and as much as Aubrey wanted to shove away the confusing affection, she couldn’t bring herself to.

Screaming at each other was the only time that Aubrey’s mother looked at her. Curled in her mother’s arms weeping was the only time that her mother had a kind word. Aubrey couldn’t resist what she always craved, and some sick twisted part of her even longed for the point where her mother would snap and start yelling, just because she knew the release of emotions was soon to follow.

That last night in her house was one of those nights. Her mother was yelling, too incoherent for Aubrey to even make out the words, but the tone said everything. Her mother had lost it over the dishes in the sink piling up. Aubrey had done them this morning, yet somehow she came home to a sink full of chipped dirty dishes. Those dishes felt like an ironic symbol of her life. No matter how many times she wiped it away. The dishes would be dirty the second she turned around.

Aubrey was already in tears, her fists bunched at her sides and her teeth grinding down against each other. Soon enough it would be time for her to start yelling back, and the cycle would go on and on and on. The dishes would never be clean.

Aubrey didn’t want it to go on. Not even her mother holding her was worth how torn apart her heart was becoming. She fled upstairs, slamming the door to attic and locking it tight. It didn’t matter anyway. By this point of drinking, her mother could barely stand, let alone climb a ladder.

The rain was slamming against her windows, a steady drip already starting in the bucket in her room. It was freezing cold, and goosebumps rose on her bare arms. Maribelle was sitting in her pen, her nose twitching as she watched her Aubrey. Aubrey brushed at her damp cheeks and picked her bunny up, snuggling the tiny white creature close to her chest.

Maribelle was too cold. Her mother hadn’t paid the heating bill again. The rain was too loud, and the wind sneaking in wrapped Aubrey in a tight grip. Aubrey sat on the edge of the bed and rocked her bun, trying in vain to warm them both up. A single thought ran through her head over and over

This wasn’t worth it. This wasn’t worth the love she craved from a woman who couldn’t give it. This wasn’t worth her pride at keeping things together. This wasn’t worth trying to fix over and over with no results.

The rain began to slow to a quieter drizzle. Her mother was silent below. In the cold wet of her tiny attic room, Aubrey decided.

No. This really just...wasn’t worth it.

Aubrey slipped onto her knees, keeping Maribelle close as she pulled her backpack towards her and began to empty it out. She kept only her English textbook and her history notes. Everything else she could get a spare of. in her bag went two spare shirts and one pair of jeans. She packed in underwear and socks into the smaller front pouch. Aubrey stood and pulled the false bottom out of her desk drawer, taking the cash and the pack of cigarettes she had pinched off her mom and throwing them in as well.

Finally there were the pictures. The frame of her photo of her and Kim had to be abandoned, but the actual picture was placed carefully inside her backpack. She had never been more happy to have her tiny carrier for Maribelle. The bunny happily hopped inside and burrowed deep in the soft downy blanket Aubrey put inside for her.

It was depressingly easy to pack up her important things. Shockingly simple to write a note to her mother (I’m leaving. I’m not coming back. Two short sentences and that was it) It hadn’t even been hard to sneak out. After the hour or so it took to gather the rest of her necessities from the house and steal whatever money was in her mother’s purse, said woman had passed out on the couch in an alcoholic haze.

Aubrey locked the door and stared at the silver key gleaming in her palm. She had only her backpack, a messenger bag, and her tiny bunny carrier. Her whole life fit into two bags. Aubrey left her key on the doorstep.

She wouldn’t need it anymore.

The rain had let up, but a harsh breeze whipped around her as she walked, pushing Aubrey to move faster. She took the sidewalks she had taken since she was little, letting her feet move as her mind went blank. Before she knew it she was standing on another street, one more familiar to her than her own.

Aubrey spared a long look at Kel’s hosue. The lights were on inside, bathing their front yard in a warm golden glow. She stared at it for a moment, considering, and then the chill became too great.

Aubrey bypassed Kel’s house and quietly snuck into the backyard of Sunny’s old home. The elderly couple that owned the house now was sure to be asleep. Kel said that they were quiet and almost never noticed anything going on. Perfect.

Aubrey knew exactly where she was going. It was still standing. Faded and beaten down, probably rickety too, but it would be safe for her and her Belle.

Besides only four other people even knew this treehouse existed. No one would ever find her here.

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adsosfraser · 3 years

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The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Ten

Read on AO3

“We can’t stay here.”

“No, we can’t.” Jamie pulled his wife onto his bare chest. “And wee Hamish has sent a letter, requesting his cousin’s aide. Though he was vague on which, I’m sure he wasna comfortable writing Jamie Fraser on something the English could see.”

“So we go to Leoch with Fergus?”

“I willna put ye in danger, the travel there will be treacherous now wi’ the English on our throats everywhere.”

“Well, I’m certainly not leaving you, James Fraser. Have you forgotten I’m wanted too? We go together. And, with us gone, Lallybroch will be safer, we’ll be safer for a while. But…”

“What is it Sassenach?”

“I know you and the sea aren’t close friends, but ports shouldn’t be as monitored as they were right after Culloden. The islands will be safer, Charles even fled to the Isle of Skye to go to France. In the future, some islands are even able to retain some of their culture, their tartan. We can always go there, it would be safer while we wait… for a pardon.”

“A pardon?” He was shocked.

“Yes. When I returned I placed three letters in the post at Inverness. Copies of historical letters I assume. They may give us the freedom we want.”

A sharp breath escaped his lips and he slumped back on the chair. “Christ, a pardon. You know how well that went the last time.”

“But this time there’s no more war, we’re done with that horror.”

“Aye, we’ll seek Hamish, then if we canna stay, we’ll bide on one of the wee islands.”

“What’s this about ye up and leaving Jamie Fraser! And dinna think I’m not cross wi’ ye too Claire!”

“Jenny,” Claire took her hand, “you know it isn’t safe for us to stay here. We got lucky the last time.”

“And I’ll no’ have my wife sleeping in a cave.”

“Well, ye two eejits could at least wait ‘til yer goddaughter is christened! Ye dinna ha’ to leave wi’ yer tails tucked between yer legs so soon.”

“Goddaughter.” Her heart warmed and she squeezed Jenny’s arm.

“I ken yer already her aunt, but ye’d make a fine goddaughter to the lass. I suppose that would make yer daft husband her godfather. Puir lass.” She feigned pity for the tiny girl in her arms. “Would the both o’ ye wait, jes’ one more day?”

Claire looked back at Jamie but already knew their answer. “Of course.”

The ceremony was brief, the priest wasn’t prepared to perform it so soon. Caitlin gurgled up at Claire in her arms. The holy water was sprinkled over her tiny forehead in the small kirk near Lallybroch. Other than the slight cry from the chill of water, Caitlin was a perfect baby. The Frasers and Murrays all joined back together to Lallybroch to celebrate. They enjoyed a small stew of rabbit and potato, the most filling one in weeks. Father Ross had the death certificate for Fergus ready to sign, but on seeing the boy alive and healthy, he walked towards the fire in the Great Room.

“Wait,” Claire shouted to his back. “Don’t burn it. Jenny, will you sign that?”

“He’s clearly no’ deid Claire, are ye off yer heid?”

“No, it’s just, it’s important that the document isn’t destroyed. I can’t explain how.”

“Verra weel.” She plucked it out of the Father’s hands and went off to the study. She mumbled, knowing long ago not to question her sister's strange nature.

Claire had ripped through the fabric of her dresses and the contents of her leather bag to pull out every piece of gold, silver, and jewellery that was left during the hours waiting for Father Ross. It was little less than three years’ salary in her time, but now it would support Lallybroch for years to come. She dumped it all out on the dining and the jewels, gold, and silver scattered and clattered against the wood surface. She had put away some for her and Jamie of course, enough to be comfortable on their journey, but even with the small dent into the funds on the table, it was still an astounding sum. Jamie spied her wedding ring on a chain within the pile and raised a brow to her, but she shrugged her shoulders in reply.

“A christening gift.”

Everyone at the table stared dumbfounded at the treasure disorganised on the table. A ‘Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ’ was supplied by her son.

“How Claire?” Ian piped up.

“I didn’t steal it if that’s what you're asking.”

“Well, how on earth did ye find so much?” Jenny yelled, exasperated.

“It was my inheritance from my parents and uncle. And the man whose advances I turned down…gave some of it to me.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Bride, ye’ve been hiding this away all this time?”

“No, I’ve just recently acquired it myself. But now, it can be put to good use instead of rotting in some bank. Take it, Jenny, use it to save Lallybroch from the famine, clearances, and drought to come.”

Jenny planted a sloppy kiss onto Claire’s cheek and handed Caitlin over to Ian. She grabbed her arms and began jumping excitedly. Claire even thought she heard a squeal from the small woman. Displays of affection from the woman were rare, and Claire felt so happy and touched that she included her in it.

“Claire ye have no idea how this will help us.”

“I have some idea.”

Their packing was done, and the horses were all lined up for the journey. Jenny embraced Claire, and she was reminded of the parting before Culloden all over again.

“Ye come back to us sister,” she raised her voice to a shout so Jamie could hear, “I dinna care much if this oaf does.”

“I love ye too Janet.” He pulled her from Claire into a giant hug.

“Och, ye ken I love ye too, a bràithair. Now, try to come back to us as quick as ye can. Lallybroch will be missing her Laird.”

A plant along the trail made Claire pause. It was a forget me not, and though it was only the beginning of March, it was blooming brilliantly against the grass of the glen. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that they were so close to the standing stones when she found it. She knew they needed to go back together, for closure. So she jumped off her horse and scooped her hands into the dirt.

“Jamie I want to go to Craigh na Dun before we stop into Inverness.”

Jamie pulled back on the reins of his horse and stalled in the middle of the path before Claire. He looked down at his wife and the flowers in her hands.

“If you don’t want to that’s fine, I just wanted to plant these there, and we might never get another chance to do so.”

“Aye, we’ll go.”

He dismounted his horse in one swift move. Carefully, Jamie helped Claire back up to her horse without crushing the delicate flowers in the process. Jamie passed the reins of his own horse to his son and climbed up behind his wife on her mare.

“Fergus, be a good lad and find a place to shelter in Inverness. Something not too in the open, or conspicuous either.” Jamie pulled out the bag of coins and tossed it to him.

“Oui, milord. I shall not fail you.”

Milord and papa, milady and maman, had become as interchangeable to Fergus as Jamie’s Sassenach, mo gràidh, mo nighean donn, and the countless other affectionate names he could come up with for his wife.

“Now off wi’ ye son, we’ll be shortly after.”

They held tight to each other, not able to bear even a second of lost connection. Fog clung to the air surrounding the tall monoliths and blocked the vision to the moor below.

“I wish I could punch it. But it won’t even let me do that.”

“How about this one to the side. Not too much danger of falling in fer yer wee hand.”

She pulled slightly apart from him for the first time since they created the hi together. Her arm trembled as she reached out to lightly touch the stone closest to the centre one. Though it had become an unwitting victim of its brother’s actions, it would have to do. Lining up her arm, she delivered the first blow that jolted from the cold surface to the bones of her arm and shoulders

“Fuck you!” She screamed a gut-wrenching cry as she slammed her fist into the rock. “Fuck you! Fuck!”

Her breath hitched and Jamie gathered her once again in his arms. He kissed her skinned knuckles. Giving her a few minutes to calm her racing heart and heaving lungs, Jamie cradled her tight to his chest, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. How many more tears would she cry, for something that was only the size of a blueberry? She knew she’d never lose the feeling of grief, but it would become more manageable most days. With her husband there to bear it with her, she knew it would be a certainty.

“I’m ready.” She patted his chest. “Are you?”

“Aye.”

“Do you want to punch it too?”

“No, that bastard stone’s taken too much from us. I won’t give it the satisfaction of flesh and blood from my hands as weel.”

She wanted to reach out and cradle the voice she had once heard to her chest, protect her against the violence of the stones. But it seemed it was her daughter instead who protected her. Digging the small hole into the ground by the outer stones, she smiled tearfully. Jamie’s strong hands were right beside hers, guiding the dirt away. Together they scooped the small plant into their hands, a mismatch of Jamie’s on top of Claire’s and then Claire’s on top of Jamie’s. They patted the dirt mound and encased the stems in the nutrients. With the task finished, Claire fell into Jamie’s lap and began to weep. She stroked his shirt with dirtied hands and left stains on the white linen. He rubbed the fabric on her back and Claire felt the moisture fall onto her hair and slowly down to her scalp. She offered him her sgian dubh and he etched into the centre stone with sharp angles, leaving the blade there as a gift. Baby Fraser. Claire’s hand trembled in his grip and she was almost consoled by the fact that she could feel his shaking too; he didn’t hide how it affected him as well. “I trust yer grandsire and grandmam are keeping ye out o’ trouble a leannan . I love you. Tell Faith I love her too, and I ken she protects ye up there, but jes’ because she’s older doesna mean ye canna protect her as weel. Jes’ like I do fer yer auntie. Ye mind what yer family says, and we’ll meet again soon enough.”

Claire knelt down and gently cradled the small flower in her hand. “I love you, my baby girl. We love you so much.”

Jamie ripped off a strip from his sark and wrapped it around her bloodied knuckles with a kiss. They stayed to talk to the stone for a while. Jamie laughed with Claire after sharing an incident from his boyhood about a goat, some string, a bucket of shite, and his sister. Claire pulled out the photos from within her pockets and shared her child-self to their daughters, and the interesting marvels of the future. Jamie was proud he recognised the ‘airyplane’ from when Claire brought out the black and white pictures in the cave. He was bewildered of course at first, cursing the strange magic, but once he saw the brilliant smile of his Sassenach he knew the depiction couldn’t hold any evil. He especially liked seeing her as a bairn, with pigtails and a pink frilly dress and how the photos showed the change from cute baby to mature woman. She set one into the plastic wrap, a photo of her, her parents, and her uncle and buried it beneath the earth.

“Your family is with you always, my darling girl.”

With one last glance, they rode back to Inverness holding each other on the saddle.

Their short stay in Inverness was that: short. After the first night of full bellies and a warm fire, the innkeeper alerted the travellers to the presence of redcoats fifteen miles away. It gave them time to prepare themselves, instead of another hasty retreat to Leoch.

It was not nearly as strong of a fortress as it had once been.

Claire was put to use straight away, mending flesh and bone. Jamie was spirited away as well to advise his cousin in the Laird’s Tower. The only bright spot was the wonderful Mrs. Fitz. Fergus spent much of his time messing around the surgery and playing with the medicines, much to Claire’s annoyance. No matter how many times he insisted it would not happen again, his nimble little fingers were constantly filching items off of shelves and tables. So she sent him off to the kitchens.

The ledgers had become impossible, and Leoch was close to ruin from partially funding the Jacobite cause. They felt the sharp absence of those who had fought bravely alongside them. None were left. Most of the men residing in the lands were either too old, too young, or too crippled to fight. There was talk of taking up a deal with the British, to leave Leoch and settle somewhere comfortable in America. Hamish was inclined to that option more and more each day. The Lairdship was not an easy thing for a twelve-year-old, let alone under such stress of a post-war climate. So, it was decided that the MacKenzies would sell Leoch to the British for land somewhere deep in Virginia. As much as it pained them to leave their culture and homeland in the hands of those bastards, they had no other choice. The lands produced nothing, the woodlands sparse, and their supplies pilfered by roaming soldiers. Claire felt guilty for the small amount of gold tucked into her dresses, but she told herself the amount she was left with couldn’t save them all. They stayed in constant communication with Jenny through letters and informed her of their impending move. Jenny wrote back to her cousins, Alexander and Elizabeth Malcolm , just as often, if not more eager to know they were safe.

In the blistering heat of the summer, Claire, Jamie, and Fergus travelled in the safety of the band of MacKenzies. Virtually no redcoats bothered them on their way, patriot to king and country as the Laird most certainly was in their eyes.

At Ullapool, they said their last goodbyes as they split to different destinations. Jamie couldn’t possibly survive a month-long journey across the water. They purchased passage on the Serendipity and waited.

Jamie wretched off the side of the gangway as the ship made port. Stornoway, and from there they would hopefully find somewhere to settle down. A croft, north of Stornoway soon came to their attention. Most of their money went to purchase the land outright, they weren't too keen to rent one out as other crofters did, knowing the clearances would hit Scotland hard. So, Alexander Malcolm, his wife, and his son, began to build a home out of the small abandoned cottage. They hoped it would be temporary but would be fine if it wasn’t, for they had all they needed already: each other.

#jamie fraser #jamie x claire #craigh na dun #outlander fanfiction #fergus fraser #hamish mackenzie #castle leoch #stornoway #ullapool #adsofraser writing #canon divergence #jenny murray #ian murray #claire beauchamp #outlander fanfic

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agnes-come-back-challenge · 3 years

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Who wants a full comparison of episodes 1, 25, and 111 of Welcome to Night Vale? Because I love comparing these episodes and also I have no impulse control. Let’s go

(Spoilers up to episode 111, obviously. Also, I’ll bold every other segment so that it’s easier to tell which ones I’m comparing)

((This is gonna be an incredibly long post. I’m very sorry))

A friendly desert community, where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale. (1)

A friendly desert community, where the sun is still hot, the moon still beautiful, and mysterious lights still pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale. (25)

A friendly desert community, where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead, while we lay open eyed, watching it all. Welcome to Night Vale. (111)

Hello listeners. To start things off, I’ve been asked to read this brief notice. The City Council announces the opening of a new Dog Park at the corner of Earl and Summerset, near the Ralphs. They would like to remind everyone that dogs are not allowed in the Dog Park. People are not allowed in the Dog Park. It is possible you will see hooded figures in the Dog Park. do not approach them. Do not approach the Dog Park. The fence is electrified and highly dangerous. Try not to look at the Dog Park and especially do not look for any period of time at the hooded figures. The Dog Park will not harm you. (1)

One single year since two major events in our town’s history. First, the opening of our lovely, state-of-the-art Dog Park, which is forbidden, and which I will not mention again. (25)

The City Council reiterated for the 1,874th consecutive day that the Dog Park is off limits for both dogs and humans. The fence is electrified and highly dangerous etc. Hooded figures and all that. Since its construction we have shied from and feared the Dog Park. The Dog Park is neither a park nor for dogs, and so what does it even mean to call it a dog park? Why do we use language that means one thing to describe something that is entirely else? I don’t know what the word is for that place the City Council calls the dog park, but I do know it’s time to start searching for that word, and once found, to use it boldly. (111)

And now the news. Old Woman Josie, out near the car lot, says the Angels revealed themselves to her. Said they were ten feet tall, radiant, one of them was black. Said they helped her with various household chores. One of them changed a light bulb for her, the porch light. She’s offering to sell the old light bulb, which has been touched by an angel (it was the black angel, if that sweetens the pot for anyone). If you’re interested, contact Old Woman Josie. She’s out near the car lot. (1)

[none] (25)

The angels, who I can now say are angels, and will say are angels, because they are angels, held a memorial for Old Woman Josie in her house. Everyone in town came, overcome with a feeling that finally they could look at these beings and recognize them for what they were. Even the City Council attended the memorial, but refused to make eye contact with anyone. Of course, this positive, concrete identification only led to more mysteries, for if these are angels, then where did they come from? And what does that mean for us? Even now we find that we cannot voice these questions. Not because we are not allowed. But because we cannot find the words to ask. Instead we ate cake and drank coffee in the living room of Old Woman Josie, which was once just that, a place she lived. Now it is only a room. One by one, we laid our hand on the Angels’ hands, and in that moment of contact each of us, in turn, found ourselves weeping. As the party wound down, we all heard a soft pop outside. It was the lightbulb on Old Woman Josie’s porch, burning out. (111)

A new man came in to town today. Who is he? What does he want from us? Why his perfect and beautiful haircut? Why his perfect and beautiful coat? He says he is a scientist. Well, we have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives. But why now? Why here? And just what does he plan to do with all those beakers and humming electrical instruments in that lab he’s renting, the one next to Big Rico’s Pizza. No one does a slice, like Big Rico. No one. (1)

Second, and more important, it is one year since the arrival in Night Vale of our most beloved and singular citizen. (25)

A man who I know very well came into my house today, which is also his house. He laid his head, with its perfect and beautiful hair, upon my shoulder, and crossed his arms over his perfect and beautiful lab coat. I embraced him. We are creatures of touch, humans, and we retrieve so much meaning and happiness from contact. “I have become too complacent,” he said. “When I came here, I understood this town as scientifically fascinating. And then, gradually, it became my day to day life. I could no longer see the strangeness, but only my home.” “We are all guilty of that,” I said. “But I am a scientist,” he said.“Well,” I said. “We have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives.” (111)

Just a reminder to all the parents out there. Let’s talk about safety when taking your children out to play in the scrub lands and the sand wastes. You need to give them plenty of water, make sure there’s a shade tree in the area, and keep an eye on the helicopter colors. Are the unmarked helicopters circling the area black? Probably World Government, not a good area for play that day. Are they blue? That’s the Sheriff’s Secret Police, they’ll keep a good eye on your kids, and hardly ever take one. Are they painted with complex murals depicting birds of prey diving? No one knows what those helicopters are, or what they want. Do not play in the area. Return to your home and lock the doors until a Sheriff’s Secret Policeman leaves a carnation on your porch to indicate that the danger has passed. Cover your ears to blot out the screams. Also, remember: Gatorade is basically soda, so give your kids plain old water and maybe some orange slices when they play. (1)

Parents: Let’s talk about safety when taking your children to play out in the scrub lands and the sand wastes. All children in Night Vale are missing this week, so there’s no current safety issues. Hope we find them! (25)

Just a reminder to all the parents out there. Let’s talk about safety when taking your children out to play in the scrub lands and the sand wastes. You need to give them plenty of water, make sure there’s a shade tree in the area, and keep an eye on the helicopter colors. I asked my best friend and brother, Steve, to talk me through which helicopters belong to which organizations. Obviously the black helicopters belong to the World Government, although I had not realized, until Steve laid it out for me, how closely they are also associated with the Lizard People. The blue ones are Sheriff’s Secret Police, the pink ones are the new Double Secret Police, and the ones painted with complex murals depicting birds of prey diving? Well not even Steve knows what those helicopters are, nor what they want. On Steve’s chart, those are just labeled with the word RUN and then a few hundred exclamation points. (111)

A commercial airliner flying through local airspace disappeared today, only to reappear in the Night Vale Elementary gymnasium during basketball practice, disrupting practice quite badly. The jet roared through the small gym for only a fraction of a second, and before it could strike any players or structure, it vanished again, this time apparently for good. There is no word yet on if or how this will affect the Night Vale Mountain Lion’s game schedule, and also if this could perhaps be the work of their bitter rivals, the Desert Bluffs Cacti. Desert Bluffs is always trying to show us up through fancier uniforms, better pre-game snacks, and quite possibly by transporting a commercial jet into our gymnasium, delaying practice for several minutes at least. For shame, Desert Bluffs. For shame. (1)

In other news, a commercial airliner appeared today inside the home of surprised Night Vale citizen Becky Canterbury, who said she was about to get in the shower when it roared down her hallway and then disappeared, as suddenly as it had arrived. There is no conclusive evidence that this is the same airliner last seen in the Night Vale Elementary gym one year ago, but we have jumped to that conclusion and will defend it against all naysayers, violently and without mercy. Our truths may or may not be true, but they are ours, and we stand by them, even as the experts and skeptics hold aloft clipboards and intone to us about snow and mountains. Becky added that she would like to take that shower now, and that she has no idea how we managed to arrive for an interview mere seconds after the incident occurred. “My doors are locked.” she said. “My windows too. I’ve had my eyes shut for years. How did you get in here?” (25)

A commercial airliner flying through local airspace disappeared today, only to reappear at the fifth hole of the Sagebrook Pines Private Golf Club and Bulk Supplier. This disrupted all golf activities badly, as well as scaring a family of four who were perusing bulk paper towels offered at a discount price in a nearby sandtrap. I feel, for the first time, that I can articulate that this airliner had flown into some other universe, those divisions being particularly thin here in our quaint little community. This also is the cause of things like dead relatives occasionally joining us for breakfast, or the shimmering skyscrapers and crowded cities that appear for flashing moments in the sky. Of course, it also could be the handywork of the East Night Vale Cacti, the basketball team at the new East Night Vale Elementary School. Those scamps are always pulling pranks. Could they transport a large plane through multiple universes? Who am I to say? But probably yes. For shame, East Night Vale. For shame. (111)

The local chapter of the NRA is selling bumper stickers as part of their fundraising week. They sent the station one to get some publicity, and we’re here to serve the community, so I’m happy to let you all know about it. The stickers are made from good, sturdy vinyl, and they read: “Guns don't kill people. It's impossible to be killed by a gun. We are all invincible to bullets and it's a miracle.” Stand outside of your front door and shout “NRA” to order one. (1)

The local chapter of the NRA has begun market testing some possible new slogans. These include: “Guns don't kill people. Blood loss and organ damage does.” “Guns don't kill people. People kill guns.” “A list of things that kill people: 1. Conceivably anything. 2. Not guns.” “Guns don't kill people. We are all immortal souls living temporarily in shelters of earth and meat.” and “If you say guns kill people one more time I will shoot you with a gun and you will, coincidentally, die.” To vote on the new slogan, simply fire a gun at the object or person that best represents your choice. (25)

The local chapter of the NRA is selling bumper stickers as part of their fundraising week. The stickers are made from good, sturdy vinyl and they read “We genuinely do not value human life.” Cute! (111)

Carlos and his team of scientists warn that one of the houses in the new development of Desert Creek, out back of the elementary school, doesn’t actually exist. “It seems like it exists,” explained Carlos and his perfect hair. “Like it’s just right there when you look at it, and it’s between two other identical houses so it would make more sense for it to be there than not” But, he says, they have done experiments and the house is definitely not there. At news time, the scientists are standing in a group on the sidewalk in front of the nonexistent house, daring each other to go knock on the door. (1)

Scientists, and science in general, would like to remind you that some things exist and some things do not. Usually, you can apply the simple test of seeing if it is there. If it is there, it exists. If not, it probably doesn’t, but it might just be currently existing somewhere else. Existence is tricky, the scientists say. Research shows this. For instance, there is that house in the housing development of Desert Creek out back of the elementary school, the house that doesn’t exist. It seems like it exists. Like it’s just right there when you look at it, and it’s between two other identical houses so it would make more sense for it to be there than not. But it does not exist. They have proved this with science. The scientists still haven’t gotten up the nerve to ring the doorbell and find out what happens. Do you want to do it? They’ll pay you five dollars if you do. Just ring it once ok. We’ll be watching from back here. You’ll probably be fine. (25)

Carlos and his scientists, like Luisa and Nilanjana, are renewing their investigation into the house in the development of Desert Creek, out back of the elementary school. The house that doesn’t actually exist. “It seems like it exists,” muttered Carlos. “Like it’s just right there when you look at it, and it’s between two other identical houses so it would make more sense for it to be there than not.” But he says, it is actually a doorway to another world. A world he himself was once stuck in for a year. There seem to be secrets about that year he is keeping to himself. Maybe someday we will learn what they are. (111)

Lights, seen in the sky above the Arby’s. Not the glowing sign of Arby’s. Something higher and beyond that. We know the difference. We’ve caught on to their game. We understand the lights above Arby’s game. Invaders from another world. Ladies and gentlemen the future is here. And it’s about a hundred feet above the Arby’s. (1)

But here, Carlos and I sat on the trunk of that car, his car, looking together at the lights up in the sky above the Arby’s. They were beautiful in the hushed twilight, shimmering in a night sky already coming alive with bits of the universe. [...] We understand the lights. We understand the lights above the Arby’s. We understand so much. But the sky behind those lights, mostly void, partially stars, that sky reminds us: we don’t understand even more. (25)

Lights, seen in the sky above the Arby’s. Not the glowing sign of Arby’s. Something higher and beyond that. One night, years ago, two people, scared and vulnerable and loving and ready, came together for a quiet moment under that sky. And I pretended at the time to understand the lights. But a big part of recognizing the world for what it is, is recognizing when you have no idea. Invaders from another world? Harbingers of future terror? A fragment of another universe, fading into our own above reasonably priced lunch meat? Maybe any. Maybe all. Maybe none. But here is what I do know. The lights are, among other things, a part of my memory, and a part of my marriage, and a part of my love. They are a piece of my past, and I don’t need to understand them to understand that. Ladies and gentlemen the past is here. And it’s about a hundred feet above the Arby’s. (111)

The City Council would like to remind you about the tiered heavens, and the hierarchy of angels. The reminder is that you should not know anything about this. The structure of heaven and the angelic organizational chart are privileged information, known only to City Council members on a need to know basis. Please to do not speak to or acknowledge any angels that you may come across while shopping at the Ralphs or at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. They only tell lies, and do not exist. Report all angels sightings to the City Council for treatment. (1)

The City Council would like to remind you about the tiered heavens, and the hierarchy of angels. The reminder is that you still should not know anything about this. The structure of heaven and the angelic organizational chart are still privileged information. Also, angels aren’t real. “I really get tired of having to say this,” a City Council representative said to a group of disgruntled angels. “Angels aren’t real. They just aren’t.” The angels became unruly and were dispersed by a thunderclap from heaven. (25)

The City Council would like to remind you about the tiered heavens and the hierarchy of angels. The reminder is the Council is grumpy that all of this is not forbidden knowledge, but due to the new laws, they are required to inform you that the angels have made all of that information available. Stop by the house where the angels live if you want to pick up a free packet outlining exactly how all of that is organized. While the packet itself is free, it is likely the angels will ask to borrow five dollars. They tend to do that. (111)

Speaking of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, its owner, Teddy Williams, reports that he has found the entrance to a vast, underground city in the pin retrieval area of lane 5. He said he has not yet ventured into it, merely peered down at its strange spires and broad avenues. He also reports voices of a distant crowd in the depths of that subterranean metropolis. Apparently the entrance was discovered when a bowling ball accidentally rolled into it, clattering down to the city below with sounds that echoed for miles across the impossibly huge cavern. So, you know, whatever population that city has, they know about us now and we might be hearing from them very soon. (1)

Word is in about a disturbance at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. There has been the sound of chanting and machinery from under the pin retrieval area of lane five, and Teddy Williams has changed all the bowlers’ names on the electronic scorecards to “THEY ARE HERE”. This is causing some confusion and has completely ruined Jeremy Godfrey's 50th birthday party, which had rented out a few lanes for the afternoon. Jeremy was last seen drinking a light beer out of a plastic cup, shaking his head sadly as he swished the liquid around and looking out the window at the sky, mostly void, partially stars. Teddy Williams was last seen howling, commanding his militia to surround the pin retrieval area and prepare for an attack. (25)

Over at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, Teddy Williams, its owner, reported the startling news that there is nothing under the pin retrieval area of lane 5. As you may remember, there has been a tiny city of warlike people under the bowling alley for several years now, which has caused some trouble, although not a lot of trouble, because they were very tiny people. But now there is just a hole in the earth under the pin retrieval area, an empty space containing only my own memories of a night that someone I loved almost died before I had a chance to truly love him. So good riddance to whatever that town was. (111)

Carlos, perfect and beautiful, came into our studios during the break earlier but declined to stay for an interview. He had some sort of blinking box in his hand covered with wires and tubes. Said he was testing the place for materials. I don’t know what materials he meant, but that box sure whistled and beeped a lot. When he put it close to the microphone, it sounded like, well, like a bunch of baby birds had just woken up. Really went crazy. Carlos looked nervous. I’ve never seen that kind of look on someone with that strong of a jaw. He left in a hurry. Told us to evacuate the building, but then, who would be here to talk sweetly to all of you out there. (1)

I arrived at the parking lot to find Carlos, perched on the trunk of his car in flannel and jeans, his perfect hair mussed, his perfect teeth hidden. “What is it?” I said. “What danger are we in? What mystery needs to be explored?” He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “After everything that happened...I just wanted to see you.” My heart leapt. My heart soared. My heart, metaphorically, performed a number of aerial activities, and, literally, it began beat hard. (25)

Carlos, perfect and beautiful, came into our studios during the break earlier, and we ate lunch together out of Tupperwares. He had some sort of blinking box in his hand covered with wires and tubes. When he put it close to the microphone, it sounded like, well, like a bunch of baby birds had just woken up. Really went crazy. He asked if I remembered it. He had brought it by on the first day we had met. He had told me that it tested for materials, but he wasn’t actually sure what materials it tested for. He had just wanted an excuse to come by and talk to me. “Anyway,” he said, “I thought it was a nice memento. Back when we were fumbling awkwardly toward this life we share.” “But,” he added, “it’s a real instrument that is detecting some actual materials of some kind, so there is a good chance that everything about this studio is deeply dangerous. Please be careful.” (111)

Settling in to be another clear and pretty evening here in Night Vale. I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with, or at least good memories of when you did. Good night, listeners. Good night. (1)

We understand the lights. We understand the lights above the Arby’s. We understand so much. But the sky behind those lights, mostly void, partially stars, that sky reminds us: we don’t understand even more. Good night, Night Vale. Good night. (25)

Settling in to be another clear and pretty evening here in Night Vale, this weird, weird town. I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with. I know I do. Good night, listeners. Good night. (111)

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chaoticallysapphic · 4 years

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Oh my heart part two

Summary: Lin never expected to have a soulmate, in a world where your mark appears whenever your soulmate is born she grew up completely blank. So when she’s thirty and it finally etches itself around her arm, she vows to never be with the one meant only for her.

A/N: one more part after this! Originally I just wanted it to be a two parter but it feels better this way.

Word count: 3k

Korra was becoming overbearing with her concern for you. Once you come back to air temple island she was there waiting to rant about a theory she had regarding Asami’s father. Usually, you’d reply and give good advice, unlike Pema’s, and would remind her not to get too worked up. But instead, as she opened her mouth to begin her rant, you broke out into tears. You wouldn’t tell her why, you were too embarrassed about the rejection of your soulmate to confess, even though it would help put Korra at ease to at least be in the know. She’d probably hunt Lin down and start some kind of fight with her regarding what happened.

“Korra,” you say one night when you both are lying in your separate beds in your shared room. “Have you met your soulmate?”

“I don’t know, I’ve kept it covered” she replies softly, she props herself up on her elbow, her eyes narrowing in the darkness, which you don’t notice. “Even with all these new people we’ve met?” your voice is soft, almost a bit hesitant of your inquiry.

“I like Mako, but I’ve seen his mark and it’s not what I said to him, I don’t want to confuse myself by looking” she sits up fully, “Is that why you're so sad, did you meet yours?”

“They didn’t want me..." You roll over so your back is facing your sister. Korra tries to pry it out of you, her voice laced with quiet rage but you simply squeeze your eyes shut and tune her out.

The next morning, Korra doesn't leave your side, she tries multiple times to get the truth out of you, but you always tell her to drop it and walk away. Later on, she reluctantly leaves to do some avatar stuff and asks Pema to keep you company. Pema was nice and in moments like these when you wished your mom was around to comfort you she was the second-best thing. Both of you are sitting at a table, teacups in your hands as the laughter of the kids can be heard from out the window.

"Korra told me what happened" Pema finally breaks the silence, it knocks you out of your thoughts and you harshly set the cup down onto the table, some of the contents of the cup sloshing out from the sides. "That was between us" you spit out.

"Tenzin tells me a lot of things and he's a man so I don't think he's pieced any of it together but… " Pema purses her lips and sets her teacup down onto the table, gently. "It's Lin, isn't it?" Sadness trickles down your throat and wraps itself around your insides, suddenly the door you'd hastily locked to keep yourself from crying in front of anyone busted open, and with it a tidal wave of tears. Pema pushes herself up off the floor and sits down next to you, albeit it takes her a few minutes to get there in her pregnant state. She wraps her arms around you and pulls you in tightly. You let your head fall onto her shoulder as you weep, your shoulders shake as the feeling of loneliness rocks you to your core.

“She doesn’t want me,” your voice is muffled but Pema hears you perfectly, she shushes you, running her hand soothingly through your hair. For what feels like hours all that can be heard is the sound of your strangled breaths and Pema’s humming. She slowly pulls away from you, panic rises in you and you try to stay within her arms but she places her hands on your shoulders to keep you from doing so.

Her hands reach up to your face, wiping away the tears that continue to seep out of your eyes. “I think part of Lin’s hesitation has to do with me,” she begins, your brows furrowed in confusion but before you can ask any questions, she continues “A long time ago Lin and Tenzin were together, he hadn’t met me yet but I knew he was it, even without having spoken to him. So when I saw him pulling away from her, I finally made my move and admitted I was his soulmate, the woman who could make him happy.”

Lin and Tenzin?... jealousy bubbles up in your throat which you try to push down, that was forever ago but maybe, she still loved him. Maybe that was part of the reason she rejected you. Pema pulled you out of your thoughts, brushing some of your hair out of your face in a motherly way. “I think because of that, she doesn’t think anyone else can love her.”

“But I’m her soulmate” you respond, sure you didn’t love her yet but you knew you felt something, ever since your discovery at the arena you’ve dreamt of being wrapped up in her arms once more, to be so close to her you can see every detail in her gorgeous green eyes. These dreams that fill you with pain and longing when you wake up, feel so unattainable now due to her swift rejection.

“Lin is a very confusing person, I think you need to try again and show her you won’t take no for an answer.” Pema’s words swirl around your mind as you try to think up a plan, her advice she gave to Korra a few weeks ago may have been bad but this seemed like it might work. If not then at least you wouldn’t stay awake at night wondering what if.

------

Before you can even formulate a plan on winning Lin over, Korra drags you off to help her with something important. She’s talking a mile a minute while Naga weaves past mobiles and dodges anyone who enters her path. The sun is high in the sky, marking that it's roughly midday and families are walking down the sidewalk together, couples are hand in hand, laughing about something the other has said. A part of you wonders what it might be like if Lin does decide to give the two of you a shot. She doesn’t seem like the kind of person to show affection in public, but what about behind closed doors?

Due to how fast Korra is talking along with you getting lost with the idea of Lin, you don’t pick up a single word she’s been saying, so when the polar dog finally stops in front of a warehouse that is in the middle of getting raided, you're a little confused, to say the least. You both climb down and walk towards the entrance where Tenzin and Lin are talking, that childish feeling of jealousy hits you at the sight of them talking and you mentally scold yourself for it. Tenzin is happily married to his soulmate, you remind yourself.

“Found anything?” Korra calls out, catching the attention of the two master benders. Lin’s eyes land on you and for a split second a look of sadness and pain crosses through her features but she quickly smothers it down with her usual scowl. It seems only you notice that momentary slip up as Tenzin begins telling you and Korra, even though honestly you aren’t listening, about whatever has gone on since she’s been gone.

Apparently, Korra believed Asami’s father to be an equalist which seemed a bit far fetched, he did sponsor her pro-bending team, right? But you trust your little sister and so when they find his factory to be empty, you place a gentle hand on her shoulder to offer her some form of comfort.

“It would appear Hiroshi is innocent” Lin finally speaks up with her arms crossed, since that first glance when you arrived, her eyes have been set on Korra. It stings to know she’s ignoring you but right now is about helping your sister and getting to the bottom of this. Asami waltzes up to the four of you with Mako by her side. “Okay, you did your search. Now you can all leave.” Korra ignores Asami and walks off to talk to Mako, leaving you alone.

“I can’t believe your in on this” Asami says to you, for the most part, you’ve stayed out of Korra’s drama, only lending her advice in private and helping her out when it came to equalists or Tarlock. You let out a sigh and look away from her gaze “she’s my sister Asami and she wouldn’t do something like this without reason.”

“Well he’s my father and he’s innocent, your sister is dragging him through the mud over a misinterpreted conversation” she fires back. Asami glares at you, taking a step closer to you to most likely try to get you all to back down. Before you can even think up a retort Lin, surprisingly, speaks up. “Ms. Sato, during these hard times we can’t leave any stone unturned, the warehouse is empty so you don’t need to worry about us anymore.”

Asami walks off with Mako’s arm slung around her shoulder and Korra all but storms back over with a defeated look on her face, you side glance Lin, who isn’t even paying you any attention anymore. She was probably just trying to keep a fight from breaking out, you tell yourself, she doesn’t care about you. But then Pema’s advice rings through your head, louder than the self-deprecating thoughts and you try to remind yourself that maybe Lin does care about you, hopefully.

After talking to the mystery man at midnight who ends up giving valuable information involving Hiroshi, a plan is set in place. You're all in a police force blimp, if not for the situation at hand you’d be marveling at the machinery with unbridled joy. You’ve never been on something like this before, sure the South Pole isn’t behind on the times but they don’t have any form of aircraft. “Raiding the Sato mansion is risky with Tarlock breathing down your neck. If we’re wrong-”

“I know. I can kiss my job goodbye. But protecting republic city is all I care about. We can’t let Amon get his hands on this new weapon” Lin says, effectively cutting Tenzin off. You stand a few paces behind them, fiddling with your hands as you eavesdrop on them. You want to get to know her, and Lin’s words offer you a piece of information regarding her personality and life without even meaning to. She’s a good person, she might have hurt you but she’s good and that warms your aching heart just a bit.

There are so many horror stories of people's soulmates being monsters, of being chained to someone who doesn’t treat them right that at least the universe decided to spare you on that front. You shake yourself of your thoughts, now is not the time to lose yourself over Lin, and soon enough you land in front of the Sato mansion, once inside Asami puts up quite a fight over her father's innocence which you don’t blame her for. If the roles were reversed you’d probably have already gotten physical with whoever tried to hurt your dad.

The workshop behind the house is small and empty, the policemen try to find any sort of nefarious plans hidden in drawers or boxes but once again come up empty-handed, the confusing part though is how Hiroshi is also nowhere to be found. There isn’t a connecting room where he may be and there aren't any windows he may have left from. “Chief, the estate has been secured, no one has left since we’ve arrived,” an officer tells Lin.

“Perhaps we just couldn’t see him leaving” she replies as she walks over to the center of the room, you step to the side as Korra had sort of stepped in front of you protectively when you entered the workshop, to see what she’s doing. What she does next you’ve heard of but never seen, many talk about the way Toph Beifong revolutionized earth bending, not only by learning to bend metal but also with her aseismic senses. She bends the metal off her foot and slams it down onto the ground. Lin closes her eyes and for a few seconds remains completely still.

“There’s a tunnel beneath the workshop running deep into the mountainside.” Your eyes widen at the discovery, maybe sometime in the future, if you and Lin do work it out you can gush about how much you admire her bending abilities, how truly powerful she is. Asami interrupts your daydream with her denial of such a thing, you do admire her loyalty to her father and his innocence and you honestly don’t want to see her reaction if he is an equalist.

Lin effortlessly bends a piece of metal from the floor and slams it into the wall, showcasing a staircase that leads down, just like she said. You grab onto Korra’s hand knowing she probably wants to race down immediately to find out what lurks below. “Maybe you don’t know everything about your father,” Korra says in an apologetic tone, looking over at Asami, “I’m sorry.”

Lin orders the officers to go down first and as you make your way to the stairs, Lin stops you. “Uh-uh, you four stay up here, officer so-” you scoff, going to push past her but she clamps a hand down onto your shoulder. “That includes you too.”

“I am not letting my little sister go down there without me, I can handle myself” You shrug Lins handoff and push past her to make your way down the stairs, her voice stops you as you take your first step down. “I’m the chief of police and I am order-” you look over your shoulder at Lin who looks completely composed, it irks you that right now she’s trying to control you, acting like she has some sort of say over your actions.

“Yeah and I don’t care, family trumps law enforcement” you reply, effectively ending the conversation.

“Wait, does that mean we can go down to?” you hear Boin ask from up above, Lin barks out a no as she follows after you, most likely scowling no doubt. On the tram that speeds downward, Lin approaches you with her hands held behind her back, she’s still scowling from earlier, but her expression softens just a fraction when you look into her eyes.

“Stay in the back and out of trouble” she orders, Korra and Tenzin are on the other side of the tram, out of earshot. You push off the railing and take a step closer until your chests are touching, maintaining eye contact with her. Lin’s breath catches, which pleases you and offers you a bit of hope.

“If Korra needs me I’ll do what I must to protect her, even if that means being in the frontlines,” you say defiantly. Lin sighs, her scowl diminishing. “You shouldn’t care anyway, remember? This, us, isn’t a thing… unless you’ve changed your min-”

“I haven’t, I want you out of the way because you’ll be a nuisance to the mission if you end up hurt or in need of help,” she says, taking a small step away from you before stalking off. Your shoulders sag, oh. Pema’s encouraging words seem so quiet right now, you could really use another pep talk from her right about now. For a second it seemed like maybe she’d caved, maybe she’d finally admit at this moment on the tram that she had feelings for you and wanted to give it a shot after this raid. Your hands clench as you try to squash down any oncoming tears and sigh.

The tram lurches to a stop and you stumble forward a bit before catching yourself. You can’t let Lin be right, can’t give her the satisfaction so you square your shoulders and march out after them. An audible gasp leaves you at the sight ahead. Korra was right, all day it seemed like a wild goose chase but in front of you is a large warehouse that has banners hanging from the ceilings with Amons face on them, fear crawls through you at the memory of being electrocuted at the arena, of the explosion and Korra almost dying too many times to count.

The center of the warehouse is empty, but what lines the walls are towering, mechanical… statues? You squint in confusion at the contraptions “and I’m guessing those are the new weapons” Korra states. You take a step forward from the group but Lin grabs your forearm and pulls you away from the statues and has you stand behind her. A part of you wants to yell at her, claim you aren’t a nuisance or useless, but now doesn’t seem like the time.

“Hiroshi was lying alright, but where is he?” Tenzin asks, and as if answering his question a large metal wall shoots up from beside you, Lin pulls you away from it and if not for her you probably would have gotten killed as it slams into the roof, locking you guys inside. You look up at her and she immediately drops your arm, tearing her gaze away from you and composing herself once more. Lin steps forward and tries to metal bend the wall back down, but nothing happens, not even a slight tremor, green lights flash on within the statues as they come to life, Hiroshi’s voice suddenly surrounds them, he must be talking into a microphone.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to metal bend that wall, Chief Beifong. It’s solid platinum.” The statues make a loud whirring sound as they start to move away from their respective spots and glide towards the group, effectively cornering them. “My mecha tanks are platinum as well. Not even your renowned mother could bend a metal so pure.”

“Hiroshi, I knew you were a lying no good equalist. Come out here and-”

“And do what, young avatar? Face the wrath of your bending? No. I think I’ll fight from inside here, where my odds are a little more… equal” he cuts Korra off. Your eyes widen, not hearing what Lin says as he shoots a metal hook out of his tank's hand, you all jump away from it but the other tanks keep moving in on you.

You look around for any kind of water source, for a moment it seems like a fruitless attempt until you feel it, you whirl around and notice the metal pipe against the wall. You run-up to an officer and shout “I need you to break that pipe for me!” He stares in confusion for a minute before following your pointed finger and realizing your intentions. He rips the pipes open and water comes flooding in, you hope there's some kind of drain around here or you might have just doomed you all.

There’s no time to worry though and you bend sharp daggers made out of water and aim them at the tank closest to you, it whirls its face around to stare at its attacker and starts to advance on you, but you bend water around its feet and legs, then freeze it. While it’s immobile you send more frozen daggers at it, this time aiming for its chest and two finally penetrate the metal, causing sparks to fly out of its chest as it whirs, you bend water into the two holes, completely breaking it. Without a second to lose you move onto another that the officers are holding down with their wires and do the same to its chest. A loud crash is heard behind you and you whirl around to see that the tank Lin was on fell against a metal beam and onto the floor.

Your heart squeezes in fear until you see her standing on top of it, completely fine and a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in finally escapes with a strangled noise that probably would have embarrassed you in different circumstances. In your moment of distraction, the officers you helped had moved onto another tank, and you watch in horror as it electrocutes them by using their metal wires. The officers shout in pain as they spasm out of control before dropping to the ground.

That same tank advances on you quickly, you stumble back, slipping on the ice you had created for the first tank and fall onto it with a groan, your head slams down onto the ice and pain begins to spawn from that same spot but you can’t stop now, you can’t be a nuisance. Out of the corner of your eye, you see another one shoot its wire out at Lin and slam her against the wall. “Lin!” you shout, your eyes widening as she doesn’t move. Next Hiroshi’s tanks knock out Korra and soon after Tenzin, you're the only one awake and the tank chasing after you finally stop but doesn’t make a move to hurt you.

Hiroshi’s tank swirls around from its stance in front of Tenzin and charges at you, you bend water around the floor in front of you to create ice in hopes of stopping his advances, your starting to feel weak from the wound at the back of your head.

“I have plans for you,” Hiroshi says through his tanks microphone, it comes out a bit staticy due to the attacks but otherwise it moves like it’s still in perfect condition. You try to bend daggers at him but you can’t throw them far enough to hit him, they all fall at his tanks feet and a mocking laugh echoes through the warehouse. Something warm trickles down your neck, you hesitantly raise a hand to the back of your head and when you pull away your met with blood, it drips off your hand and onto the ice. You can’t beat them all, not alone and not in your state.

The ice begins to melt due to the heat of the room and Hiroshi shoots out a wire of his own, your heart gives out as you know what's about to happen, you close your eyes as you wait for the inevitable and are shortly encased in shocking pain, it's worse than last time, so much worse and you think you might have screamed, you're not entirely sure due to being disoriented from the millions of sharp pinpricks you feel in your bones. All to fast you once again succumb to the pain and your eyes give out.

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mimik-u · 3 years

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“Homeworld Bound” Thoughts:

I wasn’t going to watch this one today, but then I realized that I really missed the Diamonds and wanted to consume novel content, so!

OOH, good on the show for taking us directly to the aftermath of “Fragments” instead of putting space between the episodes. That’s just... a really good choice narrative wise.

Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl’s expressions are so distressing here. He’s been gone for three days; they must’ve been so worried.

Jasper steps aside to reveal an absolutely ruined Steven.

He just technically killed a gem and then resurrected her. How intensely will that forever lie on his psyche? Oh my g od

NO, NOT JASPER PASSIVELY MAKING THE DIAMOND SIGN IN THE BACKGROUND AUGH

“You can’t just disappear for days without telling us!”

Steven silent walking up to the Observatory as the Gems continue to freak the fuck out is harrowing. And Dee Dee Magno Hall is killing it with her voice acting here. The simultaneous fear and anger and horror in her voice. Oh my g d

“You guys... I love you, but you can’t help me anymore. I’ve been avoiding the only people in the entire universe who can.” 🥺 This is sad, but I’m also, like, problematic grandmas time!!!!!

“Find something better to do with your life.” God, Jasper’s look of disbelief and sadness here. I didn’t really delve into this during my “Fragments” watch because I was just roridoodwrjfkrkeke reeling, but her reaction to being accidentally shattered is psychologically devastating???? I’d wager that she simultaneously respects the fact that she’s been subjugated by a being more powerful than her, that she’s grateful to Steven for being both subjugator and savior, and likely, she’s conflating this new loyalty with her former loyalty for Pink. This is a really complex psyche (a tragic one most of all).

Garnet: “Steven, remember, we’ll always be your family.” I’m so fucki n emo

AWHWHWH, HOMEWORLD IS SO BRIGHT AND COLORFUL NOW!!!

YO!! Homeworld has a democracy now!! The Zircons!!!!!!!

THE WALL GEM IS MOVING??????? KWOEOEIDJDKSJS

Can u imagine being a wall cursed with sentience. that is so funny on so many levels

But it’s also really interesting, too. If the Wall Gem is a gem in the way say Topazes are gems, which, judging by her mobility, she is—then her explicit purpose in Era 1-2, as molded by presumably Yellow, was to b a wall omg. (Or, arguably, I think it can be argued that the inanimate object Gems, like Comby, were probably accidental sentient creations, made in relationship to their proximity to the Diamonds during their various secretion rituals!!)

Anyway, I love thinking about Homeworld worldbuilding. It’s fascinating.

SQUARE PERIDOT

SPIIIIIINELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!

Her heart eyes!! She looks so happy!

Steven, angry af: “Spinel, what is wrong with you?” / Spinel: Oh, you know—the usual.” KEKDSKDK

Also, Steven really wanted to say fuck there. NEKDDKKSSKKS

“I was such a wreck then, but I am so much better now.” We stan character growth 😭😭

One thing I have loved the Crewniverse so much for doing is never taking away the physical signs of gems’ mental distress, even after they’ve gotten better: Blue’s eye bags, Volleyball’s eye, Spinel’s running mascara. That is so important.

YELLOW SITTING AT HER LIL VANITY!!

IT’S LIGHT INSIDE HER ROOM! THERE R FLOWERS! THRIVE, QUEEN, THRIVE.

YELLOW REVERSING HER GEM EXPERIMENTS OH MY G D

FUCKING QUEEN!!!!!!

(I’m sorry in advance. The rest of the live blog is just going to be screaming about the Diamonds.)

“I can permanently alter any physical form!” She’s so proud of herself. 😭😭😭 I fuckin’ love her.

Yellow laying down on the ground like that is SENDING ME SKSKSJSJ.

Ugh, and her being such a good mom to Spinel. I’m cry in f

“If anything’s out of proportion, it’s your temper. You can be big if you want to, or you can be small if you want to, but if you’re going to be upset no matter what, then this problem isn’t physical—it’s emotional. Go see Blue.”

I really like her advice here because it’s advice that comments so clearly on her own character arc. At her lowest, she was quick to anger, aggressive, and temperamental, which she diagnoses in Steven here. Additionally, she was the Diamond who was concerned largely with physical actions. She coped by maintaining the Empire through conquering planets and maintaining the minutiae of leadership; she thought the only way to receive justice for Pink was through the physical act of destruction. And in doing so, she pushed her own emotions deep, deep down until they manifested in anger, aggressiveness, and temperamental outbursts. This hurt the people she cared about, and it hurt herself most of all.

Also, “Go see Blue. That is her department.” Ejdoiddjdjjsjdjdks, “go see ur other grandma.”

BLUE FLOATING ON A CLOUD!!!!!

“Your powers have been causing you dramatic mood swings? That seems awfully troubling Steven.” God I love her

“You don’t seem troubled.” This is a really interesting line because it comments on how Blue’s emotions, especially her negatively charged ones, used to be so visible all over her; indeed, she both wittingly and actively used to project them on other Gems, forcing them to feel her suffering, too.

OH, SHE GOES ON TO SAY THE EXACT SAME THING EOEODODISSJJS. LISTEN, I REALLY VIBE WITH BLUE.

“Back before you came into my life, Steven, I wanted every one to feel the pain I felt. I realized I must make up for my awful behavior by bringing joy to others.”

Another thing I’ve appreciated about the writing in this episode: So far, both Blue and Yellow have used the adjective awful to describe their former actions. It’s the self-awareness and the refusal to try to excuse themselves that powerfully shows how much they’ve grown. And it’s their continuous endeavors to keep moving forward, to help the Gems that they’ve hurt, that indicates that they’re willing to constantly keep growing and atoning.

NFOFOFDKSSKSKSK, THESE CLOUDS ARE JUST HER VAPORIZED TEARS HELP.

Sick vape clouds, Blue

I’VE HEARD THE SONG BEFORE, BUT EVERY TIME SHE SINGS, I LOSE MY SHI T

LISA HANNNNIGAAAAAAAN

This is such a pretty line: “Cold palace walls, and endless empty halls, haunted by echoes of laughter.”

BLUE ASCENDING THROUGH THE CLOUDS AUSHAHHSHD

BLUE MAKING HEART CLOUDS FOR SPINEL!!

BLUE CALLING SPINEL N STEVEN HER LITTLE REASONS WHY.

“I’LL NEVER MAKE YOU CRY.” This line is particularly lovely because I think it plays well with Steven’s line to her in “CYM:” “How many times did you make her cry?”

BDJDJDJSJDJ, BLUE LAYING ON HER CLOUD LIKE YELLOW LAID ON THE FLOOR.

The way she sings the last “loving you.” 😭😭😭😭 I’m gonna weep. I love her so fucking much.

“I found happiness. If that's not something you think you deserve, then I suspect this is an issue of self worth. I suggest you go to White for assistance with such matters.” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 And like Yellow did, Blue gets to the heart of her arc cleanly.

Before Steven and before her own emotional reckoning, she didn’t think it was her place to be happy: “I know my purpose isn’t to be happy.” But in learning to love others, Blue has found true, inner happiness, which she literally shares with others. Wow.

And I think there’s something powerful in her distinction between true happiness and self-worth. You can’t find one without espousing the other.

White’s room is so pretty. 🥺

THE FLASHING STROBE LIGJTS DDNJDFJDJDNF.

SPINEL WHITE DIAMOND?!/!:$;8;83&:&:

SHE FUCKING LETS OTHER GEMS CONTROL HE R HELP.

SPINEL MAKING WHITE TAP DANCE FICODODOFODJDNDJSJDJDJJDDJDJ

Steven’s horrified expression omg

“I’m scared I’m gonna hurt people; I guess I already have.” God.

And that’s another thing that this episode has called to mind. Blue, Yellow, and White alike once used their insane powers to hurt other Gems and to hurt themselves, and here, throughout this series, we see Steven discovering that same capacity for destruction and self-destruction. Along with the systematic oppressions they facilitated, a big part of the Diamonds’ modus operandi was that their powers were directly correlated to their mental states and their various inabilities to confront their own selves and effect inner change. The corrective wasn’t necessarily Steven; the corrective was him helping them to do that initial act of introspection and looking inwards. And so, too, will Steven have to do the same by the end of this series. But I presume that his family, all the people and gems who have loved and cared for him, will in effect be his Steven, just as he has always been for them.

“Half a Diamond, half a creature of Earth—in all the universe there's no one else that could know what you’re going through, so maybe it's time you talked to yourself.” This is so viscerally sad. White hits the nail on the head here. Steven’s human friends/family and his gem family and even the Diamonds, who come the closest to matching his own strength, can never fully understand him. It’s the tension that underscores a lot, if not the entire show.

White briefly touches Steven with her nail, and you can viscerally see the trauma on his face; he hasn’t forgotten her act above all, wrenching his gem out, nearly killing him.

“I’m... I’m a Diamond.” Steven, in looking at White Diamond, realizes that she’s a mirror of himself. Holy fucking shit

“I don’t want to be you! I don’t want to be anything like you!” HOLY FUCKING SHIT

“Don’t hurt me! She can’t hurt me! I’m controlling her...” And here, Steven doesn’t light upon the essential thing... in making White punch the wall, nearly knocking a huge rock into him, he’s the one hurting himself.

This show, oh my g o d

“She’s the one who should be afraid.” STEVEN?!!!!????!??!

“No, stop it! I don’t like this!” / “Please, you’re scaring me.” OH MY GO D

HE FUCKING MADE HER SLAM HER GEM AGAINST A PILLAR HOLY HE LL

“What... what was that?” Christine’s delivery here. Holy shit. 😭😭 And both of them are surrounded in the carnage of Steven’s wrath. Holy fucking shit.

This act is fundamentally different than him accidentally shattering Jasper in “Fragments”; this was an intentional attempt to hurt White, to crack her, to break her. Holy fucking shit

Spinel, Blue, and Yellow waiting for Steven outside of White’s door has my heart a little and a lot tender 🥺🥺🥺🥺

SPINEL SINGING I CAN MAKE A CHANGE SO DRAMATICALLY DJDIDJDJDJDJD. (But yeah, lmao, this will absolutely be the conclusion of Steven’s arc at the end of Future.)

“Steven! Let us help you, Steven!” The Diamonds are so concerned (mirroring the Gems back at home, too). 😭😭

He leaves a flip flop behind like Cinderella lmao

“Steven, let us help you!” / “We’re your family!” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

And just as he implored the CGs, he tells the Diamonds not to follow him either.

Steven is completely and utterly alone.

Not by necessity.

But God, by choice.

Okay, this is my new favorite Future episode.

#blue diamond #white diamond #yellow diamond #steven universe #spinel #s: future #mimiku #DIEOEODJDDNSNSJJD #this episode really did it for me

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thebluelemontree · 4 years

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Hiya blue lemon it's me again. Do you have any criticism in the way GRRM wrote Sansa in book1/2? EX:.Sansa and Jeyne are BFF but we amolst never see the girls talking to eachother, and when JP is sex traffikced sansa just forget about her(we could have a scene where sansa try to find what happened to JP or at least grieve for her). Every time sansa appears as a non-POV in AGOT she's been mean and whe we have her POV she's mean for no good reason(SANSA III AGOT). >PART 1<

And the worst is why GRRM wrote sansa goin to Cercei to tell her the "Ned Plans", it's just bad writing, Cercei kill lady so Sansa going to her was OOC GRRM just wrote that to we hate Sansa And in the book it's not explained what "the Ned plans" was(And it was nothing imortant at all, and would make no difference at Ned's fate) so ordinary readers blame Sansa for Ned's death and GRRM does that too in book 2 Cercei put all the blame for Ned death in sansa nd "the Ned Plans" Your thoughts?PART 2

There’s a lot to unpack here.

I get a sense that in the early books, George was not as comfortable writing female relationships as he was writing male relationships or even male-female ones. I mean, Catelyn has no female friends, no companions like Margaery Tyrell’s cousins, no fostering wards of her own, no correspondences with other ladies except that one letter from Lysa for plot reasons. This is just weird for the lady of two major houses. It is neglectful on George’s part to give most of the important social connections to men. This doesn’t mean he was totally inept at writing female relationships, though, and it does seem like he’s tried to improve upon highlighting the positive in later books.

By comparison, the positive side of the brotherly relationships are presented so strongly that it tends to smooth over the conflicts with many readers. Jon can feel envious and resentful of Robb, but the love and loyalty is always in the foreground. The conflict between Arya, Jeyne, and Sansa does have legitimate character arc and plot purposes, so this isn’t bad writing. It’s unfortunate that GRRM presses down so hard on the constant bickering and occasional nastiness, but he did write some positives (albeit they tended to be revealed in later books) and there are understandable reasons for the dynamics. It was not done in a totally unrealistic way. What’s depicted is a typical and relatable rocky period for that age group, and there was negative adult influence at play. It’s not a permanent feature of the sisterhood. It’s all there if you pay attention and you’re inclined to be charitable toward the mistakes of young girls.

If a reader is already predisposed to see the bonds between male characters as more pure and more able to overcome the negative aspects, then they probably also view the bonds between female characters as inherently weaker and more fraught with conflict. Fandom misogyny is not GRRM’s fault. That sector of the fandom will always have contempt for girls for being girls, especially preteen girls. They will always hone in on their faults and belittle their virtues.

I don’t think that is true that we hardly ever see Jeyne and Sansa talking. They are nearly always in each other’s company. There was real friendship between Sansa and Jeyne, because what George does do well with them, is realistically write the way girls cement their bonds. Young girls strengthen their relationship by communicating and confiding in each other. Sharing secrets, crushes, hopes, fears, and pieces of gossip builds trust and intimacy. Jeyne and Sansa do this all the time, even though they can have different opinions and disagree about a lot. Yes, there is some one-sidedness in that Sansa socially outranks Jeyne and believes that makes her more mature and wiser than her friend. Jeyne is dependent on her closeness to Sansa as a highborn lady and future queen to rise successfully, so she’s not going to push back on Sansa’s dominance. This is also a reason Jeyne sometimes bullies Arya to supplant her as Sansa’s “sister.” When Sansa has something to share, she goes to Jeyne to talk about it. I think it’s hilarious that the girls have a debate over which castle Gregor Clegane’s head will get spiked. Sansa wants Jeyne at her side for these new and exciting events like the tourney. When things get serious and dangerous, they comfort each other. Again, this is not all George’s fault if some readers don’t recognize or value the way girls do friendships.

It’s stated quite clearly why Sansa tries to not think about Jeyne or her deceased family members very often. It’s fucking traumatic and her survival while among her captors depends on mentally holding herself together.

If only she had someone to tell her what to do. She missed Septa Mordane, and even more Jeyne Poole, her truest friend. The septa had lost her head with the rest, for the crime of serving House Stark. Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears. Once in a while, Sansa even missed her sister. By now Arya was safe back in Winterfell, dancing and sewing, playing with Bran and baby Rickon, even riding through the winter town if she liked. Sansa was allowed to go riding too, but only in the bailey, and it got boring going round in a circle all day. -- Sansa II, ACOK.

Following her father’s beheading, Sansa was in a suicidal depression for days. She wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t bathe, welcomed drug-induced sleep, and contemplated killing herself. If she thinks too much on those she lost, she falls to pieces. She can’t openly weep and mourn for “traitors” if her life depends on appearing to be loyal to Joffrey. Most of her grief is suppressed inside. This also includes asking too many questions she doesn’t feel psychologically prepared to hear the answer to. She was there when the decision was made to shuttle Jeyne off to Littlefinger; however, she has no idea this is going to result in Jeyne being sent to a brothel and worse. I would also keep in mind that even if she did ask, it’s not like Cersei or Littlefinger would ever tell her the truth. Why would they? Does she really want to hear lies and have to think about what the horrible truth might be when she can’t do anything about it? When it comes to Arya, Sansa believes her sister escaped on the ship bound for home. She comforts herself with imagining that Arya is safe and free, and that’s enough to keep her going.

And she prays and sings for Jeyne, wherever she is.

She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall. She sang for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, for old drunken King Robert, for Septa Mordane and Ser Dontos and Jory Cassel and Maester Luwin... -- Sansa V, ACOK.

It’s only until later in the books that Sansa feels emotionally at peace enough to start remembering the good times with Arya and Jeyne without breaking down into tears. We can also see the conflicts weren’t always a thing, and the love was strong with all three.

Sansa began to make snowballs, shaping and smoothing them until they were round and white and perfect. She remembered a summer's snow in Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one morning. They'd each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she'd had none. Bran had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she'd slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn't, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing. -- Sansa VII, ASOS.

It was most unladylike, but Alayne sound found herself laughing. For just a little while, as she ran, she forget who she was, and where, and found herself remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up. -- Alayne I, TWOW.

So it’s not even that the girls only bond through confiding. They run, play, and roughhouse with each other. It’s interesting that AGOT!Sansa tried to be so mature and proper, but now that she’s older, she’s remembering how good and freeing it was just to be a kid. But let’s not act like this part of the story is over. Jeyne is still very much alive and seems likely to run into Arya in Braavos. We can almost be 100% certain that Sansa will find out the truth about what happened to Jeyne and what Littlefinger did to her (and her parents), then watch out. Sansa will turn all that buried pain into a righteous fury at Littlefinger.

Now as for Sansa being mean for “no reason.” Um... yeah, LOL. Sometimes she’s just a total unwarranted bitch to her sister, and it’s not meant to be a good look. Sometimes she’s superficial, insufferably immature and annoying, judgmental and prejudiced AND THAT’S OKAY. I mean, she sounds no better or worse than your average middle-schooler if they were of the privileged nobility. Guess what? Sometimes preteens are really like that. Sometimes siblings have ugly, knockdown drag out fights where they say horrible things to each other. Most will grow past those phases and still wind up just as loving and close. It’s realistic and believable. Sansa has flaws, but they aren’t deep moral flaws. She does an amazing job at growing, learning, and overcoming those flaws over the course of the books. In TWOW, she’s warm and affectionate with people, easy-going, nonjudgmental, and genuinely more mature than ever. She took the stick out of her ass and became a happier person for it. What’s the problem? What did you want her to be? Perfect? Unfailingly kind and loved by everyone all the time? She’d be a saint, not a multifaceted human being. Even with her occasional ugly side, Sansa is still a strong, smart, compassionate badass. I don’t care if some people don’t like her as she is written or if they vilify her with their misinterpretations or ignore her strengths. What bearing does that have on GRRM’s vision for her character? He never set out to write any character that the whole fandom would either unanimously love or hate.

This is not bad writing. This NOT bad writing. This is GOOD writing.

*Sigh* Listen... this whole nonsense about Sansa being to blame for Ned’s demise has been going on since ASOIAF was written on clay tablets. You don’t have to listen to every stupid thing the fandom says about anything. It’s just factually wrong. End of story. This misinterpretation and reader inattentiveness is not GRRM’s fault, because he lays out all the details of everything that went down between Arya, Ned, and Sansa’s POV as it was happening. It’s totally understandable why an upset and frustrated Sansa would go to Cersei, the mother figure she implicitly trusts and admires. She didn’t go to Cersei to betray her father’s plans. She went to the queen to intercede in what she thought had to be some big misunderstanding, having no idea what was really going on or at stake.

This is not OOC for her to go to Cersei after Lady’s death. The hand that killed Lady was her own father’s, a undeniable breach of trust that wounded their relationship. Ned just doesn’t really do a lot to deal with the emotional aftermath either. Ned and Sansa are very similar in turning a blind eye when confronted with unpleasantness from someone they love. Ned is also at that moment disillusioned with Robert’s failure to do the right thing after the Trident incident. He begs Robert in the name of their brotherly love and the love he bore Lyanna, and Robert turns his back on Ned anyway. Yet Ned immediately goes right back to believing in the best of Robert’s nature, despite all evidence to the contrary. Every sign points to this being a one-sided friendship with Robert being lazy, irresponsible, and completely selfish. Like father, like daughter. Sansa has a very hard time accepting that Joffrey and Cersei are not the people she thought they were, even when she’s seen some cracks. And since she can’t understand her father’s actions and the communication has been shot to hell between them, of course she runs to Cersei with her problems. Cersei can flip a switch and pretend to be kind, loving, and understanding.

This is so typical of a teenage thought process: “Dad just doesn’t understand and he’s making a big mistake. I don’t understand why he’s doing this. He doesn’t get how important this is to me. This will all work out if a sympathetic adult steps in and fixes it. Everything will turn out great and we’ll all be happy.” While Sansa is pouring her heart out about how it isn’t fair she can’t say goodbye to Joffrey, Cersei pretends to be that sympathetic mother figure that really understands her. How hard would it be then to pump Sansa for information? Like “Oh my sweet little dove. I know how much you love my son. Don’t worry. I’ll help you straighten this out. You said your father wants to send you away? How? When? What’s the name of that ship again?”

And that line from Cersei’s POV is horseshit. Cersei is a liar and regularly lies in her POV to absolve herself of responsibility and force the blame entirely on others. In this case, Cersei is acting like she didn’t totally manipulate a trusting child to betray her. We also know this is a lie because Ned was the one that told her himself of his plans to reveal the invest and remove her as queen. Sansa had nothing to do with that. All Sansa did was give Cersei information that allowed Cersei the opportunity to take her hostage before the girls could leave by ship. Cersei’s plans against Ned were already well underway. Sansa never came to her with the intent of knowingly betraying anyone, but she did have selfish reasons for going to the queen to complain in the first place. GRRM said himself that Sansa wasn’t to blame for Ned’s capture or death, but she did play a role in the events that transpired. That’s fair. All that makes her is a kid who made a not entirely innocent mistake, but a mistake nonetheless, which she immediately learned from. Does she trust Cersei or Joffrey again? Hell no.

Relax, anon. It’s fine for her to not be nice all the time. It’s fine for her to have some realistic, garden variety flaws. It’s one of the most universal human mistakes to fall too hard and fast for the wrong person, act the fool over them despite all the red flags, only to realize you only saw what you wanted to see in them. And Sansa learned this lesson at eleven when some adults haven’t learned it at all. Relax. She’s a great, well-written, relatable character who has overcome most of these issues successfully.

#Sansa stark meta #sansa stark #sansa stark characterization #asoiaf characterization #arya stark #jeyne poole #ned stark #asoiaf commentary #fandom nonsense #Anonymous #my meta

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