#and no offense to my friend but i saw my friend studying psychology and becoming a psychologist after she finished her degree | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scripts4dreamers · 4 years

Text

Not Your Hero. Chapter 2

Prologue, Chapter one, Chapter three, Chapter four, Chapter five

AN: Just another day on the train ride to nowhere brings Y/N and Finnick a little closer than they’d expected.

Characters: Finnick Odair, Coriolanus Snow, Mags Flanagan

Pairings: Finnick x reader

Spoiler(s): None

Warning(s): Mentions of blood, death, murder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, psychological manipulation, intimidation Prompt/Inspiration: Dead hearts - Stars

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

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

CHAPTER TWO

“And then after that it’s a straight shot to the Capitol,” your escort explained for what felt like the thousandth time, “where the president will welcome us into his home personally. Isn’t that wonderful?”

You kept watching the trees slip past your window, too focused on the comforting rocking of the train to listen to anything Kiki Schofield had to say. The silence stretched on and eventually it was a sharp jab in the ribs from Mags that shocked you back into reality.

“Ow!” you complained, frowning, “What was tha-oh, right, yes Kiki. I can barely stand the wait.”

Your escort sniffed, obviously offended, but quickly regained her composure. The lure of a place of honor at the biggest party of the season clearly outweighed all but the most inexcusable of offenses in her eyes.

“Yes well, Arketia has a lot of work to do with you before you’re ready for that,” she said, “it’s going to be glorious.”

And, with that, she glided out of the cart, muttering to herself about fabrics and lights and all the people she hoped to impress. You sighed and dropped your head back against the couch you were sitting on. At this point, you could think of exactly zero things you wanted to do less than visit the capitol. Just the thought of the candy coloured buildings and bright lights made your skin crawl. You knew what would meet you at the train station too; throngs of screaming crowds filled with grotesquely altered faces all chanting your name, calling out their praises to you like they hadn’t been hoping for you meet some horrible death less than seven months earlier. In fact, many of them had actively betted against you. You weren’t naive, you knew your odds heading into the games had been extremely low. A girl from district five, fifteen years old with no obvious survival skills or weapons proficiency? Hell you didn’t even have Finnick’s outrageously good looks. Yeah...you hadn’t exactly been a low risk investment.

“So, Y/N, what makes you so sure that you can outlive all the other tributes? Do you have any special skills hidden up your sleeve that you can tell us about?” Caesar Flickerman asked, leaning in conspiratorially, his midnight blue suit glinting in the light.

Your heart was pounding like a sledgehammer in your chest, but you fought down your nerves and tried to smile calmly.

“Come now Caesar,” you answered with a light, teasing chuckle, “that would be telling.”

“Oh but just give us a little sneak peak.” He answered, his eyes glinting the way they seemed to whenever a tribute did well, “What is it? Camouflage? Can you hunt? Cleverness? Are you very strong or quick?”

You gasped in mock outrage and slapped Caesar’s arm, “Stop it you, you’ll give away all my secrets.”

“So it was one of those then?”

“Maybe,” you smiled, giving the audience a wink. There was a collective ‘oooooooh’ and you realised, with a start, that you genuinely had their full attention, “all I’ll say is this; don’t count me out just yet. There’s more to me than what meets the eye.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Caesar smiled, kissing the back of your hand as the buzzer rang out signifying the end of your time.

As you walked back to your seat, the roar of the crowd stayed ringing in your ears, filling your chest with the kind of fire you didn’t know you had anymore. It burnt away the icy film of dread that had been clinging to your insides ever since Reaping Day and replaced it a steely sort of hope, a determination that would carry you through the hardest few weeks of your life.

You snorted and pressed the heel of your hand to the center of your forehead. God you’d been naive. Whatever fire you thought you’d had had been stamped out almost instantly. As soon as that first canon had rang out and you’d seen the blood seeping into the grass, reality had hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Hey there,” Mags greeted gently, snapping you back into the present, “you doing alright?”

You shrugged, “As alright as I can be in the circumstances I think.”

Mags sat down beside you, sighing and rubbing her stiff knee, “Well, that’s a start.”

You stared at Mags’ knee. It was an old Hunger Games injury from her days in the arena. She never spoke about it really, but everyone knew regardless. Mags’ games were exceptionally popular in the capitol, so they were broadcasted often, with excited commentary and nostalgic stories from people who revelled in retelling where they were or what they felt when they first saw specific moments. There was never really an escape from it but, somehow she never let it drag her down.

In a way, Mags was a role model for all the younger Victors, a look into what your future held if you made it that far. She was brave and kind and well adjusted, but she was still disposable, still a public spectacle, still a piece in the world’s most dangerous game even fifty-eight years after she spent her last official seconds as a sanctioned tribute. But she was alive. She was surviving it. Even after all these years, she had never given up her fight, she had never given up on herself or on anyone else. It was kind of inspiring.

Mags caught you staring and smiled sadly, “Wounds heal, Y/N, you’ve just got to give them time.”

“The full body polish took care of all my wounds,” you answered, showing her your perfectly smooth arms, “see? All pretty and perfect.”

Mags tapped the side of your head knowingly, but stayed quiet.

“Mags have you seen my-oh-” Finnick said, stopping dead in his tracks.

You looked up and gave him an unsure smile. Finnick Odair was still somewhat of a mystery to you. One day he would be sweet and funny and self deprecating and you could imagine the two of you actually being friends and then the next he would be snarky and cocky and overconfident, jabbing at you at every opportunity. It was confusing, but you knew he was fighting his own battles, just like you were and over the last few days you’d struck up a kind of friendship. There was an unspoken understanding between you that you couldn’t explain, but that you’d come to rely on. Where you were weak, Finnick was strong and where he stumbled, you were steady.

“Hey Finnick,” you greeted.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” he answered.

You shook your head, “No, you’re not. Come sit.”

Finnick smiled gratefully and took a seat across from you, glancing out the window and worrying at his bottom lip. Up close you could see the signs of exhaustion etched onto his perfectly sculpted face. There were dark bags under his eyes and a heaviness to the way he held his shoulders that was becoming all too familiar and something near your heart pinched with concern.

“You doing alright, Fin?” you asked hesitantly.

“Hmm?” Finnick answered, distractedly.

Mags leant forward and snapped her fingers under his eyes, “Earth to Finnick, Y/N asked you a question.”

“Sorry,” he replied, shaking his head to clear it, “yeah, I’m alright.” he fiddled with his hands, “Thanks for-for asking though.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly and leant forward, dropping your voice to a whisper to avoid being overheard, “You look like death Fin, have you slept at all?”

“That depends,” Finnick joked ruefully, looking down at his hands, “what day is it?”

“Fin,” you sighed, leaning back in your seat.

“What Y/N/N?” he smiled, “Who cares if I’ve slept? They’ll make sure I’m all prettied up for the cameras either way.”

“I care,” you retorted, “you do actually need sleep to live, you know?”

Finnick mumbled something vaguely mutinous about not liking to sleep somewhere he didn’t know under his breath but didn’t respond, focussing his attention on the window again.

You studied your friend, noting the way his fingers twisted and fiddled with themselves, as though searching for something, and the constant, ever present flicker of anxiety in his bright green eyes. He was beautiful, of course, after all he was still Finnick Odair, but now he looked worn and afraid, like he was holding himself together by a thread. Something had changed. Each day it got a little worse, and the closer you got to the capitol, the further into himself Finnick retreated.

You sighed again and stood, reaching your hand out impulsively, “Okay, let’s go.”

Finnick’s head snapped up and he met your gaze, staring between your face and your outstretched hand uncomprehendingly.

You rolled your eyes to cover your insecurity but pushed forward, “Come on then, take it.”

“Y/N?”

“Nope, no questions,” you insisted, lacing your fingers with his and pulling him to his feet, “you’re taking a nap right now, whether you like it or not.”

Finnick protested weakly, insisting that he wasn’t tired and that you were being ridiculous, but followed along without too much of a fight as you led him through the train and into your room. As with everything from the capitol, it was absurdly big and luxurious, with soft carpeted floors, tall bookshelves and a fully stocked desk, bathroom, walk in closet and mini kitchen. Your old house could probably have fit in one of these rooms. The usual flicker of disgust rose up in your stomach at the sight of it, but you pushed your anger down and focused on sitting Finnick down, pulling off his fancy capitol shoes and shoving him down onto the pillows.

“Sleep.” you commanded, throwing a blanket over him.

“But what about you?” He argued.

You settled into one of the many cushy armchairs in your reading nook, pulled your feet up onto the seat and pulled out your own, well worn copy of The Chronicles of Narnia, waving it in Finnick’s general direction as a means of explanation.

“Y/N-”

“You said you don’t like sleeping somewhere you don’t know ‘cause you don’t feel safe. Well, I’ll be here the whole time watching your back, so you’ve got no excuse.” You interrupted, meeting his gaze steadily, “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Finnick asked softly.

You softened, remembering suddenly how younge Finnick actually was. He’d been a victor for four years, but he was still just barely eighteen. A scared kid really.

“Promise.” you answered.

Finnick nodded, probably attempting to be nonchalant, an effect that was ruined by the fact that his eyes were already drifting shut. He was fast asleep moments after his head hit the pillow. You giggled softly to yourself at the sight, placing your book face down on the armrest of your seat and throwing a soft blanket over Finnick’s sleeping body. He looked younger when he was like this, you noted, softer too, and more vulnerable. It made something protective flare to life in your chest, shocking you with its intensity.

You cared about him, you realised, more than you’d thought you would.

You sighed and settled back into your seat, steeling yourself for a long wait, “Sleep well, Fin,” you whispered, “sleep well.”

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

Running, running, heart pounding.

His hands are slick, whether from sweat or blood he can’t tell. The ground squelches under his feet, slowing him down but he can’t stop.

“Come here little boy, you can’t run forever.”

He chokes back a sob and slams his body onto the ground, rolling into a dense thicket of bushes.

Footsteps pass right next to his head. He bites down on his tongue until he tastes blood.

“Finnick,” the older boy croons, from somewhere to his right, “Fiiiinick, come out come out and play.”

His body courses with adrenaline. He wants to fight, to flee, to do something, but he forces himself to stay still. Cassius is twice his size at least, eighteen years old and lethal in hand to hand combat, he could snap Finnick in two without a moment’s hesitation. No, if he fights him now, Finnick has no chance.

But this isn’t right, a voice in his head whispers. Cassius was dead. He’d died from a horrible infection one week into the games, Finnick had seen it happen. So then, who was chasing him?

The branches above his head snap. Finnick has just enough time to look up in horror as the pale, controlled face of president Snow bursts through into his hiding place, snakelike eyes cold and distant as the smell of blood and roses clogs Finnick’s nose, making him choke.

“Finnick my boy, there you are. We need to chat about your future in the capitol.”

“Ah!” Finnick cried out, bolting up like an arrow.

For a second he looked around, bewildered and afraid, sure that he’d catch a glimpse of that white hair, those cold dead eyes. But instead he saw you, curled up in a comfy chair, with a book in your hands and your Y/E/C eyes trained on him with concern. Slowly, he remembered where he was and how he’d gotten there, and a wave of exhaustion crashed over him. Tears welled up in Finnick’s eyes and he leant forward, hiding his face in his hands. Another nightmare, another horrible dream stealing any real chance he had to rest. Would it never end?

Some small part of Finnick’s brain thought he should try and play it off, act like everything was fine with some lighthearted joke or witty comment but, as he felt the bed dip and the weight of your hand settle in between his shoulder blades, he knew he didn’t have the energy.

“Bad dream?” you asked gently.

Finnick nodded but didn’t look up. You made a sympathetic noise in the back of your throat but didn’t pull away.

“I would tell you it gets better but…” you laughed ruefully, “well I wouldn’t really know. I have them every night myself.”

“It does,” he answered, wincing at how hoarse he sounded, clearing his throat before trying again, “it does get better. But they never fully go away.”

“Is that why you aren’t sleeping?” you asked.

Finnick worried at his bottom lip and thought, for the millionth time, of telling you. The capitol was only three days away, he knew you were running out of time. Soon you’d be back in the city, surrounded by strangers with strange clothes, strange voices, strange morals...and then Snow would call you into his office and-Finnick’s heart pinched. No, he couldn’t tell you, Chaff and Mags would have his head on a platter. Better to let you find out later, better to let you have as much time with your innocence as he could help.

“It’s-one of the reasons,” he said, settling for a half truth.

Your eyes met his and, though you pressed your lips into a thin line, there was a determination in your gaze that made something electric tingle down Finnick’s spine.

“I know something’s coming, you know,” you answered, surprising him with the calm in your voice, “I don’t know what, but I know it’s coming, and I know you know it too.”

“I do.”

“But you aren’t going to tell me?”

He shook his head, “No, I’m not.”

You nodded understandingly, the tension slipping from your shoulders as you caught his eye again.

“Well,” you smiled, “that’s alright then.”

Something thin and fragile stretched between you like a spiderweb, making Finnick’s heart stutter and filling him with a sense of deep overwhelming calm. He held your gaze for a moment longer, until he felt heat rising in his cheeks and then cleared his throat.

“How long was I out?”

You shrugged, letting the moment pass, “A few hours, it’s about nine pm right now.”

“Shit,” Finnick said, “shit I’m sorry. I should-I should head back to my room, you must be exhausted.”

“No, it’s fine,” you smiled, “I’m comfy where I am, you rest.”

“But when it gets late-”

“Finnick, this is the capitol we’re talking about, if I press a button in my armchair’s headboard it converts into a bed, I’ll be fine.” you assured, patting his shoulder and getting to your feet.

Impulsively, he reached out and grabbed your arm, stopping you from slipping away. You turned and looked at him curiously, a question dancing at the corners of your mouth. Finnick felt himself blush again.

Stay with me, he wanted to say, stay and keep the nightmares away. But he couldn’t make his mouth move. He barely knew you, you barely knew him, what was he thinking?

“Why’re you being so nice to me?” he eventually asked.

Your eyes softened and you shifted from one foot to another, almost like you were nervous.

“You-uh-you helped me once,” you answered with a small smile, “that dinner,” you clarified when he cocked his head to the side, “you were the only person who knew I hadn’t eaten. I know you told the waiters to send food to my room and-yeah-I guess I never really said thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Y/N,” he said softly, “I was an asshole that night.”

“Yeah well,” you smiled again, “I’m an asshole most nights, so I guess we’re even.”

You detangled your hand from his and ruffled his hair before making your way back to the armchair. Finnick followed you with his eyes, feeling with complete certainty that something important had just happened, but he wasn’t sure what.

“Night Odair,” you said, pulling a blanket over your legs and settling back into your book, “sleep well.”

He nodded, “Night, Y/N.” he said, lying down and turning away from you, “and thank you,” he finished softly, “for doing this.”

For a long moment you didn’t answer but then, just as Finnick’s eyes drooped toward sleep he heard two words spoken so quietly and so sadly that he almost thought he’d dreamed it;

“You’re welcome.”

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

Tag list: @i-love-you-green , @heatherhollowayst

#jordsie #jordsie writes #not your hero #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #finnick x you #finnick odair x you #thg #thg imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games 2020 #the hunger games imagine #mockingjay #mockingjay imagine #catching fire #catching fire imagine

200 notes · View notes

braindeadskeletons · 4 years

Note

Hello!! Can I have a matchup please?? It seems like every time I ask someone for one, something happens in which they can't 😂😂 but that's fine lol,, I'm a cisgender bicurious female of which the curious part is aimed towards males! The only men I've ever liked are fictional smh,, my friends tend to think I'm bubbly and very open, and they relate me to the colours orange or yellow! I'm also British and I have a love for horror movies and psychology. I would go on but,, happy writing!! Love ya

I'm a very naturally femine person in appearance. My room is full of pastel colours, mainly pinks and purples, alongside plushies and lots of duck ornaments! Since my favourite animal is a duck (fuck geese they scare the shit out of me). Despite this, a lot of people don't expect this? Apparently I seem like the kind of person to have a much simpler or perhaps darker room. So I usually tend to shock people when they see what my room looks like lol. I love unique fashion! Stuff you see on cat walks - christmas themed dress, teacup shaped t-shirt, whatever! You name it, I've probably seen something like it! Because of this, I also have a love for weird decorations. My kitchen is flamingo themed, my bathroom is winter themed (yes, I have a santa clause toilet), and my office is fulled to the brim with 90s and 80s memorabilia. Stuff you wouldn't find nowadays without some digging!! I'm currently in college taking an accounting degree, also alongside business. After that, I also wish to take a literature course to help with my fanfiction writing (perhaps I could eventually write a novel? I don't know haha) Crude humour is the key for me to be happy. As much as silly humour and stuff is great, say something vaguely offensive and I'll crack up! As long as it's not meant to be taken genuinely, then I'll find it funny. Although I have to be close to the person for me to actually start laughing at stuff like that

Hey there! I'm so sorry this was a wait! I basically had some stuff come up and it delayed my work a lot. Plus the added time from the added information you gave me, which I thank you for by the way <3 I had a lot of fun writing this! I hope it doesn’t disappoint lol. Instead of delaying this further let's just get right into the matchup, shall we?

I match you with Undertale Papyrus!

This might've been a little too obvious huh? I just couldn't help it, you two seemed like such a natural pair! I try not to go with matches that are too obvious but sometimes you just have to go with it.

The first thing that naturally attracted Papyrus to you was how open and bubbly you are! He can relate a lot to that himself and seeing how much of a natural you are while interacting with others just convinced him further that he just had to talk to the pretty lady! Of course, the moment you two start talking you both hit it off. It’s kind of physically impossible for anybody to hate Papyrus or for Papyrus to hate anybody. You know those fanfics on AO3 that are slow burn, friends to lovers, 140+ chapters? That’s what this is. There is no better way to put your relationship before you both are dating. Papyrus means well, and by god is he a good person, but he’s a bit of an airhead when it comes to romantic attraction. You could literally tell him that you want to marry him and have ten monster/human hybrid children and he’d still be like ‘BUT,,,AS FRIENDS,,,?’ You’ll need to wait for him to understand his feelings himself. It’ll hit him at one of the dumbest times possible. For example:

----------

You: geese are just,,,,kinda,,,,horrible

Papyrus:

You: fuck geese

Papyrus:

You:

You: Papyrus are y-

Papyrus: I THINK I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU???

----------

Yup. Just like that. No warning, no proper build-up, nothing could have predicted this. It’s just silly moments between the two of you that make him so smitten. Like you’re such??? A dork??? How could he not fall in love with you?? It’ll be a huge smack in the face for him that he’s fallen in love with you. Probably it’ll be the same for you if you’re the type of person who is oblivious with love. If not, then it was horribly obvious he likes you and you were simply waiting for him to say something first. The blushing, constantly trying to impress you, his lovestruck gazes at you when you laugh at his antics, etc. The signs were all here if you’re able to spot them. Now that Papyrus is aware of the fact that he likes you he isn’t going to let this opportunity pass by. Time for the dating manual!

This part is actually going to be the worst. Yes, the hard work and effort are absolutely precious and you’re very flattered he’s trying to “court” you as he puts it but it’s going to be overwhelming. Unless you’re fully on board with flowers being left at your door, love letters, great “acts of love”, serenading you with a not so great voice, randomly inviting you out to “friend dates” that are actually regular dates in disguise, complimenting you every waking moment, and more you might want to stop him and just tell him you like him too. Once you tell him you feel the same way, prepare for the most wholesome hugs and kisses from the big goober. Fully expect to wake up the next day and everybody already knows you’re his date-mate. Papyrus is going to tell everybody and their great grandmas that he landed himself with the greatest human ever.

So you mentioned that your kitchen is flamingo themed? Uh,,,don’t get used to it. Not that Papyrus would ever openly try and change your home, he loves your decorating! He doesn’t really understand how people wouldn’t expect you to have such an adorable home! He has named all the duck ornaments, become well acquainted with your stuffed animals and the real animals, is slightly afraid of the Santa Claus toilet because Santa is the evil man sans told him about, etc, etc. But we all know how he gets in the kitchen. If you care about the wellbeing of your flamingo decorations maybe move them somewhere else? Papyrus swears that he won’t set fire to your home but we both know how that goes for everybody involved.

----------

Papyrus: HUMAN

You: Yeah?

Papyrus: HOW ATTACHED WERE YOU TO THE FLAMINGO DECOR

You:

Papyrus:

You:

Papyrus:

You: Hun, I love you

You: but if you fucked up the flamingo decorations I swear to god-

----------

This is a regular conversation you two need to have. Somebody, please stop him.

He really really loves your sense of fashion! Since the two of you have been dating, he’s actually gotten into it a bit himself. Papyrus tries not to invade your privacy but one time he stumbled into your office and saw all of your memorabilia dedicated to the 90s and 80s and immediately fell in love with the aesthetic. It’s all he could talk about for weeks and god knows he isn’t stopping anytime soon. Try introducing him to some more fashion! Papyrus probably won’t get enough of all of it. Watch him show up to your home dressed like the whole circus.

When Papyrus hears of how you’re studying right now, he’s going to go on a little bit of a rant about how he knows plenty of stuff about school! Not really. He just thinks he does because he has his face in a shrub at Toriel’s school. This isn’t to downplay his intelligence of course but monster education and human education have a lot of differences. When it comes to accounting Papyrus isn’t exactly going to understand anything, but he will be very supportive! He may not understand much about accounting but he surprisingly knows a lot about business?? Yeah, it’s a little strange but I guess you shouldn’t be that shocked. Papyrus is supposedly the ‘mascot of monsters’ and he’s also friends with the monster ambassador. To say the least, he’s surrounded by a lot of really important people. If you’d like, he’ll even take you to meet a couple higher-ups! Whatever he can do to support you he will.

As for your love for writing, Papyrus would probably have to redirect you to Alphys. Don’t take this the wrong way, it’s just that the humans on the surface have been a little…intense...for Papyrus and Sans. He’d like to take a break from any sort of writing for a long long time.

Onto the final section! Date nights! Which for Papyrus might as well be every night. His idea of an ideal date would probably be something extremely outlandish, but he knows humans can’t handle a lot of the stuff he can so he tones it down. Making dinner and watching a movie is good enough, right? Papyrus knows you love horror movies in particular. This poor guy is trying his very best. Please be patient with him. He wants to prove that he can protect you and be the bigger monster but he’ll end up clinging to you the whole time and maybe even crying?? Just a little. As a treat.

Yeah, so go gentle on the horror movies. Poor guy is gonna pass out.

His main goal during the date will be to make you smile at every possible turn. You’re in luck with the crude humor! Now you may be thinking ‘but Papyrus isn’t crude, he’s such a sweetheart!’ and you’re not wrong really. Most of the stuff he says is entirely on accident or he’s just genuinely oblivious to the implications of what he just said. If anything that only makes it all the more hilarious to witness. If Papyrus catches himself with what he said he’ll try apologizing profusely only to be met with your adorable smiling face. He may not get what’s so funny but seeing how your smile reaches your eyes makes whatever he just said worth it.

#AAAA IT IS D O N E #It was so fun writing this lol it just took me so long again I'm very sorry about that!#thank you for being patient <3 #thank you for sending this in!#Undertale #Undertale matchup #Undertale Papyrus #Undertale Papyrus x reader #matchup

53 notes · View notes

fandom-necromancer · 4 years

Text

Android psyche

This was prompted by the amazing @detroitbecomestickman! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: human, coffeeshop

‘Hey, Tina, running late?’ ‘Fuck you Gavin, my bike had a flat tire, you know how it is. And I’m still on time.’ ‘Fine, I let the two minutes slide’, Gavin chuckled, bowing his head exaggeratedly. ‘Could you wipe the tables for me? I’ll go open up the shop.’ ‘On it, Sir’, Tina mock-saluted and grabbed rag and towel.

They were a good team. What Gavin lacked in customer service, Tina made up for him. He had other qualities: Without having to boast, he made the best coffee in all of Detroit. Even if his coffee shop was small, the knowledge had spread fast. And with the Wayne State University just around the corner, they couldn’t complain. Most days they had too much to do anyway and Gavin often thought about hiring another barista.

It was Thursday again, and Gavin told Tina to check on their Thirium reserves. They had a lot of regulars, but the newest addition was a group of androids on Thursdays. On point four pm they entered, mass ordering thirium coffee and retreating to a large table in the back. Gavin often found himself staring at them. At that time, their rhythm had always slowed down with little to no costumers and a lot of time for cleaning before the shop closed. ‘Why don’t you go over and talk to him?’, Tina whispered, elbowing him in the side. ‘What? No! What do you even mean?’ Tina laughed. ‘Gavin, I know you keep staring at that man and if you don’t speak to him soon, I will trap you both in this shop until the next morning!’ ‘Tina!’ She was right of course. There in that group of androids sat a remarkably handsome man. Neatly dressed in mostly black and white and the odd silver jewellery, freakishly tall, he was exactly Gavin’s type. Except that he likely was an android. ‘I won’t walk up to a group of androids and talk to one!’ ‘You don’t even know he is an android; he has no LED. Also, what’s the matter with that? They are persons now!’ ‘Tina, will you shut up? I won’t creep up on my costumers, that’s all!’

It still didn’t help keeping his eyes by himself. The man was handsome and looked even better when he laughed – what he did often. The android group spend their time here talking and laughing with each other. The group sometimes changed, some androids being absent, others there for the first time. But the man was a constant. And he seemed to ask them questions and take notes with no one betting an eye. Gavin had said they were students working on a project, although he didn’t know whether universities even accepted androids.

Regardless, Gavin only watched them and never talked to them except when taking their orders. It went on for several weeks, before their Thursday android-bingo-group changed pattern. This time it was only the man Gavin had kept an eye on. Gavin missed how he entered because he had to run to the toilet and saw him sitting on a table for two. He shrugged and returned behind the counter. Maybe he was waiting for his friends. But four pm passed. Half past four passed. And as the shop started to get more and more empty, the man started crying silently. No sobs, no hitching breath, just tears. Gavin didn’t know what to do, normally Tina was the one to handle these cases. He was more the the-shop’s-closing-phck-off man.

But the woman just nudged him forwards. ‘Come on, Gav, this is your chance. You know our policy! Everyone leaves happy unless they are rude, then they just leave.’ ‘Tina I-‘ ‘No. I watched you long enough’, Tina stood her ground. ‘You go talk to that man or I quit.’ ‘Tina…’ ‘Just go, idiot!’ So, he went. If anything, the man would stop crying and go on his way.

He walked up to the table, fidgeting with his small notebook. ‘Hey, I’m sorry, but could I bring you something?’, Gavin then asked, as he stood before the sniffling man. ‘It’s on the house.’ ‘What?’ The stranger lifted his head, quickly wiping his tears away, embarrassed. Despite the teary voice, it sounded soft. Beautiful even. ‘It seemed you had a bad day. Maybe something to cheer you up?’, Gavin tried again. The man looked at the desk, then up at him, slightly confused. ‘Why?’ ‘Hey, we wouldn’t exist if we just sold coffee’, Gavin chuckled. ‘Couldn’t compete with the big chains, you know? Usually my co-worker is better with this than me, but oh well.’ The man hummed, then leaned back folding his hands under the table. ‘A hot chocolate, please? With cream?’ Gavin stalled for a bit, before he nodded. ‘Oh. Okay, coming right up.’ He was already turning to get back to the counter, as the man held him back. ‘Wait.’ ‘Hm?’ ‘Why is that so surprising to you? My order I mean.’

Gavin quickly took out his phone to text Tina the order and to mull over whether or not telling the man he thought he was an android would be considered offensive. ‘Well, to be honest, I thought you were an android? I’m so sorry, I like androids, my best friends are- okay, that’s a lie, my worst enemies are androids’, he babbled thinking back at Connor, the android he had to pay the rent for this shop. ‘Err… Anyways, I mean-‘ He sighed. ‘Sorry for rambling, I don’t mean you or androids any offense.’

The man was smiling at him, amused about his awkward stammering. ‘You are cute’, he chuckled into the silence following, only to blush in embarrassment and slap his hand on his mouth. ‘Shit, I’m sorry, that’s inappropriate.’ Gavin wanted to disagree, but that was when Tina came with two mugs, one hot chocolate and one cappuccino. She put both down on the table, pressed his shoulders down, so Gavin would sit on the vacant chair and winked at him. He in turn now was red as a tomato and scratched his neck. ‘I… I don’t think it is. You-’ He gulped. ‘You are cute too, you know, when you’re… not crying?’

‘Heh, yeah, I think anyone would be’, the man said. ‘I’m Richard, by the way. Most people call me Nines though.’ ‘Gavin.’ ‘Nice to meet you, Gavin.’ He smiled, taking a sip from his cup. ‘Why did you think I was an android? I don’t have an LED.’ ‘Hmm, they don’t need to have them anymore. And you met with a lot of androids here.’ ‘Right…’ Nines’ smile faltered. ‘That… likely won’t happen anymore.’ ‘Really? Why?’, Gavin asked. ‘Sounded like you enjoyed the company.’ ‘I did. I am a psychology student, you know? But I’m not interested in human psyche, that has been thoroughly researched already. I am fascinated by deviancy and an android’s perspective on trauma. Unfortunately, some higher-ups decided android psyche is just bits and bytes and nothing I should spent my time with. They told me to become a programmer if I wanted to work with computers.’

Gavin lifted a brow. ‘Isn’t that racist nowadays?’ ‘Yeah, pretty sure it is. But I don’t think I can pull this argument when all my work, all my studies are suddenly invalidated. It’s always hard to see your dreams shattering. But I’ll pull myself up again. Find something else to do.’ Gavin thought about it. ‘But can you not still do your research?’ ‘With what funds? The university isn’t willing to pay me, because I may have told a certain professor to go fuck himself.’ He told this so deadpan, Gavin just had to laugh, thankful not to have any coffee in his mouth at that time. ‘Shit’, he wheezed. His futile attempts at getting himself back under control had Nines grinning. ‘Okay, that’s one way to go… But why not ask Cyberlife for help?’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Well, if I know one thing, no one says no to money. And Cyberlife wants to polish their image since the revolution. They try to become service providers for androids. I believe they would be happy to invest in android psychologists or research there. In the very end, it’s at least worth a shot before giving up completely, isn’t it?’

The man in front of him frowned, slowly nodding along. ‘That… might actually work… Thank you! I will try that! How do you know that much about Cyberlife?’ Gavin cringed. ‘Hmm. My brother is the CEO…’ ‘Your brother is Elijah Kamski?’ Gavin looked around whether anyone had heard Nines. Thankfully most other patrons were too occupied with their personal talks. ‘My half-brother and I hate him, okay?’, Gavin hissed. ‘We see each other on Christmas and birthdays and it never ends well.’ ‘Wow, I never thought-‘ ‘That Kamski’s brother owns a shitty coffee-shop?’, Gavin asked, ready to re-evaluate his opinion on Nines. ‘No! It’s not shitty at all. No, I didn’t think Kamski’s brother would be… normal.’ ‘You mean boring?’ ‘No, I didn’t say that. I like normal. You don’t know what people are running around at campus.’ He looked down on his empty mug. ‘Err… It was a pleasure talking to you, I… I have a few e-mails to write now. Thank you for everything, you don’t know how much this means to me.’

‘Come again to tell me how it went?’, Gavin asked, standing up after Nines. ‘Of course!’ The man grinned from one ear to the other but kneaded his hands. He rocked a bit back and forth, then stepped up to Gavin for a hug. ‘Thank you, gotta go!’ With that he near sprinted out of the shop, leaving an overwhelmed Gavin standing there.

‘See?’, Tina teased, walking up to him to get their mugs. ‘That’s what can happen when you finally begin talking to people!’ ‘Oh shut up!’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #Tina Chen #I don't know if littlehazzacurls is still here but I still want to write that coffeeshop AU from that prompt aaaa #what was it? Something with Are you here often I work here #damn I don't know the number #But it will be written some day!

36 notes · View notes

brainsdivided · 4 years

Text

Uncommon Questions for OC’s and Their Creators (1/2)

(Art by Yesjejunus!)

I saw @bloody-fists-beating-hearts and @socksual-innuendos doing it so I’m answering all of them cause I can and I love my boys. Original by @cassandrapentayaaaaas

So I don’t take up someone’s entire dash, peep under cut for it :)

ps. some warning: read tags for any mentions of triggers or things you find uncomfortable, Isaac and Ezekiel have had tough lives and since a lot of that occurs during childhood it may cause some distress for readers.

QUESTIONS FOR YOUR OCs:

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Ezekiel? Never. If it looks like he’s doing nothing, he’s actually daydreaming or bouncing his leg or fiddling with pieces of his clothes. Isaac also cannot sit still. This starts to change as he gets older, but when he moves to Zion he needs to be keeping his mind active on a physical thing, like studying.How easy is it for your character to laugh?

Ezekiel will laugh at just about anything. He’s a child at heart and will crack a giggle and the smallest of things. Even when he’s in combat, you might hear a devilish chuckle. Isaac is different, because of his teenage years, he doesn’t feel as much happiness as he once did. Genuine laughs are rare and at most, he’ll give a weak light-hearted laugh, especially when recalling a good story. For kids, he’ll feign a belly laugh.

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

Ezekiel never puts himself to bed. It will always be Joshua or Isaac that reads or talks him to sleep just as Courier Six once did. If Ezekiel is alone, he will think himself to sleep. If Joshua is available and not willing to put Ezekiel to bed and depriving him of comfort items, he will scream and cry himself to exhaustion. Isaac has cried and screamed himself to exhaustion on more than one occasion but will never admit it. he does his best to fall asleep to music on the radio or on a holotape.

How easy is it to earn their trust?

It’s not very easy to gain either brothers’ trust. Ezekiel follows the ‘If you’re a friend of theirs, you’re a friend of mine’ phrase. Isaac doesn’t trust anyone completely until he spends enough time around them. He believes everyone has good in them and will give them the benefit of the doubt, BUT he won’t be caught off guard if someone happens to turn on him.

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

For either brother, the second you turn on one of them or their family and friends, it’s game over. Ezekiel won’t take verbal or physical acts lightly, but if it’s verbal, Isaac will offer a second chance. He won’t give out a third.

Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

Ezekiel will follow laws that he feels he doesn’t need to break at the time. If he can justify it, including ‘Cause I can, there’s no one to stop me’ he will break it. Isaac follows all laws, even the ones he doesn’t want to. For the ones he doesn’t want to, he’ll find ways to bend them, especially if they’re immoral/unreasonable in his eyes. Best example I can give is in the Legion, not sure if it’s actually a law, but, women are treated as breeding stock and that’s it. Isaac had slaves but would only treat them as such around the other legionaries. Behind closed doors, he cooks for them and looks after them personally. Never once did he use them as breeding stock.

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Ezekiel is in almost a complete state of nostalgia constantly as he unconsciously tries to live his old life in Goodsprings in Zion. Good food, sleeping in a quiet camp, hunting, learning from Joshua/father-figure, etc. helps keep him grounded in his world. Isaac often receives nostalgia from intrusive memories, but as a physical thing, probably his appearance. In a fit of fear and rage, he destroyed his mirror and where the river runs next to his home he added extra rocks to help disfigure his reflection when he’s near the water. It brings him great pain to see his own face and body due to the scars he received from the Legion.

What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

Pre-story... Ezekiel was probably told to stop beating up kids for minor offenses and Isaac was probably told to not worry so much about Ezekiel doing dangerous things.

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

Both swear and neither remember when they first did.

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

Isaac’s most common lie is the typical “I’m fine.” a lie that isn’t spoken about except when before the story takes place, is that the Courier was very sick, but Isaac, Courier, and Cass made Ezekiel believe otherwise so that Ezekiel could continue to dream of the amazing man his dad once was. Which that in itself would be haunting, because he’s holding up a dam of terrible things. While Ezekiel would constantly say “No.” to the question, “Did you eat anything you weren’t supposed to?” 9/10, he ate something he wasn’t supposed to. That doesn’t haunt him, but he’ll regret lying when he ends up with intestinal obstruction or food poisoning.

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

As soon as the confusion hits, depending on the scenario and how he’s feeling he might interrupt the conversation to ask for clarification or he’ll tune out what’s being said so that he can think on his thoughts. Isaac will pretend he understands if the conversation isn’t relating to something dire.

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

Isaac will ask his brother or a friend for help but if he’s alone, he’ll use a stick or his wall. Ezekiel will go up to anyone and ask, but if not, he’ll turn into a yao gui and rub his back on anything. GOTTA GET THAT ITCH.

What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

Ezekiel likes orange and Isaac likes white. I think they could both pull off black. Anyone can, black is a flattering color but who would want to wear that in the desert sun?

What animal do they fear most?

Ezekiel doesn’t have a lot of fear towards any creature, but I’d say feral ghouls or Deathclaws and Isaac fears spore carriers.

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

Ezekiel will always say what comes to mind. Isaac will think before he speaks.

What makes their stomach turn?

I’ve got nothing for Ezekiel, but Isaac would barf if he smelled or saw a rotting corpse.

Are they easily embarrassed?

Ezekiel is fine being quirky but there are some situations that makes him a radstag in flashlight. Isaac feels more shame than embarrassment.

What embarrasses them?

Ezekiel has been known to wet the bed even into early adulthood. Also, while he is fine playing with kid-oriented items, depending on his current emotion and he’s made fun of, he’ll either respond with embarrassment or anger. Isaac gets second-hand embarrassment from Ezekiel’s behaviors sometimes. He once wet the bed and was caught by Daniel when doing laundry but it was agreed to never be brought up or mentioned again. He mostly feels embarrassment/shame when doing or caught using chems.

What is their favorite number?

Ezekiel’s is the number 6 because Courier Six was his dad. Isaac does not have a favorite number.

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

Oh boy. Ezekiel might not be able to tell the difference. He might just say that romantic love makes ‘funny things happen’ so to speak even as an adult. All three might overlap for him. Though I guess it would depend on the person reading since my RP partner did not like when I had Ezekiel be affectionate towards Joshua (Hugging and asking to share a bed) as ‘boys don’t always ask their dads for hugs or to sleep with them, it’s inappropriate’ but if daughters can do that with their mothers, who cares?

Isaac would go on a long shpeel about the psychology of romantic, platonic, and familial love, I’m too tired to write how he’d explain it.

Why do they get up in the morning?

Ezekiel gets up because it’s a new day and the second he opens his eyes, he’s a ball of energy! Breakfast. Also breakfast. Isaac gets up for the people he loves and for the people who need him.

How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?

Ezekiel gets vocal. He’ll make sure you know that you’re spending too much of his time around his brother or Joshua. Isaac will get quiet.

How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?

Ezekiel will take what he wants/intervene. Isaac might get bitter about it, but he’ll remind himself that there are others that are more important or who need it more.

Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom?

Their thoughts on this is pretty similar regardless of age, but speaking from age ranges 18-23, Ezekiel doesn’t really understand it, so he’ll talk to anyone about it. When he does, he’s blunt about it, too which makes for some comedic relief when Joshua is involved in the conversation. Isaac won’t really talk about it if he’s involved. If he does, it’s with Daniel or with whoever he ends up sleeping with. If it’s in a medical context, it doesn’t matter the person.

What are their thoughts on marriage?

Ezekiel doesn’t have an opinion on marriage, but his brother and godfather would feel as though he isn’t ready for a relationship, yet. Isaac likes when others get married, but he himself does not feel worthy of a steady relationship.

What is their preferred mode of transportation?

Walking.

What causes them to feel dread?

When Ezekiel gets caught doing something he shouldn’t by Joshua. Isaac - when it’s night, his generator dies, and when his radio stops working simultaneously or when Daniel forbade him that one time from studying and working because he nearly worked himself to death.

Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

Both would want the truth, but Ezekiel believes in a lie that his brother and mother once told.

Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

Ezekiel believes he’s the best at almost everything and Isaac knows he could do better, but it’s too late.

Who do they most regret meeting?

N/A

Who are they the most glad to have met?

locating Joshua was Ezekiel’s primary goal when running from Goodsprings so I’d imagine that he’d be glad to have found him. Isaac’s could be either Daniel or an unnamed Legion girl.

Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

Ezekiel would try to talk casually about his parents’ death and of the crimes he’s committed. Isaac doesn’t have a go-to.

Could they be considered lazy?

Yes and no. To others, they’d be lazy, but Isaac has depression and insomnia, and Ezekiel’s behavior is similar to a child so he may just be stubborn.

How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt?

If the guilt was brought on by Joshua, Ezekiel would need some reassurance directly from him to fix it. Isaac is constantly ridden with guilt.

How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive?

Both are supportive!

Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap?

Neither seeks romance. Isaac might look for partners for one night stands, but that’s it.

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)?

Both are very good at matching names to faces, but Ezekiel uses his fingers to count and sometimes uses melodies. Isaac likes to file things.

What memory do they revisit the most often?

So far that’s been thought of, Ezekiel revisits the death of his parents most often and Isaac revisits the possible events that led up to him becoming a decanus.

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?

Ezekiel is willing to forget them if they didn’t directly wrong him. Isaac never forgets, he just chooses to overlook them but still keeping them in mind.

How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

Ezekiel never really recognizes his flaws until they’re pointed out. As he gets older though he does start to acknowledge them more. A scene I’ve thought of is when he’s 22 and still playing with children’s toy soldiers. He plays with them with little enthusiasm, abandoning his amusements not by choice. Isaac is aware of his flaws but doesn’t try to better them, but instead tries to better others.

How do they feel about children?

Ezekiel at times believes he is a child, and will try to engage with other children. Some find it creepy but those that know him are fine with it because they know he has good intentions. Isaac is passionate about children and will protect them with his life. While escaping the legion, he had recruits younger than him that he helped escape, some ending up being adopted out to Dead Horse, Sorrows, and New Canaanite families. Even in the Legion, Isaac showed all children he came across respect and kindness.

How badly do they want to reach their end goal?

Neither truly has an end goal. Isaac wants to see the Legion end in a way where it’s people can recover as quickly as possible, so by working with the Followers of the Apocalypse, he can help out stragglers. Ezekiel just wants to become someone Joshua can be proud of. Be the son he never had and never expected to have.

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so?

Isaac would say that he used to be attracted to women, but because he spent so much time around women who loved and cherished him for his kindness, he’d find it wrong to date someone who only loved that he was kind to them. He still finds women attractive, just not enough to act on it. As for men, he could tell you who is handsome, but in a platonic way.

Ezekiel couldn’t tell for the longest time what he was attracted to, but in an alternative story line, when he thought it was women, he ended up finding himself feeling more for a man.

#Isaac cassidy #ezekiel cassidy #fallout new vegas #Joshua graham #daniel #honest hearts #tw: child neglect #tw: child abuse #tw: slavery #tw: scars #tw: parental death #tw: drugs

9 notes · View notes

mwolf0epsilon · 4 years

Note

Maybe a story about Boris holding tryouts for a superhero sidekick and the Sheep trio getting interested?

Summary: With the rise of crime rates in Bouillonburg, Souper Boris has no choice but to follow the advice of a pal, and do the unthinkable... Put up an add on the newspaper for sidekick tryouts.

For anyone who doesn't want mild Bendy Crack-up Comics spoilers just scroll on by. Note that I only saw a few Souper Boris panels so I'm not sure how to write the Woolly Triplets, so bare with me on the absurdity.

---

[[MORE]]

There came a time when ever the wiliest of wolves had to admit he had his work cut out for him. Especially when Bouillonburg's crime rates had slowly risen up with the arrival of newer, overly-eager villains ready to make a name for themselves in the big city. Small-fry that kept his attention when the bigger threats were out there.

Now, Boris wasn't new to the whole crime doesn't pay shtick. Had experience in both worlds even, as he'd been a crook well before he was a goody two-shoes, so in theory he was the ideal hero for this particular city. But even a hero of Souper Boris's caliber couldn't be everywhere at all times. He needed someone to deal with the minor threats while he dealt with his archenemies.

A Robin to his Batman so to speak.

That's where Bendy had to stick his proverbial nose into his business.

"Geeh... No offence pal, but what does an emissary of evil know anything about fighting crime?" Boris asked over lunch with his two best friends in the whole world.

"A lot! You don't get into t'family business without expectin' some do-gooder t'muck it up for ya!" Bendy exclaimed. "I mean, I hang out with Alice don't I?! No offense doll."

"Charming." Alice rolled her eyes at that, but smiled at Boris. "But in all honesty, demons and angels often have to know the intricacies of good and evil to combat each other in the mortal world. Balance is an important aspect of our jobs."

"So in layman's terms, ya gotta know the enemy t'beat the enemy!" The little imp winked at him before leaning back into his chair. "Trust me pal, at this point I've become an expert... And my expertise calls for a newspaper add."

"I can't just advertise the hero business in a newspaper!" Boris huffed. That'd be an open invitation to all his enemies.

"Got any other ideas pal?" Bendy asked.

"Well, no...?" Boris conceded.

"There ya have it."

Two weeks later, after failing to stop the SSSB from crashing the Oscars, Souper Boris had over 50 people lining up for tryouts. He had no other options but to try Bendy's suggestion... Unwise thus far, as he was greatly disappointed in this rouster of inexperienced glory hogs seeking to become his sidekick.

"Next..." He scratched off the last name from his list. He was down to the 49th interview. "Name and skillset?"

No reply. He looked up from his list to stare at a dog with mime's attire and makeup on. A frigging mime of all things.

"... Please leave."

The mime pouted but nodded and walked off, joining the other 48 people preceding them. What a Grade A clown act.

"Next..." He pinched the bridge of his snout and glanced around for the next disappointment. He blinked upon not seeing the 50th candidate standing there.

A tap on the leg made him look down at...

"The Woolly Triplets! Golly gosh! I haven't seen ya since your graduation!" He knelt down to talk with the trio of small sheep. "What brings you to a sidekick casting for good old Souper Boris?"

The trio murmured among each other before looking back up at him.

"Super villains got us beat..."

"Not enough to go around to keep a roof over our heads..."

"Or a meal in our bellies."

"We want payback." They finished together.

"Ah... Yeah I figured the crime scene's been suffering something awful since all these super villains started popping up like daisies... Even the more experienced villains have been complaining." It wasn't easy being bad when someone else wanted to out do your badness. If only more heroes came into the picture as well... Boris honestly blamed the economy on that one. "You lot learn anything since I taught you how to crime?"

"I learned kung-fu." One of the triples proclaimed.

"I got a gun license." Another added.

"I studied torture tactics, both physical and psychological." The final boasted.

"You're hired." Boris grinned. This was going to ease his workload so very much! He could finally get even with Miss Twisted, the Brute and the Cameraman for that fiasco at the Oscars, now that his little buddies were going out to deal with the pests that put them out of work. Win-win! Everyone got revenge! That was sorta like justice, right?

Who knew Bendy could actually have good ideas once in a while?

#eps writes:#bendy and the ink machine #batim #bendy crack up comics #bendy spoilers #boris the wolf #woolly triplets

8 notes · View notes

skyguyed · 5 years

Text

the normalization of abusive behavior in reylo

for those wondering why some people are calling reylo an abusive ship, below the divide are examples and explanations from The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi where Kylo Ren displays abusive behavior towards Rey.

This is important because abusive/toxic actions in fiction are often normalized to the point where viewers may not notice abusive behaviors as red flags, or may grow to see abusive behavior as normal, even romantic (or valid precursors to romance).

This post will also discuss the role of fictional portrayals in shaping reality, and why I believe supporting reylo means normalizing abuse.

Thank you in advance for your time and energy to read this.

The purpose of this post

This post (essay, really, it’s gotten pretty long) will examine every interaction between Rey and Kylo Ren, and will point out where and how abuse occurs in this relationship. I will also discuss why this matters.

This post is not meant to police anyone or insult, nor is it meant to incite disrespectful arguments. It is not a call for censorship. The purpose of this post is to help unaware reylo shippers understand where and why reylo is abusive, to help fans recognize abusive behavior, to assess the relationship between fiction and reality, and to discuss why I believe supporting reylo means normalizing abuse.

Trigger warnings for mentions, descriptions, and discussions of violence, domestic violence, abuse, and rape.

Legal definition of abuse:

According to the judicial branch of California,

The domestic violence laws say “abuse” is:

Physically hurting or trying to hurt someone intentionally or recklessly;

Sexual assault;

Making someone reasonably afraid that he or she or someone else is about to be seriously hurt (like threats or promises to harm someone); OR

Behavior like harassing, stalking, threatening, or hitting someone, disturbing someone’s peace, or destroying someone’s personal property).

Read more about Domestic Violence.

What abusive behavior does reylo display?

Kylo Ren exhibits these types of abusive behaviors towards Rey (timestamps indicated when appropriate):

Immobilizing her

Using the Force in the forest on Takodana (TFA, 1:17:32)

With physical restraints in First Order custody (TFA, 1:25:40)

Threatening her with a weapon

With light saber, while she’s immobilized by him (TFA, 1:18:00)

Stalking her

“You still want to kill me.” “That happens why you’re being hunted by a creature in a mask.” (TFA, 1:26:08)

Putting down her friends

“Where are the others?” “You mean the murderers, traitors, and thieves you call friends?” (TFA, 1:25:57)

Kylo Ren called Rey’s parents “filthy junk traders” (TLJ 1:48)

Hurting her friends: Finn, mortally (TFA, 1:54:42)

Not to mention killing his father Han in front of her, who had become someone she trusted.

Entering her (mind) without permission (confirmed by JJ Abrams as an intentional rape parallel in a Facebook post to Daniel Fleetwood, since deleted/made private - see summary here)

This happened twice- once on Takodana when he had her immobilized (TFA, 1:18:12), and then again in First Order custody: “You know I can take whatever I want.” (TFA, 1:27:00) despite her tears, fear, and obvious discomfort and protests

Threatening to expose her secrets (where is BB-8 and the map to Luke Skywalker)

Attacking her with a weapon

Also using the force to attack her (multiple times)

Rendering her unconscious (real world equivalent: drugging or physical violence)

First on Takodana with the Force, (TFA 1:13:32), then on Starkiller Base, by launching her into a tree (TFA 1:51:24)

Trying to manipulate her (into joining the Dark Side)

Snoke may have initiated their force bond, but as soon as Kylo realized what it was, he started using it to make Rey sympathize with him

Kylo Ren feeds Rey only part of his side of the story, painting himself as a victim (leaving out how he slaughtered/turned the other students, and what he did to concern Luke in the first place [re: the “darkness rising in him,” TLJ 1:00:33])

Gaslighting and verbal abuse: “You have no place in this story. You come from nothing. You’re nothing... but not to me.”

“Your parents threw you away like garbage. You can’t stop needing them.” (TLJ 1:12:02) He hangs this over her head, again at TLJ 1:31. And “the truth” at 1:48.

Kylo also literally abducts Rey after knocking her out, although that isn’t on the cited list. And he frames her for murdering Snoke after she wouldn’t join him, which puts a huge target on her back. And um, tries to actually kill her (“BLOW THE PIECE OF JUNK -- OUT OF THE SKY!”)

Kylo’s own manipulation, abuse, and gaslighting by Snoke do not excuse his treatment of Rey. (Finn was abused and brainwashed, too. And he chose to turn better.)

Here are resources for abuse victims.

Why the interrogation scene has clear rape parallels

This is not meant to cheapen or lessen the trauma faced by physical rape/assault victims. I understand that this comparison is upsetting to some people because, since it is presented on-screen as a parallel, it could be argued as much less severe or even be seen as trivializing the plight of real-life victims. I’m not trying to speak for all abuse victims when I say this, but as a person who has experienced sexual violation, I can’t help but see a clear parallel here.

The interaction is highly invasive. Rey is terrified and protests when she is able to. Kylo Ren tells her shit like not to be afraid, etc. (which sounds like stuff abusers say). She tells him to stop (1:27:39) “Get out of my head” and still he proceeds, ignoring verbal and physical protests. This is not a healthy dynamic, and shouldn’t be portrayed as romantic, or as a prucursor to romance. It’s clearly violating, and it’s triggering to a lot of fans.

When we do not acknowledge this scene as a nonconsensual psychological invasion of a person, I believe we are glossing over an extremely vital dynamic in this relationship. The fact that Kylo says to Rey, “I can take whatever I want,” shows an entitlement to her mind and body that he doesn’t deserve, an attitude shared by many abusers. It creates a power difference that forces Rey to fight back to regain control from him. I’ve seen people argue that he was “gentle” but gentle violation is still violation.

But they’re at war.

This really doesn’t excuse Kylo’s actions towards Rey, sorry. And even if they are at war, this kind of behavior he’s exibited towards her thus far does not make a good foundation for a healthy relationship. That trauma, those offenses will still be there.

Also, if they’re at war, Rey has every reason to fight back, so saying that “Rey abused Kylo Ren back” when he’s the perpetrator is a flimsy argument. Her ability to “kick his ass” does not make her immune to abuse. It also shifts the blame for Kylo’s mistreatment from him, to her, which is vastly unfair, echoing the victim-blaming sentiment that’s pervasive in our own reality, that real victims face.

Why do we care if Reylo is abusive? It’s just fiction.

We should care that Reylo is abusive because fiction reflects and influences reality. This TED Talk discusses how fiction changes people by increasing empathy, and changes a person’s point of view. Fiction is powerful in shaping a person’s actions. Reading fiction helps readers navigate a real social world. Additionally, fiction can spark public dialogue and raise attention to real-world issues. Reading fiction has been associated with an increase in charitable giving and voting (x).

Here are some examples of fiction influencing reality:

Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1852) was the first major US novel with a Black main character, and it “ opened reader’s eyes to the realities of slavery and the humanity of enslaved people.” “Stowe’s candor on the controversial subject of slavery encouraged others to speak out, further eroding the already precarious relations between northern and southern states and advancing the nation’s march toward Civil War.” (x) Conversely, in modern times, it has helped popularize harmful antiquated stereotypes of Black people (x).

Joe Biden attributed historic changes in American views of homosexuality to Will and Grace (1998), which influenced American views on LGBT rights and helped open the door to more programs with LGBT leads.

Fifty Shades of Grey (2011) popularized BDSM and caused a spike in reported sex-related injuries, and has been accused of perpetuating dangerous abuse standards. A 2014 study showed correlation between the novel’s readers and eating disorders, abusive relationships, and binge drinking.

Star Trek has been vastly influential. Astronaut Mae Jemison (the first Black woman in space) was inspired by Lt. Uhura. The show featured American TV’s first interracial on-screen kiss. Steve Wozniak cited Star Trek as an influence for co-founding Apple (x). Star Trek has encouraged many people to pursue a career in science (x).

Jaws (1974) caused beach attendance to fall the following summer, sparked an increase in shark trophy hunting, and demonized sharks in the public eye. (However, shark research received more funding.)

Six in ten Americans get their HIV/AIDS information from the media (x). Musicals like Rent (1993) helped humanize people living with HIV/AIDS, as well as LGBT people. Rent has also been cited as helping encourage LGBT people to come out.

The Turner Diaries (1978) is a novel cited by white supremacists.

Lolita’s (1955) sexualization of a 12-year-old girl has impact on modern celebrities wardrobe choices and image.

Black Beauty (1877) caused the bearing rein to be banned in Victorian England and inspired animal welfare activists.

Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle (1906) portrayed harsh working conditions for immigrants in industrial areas, and raised awareness and produced public outcry which directly led to the passing of the Meat Inspection Act and the Pure Food and Drug Act, both in 1906.

After the release of 13 Reasons Why (2017), schools saw an increase in student self harm and suicides, and related internet searches.

Psychologist Raymond Mar writes, “Researchers have repeatedly found that reader attitudes shift to become more congruent with the ideas expressed in a [fiction] narrative.” “For example,if we watch a TV program showing a sexual encounter gone wrong, our own sexual ethics will change... If, however, the show displays a positive sexual encounter, our own sexual attitudes will move towards the permissive end of the spectrum.” (x pg 150)

In one study, 19% of respondents said that after finishing a work, a character’s voice stayed with them, influencing the tone of their thoughts (x).

More resources:

100 stories that changed the world

The power of fake gay (and black) friends: We form judgements about characters the same way we form judgements about people.

Readers may change their beliefs and thoughts to match a fictional character’s

The importance of framing in relationship portrayal, an essay by an abuse victim. This essay is very long but it is a must-read. It also touches on the fact that the power of fiction is more than just having fun and our experiences shape how we interpret media.

Abduction as Romance - a harmful trope where the abductor is framed as “a decent guy” at the end. (20-min video, well worth the watch.) Danger is portrayed as a sexy trait, while the disempowerment of women is fetishized. The video also comments on how often white guys get away with it, while men of color don’t. Also, see commentary at the end of the video about what real redemption means.

Yeah, but how does supporting reylo influence reality?

Supporting Reylo means that we’re giving credibility and validity to violence at the beginning of a romance. It’s like saying to a child who got pushed by another on the playground, “oh, they’re bullying you because they have a crush on you.” It’s promoting a fundamental entitlement and disrespect.

Impressionable young people seeing this abuse treated as a desirable dynamic, as conditions that could lead to romance, are being primed to accept this or even emulate this in their own relationships. When we see this treated as acceptable in fiction, we are primed to see this as acceptable in reality.

Why not promote healthier dynamics? Why not rehearse the rejection of abusive behavior?

A look at canon

So, let’s not forget, that in canon, Rey and Kylo Ren are not in a relationship. So, some say, that means it’s impossible for this to be abuse. However, by suggesting that these characters should be in a relationship is harmful because it romanticizes rocky starts to relationships, and physically violent starts to relationships.

More reasons why Kylo Ren is dangerous

While Kylo Ren has been shown in canon to be able to freeze or immobilize people, instead he mortally wounds Finn, who is clearly Rey’s friend and defender, in order to intimidate her and overpower her.

Not to mention that throughout the film, he displays characteristics of an abuser, such as violence towards others, (uh, murder), destruction of property, and other characteristics. It may be argued that these outbursts are symptoms of mental illness. It may also be argued that Kylo Ren is a victim of abuse himself, by Snoke. However, none of this excuses his shitty behavior. Being mentally ill or also an abuse victim does not grant one a free pass to act abusive towards others.

Kylo Ren also tortures and invades and abuses Poe Dameron. Thank god I haven’t seen anyone shipping them. Kylo Ren is an abuser, y’all.

Oh and one more thing? Kylo Ren never uses Rey’s name in the TFA; he doesn’t see her as a person, just an object to overpower, an obstacle to beat down. He doesn’t use her name until The Last Jedi, when he begins to try to manipulate her, rather than indimidate her with force alone. Then she becomes a tool to him. Clearly he still doesn’t value her as a whole person. Again, not romantic. Dangerous and toxic.

Why I’m still against Reylo even if Kylo is redeemed

It’s not a woman’s responsibility to “fix a damaged man.” (It’s not anyone’s responsibility to use romance to “fix” anyone, actually. Romance is not a cure for abuse.) The burden of redemption should be on the villain alone. Kylo had plenty of opportunities to accept help. Additionally, we shouldn’t support abusive behavior as a start or precursor to romance, because that’s a really harmful message to send. And, previous acts of violence are the biggest predictors of future violence, so I’m wary of them entering a relationship without significant amounts of therapy and reform on Kylo’s part.

What do we do from here?

Don’t support Reylo. That’s it. No conditionals. No “well if they change” no “well they’re fictional so they can be written differently” no AUs, no. Please don’t promote a relationship that is based in abuse.

I’m not saying we need to sanitize our fiction of abuse or of abusive relationships. That’s not going to make them go away in real life. I’m not trying to censor or silence anything. I’m trying to make sure that abusive relationships are CLEARLY FRAMED as abusive, and not promoted, normalized, or glorified in any way. (See my previous post discussing this.)

Have fun, but understand that fiction is powerful and influential, and it’s our responsibility to engage with it in a way that supports healthy relationships.

#anti reylo #star wars #anti kylo ren #arop #ok to reblog

153 notes · View notes

darkouter · 4 years

Text

tom’s cult tactics with death eaters + his views on muggle knowledge

i promised this post the other day, and now i deliver. gonna talk about the roots of death eaters belonging more to a cult origin than that of typical political terrorists / supremacists, the variety of reasons people join, and the Bullshit that tom pulls. quick rundown on cults, first:

there are a variety of definitions, and people in the criminology / sociology fields kind of fight about it because it’s pretty damn easy to get offensive with what you consider a “cult.” but death eaters fulfill some of the most common criteria people bring up when defining a cult:

i. they are centered around an authoritarian, charismatic leader for whom members hold a particular admiration for (tom) ii. they are associated with an extremist, often false philosophy (blood supremacy) iii. this philosophy is curated by the leader, which members unquestionably follow iv. dissent is highly discouraged and punished within the group v. the group is elitist, often claiming special status for their membership or that they are “enlightened”

tom is, of course, also a highly skilled abuser. he developed how to create a cult for years. it is by no accident that the death eaters formed. he saw the advantages that came with creating an insular group as a kid, having his crowd at hogwarts. the slug club also made him realize how useful it is to artificially create bonds between people, falsifying higher status and kinship among each other.

during his days abroad, he primarily focused on magic, but he met some. interesting people. not all of whom were magical, either. an example of the type of people he met would be those involved in groups such as the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, A∴A∴, Ordo Templi Orientis (O.T.O.), and those notable followers of Thelema. while many real wizards were involved in these groups, muggles were just as pervasive, but Tom found himself with them nonetheless. while he sought out these groups for their knowledge in magic, he learned a lot about aleister crowley, and became interested in the abbey of thelema — specifically about how crowley managed to always create a cult following during his life. he sought out previous members, such as jack parsons, which led to him becoming familiar with l. ron hubbard, so tom........... effectively learned how to form a cult.

this isn’t a crowley post, so i’ll try to cut his nonsense short with regards to tom, but he is one of the few people who created a horcrux himself. haven’t created a proper hp verse for him that goes into detail about it. tom found him. they both essentially sponged any knowledge they could from each other until they both couldn’t stand each other anymore, as they’re both incredible narcissists who were destined to hate each other once the circle-jerk was over.

this brings me to the subtopic on what tom thinks of muggle knowledge. he doesn’t think it’s entirely without merit, but he paints it as such to others because it suits his narrative. he grew up with it, so he knows where it’s useful. as someone who is on the heavy end of the narcissistic and antisocial personality spectrums, studying psychology and sociology is actually a subject he has high interest in. manipulation proved to be one of his most useful skills during his life, serving as a foundation for how he built any amount of power. so, while it was somewhat accidental that he stumbled into learning about group-dynamics through the previously mentioned organizations, he didn’t stop there. he added it to his list of things to further research, and he developed a variety of ways to amass a following. #JustCultThings

some strategies he would employ:

i. deception about what death eaters stand for, typically presented in a way that fits whoever is being coerced into joining. specifically appealing to vulnerable people who can be manipulated. barty, for example, was not at all interested in the supremacy or political side, so tom advertised it much like a fraternity. he targeted barty’s abusive relationship with his father as a weak point, offering himself as a replacement. he further minimized the mayhem other death eaters would cause, comparing them to rowdy kids, among other things.

ii. this was followed by gaslighting, isolation, and thought reform. outsiders were painted as ignorant, the media as liars, and he would barrage them with propaganda. if family and friends could be converted, it was encouraged. if not, members would be advised to distrust them and even cut them off.

iii. hierarchy upon hierarchy. once you’re in, you could always be more in. appease tom in order to get closer. there are rewards to those who do more. get into the inner circle. your placement is not guaranteed to be permanent, so you must constantly be certain to do more for the death eaters than your fellow members, and tripping up is worse because punishment is severe.

iv. when he senses discomfort from anyone, the immediate reaction is to quickly make them do something in order to solidify their membership. if someone needs to be punished and you’re looking nervous in the corner, he’s calling on you to use the cruciatus curse. big, impulsive, pressured decisions make people feel trapped and like they can’t go back. once someone puts their own personal effort into something, they are less likely to abandon it.

v. outside of this and direct punishment, people who express doubt or uncertainty also get worked the hardest. sleep deprivation and debilitating work help people fall into group-think. compliance is rewarding because then the workload is lighter.

vi. the masks! not only do they help with people who are worried about being caught associated with the group, but people are less inhibited when they wear masks (this is due to what is called deindividuation, which was studied during the zimbardo stanford prison experiment; it is “a breakdown of the distinctions between individuals, or the process of losing the belief that one is perceived as a separate entity,” as defined in human motivation by bernard weiner).

vii. leaving is simply not permitted. we all know how sirius thought regulus died because he tried to leave. this was not uncommon. ex-members are looked down on even more than outsiders. outsiders are, at least, always a prospective new member. muggles and muggleborns are the exception.

there’s so much more, but damn this is already so long lmao.

now let’s look at various reasons why people join:

i. tom himself. he is the center of it, after all. people like barty are blindly loyal to him because they simply admire him.

ii. the philosophy of blood supremacy. this is usually what people focus on when they talk about death eaters, of course. some of them really are just bigots and nothing else.

iii. the politics. outside of blood supremacy, a key feature that a lot of people found appealing was the idea of abolishing the international statute of wizarding secrecy. while this goes hand in hand with blood supremacy for some, not all people want the statute abolished for that reason. some people just....... don’t like that hiding from muggles is mandatory.

iv. as mentioned earlier with barty’s recruitment as my example, there is a sense of belonging with the death eaters, like it’s a fraternity. if you already know and are close to a death eater or multiple, you may join for that reason alone.

v. members who don’t join of their own volition may also join due to threats, blackmail, other tricks, and even via jinxes.

vi. others that join “voluntarily” may also simply do it because they are scared and believe that it will offer them protection.

vii. tom also makes a lot of promises. about wealth, knowledge, and power. lots of death eaters simply joined because they were greedy and wanted power. it has perks.

a lot of these reasons are closely associated with each other, and often people would have more than one of these pushing them to join.

anyways i’ve been staring at this post for too long and my eyes hurt, so i’m going to end it here. if there are any typos or anything, sorry lmfao. there’s a ton more to write on this topic, but this is already an essay. i meant to leave more citations for information like a proper psych major, but i don’t feel like providing it, so snglksdf. i know too much about cults. i am my own authority for information on this post.

#| OOC: HEY GHOULS!#| HC: TOM RIDDLE.#| HC: BARTEMIUS CROUCH JR.#| HC: ALEISTER CROWLEY.#it mentions him enough to merit it going into his tag i think dsjfnhsdf

6 notes · View notes

neuxue · 6 years

Text

Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 22

So...I read the chapter. That was...

Chapter 22: The Last That Could Be Done

Oh.

Okay.

Well that…uh... that… sure is a chapter title. Yeah. Um.

It certainly evokes the idea of a threshold. Which… I am starting to see why you were all so eager for me to get here.

(For those who are curious: my guess at this point, reinforced by that title, is that this is when Rand reaches his low point and crosses that last line somehow. The somehow seems likely to involve Semirhage and the a’dam that is being kept in a SMALL. WOODEN. BOX.)

The Last That Could Be Done. Just…damn.

That just leaves the question…done by, or done to?

I should probably stop staring at the chapter title and actually read the chapter, shouldn’t I?

OH EXCELLENT IT STARTS WITH SEMIRHAGE. HEEEEERRRRRREEE WE GOOOOOOOO.

During her days, prisoners hadn’t been denied light.

Um, Semirhage? ‘Alone, in the dark, with the pain’ ringing any bells?

Oh okay fair she admits it in the next sentence.

There’s a part of me that’s a little bit…annoyed?...at how Semirhage was broken so easily. I absolutely get the point that was being made, and on one hand okay sure I can work with that but on the other hand…the rapidity with which it worked and the fact that she’s now huddling in a corner trying not to cry seems to almost cheapen her character somehow.

Of course, this is coming from me, and I have a whole Thing with competent characters (usually villains) being robbed of that competence at plot-critical moments. But that’s very much a personal preference thing and a Lia Has A Type thing, so. YMMV.

Torture made sense. You truly saw what a person was made of, in more ways than one, when you began to slice into them.

That’s a terrible pun Semirhage and you should be ashamed.

Why couldn’t they have given her pain?

This is such an excellent line. It’s so wonderfully…ambiguous? And the way it’s phrased, along with the actual meaning and implication, is just off enough to make it stand out.

She had steeled her mind to each of these things, preparing for them. A small, eager part of herself had looked forward to them.

Of course she had. And Semirhage is in such an interesting position in terms of the whole ‘figs and mice’ thing. She knows pain and torture so intimately, knows probably more ways to hurt someone than her gaolers could begin to think of, has spent a disturbing amount of time studying pain and the nature of pain. So what she is capable of imagining is so much worse than what would probably have been done to her, which was Juilin’s whole point with the figs and mice explanation. But Semirhage also has such a clinical and precise understanding of all of this that it would almost certainly not have the same psychological effect…it would have been interesting to see this play out.

Oh hey Shaidar Haran. This will no doubt end well.

“You have been given one last chance,” the maggotlike lips whispered. “Do. Not. Fail.”

Yep, I’m sure this will all turn out wonderfully.

Three corpses, everything’s fine.

“I live to serve, Great Mistress,” the woman whispered. “I am instructed to tell you that there is Compulsion in my mind you are to remove.”

Is this Verin’s Compulsion? Shall we start keeping a tally of How Many Things Can Go Wrong In One Chapter? I feel like setting Semirhage free is one of those things that’s just going to set off an avalanche of OH SHIT.

“Also,” the woman said, handing something forward, wrapped in cloth.

Oh shit.

“I am to give you this.” She removed the cloth, revealing a dull-coloured metallic collar, and two bracelets. The Domination Band.

Well.

Here we go, then.

I mean, I was kind of expecting it to come to this, but still…well played on getting that Domination Band into the hands of, out of the cast of the entire series, the person capable of doing the absolute maximum damage with it. The one who best knows how to torment, how to break, how to find the cracks and pry them open. Giving Semirhage, the Lady of Pain, a way to have absolute control over someone…that’s the stuff of nightmares. Especially because she’s not motivated by anger; she’s clinical and precise and she delights in this. “He must know pain of heart. He must know frustration, and he must know anguish.” Putting this tool in Semirhage’s hands and setting her loose?

A smile finally broke through Semrihage’s fear.

This is going to be spectacular.

And now we’re in Rand’s POV. I’m ready. Let’s do this.

Lews Therin’s memories. Not his own.

What is Lews Therin’s is yours, Rand. You are the Dragon Reborn. That is the entire point. Lews Therin is your past, but that does not define the fate of your present. Accept it, use it, learn from it. Claim it and make it a part of you because right now you’re almost literally tearing yourself apart.

I do feel like we’re close to a turning point with this though, one way or another, purely because of how prominent it has become in Rand’s thoughts. It’s reached the point where it doesn’t feel sustainable any longer; it’s always been headed there but now it’s not just a slip of memory here and there, something that can be ignored or brushed aside to be dealt with later. He’s holding on to an idea or a barrier or a specific sense of identity and there’s too much pressure on those walls, and any moment now it’s going to shatter. And I’m really, really interested to see how that plays out.

“Has it occurred to you,” Ituralde said, riding on Rand’s left, “that what we are doing here could constitute an invasion?”

NO SHIT. Rand’s just like ‘there are some Saldaeans it’s fine’ and Bashere and Ituralde are probably wondering what they’ve done to deserve this.

“I am the Dragon Reborn. It is not an invasion to march against the forces of the Dark One.”

Well, that’s…a fair point. How much do borders matter, at the end of the world? How much should they matter?

And it’s that difference between ‘do’ and ‘should’ that can be so frustrating and discouraging, but at the same time it’s human; the apocalypse is huge and all-encompassing and too much to actually take in and deal with and accept, much less begin to systematically address, but sovereignty and invasion and homeland are much more manageable concepts. And much closer, more personal concepts for most than some nebulous and not always well defined impending doom. So instead we continue to contribute to our own destruction, perhaps because putting some of those grievances aside would mean accepting that there really is something larger, something infinitely more terrifying, something we don’t know how to address, something we could no longer hide from once we acknowledge it. Easier to defend your home and your people against a definable them than stand beside them and defend an entire world against forces of nature or fate or our own selves.

Sorry, that verged on political there for a second.

It was an act of war, but the Borderlanders’ forces were away doing Light only knew what, and he would not leave these lands undefended.

This, on the other hand, still makes me want to hit my head repeatedly with a brick. Luckily, I recently purchased a hardcover copy of Oathbringer.

Ow.

But seriously, Borderlanders, WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT. It’s still just so absurd, like ‘oh this guy is ignoring us while we mind our own business guarding the Blight, guess we’d better leave the Blight to go find him and tell him to…pay attention to the Blight’. Why. Why.

Maps sometimes couldn’t convey the truth eyes could see.

Sanderson, I think you and I need to sit down and have a chat about maps.

Also reading this is just an exercise in anticipation because you KNOW WHAT’S COMING.

Well, you know what’s coming. I just know that SEMIRHAGE AND THE DOMINATION BAND AND THIS IS GOING TO GO SO VERY WRONG ANY MOMENT NOW but my point stands.

“I will leave some of Bashere’s officers with you as advisors,” Rand said.

“That would help,” Ituralde said, “but I wonder if it wouldln’t be better to just leave him here.”

I do love Ituralde. And Bashere. I want more of the two of them together.

But Ituralde has a point, and not even from a ‘this is an invasion and not like that time Switzerland accidentally invaded Leichtenstein but an actual invasion’ perspective, but from the simple fact that he doesn’t know the Blight. Bashere does. Friends don’t let friends fight Russia in winter, and friends don’t let friends run blindly into the Blight.

“No offense, my Lord, but don’t you think it’s odd to have us working in each other’s kingdoms?”

Ah but here, see, we come back to my earlier question. Should those borders matter? Can they afford to care about whose kingdom is whose, when they’re all fighting for the future of the entire world now? Are the borders not part of the problem, dividing them when they need to be united in facing the Shadow? At least for now, they need to be able to work across borders. They’re all on the same side in this – or at least, they need to be – and perhaps forcing them to work in a nation that isn’t theirs is a way to enforce that, in a strange way. To say that it doesn’t matter what country you’re in right now; it matters that you’re standing against that.

It wasn’t odd, it was bitter sense. He trusted Bashere, and the Saldaeans had served Rand well, but it would be dangerous to leave them in their own homelands. […] His reasoning with Ituralde was equally brutal. The man had sworn to him, but allegiances could change. Out here, near the Blight, Ituralde and his troops would have very little opportunity to turn against Rand. They were in hostile territory, and Rand’s Asha’man would be their only quick means of getting back to Arad Doman. If left in his homeland, however, Ituralde could marshal troops and perhaps decide he didn’t need the Dragon Reborn’s protection.

It was much safer to keep the armies in hostile territory.

And that’s all true and pragmatic and probably effective, but I feel like this is a perfect example of the whole concept of “if he goes to Tarmon Gai’don as he is, even his victory may be as dark as his defeat.”

It’s a case of ‘right thing for the wrong reasons’ – all of this is true, but it’s not the reason Rand perhaps should be thinking of. Instead of seeing this as a chance to encourage unity and common cause, he thinks about how to make use of enmity in order to hold things together just a little longer before they inevitably fall apart. He’s dividing rather than uniting, even though his actions would be more or less the same either way. It’s an issue of mindset and perspective and purpose; he does not trust, he does not seem to believe any longer that there is a way to truly unite everyone. Instead it’s a question of force, of holding everything together and pushing through just enough to get to that end goal, but that’s not enough. And it draws closer and closer to the Shadow’s goals. Play on distrust, sow chaos, play towards but never beyond the ending.

Rand hated thinking that way, but that was one of the main differences between the man he had been and the man he had become. Only one of those men could do what needed to be done, no matter that he hated it.

And he doesn’t see it. It’s not just about what must be done; it’s remembering why.

[Narishma] had been a Borderlander, too, before he had become Asha’man. Too many clouded loyalties. Which would come first for Narishma? His homeland? Rand? The Aes Sedai to whom he was a Warder?

Except it shouldn’t matter because all of those should be aimed at the same thing right now. But ‘should’ is not always ‘is’. Also, Rand, Narishma nearly died bringing Callandor to you. And then there’s Dumai’s Wells and the Cleansing. Maaaaaaaaaybe trust the kid?

I want more of Narishma. He’s intriguing and he’s had some really cool moments but it feels like he hasn’t yet had his turn in the spotlight and I’d like to see him have that. I’d actually really love to see him interact with Logain. I feel like that would be A Lot.

But the most dangerous enemies were those you assumed you could trust.

Ah, Rand. It’s…he has been so hurt before, and he has so little ability to trust, and it’s not even remotely difficult to see why. And he needs to be able to trust some people, because it’s all part of the same spiral, but it’s hard to even criticise him for this because while it’s obvious from the outside how damaging it is…how can he still trust?

It’s true of so much of his path at the moment; there are so many things he’s doing that he really should not be doing, and he’s tearing away pieces of himself and trying to harden himself and it’s all so very damaging but how can he not? But he needs to find a different way, and that’s the most difficult part. That’s the heroic effort, however it ends up playing out. But he has to go through all of this first, has to make those mistakes because they’re the only way he can see to remain even remotely functional, but also because given what he’s been through and what he sees ahead it’s nigh on unfathomable that he would just pass gracefully through and never stumble.

The night where he had dreamed of Moridin, and there had been no Lews Therin in his mind. It twisted Rand’s belly to know that his dreams were no longer safe. He had come to rely on them as a refuge. Nightmares could take him, true, but they were his own nightmares.

And how awful is that? That he seeks refuge even in nightmares because there is so little refuge left to him now. His own mind is a minefield, the world is duty and pain, and now even those dreams have been taken from him, along with everything else. He has nowhere to escape, almost no one he trusts, and no longer much hope for the future. Alone, in the dark, with the pain.

But okay. That dream with Moridin. And Rand had come to rely on his dreams as a refuge, but that was…almost what it was, even then, with his enemy at his side. Because that dream was when he felt stable, felt more himself, and he just…sat, quietly, looking at the fire. Talking with Moridin but neither of them fighting.

And then we come to the fact that dreams are clearly a refuge for Moridin as well. He didn’t expect Rand, didn’t bring Rand into that dream. He was just…there. Sitting in front of the fire. Tired and without hope.

Rand is the Chosen One, the one who must fight again and again at each turn of the Wheel, fighting a battle that may never be truly won because victory only buys another chance, another cycle.

But Moridin or Ishamael or Elan Morin Tedronai is chosen as well, a Chosen Antagonist. If his interpretation is correct, he, like Rand, will be spun out again and again to fight in the ultimate battle of good against evil, of Light and Shadow, time and again. And to lose. As Moridin put it, “When you are victorious, it only leads to another battle. When he is victorious, all things will end. Can you not see that there is no hope for you? […] there will be no eternities. Only the now, the last days.” And he was ostensibly talking to Rand, but I think he was also speaking of himself.

This is their story, a simple story that they will play out – like Birgitte and Gaidal Cain – in a thousand variations. They will face each other with the world at stake – a world that has cause to hate and fear them both, but refuses to let them go.

And when you realise that your fated recurring role is the Eternal Antagonist, you either seek an ending or you convince yourself that this is what you wanted all along. As Ishamael, he tried the latter. As Moridin…the former seems the only option left to him.

Is it any wonder, then, that when we first meet him he all but thinks himself the Dark One? He has immense power but for all that he is watching the Wheel turn and the Pattern play itself out, knowing that for him it will always mean a loss. And so he takes on the persona of the only one – he thinks – with the power to break this Pattern that weaves him to betrayal after betrayal, to fall after fall, to fight after fight that he cannot avoid but cannot win. He takes on the guise and the identity of one who has power he never will, and lies to himself, because if he is powerful then this is his choice, and he has a chance at true victory, of re-writing his role, even if not for the better.

And he does have a choice – they both do, in how they step into those roles and where they let that path take them, and how they face it. It comes back to the why, to the question of what are you fighting for, to the nature of hope and the choice to hold to it or abandon it. But it’s also a question of perception. Rand perceives himself as constrained because duty will not allow him to step aside; he will see the world saved because he cannot stand by and watch it burn. It is a choice, but to him it doesn’t always feel like one. And Moridin… “your logic destroyed you, didn’t it?” He is constrained by what he sees as inevitability – which is almost ironic, in that by capitulating to inevitability he makes of it a self-fulfilling prophecy. So both absolutely do have choices (I promise the purpose of this is not ‘Moridin did nothing wrong’), but both are also subject, especially in terms of their own perception, to the weaving of the Pattern.

So here you have the two Chosen Ones, one fated to have a slim chance of saving the world but only through pain, and the other fated to fail in its destruction, time and time again.

It’s no surprise, really, that they both find a refuge of sorts in dreams, and even that they can sit in one side by side for a few moments.

And that was a bit of a digression. Oops. I just have a lot of Thoughts about Moridin, and about Moridin-and-Rand and the choices they make and the roles they play and what leads them there and how they see those roles, and how they are alike but not, sides of a coin tossed again and again.

Anyway.

Why had Moridin come to help Rand in Shadar Logoth, back during the fight with Sammael? What twisted webs was he weaving? He had claimed that Rand had invaded his dream, but was that just another lie?

No, I’m pretty much certain that was true. That Moridin really does just…use those dreams as a chance to escape from his own place in all of this, for a time.

He and Rand are both focused on an ending right now. Rand is increasily focused on just getting to Tarmon Gai’don, on ‘we can die at Tarmon Gai’don’, at forcing everything to that one point and progressively losing hope of anything that might come after. He’s losing sight of why he’s fighting and of the purpose of all of this, looking only at that one point when it will all finally be over.

And I think Moridin’s…kind of in a similar position. Which says something about Rand’s current mindset and brings us back to the ‘even his victory may be as dark as his defeat’ thing. It’s also more or less exactly where Moridin wants Rand to be. He must know anguish…

Except that Min didn’t want him to be hard.

I am trying not to make the obvious joke here. I’m trying. I swear.

She might call him a fool, but she did not lie, and that made him want to be the man she wished him to be. But did he dare? Could a man who could laugh also be the man who could face what needed to be done at Shayol Ghul?

Rather blunt terms, but…yeah, that’s kind of the crux of the problem at this point. He doesn’t see how to reconcile those, because he doesn’t see a way to let himself feel without shattering.

It would take a hard man to face his own death, to fight the Dark One while his blood spilled on the rocks. Who could laugh in the face of that?

…Yeah. Oh, Rand.

That’s the thing; on some level he can just about see that what he’s doing to himself right now maybe isn’t good, but he can’t see another way. Because how can he face that? Except he has to, and I’m still fairly sure a large part of that is going to be in accepting who he is and who he was, and in finding…is it a pun if I say ‘a memory of light’?

She says we need to break the seals. She’s right.

Rand froze, pulling Tai’daishar up short, ignoring the groom who had come to take the horse. To hear Lews Therin agreeing…

What do we do after that? Rand asked.

We die.

Well that was almost helpful, Lews, thanks.

You know that if he wins, there will be nothing for us. Not even death. Yes…nothing, Lews Therin said. That would be nice. No pain, no regret. Nothing.

If he wins, there will be nothing. That’s…more or less what Moridin said and again, he seemed to welcome it. Which makes ‘not even death’ also a pun and I would say I’m sorry but I’m not at all sorry.

What I am is wondering how much of an effect the bond or link or whatever it is between Rand and Moridin might have on their thoughts and mindsets.

Rand felt a chill. If Lews Therin began to think that way…No, Rand said, It wouldn’t be nothing. He would have our soul. The pain would be worse, far worse.

Oh, Rand. He still desperately doesn’t want to die, though he doesn’t see another option. And more than that, the ‘if Lews Therin began to think that way…’ it’s as if Rand himself can barely avoid falling into that mindset, and if Lews Therin starts to, it’ll only make it all the harder. Especially because Lews Therin is Rand but that’s another issue. But Rand is just barely holding on as it is, and he’s already promised Lews Therin that they can die at Tarmon Gai’don, and now to have Lews Therin wondering if defeat might not be the better choice, if maybe oblivion is preferable…it’s hard enough for Rand to hold on to any reason to keep going and this would be too much.

And so he argues with himself, trying to remind himself that it would be even more pain, that it wouldn’t get better, that he can’t just stop that easily, that it isn’t an escape. That he has to keep going.

(Also I’m once again thinking of Moridin and his seeming eagerness for this ending of everything, and…if he’s thinking along the same lines as Lews Therin is, but if Rand is right…)

It didn’t work, Lews Therin whispered. We used saidin, but we touched it to the Dark One. It was the only way! Something has to touch him, something to close the gap, but he was able to taint it.

Oh.

OH.

Something has to touch him.

There’s a link between Rand and Moridin.

The True Power cannot be tainted, because it is already of the Dark One.

Moridin can touch the True Power.

‘A Memory of Light’…

I wonder.

Duty was like a mountain. Well, Rand felt as if he was trapped between a good dozen different mountains, all moving to destroy him.

I mean you did turn yourself into one…

The sun was near to setting, and the mountains were bathed in a red light. Beyond them and to the south, so strangely close, lay Emond’s Field and the Two Rivers. A home he would never see again, for a visit would only alert his enemies to his affection for it. He had worked hard to make them think he was a man without affection. At times, he feared that his ruse had become reality.

Mountains. Mountains like duty. The duty of solitude in this case, for somewhere southward along those too-near mountains was his father. Tam.

This whole passage is lovely; sad and beautiful. ‘The duty of solitude’. And the setting sun, bathing those mountains in red – a gathering storm, a growing darkness, a fading light that becomes harder and harder to see as all that is left to him is a duty that feels like it will crush him. The mountains of duty and the red of blood and battle and all that he can see of his future, as the light vanishes.

And at times, he feared that this ruse had become reality. It’s the much more painful side of ‘fake it ‘till you make it’. In the early books he was very much projecting an image of the person he needed to be, or thought he needed to be, but wasn’t yet. But how long can that last before it becomes reality? How far can you go before you lose yourself to it? At some point, does it matter whether it’s a ruse or reality, if the actions taken are the same? Where is that line and how do you keep it from vanishing entirely?

At times, Rand longed for Tam’s voice, his wisdom. Those were the times when Rand knew he had to be the most hard, for a moment of weakness – a moment running to his father for succor – would destroy nearly everything he had worked for. And it would likely mean the end of Tam’s life as well.

But he can’t keep closing off those he loves, and those who love him. The duty of solitude, he calls it, but that’s…part of the problem. He has so few left that he trusts, and there are few left who even see the humanity in him, not to mention his pain, and he can’t do this alone.

Also I just really, really want a Rand and Tam reunion. Rand needs Tam. Rand needs pretty much anyone he can get who still loves him as Rand. And also TAM.

He needed to be alone. Relying on anyone would risk being weak when he reached Shayol Ghul. At the Last Battle, he would not be able to lean on anyone other than himself.

Except…the opposite of this.

Again though, it’s all too easy to see how he comes to this line of thinking. He’s been hurt and betrayed, and he fears that anyone near him will be hurt as well, but…you can’t do this alone, Rand. He has the two other ta’veren, and he will need them. He has Min and Elayne and Aviendha, and he relies on their bond to strengthen him. He has Nynaeve, and he doesn’t have Tam right now but he should, and he has Bashere and Lan and his other allies and he needs all of them; he may stand at the centre of what is coming but the Last Battle can’t just be him. He can’t do all of it on his own. And again, what is he fighting for, if he closes himself off to that extent? It will only get more difficult to care about the rest of the world if he doesn’t allow him to care about those closest to him.

At this rate, his stewards worried that he would soon bankrupt his assets in Illian, Tear and Cairhien. Rand had not told them that he didn’t care. He would see the world to the Last Battle.

And will you have no legacy other than that? a voice whispered in the back of his mind. Not Lews Therin, but his own thought, a small voice, the part of him that had prompted him to found schools in Cairhien and Andor. You wish to live after you die? Will you leave allof those who follow you to war, famine and chaos? Will the destruction be how you live on?

Rand shook his head. He couldn’t fix everything! He was just one man. Looking beyond the Last Battle was foolish. He couldn’t worry about the world then, he couldn’t. To do so would be to take his eye of the goal. And what is the goal? that voice seemed to say. Is it to survive, or is it to thrive? Will you set the groundwork for another Breaking or for another Age of Legends?

What are you fighting for. You need to remember, otherwise you will destroy it in your effort to achieve it. And this is his struggle right now, to care about what comes after, when it’s taking everything he has just to get there. To care not just about victory at the Last Battle but about what that victory means, and what it establishes. Because if all he thinks about is that one single point, if he burns the world to win, then he has not won at all.

And he knows that, but it’s so hard for him to accept and to acknowledge because it’s too much; he’s right that he can’t fix everything, and that he’s just one man. He has to let others help him, and he has to look past that point, and that’s why his role as the potential saviour of the world fucking sucks, because it’s demanding of him everything he has and then some, and he doesn’t even have much hope that he’ll be around to see what comes next. He just has to care anyway, and caring hurts.

Eerily, Rand felt as if he could almost remember those events – not what had happened, but the anger, the desperation, the decision. Was the mistake, then, not using the female half of the Power as well as the male?

Well, partly. Or perhaps they would both have been tainted. But yes, collaboration is probably a good starting point.

There was a game children played, Snakes and Foxes. It was said that the only way to win was to break the rules.

I mean, finding a way to turn the True Power against the Dark One, thus making the Shadow’s own power serve the purpose of the Light could certainly be considered ‘breaking the rules’. The question is how. Moridin seems like the answer there, but…how? Can he be forced into it? Or…I mean okay I’m not sure I want to even hope for redemption here because Ingtar aside that’s not really how these books seem to go but there is the whole no man can walk so long in the Shadow that he cannot come again to the Light so it’s not impossible, maybe…

Could he break the rules by slaying the Dark One?

No don’t do that that’s a terrible idea.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard again, sheepherder,” Min said.

“I have to.”

She pinched his neck hard, and he flinched, grunting. “No you don’t,” she said, her voice close to his ear. “Haven’t you been listening to me? What good will you be if you wear yourself out before you reach the Last Battle?”

Listen to Min, Rand, she’s wonderful and she can help you. Let her help you.

“Cadsuane says that—”

“Wait,” he snapped, twisting around so that he was facing her. She knelt on the bed, short dark hair curling down beneath her chin. She looked shocked by his tone.

“What does Cadsuane have to do with this?” he asked.

Min frowned. “Nothing.”

“She’s been telling you what to say,” Rand said. “She’s been using you to get to me!”

Yikes. If Rand’s reached the point where he can so quickly mistrust Min…

The serving woman continued to clink dishes. Why couldn’t she just leave!

I am concerned about the identity of this serving woman.

Min couldn’t be working with Cadsuane, could she? Rand didn’t trust Cadusane by any measure. If she’d gotten to Min…

Rand felt his heart twist. He wasn’t suspicious of Min, was he?

At least he caught himself. Min is pretty much the last one he does trust completely, and he came very, very close to losing even that. He’s so close to the edge here, to not trusting anyone at all, to being suspicious of even those who love him most. He’s long since stopped trusting Egwene, he has less trust for Nynaeve than he once did and maybe trusts her more than most Aes Sedai but not completely, Elayne…hard to say, but there’s some slight political tension there, Aviendha maybe but they haven’t had a chance to interact in approximately forever because Aviendha’s being stubborn. Lan’s gone again and even that one is a bit strained, which hurts me, he mostly trusts Bashere but still takes some precautions, he hasn’t seen Mat or Perrin in forever and I don’t know if trust is really the right word there anymore either…and that leaves Min. The one person with him who he can confide in, who can bring him at least a little bit back to himself, who he can trust completely.

And he caught himself here, but still the suspicion was so quick to come, and he had to push it aside. It was still his first reaction, and he had to consciously stop himself from following that path. Oh Rand.

Burn me! He thought. She’s right. I’ve grown too harsh. What will become of me if I begin to grow suspicious of those that I know love me? I’ll be no better than mad Lews Therin.

It’s a good line of thought, and a necessary one, but I’m still SO CONCERNED because again, this entire chapter has been ANTICIPATION EVERYWHERE and at any moment it’s going to go horribly wrong and

“Min,” he said, softening his voice. “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps I’ve gone too far.”

She turned to look at him, relaxing. Then she stiffened, eyes widening in shock.

Something cold clicked around Rand’s neck.

AFLKE;JLASJS;ELTIAH;ERKLEFJAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

That is such spectacularly terrible timing. The moment he lets his guard down, the moment he lets himself – makes himself – soften even a little. The moment he reminds himself to trust. The moment he begins to admit something he really needs to admit to; he needs this realisation so badly. And he’s on the verge of it there, and then…this.

Because this will only teach him the cost of that ‘weakness’. The price of trust.

It’s so perfect because it’s SO AWFUL. The exact worst thing happening at the exact worst moment.

The serving woman stood behind him, but her form was shimmering. She vanished and was replaced by a woman with dark skin and black eyes, her sharp face triumphant. Semirhage.

HERE. WE. GO.

At that moment, Rand felt terror. He met Semirhage’s eyes anyway, and she smiled deeply.

THIS IS THE WORST THING AND I’M SO HERE FOR IT.

He’s absolutely powerless. It’s the box again but worse, and it’s the same thing – half a second of something that could almost be mistaken for a tiny bit of trust, and it ends in pain and powerlessness and terror. And there’s nothing he can do so he tries to stand defiant but this is Semirhage and she has absolute power over him right now and that is absolutely horrifying.

This is where Rand breaks, isn’t it?

And oh shit I just realised that this is set up so that Min is in the room.

Just when Rand was thinking about how he tried so hard to convince his enemies that he was a man without affection. One of the few people he shows and feels genuine affection for is in the room, and Semirhage knows how to hurt people the most, and “I would cut off my arm before I hurt you.”

Run, Min.

Or throw a knife. That works too.

Well it doesn’t work, actually, which is kind of a shame, but. Massive credit to Min for trying – again. This is Semirhage, one of the Forsaken, one of the most powerful channellers in the world and the monster parents scared their children with for millennia, and Min should be so out of her depth but she just…decides not to be. She’ll face this, and pull a knife, and call for help, and do anything she can think of, because that’s what she does.

And Rand is just…standing there watching, powerless to move, unable to grasp saidin, unable to do anything at all.

Desperate, Rand reached for saidin again, but found nothing. In his head, Lews Therin began to snarl and weep, and Rand felt almost as if he would join the man. Min! He had to get to her. He had to be strong enough!

He forced himself toward Semirhage and Elza, but it was as if he were trying to move someone else’s legs. He was trapped in his own head, like Lews Therin. He opened his mouth to curse, but nothing came out beyond a croak.

This is…terrifying and it’s just the beginning, because she hasn’t even done anything yet. But he’s absolutely powerless, no matter how much he tells himself that he has to be strong enough – there’s nothing he can do. He’s been here before, in the box, and that only makes it worse.

And…somehow he’s going to have to find a way out of this, because that’s how this works, so now I’m just remembering the They will pay. I am the Lord of the Morning moment and trying to think how that will scale up, and.

I love how perfectly, incredibly, beautifully awful this is. It’s…you really couldn’t make this worse for Rand. To be so powerless, at a moment where he almost allowed himself to acknowledge that he has gone too far. To take that and then encage him, put him at the mercy of the one who knows pain better than possibly anyone else alive. While Min is there. And he knows what this collar is, knows that Semirhage can control him with it, knows her and what she is capable of, and there’s no way out.

Just. Wow. I…yeah.

Rand stood up off the bed, his legs moving against his will. Then, his own hand whipped up and began to squeeze his throat just above the neck band. He gasped, stumbling. Frantic, he reached again for saidin. He found pain.

THIS IS SO MUCH.

I UNDERSTAND NOW WHY YOU ALL KEPT WHISPERING ‘22’ AT ME.

THIS IS SO SPECTACULARLY TERRIBLE AND IT’S JUST GOING TO GET WORSE AND THIS IS IT THIS IS THE BREAKING POINT THIS IS

This is just the warm-up and

We’re in the box again! Lews Therin cried.

And suddenly, he was. He could see it, the black confines, crushing him. His body sore from repeated beatings, his mind frantic to remain sane. Lews Therin had been his only companion.

I mean there is a slight irony to ‘frantic to remain sane’ being immediately followed by talking about the voice in his head as his only companion. But yeah, this is the box again. Except, you know, worse.

Boxes are bad for dragons.

Rand hadn’t been willing to see Lews Therin as part of himself. The mad part of himself, the part that could deal with torture, if only because it was already so tortured. More pain and suffering was meaningless.

This is Fine, I am completely fine, this is absolutely 100% okay. Oh, Rand. That…hurts.

And it’s also such a twisted reflection of Egwene’s recent adventures in pain. She took it in and was able to disregard it because it was secondary to the greater pain of watching the Tower fall apart, but in it she found strength and purpose and a cause she believed in. There is pain, but she could endure it because she was focused on something greater. Rand…it’s similar and yet so very different. The pain is meaningless because there’s so much more pain, so much that he won’t even let himself acknowledge it as his, because it broke Lews Therin so how could it not break him too, if he lets that barrier down? The pain is just more pain, and he’s focused on another goal, but even that brings pain, and he’s forcing himself through it but it all hurts and he so badly wants an ending but he can’t even let himself hope for that too strongly. It’s such an excellent and terrible not-quite-parallel, because it really does manage to be so similar in so many ways, and yet create a sense of opposites.

Perhaps a large portion of the difference comes from that moment when Egwene realised the key: understanding. She knows why she’s fighting, and it strengthens her. Rand hasn’t reached that point of his own arc, quite – he knows he has to win the Last Battle but he’s lost so much of the reason for it. He’ll have to reach that point too, but this is….not the time for it. This is kind of the opposite of that.

He stopped screaming. The pain was still there, it made his eyes water, but the screams would not come. All fell still.

And Egwene stood silently before Elaida and the other Aes Sedai, beaten and bleeding, but calm. Yet for her it was a moment of triumph, while for Rand it is a moment of desperation; he is very close to seeking refuge in madness, here. He is powerless and he can’t see a way out and it’s taking him back to the worst thing he has endured and making it even worse and this is not even remotely a moment of victory. This is despair.

So you get these scenes that are similar in staging, to some extent, with similar beats, and yet they serve almost opposite purposes. I love it.

Also just so much pain.

Semirhage looked down at him, frowning, blood dripping from her chin. Another wave of pain washed across him. Whoever he was.

He stared up at her. Silent.

WHOEVER HE WAS.

WOW.

THAT’S…damn. Whoever he was. He’s adrift in pain, letting himself take refuge in the part of him that is Lews Therin, because there is so much pain there that more is meaningless, and yet he’s not fully Lews Therin either, he’s just…

It reminds me of the battle of Cairhien, in that sequence where Rand comes close to losing himself kind of for the first time, where we get one of my favourite lines: because of Couladin, true, but at the heart of it, because of himself. For a moment, he could not remember his name.

It’s eerie and silent and absolutely terrifying.

Whoever he was. Just…yeah. I…yeah.

He stared up at her. Silent.

When they beat him, after taking him out of the box, he made himself smile through the pain. Now…now it is just silence. Staring at her silently as the pain washes over him and even his identity is adrift. Silence. Nothing. And in its own way it’s even more than the defiant smile. This isn’t defiance, really. It’s something else. Apathy, maybe, except that’s not quite right either.

“What are you doing?” she said, compelling him. “Speak.”

“No more can be done to me,” he whispered.

OH.

WOW.

OKAY THAT’S.

ALRIGHT. UM.

YEAH.

I was trying to find the words to describe the silence and then THIS HAPPENED and yeah it’s a perfect description and it’s so chilling.

Also because Rand now is not the time to issue that kind of challenge.

But mostly because…no more can be done to me. We’ve reached that point. So much pain and suffering that more is just…more. It’s meaningless. There’s nothing left, and there’s barely even anything left of him, and he is a being of pain, what’s a little more?

There’s just this sense of that step past desperation – desperation implies hope. And Rand was there a few seconds ago but now he’s just…pain.

Wow that line is a lot.

Shit. Okay.

Another wave of pain. It shocked him, and something inside of him whimpered, but he gave no outward reaction. Not because he held the screams in, but because he couldn’t feel anything.

I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THIS.

Well okay actually I want to compare it to Egwene again because that’s another difference – she withstands the pain, and accepts it. She feels it, and it hurts, and she withstands it because there is a greater pain that she also allows herself to feel, and she accepts that too because it is a part of her purpose, and she embraces that purpose.

I just love how a very similar concept – the nature of pain, and the point at which it is ‘overcome’ – can be used in such starkly different scenes. One a triumph, one a nadir.

The box, the two wounds in his side corrupting his own blood, beatings, humiliation, sorrows and his own suicide.

OKAY JUST. THROW THAT AT ME. RIGHT OKAY UM.

Sorrows and his own suicide WHY WOULD YOU EVEN.

Just. Wow. That…I can’t really say that came out of nowhere but damn.

Killing himself. He could suddenly and starkly remember that.

The moment Lews Therin broke. And he can remember it, remember it clearly, sorrows and his own suicide, and what does that do to someone? To remember that, while he is powerless and in pain, already barely withstanding everything he has to endure in this lifetime, remembering in vivid detail the moment he broke in his last one. I just. This is.

This is so good. This is so well done; that doesn’t do it justice but I’m really kind of amazed by this scene because to get something like this right is hard. Rand’s been through so much that it could easily just be ‘okay and now there’s more pain’, or it could be too much and just become absurd or meaningless, but it manages to find a balance where everything just hurts.

After all of these things, what more could Semirhage do to him?

Do. Not. Ask. That.

“Great Mistress,” Elza said, turning to Semirhage, eyes still seeming faintly dazed by something.

Possibly by the removal of the Compulsion in her mind but also very possibly by the pain she can feel secondhand through the Domination Band. And Rand doesn’t even consider that; it’s another of those moments where you see Rand through another character’s eyes even as you’re in his POV and it’s a little bit horrifying.

“That’s twice now those knives have tasted my blood.”

Min. Run.

“You say nothing more can be done to you? You forget, Lews Therin, to whom you speak. Pain is my specialty”

Yeah.

The thing is, hurting Rand himself may be more or less meaningless at this point. He exists in pain. But you don’t have to hurt Rand to break him.

He turned around, obeying her wordless command, and found Min hanging above the floor, tied by invisible ropes of Air. Her eyes were wild with fear, her arms bound behind her back, her mouth blocked by a woven Air gag.

It was always leading here. To hurt one of the last people in the world he cares about, who loves him, who he loves. And he remembers Lews Therin’s last moments, remembers Ilyena, remembers sorrows and his own suicide and now he’s standing powerless and in pain and he has to see where this is going and still there is nothing he can do.

This is…absolutely perfect. There’s really no way this could have been made worse.

Use it, Lews Therin whispered. Kill her while we can! I will not kill a woman, Rand thought stubbornly, a figment of a memory from the back of his mind. That is the line I will not cross…

I mean if you don’t cross it you’re going to kill a woman you care about. But if you do cross it, then you’ve crossed your last line. And so either way Rand loses, because this is the line he has drawn in the sand, the moral event horizon he has set himself, the last threshold he will not – cannot – cross, because crossing it means he has nothing left to hold to. It doesn’t matter what the line is; it matters that there is a line at all, and now…I’m not really seeing a way out of this without crossing it one way or another.

The last that could be done. There is a double meaning there, perhaps, and if so it’s excellent.

And then he began to form weaves, complicated ones of Spirit and Fire.

“Yes,” Semirhage said, almost to herself. “Now, if I can remember…The male way of doing this is so odd, sometimes.”

Rand made the weaves, then pushed them toward Min. “No!” he screamed as he did so. “Not that!”

“Ah, so you see,” Semirhage said. “You weren’t so difficult to break after all.”

Semirhage is spectacular. I was annoyed that she wasn’t getting a chance to live up to her reputation but holy shit does this ever make up for it. Because this. This is.

This is one hell of a way to fulfil the character Semirhage promised, in the mentions and glimpses of her. Which is a hard thing to do, because that kind of character often works better off-screen than on; most of the time they end up disappointing. Semirhage almost did, but man, this changes things.

The weaves touched Min and she writhed in pain. Rand continued to channel, tears springing to his eyes as he was forced to send the complex weaves through her body.

I am 100% certain this is not the way he should be re-learning tears.

Semirhage must have released Min’s gag, for she began to scream, weeping. “Please, Rand!” she begged. “Please!”

And it’s awful because she loves him and cares for him and trusts him, and knows he never wants to hurt her…and now he is torturing her and it isn’t him and she knows that but that kind of…doesn’t change the fact that she is in pain at his hands. And she’s begging him, and there’s no way he’s not going to play that over and over in his mind and hate himself for it, and what is it going to be like for Min, to look at someone she loves and remember agony at his hands?

Rand roared in anger, trying to stop, unable to. He could feel Min’s pain through the bond, feel it as he caused it.

I…he isn’t actually going to kill Min, is he? And in doing so break the Warder bond himself? We’re not actually going there, are we?

“Stop this!” he bellowed.

“Beg,” Semirhage said.

“Please,” he said, weeping. “Please, I beg you.”

He’s not even trying for defiance. He just…begs.

I guess the fact that he’s weeping could be considered progress?

But damn the image of him standing there, torturing someone he loves and begging, when moments before there was nothing but pain and silence.

He bowed his head. There had to be a way out! He imagined her using him to tear through the ranks of his own men. He imagined them afraid to attack, lest they harm him. He saw the blood, death and destruction he would cause. And it chilled him, turned him to ice inside.

They have won.

THIS IS SO. MUCH.

THIS IS SO GOOD I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY ANYMORE I’M JUST.

WELL FUCKING PLAYED.

That image. Of Rand used as a weapon against his own, of Dumai’s Wells and Ebou Dar but so many times worse, turned against his own side; he’s made himself into a weapon and now he’s in the wrong hands and wow that is an image.

I mean, it’s not going to come to that but it kind of doesn’t need to.

Semirhage glanced at the door, then turned back to him and smiled. “But I’m afraid we must deal with her first. Let’s be about it then.”

Rand turned and began to walk toward Min. “No!” he said. “You promised if I begged—”

“I promised nothing,” Semirhage said with a laugh. “You begged quite prettily, Lews Therin, but I have chosen to ignore your pleas.”

She’s good. She’s very, very good at this. To make him do what he would see as the worst possible thing, to offer him a way out. And he begged so easily, without hesitation, because there was no question of defiance at that point. To give him that reprieve, even as he thought ahead to the horrors awaiting, but at least the immediate horror has passed. And then to turn back as an afterthought. It’s so much worse than if she had done this right away. To give him that almost-hope, and then to hand him absolute despair.

He stepped up to Min, her pleading eyes meeting his. Then he pressed his hand to her throat, gripping it, and began to squeeze.

“No…” he whispered in horror as his hand, against his will, cut off her air. Min stumbled, and he unwillingly forced her down to the ground, easily ignoring her struggles. He loomed above her, pressing his hand against her throat, gripping it and choking her. She looked at him, eyes beginning to bulge.

How will she look at him after this? It’s such beautifully crafted cruelty towards both of them. They’re both absolutely powerless and this isn’t Rand’s fault, it’s not his choice…but it is still him. And the way it’s written, the language here, highlights that. Forcing her to the ground. Ignoring her struggles. Looming above her. And she can know it’s not really him, that he’s being forced to do this, but. It’s his face and his hands and his body and he is the one she sees and that’s not the sort of thing you can just forget, or ignore.

The one who loves him, the one who trusts him, the one he trusts, the one he can confide in. The one who still sees him as human, as ‘sheepherder’, as Rand. And she’ll still want to, but how do you…get past something like this? How do you avoid it leaving some scars? And that will only hurt them both more.

Also please, please do not kill Min.

This can’t be happening.

Semirhage laughed.

Ilyena! Lews Therin wailed. Oh, Light! I’ve killed her!

Rand squeezed harder, leaning down for leverage, his fingers squeezing Min’s skin and pushing down on her throat.

It’s so detailed, so visceral, which of course it is because that’s the entire point. Every step of this is him, he is doing this and causing this pain and there’s nothing he can do to make it stop and this is Min and she’s still staring up at him and wow this scene is.

He felt horror, he felt her pain. Min’s face grew purple, her eyes fluttered. Rand wailed. THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING! I WILL NOT DO THIS AGAIN!

ASLFKAJSLESJAT;LIEHRSE

And he’s remembering the last time and it’s the same thing, lifetimes repeating, doomed to Lews Therin’s fate as he so feared he would be, remembering breaking as Lews Therin even as he’s being broken as Rand and it just compounds, and

Something snapped inside of him.

Okay.

Yeah.

So this is.

This is it.

This is the actual breaking point and.

He grew cold; then that coldness vanished, and he could feel nothing.

The last that could be done. The last step into absolute unfeeling steel, into numbness, nothingness.

No emotion. No anger.

At that moment he grew aware of a strange force.

……..oh.

No.

NO THAT ISN’T

ARE YOU

THAT IS

And if it is, if what it takes to access that power is true nothingness, no emotion, no anger…what does it say about Rand that this is the state he has been striving for for so long? To be steel. To harden himself until he cannot feel. If that has been his goal, and in achieving it he can touch the Shadow’s own power…

I mean the ‘I must be steel’ thing was pretty clearly Not Good but if the endpoing of that trajectory is the True Power, that’s. Um. I mean, the goal was to play Rand until he served the Shadow, even as he stood as champion of the Light. He must know anguish.

Wow.

Okay I can say I did not expect this.

I mean, I wondered, briefly, about Rand and the True Power in terms of his connection to Moridin - I remember at one point saying ‘...Rand can’t use the True Power, can he?’ which in hindsight oops - but like.

I did not expect this.

A clouded face flashed before Rand’s own, one whose features he couldn’t quite make out. It was gone in a moment.

Is he accessing this through Moridin, somehow? And in light of what I was just speculating about, with the whole ‘saidin was tainted because it touched the Dark One but something has to touch him’ thing…if Rand can access the True Power….

But that’s going to come at a price.

I mean the fact that he’s accessing it at all, here, is a price.

Oh, Light, Lews Therin suddenly screamed. That’s impossible! We can’t use it! Cast it away! That is death we hold, death and betrayal!

It is HIM.

Chills. Actual chills. That is…wow. That is such a terrifying, perfect, chilling moment. It is HIM. That beat, there. The realisation. The absolute stunned horror.

This is Rand’s low point, and he reaches out and touches the Shadow.

How perfect is that? How absolutely, perfectly, beautifully terrible?

That is death we hold, death and betrayal. What a line.

I wondered how They will pay. I am the Lord of the Morning would scale up. This. This is how. This is…

Looking for any way out, a way to save himself and Min, a way to escape from Semirhage’s hold over him, a way to reclaim himself…

And to do so, he seizes the Dark One’s own power.

Rand closed his eyes as he knelt above Min, then he channelled the strange, unknown force. Energy and life surged through him, a torrent of power like saidin, only ten times as sweet and a hundred times as violent. It made him alive, made him realise that he’d never been alive before. It gave him such strength as he’d never imagined. It rivalled, even, the power he’d held when drawing from the Choedan Kal.

He screamed, in both rapture and rage, and wove enormous spears of Fire and Air. He slammed the weaves against the collar at his neck, and the room exploded with flames and bits of molten metal, each one distinct to Rand. He could feel each shard of metal blast away from his neck, warping the air with its heat, trailing smoke as it hit a wall or the floor. He opened his eyes and released Min. She gasped and sobbed.

And somehow this, his moment of escape and what should be some kind of victory, eclipses in horror the previous moments. Somehow, this managed to make it worse, even as he freed himself. It is HIM.

This.

Is a stunningly well-executed scene.

Because this is it. The last that could be done, and he reached for any way to stop it, any way at all, and found true emotionlessness and in that, the Shadow’s power.

The champion of the Light, channelling the power of the Dark One. He must know anguish. He did, and it pushed him to this. It is HIM. And so the Shadow lays claim to him. He hasn’t turned but this is…I mean, this is what the Shadow wanted. Even his victory may be as dark as his defeat. It was the only way, and yet.

The True Power.

I’m still just…kind of stunned.

Oh okay we’re not done.

Of course we’re not done.

Rand raised a hand and, filled with the power he did not understand, wove a single weave. A bar of pure white light, a cleansing fire, burst from his hand and struck Semirhage in the chest. She flashed and vanished, leaving a faint afterimage to Rand’s vision. Her bracelet dropped to the floor.

Elza ran toward the door. She vanished before another bar of light, her entire figure becoming light for a moment.

No anguish, no agonised decision, no moment of hesitation, no word, not even any thought shown. Just…a lifted hand, a weave of power, and light. One and then the other, and we see nothing of Rand’s thoughts. No anger, no emotion.

The last line. The last that could be done.

And in that sense, breaking the Domination Band is rather symbolic – it’s the shattering of a restraint. The last thing holding him back. And he breaks it, using the True Power, and as that last restraint falls away and he embraces the Shadow’s power, he crosses the last restraint he’s made for himself. Quietly, almost easily.

What have you done? Lews Therin asked. Oh, Light. Better to have killed again than to do this...Oh, Light. We are doomed.

Rand savoured the power for a moment longer, then – regretfully – let it drop away.

That is such a chilling contrast. Still no thoughts from Rand, because it’s all Lews Therin now. Rand has relinquished that. He’s crossed that line and a part of him knows it, and is horrified by it – and more so by that power he has just touched – but only as Lews Therin does he let himself acknowledge it. And the only thoughts we’re getting here are Lews Therin’s, because Rand is in that numb state of no emotion.

And the contrast of Lews Therin’s absolute horror against Rand savouring that power, and regretfully letting it go. Not even thinking about what he’s just done.

It’s also…I love that it’s What have you done rather than the more classic What have I done? Because, given the nature of Rand and Lews Therin, it’s the same thing. But because it’s phrased this way, it’s also…not. And it’s even more chilling because of it.

The way he can go from we are doomed to this eerily quiet savouring of power before regretfully relinquishing it. The True Power.

You guys. I’m. Wow. This is a lot, and I was expecting a lot. But this is phenomenal. This is absolutely perfect and by that I mean this is the actual worst thing that could possibly have happened and it’s executed so. well.

Just the soft, chilling, silent horror here, and the sense that a part of Rand is screaming and he doesn’t let himself acknowledge it – at least not as himself. That he’s just…empty but for this power he has now found. Empty and emotionless and unfettered.

She looked up at him, and seemed afraid. He doubted that she would ever see him the same way again.

….Yeah.

I mean this is Min, and she’s pretty incredible, but. Yeah.

Also still the narrative we get from Rand is so…emotionless. Clinical. This is technically a thought from him, this expression of doubt, but there’s nothing attached to it. No emotion, no sense of regret, just…statement. Lews Therin is the only part of him that’s able to feel anything about what’s just happened, and that part is almost incoherently horrified. It’s this chilling, jarring dissonant contrast, within Rand’s mind, and the way it’s played out here is…yeah. *shivers*

He had been wrong; there had indeed been something more that Semirhage could do to him. He had felt himself killing one he loved dearly. Before, when he’d done it as Lews Therin, he had been mad and unable to control himself. He could barely remember slaying Ilyena, as if through a clouded dream. He’d realised what he had done only after Ishamael had awakened him.

Finally, now, he knew precisely what it was like to watch as he killed those he loved.

Even this is…clinical, sterile. Precise. A clear description, but utterly devoid of emotion. Eerily so, because the last bit of true emotion we got was Lews Therin’s voice with Oh light…we are doomed. And before that the absolute terror of It is HIM.

And in that time, Rand has escaped Semirhage’s grasp and seized the Shadow’s power and killed two people and crossed his last threshold, and all without…thought. Emotion. It’s just…events. Happening. Actions. Which makes this all so much more horrifying. And makes it so much clearer exactly what it is that he’s done here, in taking those last steps.

The last that could be done.

This. This is a low point. This is the low point.

Also I have to take note of how Rand doesn’t distinguish between himself and Lews Therin in that last paragraph there. It’s when he’d done it as Lews Therin rather than when Lews Therin had done it. It’s he realised what he had done. So on the one hand he’s pushing any horror he feels at all of this across that barrier but on the other hand…he’s barely keeping them separate. Which is interesting. Is that the next thing, then? The piece that will let him start stepping away from this low point? Though I have a feeling we’ll be spending a little more time down here. Best get comfortable.

“It is done,” Rand whispered.

“What?” Min asked, coughing again.

“The last that could be done to me,” he said, surprised at his own calmness. “They have taken everything from me now.”

Oh, Rand.

And it’s fitting that he’s so calm, that he says this so quietly and emotionlessly, and it hurts and it’s beautiful and I thought I was prepared for this but in hindsight I’m not sure I was actually completely prepared for it.

This exceeded my expectations.

They have taken everything from me now. I just...oh Rand.

Just that…calm acceptance that it is done. This is it. There is nothing more they can do, they have taken everything, there is nothing left to hold on to. He has crossed those last lines and while he literally begged and wept in the moments before, at the actual threshold it’s barely a sigh. And now that he has crossed, now that it’s done, it’s just…quiet. Because what more is there to plead for, or fight against? What purpose is there in defiance, in anguish? He has lost everything, relinquished the last of himself, crossed the final line that was holding him, that was letting himself believe he still had some shred of Light left to him, and now that’s gone, and so this is it. No pain, no emotion, nothing, because he has moved past that now.

Which is, you know, horrifying.

On so many levels.

I love this. A lot. This is how you break a character.

And it’s also a really interesting place to go because while I’ll be astonished if he doesn’t manage to find his way back somehow – or forward, I suppose, or upwards – crossing a moral event horizon and reaching this state of the-other-side-of-pain-but-not-in-a-good-way is. Quite a step. As far as Rand is concerned, he’s now past the point of redemption. So where do you go from there? What does he do in this state, and more than that, how does he find his way back to humanity?

“I have made my choice, Min,” he said, turning toward the door. “You have asked for flexibility and laughter from me, but such things are no longer mine to give. I am sorry.”

Even that is…we still don’t really see his thoughts here. Because there…kind of isn’t anything there. It’s not a painful, agonising sorrow. It’s not horror at having hurt her, and begging forgiveness. It’s not feeling her love through the bond. It’s just…a statement of fact. I don’t know how human the Dragon Reborn can afford to be, he said to Nynaeve seven books ago. And now…this. The last that could be done.

It appeared that steel was too weak.

He would be harder, now. He understood how. Where he had once been steel, he became something else. From now on, he was cuendillar. HE had entered a place like the void that Tam had trained him to seek, so long ago. But within this void he had no emotion. None at all.

They could not break or bend him.

It was done.

And so the Shadow rejoices.

What a chapter.

That…yeah. That was incredible. I asked for fictional characters in pain and wow did this deliver.

And just…damn. I…yeah. Okay. I’m going to have a cup of tea and like. Stare at it.

Next (TGS ch 23) Previous (TGS ch 21)

#there were some genuine surprises in there well done #that was A Lot #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #The Gathering Storm

82 notes · View notes

fairuzahanun · 6 years

Text

The Gift of Seeing Beyond

“Are you lost, little girl?” an older boy – dark-haired and brown-eyed – taunted, sneering at me.

“What’s a kid like you doing here in our class?” a girl sniffed indignantly. She glanced at me over her raised nose with an air of haughtiness about her.

To be put simply, I was the youngest in my English class, and it was never such a benefit for me to be mousier and younger than others were. The moment I stepped into the room, it was as though a hell of name-calling was unleashed upon me.

While I was beyond delighted and proud of myself for earning a high score on my test, it wasn’t exactly a good thought to relish in when your classmates detested you because of numbers. Obtaining a teacher’s praise in front of class wasn’t toning down the whole assumption that I was a teacher’s pet, and it only made everything worse, to be honest.

As I was exiting the classroom, I felt my shoulders being gripped and then shoved harshly toward the floor. I barely caught myself. When I looked up, I saw a couple of other students glaring at me, brushing past me as if I was a piece of furniture.

“Don’t be such an insufferable know-it-all,” the same dark-haired boy – Shane – spat at me.

I lowered my gaze, clamped into silence. I was worth nothing; they’d made that clear.

“Mum,” I started during dinner on the day I received my test results. I picked at and stabbed my vegetables with a fork. “Why do my classmates hate me?”

I heard a soft clink as Mum set down her silver cutlery. I couldn’t afford to look at her in the eye; I had intolerance with eye contact. To me, when you gaze into someone else’s eyes, you’re entering an entire new universe and it could span infinitely, without end, and you just don’t know when you’ll stop. I was afraid of what I might find in them – hate? Rage? Envy?

“Why would you think that?” Mum asked softly, sitting across me.

“I – they push me around like I’m nothing, Mum. As if I’m not worth a penny.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re worth more than even a bucket of diamonds.”

“Yeah, because you’re my mother! Of course you’d feel that way.”

Mum sighed. “How do you know if they really do hate you?”

“…I don’t know.”

“Look at them in the eye. Discover the secrets their gazes may hold.”

“But, I–”

“Perhaps they’re merely jealous of you, darling. Perhaps they want to be your friends, but they don’t know how.”

I breathed out a defeated sigh. “Maybe…”

A crumpled piece of paper bounced off my head. I looked up from my worksheet, glowering at Shane. “What do you want?” I seethed, which only seemed to give him a smirk of satisfaction.

“So easy to rile up,” the boy mocked.

“Shut up!” I said through gritted teeth. Not so quietly, perhaps.

The classroom looked up from their tasks and went, “SHH!”

I ducked my head, red creeping up my cheeks and glazing my eyes. Why, that little––

“Can you give me your pen?” he asked.

“Why should I?” I shot back.

“I’ve forgotten to bring mine,” he said it in such an easygoing, nonchalant manner and it made my blood boil. Literally.

My fists curled until my nails were molding crescent crevices into my palms. “Bloody hell, no!”

He appeared pleased with himself, smirking devilishly. “And why not, Bianca?”

“It’s your own fault you’ve forgotten to bring your pen!”

“SHHH!” my teacher hissed as her glare fixed on me.

I flushed redder than before, cowering into my seat deeper. When I heard him snort derisively, my glower snapped back into place – on him.

“Aw…” he cooed with a mocking tone. “Is the little dumb bunny in trouble? Teacher’s pet through and through.”

Pet, dumb bunny, know-it-all… The words pounded on my skull, trying to break through and haunt me.

Through the burning salt clouding my eyes, I could see a word on the tip of his tongue, but I escaped from the room before it could join my list of many other names.

“Talk to him. Kindness is the best offense, and it may heal old wounds,” Mum said to me. “Maybe he’s conflicted. A conflict in one’s life spurs one into desiring others to suffer the way one did.”

Shane was hunched over a game of ‘Plants versus Zombies’ on his tablet when I saw him next lesson. My finger, hovering over his unsuspecting shoulder, hesitated. I gathered what I’d learned from Mum, who was a psychology practitioner, last night, all night, begrudgingly compelled into helping by Mum’s inspirational speech at dinner, even if the people included rude bullies.

I pushed my aversion toward him aside and tapped his shoulder. He stiffened and twisted in his seat. But the moment his eyes landed on me, they were filled with thick loath – I braved myself to meet them, the stuttering blow it impacted on me, and glimpsed, though briefly, what was concealed behind that hatred – and his lips curled disdainfully.

“Hi,” I said, biting my lower lip and refraining from fidgeting as I kept my arms at my sides.

“What are you doing here, dumb bunny?”

I held the anger that was sparked by the insult. “I’m here to talk. And settle things like a mature, level-headed person.” In spite of the fact that I was easily eleven that time.

He snorted.

“All right.” I took a seat next to him on the sofa. “Why are you bullying me, Shane?”

Embarrassment and fury flashed in his eyes. “Why should I tell you?” A sign that he was avoiding something.

For once, I felt sorry for him. “I won’t judge,” I said softly.

“No one cares,” he said, his tone harsh. “So why should you?” He stood up, slung his bag’s strap over his shoulder and stormed out of the room.

I saw him two days later, slumping over his phone, in the lobby. During our classes, he had refused to meet my eyes or speak to me, even when the teacher threatened him to throw him outside for not being able to correspond to teamwork.

My car wasn’t here yet, so I took this chance to speak to him. I crept across from the armchair I had been sitting on. “Hi,” I started, playing with my fingers; a nervous tick I’d developed since I’d been a child.

Even though his body seemed to tense upon hearing me behind him, he didn’t say a word and returned to tabbing away on his gadget.

I grumbled. “Look, I don’t know about you, but I want everything to be on good terms between you and me.”

“Well,” he finally said, though his gaze never left the screen, “maybe that’s the problem about you. You’re too positive.” He laughed, the sound condescending and mocking. “Too freaking pure for your own good.”

Being a daughter of a psychologist, I recognised the manner he tried, and successfully, to avert the topic from him to me. The words he’d said didn’t strike a nerve – I was practically immune to them.

“Stop avoiding, would you?” I snapped at him. “I’m not going to judge.” I softened when his eyes turned distant, haunted almost. “I promise.”

He hesitated. “I was – I was never appreciated in my family…” He hung his head and his grip on his tablet loosened. “And I can’t help feeling like I want to make someone else go through what I had.”

We fell silent.

I was lucky enough to have been born in a family where each other’s thoughts were heard and appreciated. I couldn’t believe I was such a selfish person to think it’d been all about me, that I hadn’t noticed these flaws of attempting to hide something using anger or hatred. Mum was right.

“Hey, Bianca,” Shane greeted me as he approached where I was studying.

I smiled. “Hi, Shane. How are you?”

“I’m great, thanks to you,” he said, sounding earnest and slightly breathless. “I opened up to my family, just like you suggested.”

“I’m happy.” I stood up to join him. “How’s it going?”

“Well, my brother’s starting to become closer to me, and my parents are trying their best to spare more of their time for me. So, it’s going good so far.”

There was a pause as they walked side by side through the corridors.

“You know,” Shane began, “I’m really sorry for what I did to you. It wasn’t nice of me.”

“Forgiven,” I assured him. “And I’m also sorry for judging you so quickly. I was too blind to see beyond certain things.”

He grinned. “Friends now?”

“Only unless you keep calling me ‘dumb bunny’.”

“You know what I meant to call you?”

I eyed him with playful curiosity. “What?”

His smile never faded, and neither did mine. “Clever girl.”

I couldn’t suppress the smile that was trying to break out. “You think I’m clever?”

Shane shrugged, as if he was stating facts. “Of course. I guess I was just jealous. And…” His eyes cast downward. “…I’m sorry about that.”

“I’ve forgiven you quite a while ago, Shane.” I leaned to sling one arm around his shoulders, only to struggle because of his height; I frowned in annoyance. “Though, maybe I haven’t forgiven you for being so tall.” He laughed, reaching his eyes, and slumped a little to spare me from standing on my tip toes.

Turned out, there was a gift in seeing beauty beyond one’s flaws. It may lead toward redemption, and then a truce of sorts. And perhaps, a beautiful friendship was waiting ahead of us.

#short story #my short story #short stories #my short stories #short story about verbal bullying #verbal bullying #bullying #story about bullying #true story #story about me

1 note · View note

reneeacaseyfl · 5 years

Text

Poland far right: Bialystok’s first pride march was meant to be a day of joy. It then turned into chaos

But behind the glitter and glamor, there is a darker side to this celebration: Cher’s “Believe” blasting from the sound system isn’t simply music to dance to; it is there to drown out the boos, the bangs of flash-bombs and the chants of “perverts!”

Because this is no ordinary pride gathering: It is the first-ever equality march in the deeply conservative Polish city of Bialystok, where the LGBTQ community’s increasing visibility has sparked a backlash.

The northeastern city of 298,000 is located in the Bible-belt region of Podlasie, which is a PiS stronghold and has become synonymous with far-right movements. “Many of the acts of xenophobic aggression have been committed in Podlasie compared to other regions in Poland,” Rafal Pankowski, from the anti-extremism group Never Again, told CNN.

The mayor of Bialystok, Tadeusz Truskolaski, an independent, is eager to change that reputation.

Unlike some centrist and right-wing counterparts in Poland, who have attempted to ban pride marches from their cities — Truskolaski let the Bialystock event proceed — despite widespread criticism from officials in the ruling Law and Justice Party (PiS).

According to one 2017 study by Poland’s Public Opinion Research Center (CBOS), more than half of Poles (55%) think homosexuality is abnormal but should be tolerated. Around a quarter (24%) believe it should not be tolerated at all.

As the country gears up for an election this fall, the right-wing PiS is targeting what it calls “LGBT ideology” to fire up its conservative base. This hostile rhetoric has emboldened far-right elements in the country.

The ruling party’s socially conservative message has also helped it in the national polls — it crushed a coalition of opposition parties in May’s European Parliament elections, winning 46% of the votes. Experts predict another victory in October’s elections and LGBTQ activists are bracing for the worst.

Poland’s opposition is divided on whether to address the increased marginalization of the country’s LGBTQ community, or to cater to socially conservative voters.

In February, Warsaw’s liberal mayor Rafal Trzaskowski, from the opposition Civic Platform (PO), signed a declaration in support of LGBTQ rights.

But just months before, his PO colleague Krzysztof Zuk, mayor of Lublin, banned that city’s first pride march, citing security concerns. The march went ahead after Lublin’s Court of Appeals overturned the mayor’s decision.

“The problem for PO is that if they embrace LGBTQ rights too much, they might lose some of their conservative electorates,” explained Volha Charnysh, assistant professor at Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT).

That played out last Saturday. According to Hubert Sobecki, co-president of Warsaw-based LGBT+ organization Love Does Not Exclude, the Bialystok event was one of 24 such parades planned this year in Poland– a country where same-sex marriage and adoptions are illegal, there is no hate crime category for the LGBTQ community, and gay conversion therapy is legal.

The pride marches reflect many urban Poles’ growing support for increased LGBTQ rights. They are also a defiant response to a rise in homophobic and transphobic rhetoric from Poland’s Catholic leaders, the right-wing press, and the ruling Law and Justice Party (PiS). In June, tens of thousands of people took part in Warsaw’s pride march — said to be the largest pride parade in central and eastern Europe.

But Bialystok’s pride marchers were outnumbered, four to one, by thousands of counter-protesters, according to local police.

Nationalist football “ultra” fans, members of far-right groups and others packed the parade route and nearby parks.

“Get out of this city,” yelled a group of men trying to break through the 700-strong line of riot police protecting the marchers.

“This is MY city,” orange-haired parade steward Precel, 19, shouted back, warning marchers to watch out for rocks thrown by the counter-protesters.

Dozens of LGBTQ marchers were physically assaulted before, during and after the parade, according to the Warsaw-based advocacy group Campaign Against Homophobia (KPH), the organizers of the parade, and witnesses CNN spoke to.

Ant Ambroziak, a journalist from Warsaw, told CNN he was spat at and assaulted as he live-streamed the protest for work. “I have a friend who was assaulted before the march. He was punched in the face because he [was wearing] lipstick” he said.

Another marcher was spat on and hit in the back, “all in front of my mother’s eyes, who started to cry and tremble,” Paulina Brzoza, 28, told CNN.

“They were hunting us down,” said Precel, who is gender non-conforming and prefers they/them pronouns, adding that they had been spat at and chased by a group of men.

Michal Bilewicz, who researches the social psychology of groups at the University of Warsaw, said Poland’s socio-political environment had demonized diversity and otherness. “What happened Saturday is a consequence of political language and discourse which targets gay people,” he told CNN.

According to Urszula Boublej, the spokesperson for Bialystok’s mayor, there were about 32 protest groups registered for Saturday, the majority in opposition to the pride march.

It included the far-right group All-Polish Youth, which took its name from fascist and anti-Semitic pre-war youth organization.

Last year, its former head Adam Andruszkiewicz who went to college in Bialystok, joined the federal government as Secretary of State at the Ministry of Digital Affairs.

Critics said the appointment was another example of PiS mainstreaming right-wing extremism, according to Pankowski. Both the PiS and the government refused repeated requests for comment from CNN.

Bialystok’s Archbishop Tadeusz Wojda told congregants to “defend Christian values” by attending a family picnic — organized by the marshal of Podlasie Artur Kosicki — or an outdoor prayer vigil.

Kosicki, a PiS member, refused to speak to CNN at the picnic, which came replete with a military artillery display and bouncy castles.

At the vigil, CNN saw hundreds praying, some on their knees, outside the grand Bialystok Cathedral, in which participants held a banner aloft that read, “reparation to god and the blessed mother for the sin of sodomy.”

The Polish Ministry of the Interior said they have determined the identity of 104 people who broke the law in Bialystok “with 77 people, actions have already been carried out in relation to committed crimes or offenses,” it added.

Interior Minister Elzbieta Witek, who is a member of the PiS, condemned the violence. “Officers ensure security regardless of the ideas, values and beliefs proclaimed by citizens. Any person who breaks the law… should know they can be held responsible,” Witek said on Twitter, Reuters reported.

But according to research by The Warsaw-based nonprofit Campaign Against Homophobia (KPH), some 90% of violent incidents against people who identify as non-heterosexual go unreported, Miroslawa Makuchowska, head of the political division at KPH, told CNN.

“People who are attacked don’t want to report to police because they feel the authorities can’t do anything. They are traumatized and afraid of having to hear homophobic slurs,” Makuchowska, head of the political division at KPH, said.

Precel, who has been toying with the idea of leaving Bialystok, said the attacks at the Pride parade may have hastened that decision: “I was born here, and now I am studying here, but now I don’t know how it will be in the future.

“I don’t really feel safe in Bialystok.”

Credit: Source link

The post Poland far right: Bialystok’s first pride march was meant to be a day of joy. It then turned into chaos appeared first on WeeklyReviewer.

from WeeklyReviewer https://weeklyreviewer.com/poland-far-right-bialystoks-first-pride-march-was-meant-to-be-a-day-of-joy-it-then-turned-into-chaos/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=poland-far-right-bialystoks-first-pride-march-was-meant-to-be-a-day-of-joy-it-then-turned-into-chaos from WeeklyReviewer https://weeklyreviewer.tumblr.com/post/186603963617

0 notes

velmaemyers88 · 5 years

Text

Poland far right: Bialystok’s first pride march was meant to be a day of joy. It then turned into chaos

The mayor of Bialystok, Tadeusz Truskolaski, an independent, is eager to change that reputation.

Poland’s opposition is divided on whether to address the increased marginalization of the country’s LGBTQ community, or to cater to socially conservative voters.

In February, Warsaw’s liberal mayor Rafal Trzaskowski, from the opposition Civic Platform (PO), signed a declaration in support of LGBTQ rights.

But Bialystok’s pride marchers were outnumbered, four to one, by thousands of counter-protesters, according to local police.

Nationalist football “ultra” fans, members of far-right groups and others packed the parade route and nearby parks.

“Get out of this city,” yelled a group of men trying to break through the 700-strong line of riot police protecting the marchers.

“This is MY city,” orange-haired parade steward Precel, 19, shouted back, warning marchers to watch out for rocks thrown by the counter-protesters.

Another marcher was spat on and hit in the back, “all in front of my mother’s eyes, who started to cry and tremble,” Paulina Brzoza, 28, told CNN.

“They were hunting us down,” said Precel, who is gender non-conforming and prefers they/them pronouns, adding that they had been spat at and chased by a group of men.

According to Urszula Boublej, the spokesperson for Bialystok’s mayor, there were about 32 protest groups registered for Saturday, the majority in opposition to the pride march.

It included the far-right group All-Polish Youth, which took its name from fascist and anti-Semitic pre-war youth organization.

Last year, its former head Adam Andruszkiewicz who went to college in Bialystok, joined the federal government as Secretary of State at the Ministry of Digital Affairs.

Critics said the appointment was another example of PiS mainstreaming right-wing extremism, according to Pankowski. Both the PiS and the government refused repeated requests for comment from CNN.

Kosicki, a PiS member, refused to speak to CNN at the picnic, which came replete with a military artillery display and bouncy castles.

“I don’t really feel safe in Bialystok.”

Credit: Source link

The post Poland far right: Bialystok’s first pride march was meant to be a day of joy. It then turned into chaos appeared first on WeeklyReviewer.

0 notes

weeklyreviewer · 5 years

Text

Poland far right: Bialystok’s first pride march was meant to be a day of joy. It then turned into chaos

The mayor of Bialystok, Tadeusz Truskolaski, an independent, is eager to change that reputation.

Poland’s opposition is divided on whether to address the increased marginalization of the country’s LGBTQ community, or to cater to socially conservative voters.

In February, Warsaw’s liberal mayor Rafal Trzaskowski, from the opposition Civic Platform (PO), signed a declaration in support of LGBTQ rights.

But Bialystok’s pride marchers were outnumbered, four to one, by thousands of counter-protesters, according to local police.

Nationalist football “ultra” fans, members of far-right groups and others packed the parade route and nearby parks.

“Get out of this city,” yelled a group of men trying to break through the 700-strong line of riot police protecting the marchers.

“This is MY city,” orange-haired parade steward Precel, 19, shouted back, warning marchers to watch out for rocks thrown by the counter-protesters.

Another marcher was spat on and hit in the back, “all in front of my mother’s eyes, who started to cry and tremble,” Paulina Brzoza, 28, told CNN.

“They were hunting us down,” said Precel, who is gender non-conforming and prefers they/them pronouns, adding that they had been spat at and chased by a group of men.

According to Urszula Boublej, the spokesperson for Bialystok’s mayor, there were about 32 protest groups registered for Saturday, the majority in opposition to the pride march.

It included the far-right group All-Polish Youth, which took its name from fascist and anti-Semitic pre-war youth organization.

Last year, its former head Adam Andruszkiewicz who went to college in Bialystok, joined the federal government as Secretary of State at the Ministry of Digital Affairs.

Critics said the appointment was another example of PiS mainstreaming right-wing extremism, according to Pankowski. Both the PiS and the government refused repeated requests for comment from CNN.

Kosicki, a PiS member, refused to speak to CNN at the picnic, which came replete with a military artillery display and bouncy castles.

“I don’t really feel safe in Bialystok.”

Credit: Source link

The post Poland far right: Bialystok’s first pride march was meant to be a day of joy. It then turned into chaos appeared first on WeeklyReviewer.

0 notes

anarchyisfree-blog · 7 years

Text

On Milo…

This isn’t the post that was supposed to be here. The one I had written up was all about how Milo Yiannopoulos was going to be the keynote speaker at this year’s CPAC and why everyone should ignore him. It was a good one if I must say so myself. I even ended it by suggesting that everyone should focus on the new “Deploraball” party that’s going to be happening instead of Milo. But, of course, he had to go fuck all of that up and that post will never be seen.

We all know what happened. The internet, although a vast series of tubes with lots of people using it, is made up of various communities, and if you’re reading this that means you’re probably a part of my community on Twitter. Therefore, you already know the latest Milo-related drama. I’m not going to recap it all – there’s an easy way to find out what’s going on if you’re one of the very few who doesn’t know what’s going on. I pride myself on being a reasonable person. I think I’m able to get along with so many people of so many backgrounds and beliefs because of my ability to be reasonable. So after having my knee jerk reaction to this latest (which I’ve since found out is pretty “old” news to some) I’ve decided to look at all of this reasonably. Well, as reasonably as I can considering who the subject is.

To anyone who has very basic knowledge of psychology or has dealt with people of various types, it’s obvious that Milo has issues. I haven’t studied the guy or even researched him extensively (because that’s a rabbit hole I don’t particularly want to go down) but from things I have read he has issues. He’s clearly an unhappy, self-loathing person. (He’s stated in the past that he hates the fact that he’s homosexual.) With this “new” information that he was sexually abused, everything about the type of person he is makes sense to me. I’ve probably thought about all of this more than I needed to but I have thoughts and I want to share them with you. Follow me for a minute here:

I used to work with prisoners. Not in a psychologist/social worker sense, but merely as an employee of a correctional institution who came into contact with many of them on a daily basis (no, I didn’t wear a uniform). Prisoners of all backgrounds, all with their own stories and personalities, some pre-trial and some who were serving their state sentences. For whatever reason (perhaps because I treated them like I treat everyone else – with my wit and sarcasm), many of them seemed to gravitate to me for conversation (probably because I didn’t wear a uniform) and 9 times out of 10 the conversations were them venting to me about whatever they needed to get off of their chests – arguments with their girlfriends, family matters, etc. But let me tell you about one person in particular. I’m not going to give his name, but I can tell you that he is currently serving a life without parole sentence for murder. I’ll call him “Tony.”

Tony was by all means a kid when I met him. He was 18 – and I know people take offense when I call 18-year-olds “kids” but he was a kid (and I wasn’t much older when I met him) – and charged with murdering his best friend. He was shunned by everyone when he was there – guards and residents alike – because of his attitude. He walked around with much arrogance, insulted everyone under the guise of joking, and whenever anyone would finally snap at him he’d accuse them of being “easily offended.” (Does any of this sound familiar?) One day when I was bringing paperwork back to his cell block I saw him sitting off to the side by himself while everyone else was gathered around watching a movie on TV. “Hey Tony,” I yelled. “What’s the matter? Didn’t shower or something today?”

“Nah, these pussies just don’t know how to take a joke,” he yelled back with a hint of nervous laughter. I rolled my eyes and left. When I went to work the next day I found out that he was in the hospital, having been raped by three guys and beat within an inch of his life.

When he came back to his place of residence he was put in solitary confinement for his own protection. Solitary at this place wasn’t a secluded dungeon – it was in the middle of the complex, so everyone could see them. One day I went to hand him a letter that came for him. Something that should have taken two minutes ended up being an hour long conversation. That’s when I found out that his parents were too busy for him when he was growing up, choosing to advance their careers instead of being actual parents, pushing him off on nannies and even shipping him off to a boarding school for a few years. When he was 10, Tony was molested by his neighbor who was 18. He never admitted it, but he put up this humorous tough guy protective barrier to make people think he was okay when he really wasn’t. Tony knew he needed help to get rid of his pent up anger and he got it. I’m not going to sit here and write about the oddly wonderful transition I saw in this guy, but just trust that it was spectacular. “My life is pretty much done,” he told me once. “I had a fucked up childhood. Doesn’t mean I need to be an asshole.” Last I heard, instead of channeling his inner demons to make everyone’s life miserable, he was spending his time at Angola Prison helping others become better humans.

I don’t see Tony when I read or hear Milo, but I get it. I know why he is the way he is. He’s admitted that he was abused as a 13-year-old (all while saying that it’s not abuse if a 13-year-old boy chooses to have a sexual relationship with an older man, but I digress). He’s admitted in past interviews that his parents really didn’t deal with him and that he spent most of his childhood with his grandmother. He uses his dark humor as a defense mechanism. He is not “okay.” He needs someone to care about him and it doesn’t seem like anyone does. He’s the circus sideshow, being used – as he’s probably been his entire life – as a prop, a means of entertainment for others. Realizing this now as I do, it’s disgusting and a shame. But I’m stopping short of saying that I forgive the hateful things he’s done or said because I don’t.

I’ve said in private conversations – maybe even publically, I don’t know – that I don’t think Milo believes half the crap he spouts. I think he saw an opportunity to make money and he took it. That’s not saying he’s not racist because he only dates black guys (he’s admitted that he only even started dating black guys to piss off his family). That’s not saying he can’t be anti-Semitic because he’s Jewish (only when it’s convenient for him, as his mother’s mother was Jewish and he himself was/is a practicing Catholic). Do I believe he really thinks transgender women are only transitioning so they can attack women and children? No I don’t think that. I think that was one of his “shock” comments. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think he’s transphobic just because he’s a gay man, because if he was not he wouldn’t come down on the transgender community as much as he does. He’s said vile things and done vile things that his childhood does not excuse.

Do I think he’s a pedophile? Nah. Do I think he’s a pedophile apologist? Yes. He can try to twist the term “pedophile” however he wants. Anyone who wants a relationship with a child, regardless of how “mature” the child is, is demented. You can call pedophilia a disorder or whatever you want to label it – doesn’t make the pedophile any less demented. And, you know, maybe his thinking it off kilter because of the things he had to deal with when he was a kid. It isn’t a reach to think that’s the case. What frustrates me the most about all of this is that he refuses to understand why it’s so wrong. Yes, he’s refused to see the error in his thinking about everything else, but this… this topic isn’t something to be politicized. This is something that most people, regardless of where they are on the political spectrum, can all agree is disgusting. This is a serious illness (if we’re doing to go the route and call it a disorder) or a serious crime (if you’re one of those “law and order” type people) and he is excusing it. He’s gotten a pass so many times from people on either side of the aisle for things he’s said in the past. This cannot be one of those times.

Now, I’m not advocating that Milo be beat within an inch of his life like Tony, but someone has got to get it through his head that he is a dangerous person. And I don’t mean “dangerous” in the sarcastic sense like he calls himself. I mean literally dangerous. His practical mocking of victims of child sexual abuse and pedophilia with his demented humor is dangerous. His making light of the fact that he himself was a victim is not helping people understand how serious this issue is. And let’s not forget how he admitted that he witness child sex abuse happening at ‘various’ Hollywood parties and SAID NOTHING. That, my friends, is dangerous.

And to any liberal or conservative who is sitting here reading my words right now, agreeing with what I’m saying about his being dangerous? Fuck you. You had no qualms with his dangerous speech before so you don’t get to stand on your pedestal now and get your props. I’m still not giving you a pass for all the times you promoted him or laughed at him when he was being a racist, transphobic, xenophobic, sexist piece of shit. I’m not excusing the people who cried when trash cans at Berkeley were burning because antifa didn’t want this scum to have a platform. You supported him, either directly or indirectly, when he was spewing his word vomit all over the place putting people – including children – in danger. Outing transgender and undocumented students is okay to you. But now? Oh, now he crossed the line? Fuck you, who finally realize that he’s a despicable person.

But I do want to say I’m glad you’re finally realizing that those of us who wanted Milo silenced wasn’t because we’re anti-free speech. Maybe next time – if there ever is a next time – we want to shut this vile creature down you’ll sit back, shut up, and let us do what we need to do. Or maybe you’ll even join us. (There’s a sign up sheet on the antifa website.)

4 notes · View notes

topbeautifulwomens · 5 years

Text

#I’m #Leaving #You #anime #acting #dancefloor #funnymemes #live #makeuplover #meme #photographer #sketch #taekwondogirl

I AM IN THE MAGMA CORE Inside of the laundry place under the developing with the refreshing odor of Tide detergent on my fingers in the aromatic spring air blowing in the undisplay screened window obtaining cosmetic in each and everyworking day functions which includes carrying out the laundry inside of a confined scenario never publishing but currently being and being once more though torture finals for yrs and even a lot more many years I’m not existing in opposition to you here is easily named I’M LEAVING YOU

I climb back again down the cross back up the partitions the place I’m driven towards my confront and breasts my acheful nose is throbbing I climb out of the yellow satin Devil coffin where I am choking on dry smoky air you’ve been smoking cigarettes Marlboros in my coffin I got you out I free of billed you And you shut the lid on me And I could not escape the suffocation I own the base as I incorporate been there all alengthy it isn’t really ever submission but an ascension on the cross I climmattress back down to Hades my residence to obtain absent from you

I understood Lucifer in element Throughout your mercisignificantly less challenging eyes I was in your upper body nevertheless in tranquil innocence I dwelled as Christ when it grew to become

also much I escaped as a female Christ at occasions a boy Christ insisting the one-time crucifying be an quick launch IT WASN’T SO I AM LEAVING YOU It is entirely ever LEAVING TU LEAVING YOU LEAVING VOUS

It is a horrible drama I painting but the black Prince of Darkness mask I wear my nakedness my little one’s human body my tenderness are my real rage You put me in open up air graves with no coffin Merely dust or low cost plywood once I comprehendd I experienced arrived at a new low in life I had to dig my way up to get out Astay

You ate evening meal although I lay in the world I noticed the heat pleasant light-weights that excluded me from the eating room once more I felt black while I starved outside the house under the chilly soil I saw you sitting down uncaring taking in and smiling the Arab smile I utilised to like earlier maybe you were happy but it was the Holocaust for me it truly is too late for a rescue, pointless to say

It is a rolling wheelchair exit I acknowledge traveling down the Sausalito freeway to Santa Monica where the bitch was in my route as I wheel out the door you were position guiding her locating the exact level the sunshine emerges in situation I could one day see from inside a dim criminal offense alley trash pile that he set me down on sitting with the homeless black men and ending my clean fish bones from a very good fish sandwich with tobasco I could have choked but did not you hoped I might choke but like the happy cat who still left with satisfstep I AM LEAVING YOU

The fresh scent of Tide on my apparel And my burdened pores and skin-sjourneyped hands The dryer sheet a rough tissue for my nose The tears I have shed for the agonies an sudden reward of deliberately wilted bouquets Are a wracking BOUNDING pain in my head an ever-tightening gold and silver steel band probably copper perhaps American pewter the hefty mesh of an armored Crusades fit I am donning on my slim have toers becoming a headache torture professional I had to compose and studies a new corporate aspirin merchandise for the aid of my migraine as well as yours I ended the pain by strolling away

Nonetheless the fresh freshness lifts me up on to the unfound highway Without having credit score for my work last year ahead of this year’s hypnosis paralyzed me A dropped real truth by way of pressured walk excusions in the open air It was a psychological establishment and you pushed the wheelchair as the admitting medical doctor As I depart you once more it’s going to not issue how a lot of times I have attempted even though it seems to be like a life-style to leave you since as I roll out the door I AM STILL LEAVING YOU

They knocked me off the ascension they pushed me off the elevator ramp as I rolled by the motherfuckers sitting in my wheelchair I screeched like a snowy wstrikee owl flying through the roof as both the satan a witch or a saint I am not positive to this day if I was saintly or not as I flew off the cross with rage yet yet another time on the uphill road to my independent victory and my independent action (IA) the WPA is still the work technique of my autonomy

anytime I tried to start you threw me out of the 3-ring circus again it was my only home other than the coffin I was homeless I had to pick early in between a jail or a coffin I selected the coffin under duress people were never my real choices You pushed on me another white straw hat and a matching striped jacket a whipped existence you explained I had gained Boy, they all informed me to at the very least neglect the straw hat because I told them I required the jacket

my own conscience was conversing I WALKED OUT AS THE FLY THEN an insect apparition my attendees said it was the damned coat I was wearing to take the nazi image off my chest once and for all as it is a branding iron

slipping on the ramp they had set out to trip me standing like an apparition by my vacant wheelchair I flew off the cross with a fluent rage it was a good come to experience as I tipped the sands of time in the hourglass for another hour to take an surplus breath I am alive not lifeless and strolling through the abandoned saloon doors into a caboveed wagon reality risk-free from the dry dusty sandstorm obscuring your venom like a rattlesnake shut my throat

Not a pyhrric victory this time close to The arid red saloon doors I photographed As a set up in Santa Fe were in the porno online video I once owned documenting my loss of life The swinging gate was not really a door once again you hit me as I entered the action another time and called it caring even making use of the term Enjoy I was never a slave You only owned the empty air between your violent hands The dirt in your pockets the lint on your PC screen was put there by me the present abused witch

I am the air I am the wind I fly like a missing Sabbath I am the air I am the wind I fly like Satan I fly like Jesus I fly like a Brahmin I fly like Buddha I fly like Mohammed I fly like a Sufi journey algeared up taken I am the air I am the wind the holy witch wind I fly like Hitler like Hitler’s daughter

I am a wind tunnel with leaves flying upward I ascend back down and up again through the righteous material of my own almost-destroyed coat by you it’s winter season and I need it it was a witch wind that blew my hat to me even so, to get away from you I will be Jesus again what a last choice it is to regain up on the crucifix again it seems to be a way of life to leave you I can’t get one thing accomplished because I AM ALWAYS LEAVING YOU

I am a minutiae, I am a militia, a cognizant road Not a spiritualist not a quietly spoken or even a very loud nun I am a black patch on a sailor’s eye hiding intent I steal the thefts you stole from me back for me to sustain myself I steal from you as you stole my cash I steal every thing I own from you with delight not fret but backup

Cigarette burns on my arms therapeutic through my large persistence level using a pain evaluate you took just lately It was not Jesus but ME it was ALWAYS ME residing through the burns standing with a immediately back a relaxed voice and a ready smile I was a quite girl with burns It wasn’t Jesus but ME He walked off the cross with me that day I retained his hand IT WAS ALWAYS ME who will ALWAYS LEAVE YOU I requires this to the Justice Courtroom of the Universe for what you have done to me these days

You negated my existence I could not walk out of the door ever with no you beside me all together through my deranged childhood I have had to resolve humanity’s complications through your problems Each and every time I had a friend, one friend for even one instant you criticized me for having a foundation of assist I am leaving you, the Nazi You appeared at me as if I were benefit A billion $$ bucks $$ – and I was I knew you’d get rid of me to keep me Even though I was tied up I came for free plus some To get out of there

The veils you have wrapped around my face are promontory mound scarves often revealing the concealed existence of digital cameras but I always knew the photographer for your porno he said that you are truthfully keeping my by now desecrated camera every time I thought of you I threw the veils down wrapped them wadded up the cheap polyester fabric into an unattractive rolled ball I spat on the veiled ball hurling the light into the encompassed replicate a disappearing symbol of an unmarked grave you pushed me up against that wailing wall I AM LEAVING YOU

I’m back in the coffin peering out from the brown dirt on my skin again listening for creaking seems around the lid My stolen home is my fulcrum point when was my body a temple like in the Bible just once? I’m slicing him off because I am not a Barbie Doll beauty without a brain He can look at what he previously stole not at me I am standing up in a rigorous box a black box a white boxed Rubik’s dice I was forced to solve in relocating cabs My neck hurts and I know I am in the cheap plywood coffin you purchased me One particular for a longer time I live in the everlasting darkness of the deep nicht arab evening I search for the waning light rising up like an ant on a minimalist journey I’m climbing off the ant farm through the silted sifted soil of Europe

I am back in the magma main again climbing up Mt. Vesuvius as a cockroach with a black ash streak mark on my brow from the occult I knew through sacrifice I was the ritual torture target becoming the victorious fowl dancer and a from time to time satanic interpreter Back again again hunting out of the hole My hole – it my complete tender respiratory living whole soul – My Soul (w)hole

I was living in a hatred home because you were living there until finally recently you were holding me hostage Your raging cold constant hatred of me my vagina my back and my front my whole breathing tune a typeer loving child now a vigilant female with a chilled reply and song repertoire I was a girl you never witnessed my have faith in Due to the fact nothing at all ever alterations I AM LEAVING YOU I was more than the small Nazi girl all along

You tried to generate me a pimp and absolutely everyone’s whore on the closed circuit TV with concealed internet and satellite spycams it was a visible virtual rape while I had to be both God and a prostitute to fulfill you the white man even though you never talked to me I had to steal my own thoughts from me while believing I was you, the pimp, not me at all I was negated and wearing your name as my identification always reporting my transgressions to you the white magic formula law enforcement while you manufactured me shell out illegally I cracked the hypnosis Da Vinci code

I thank God I do not know you any more I never did know you because you only forced me with brutality to say I knew you when I don’t publicly you said I am not a citizen and are not able to act then you said I am a slave or a servant-slave what the hell is that? a new group for my position as a woman? as I clean the mirror in our home I realize what you indicatet and toss the rag down even the paper towels I throw them on the ground putting my blue Windex spray area cleaner away permanently even though it is new and I walk away from our unmade bed

I will redefine the ceiling as I stand over you I will redefine the ceiling as the floor while I dance a spinning whirling dervish dance a gorgeous little girl’s wild dance on top of your head You will not know I am alive EVEN THOUGH I stand outside your dungeon with the keys You won’t hear from me in the potential because I am leaving you. SAYONARA I AM LEAVING YOU GOODBYE YOU MOTHERFUCKER I AM LEAVING YOU

I am back in the front back in the center of your crappy car sitting in the backseat not thankful at all why should I be grateful? Grateful for what? it was all improper and I knew it was all wrong Waiting around for the dryer cycle to total I meticulously independent your clothes from mine because they’ve leprosy and even worse specifically the undies

Placing them neatly in your dresser drawer the top drawer, sure I seize my unexpected emergency funds and I walk out the door Towards manna towards heaven toward mecca Toward Bethlehem Toward the closest hamburger place To plan my escape from MY home which these times is always your jail walking with abandon and confidence down the independence road I don’t conclude to brush my hair or trouble with lip gloss smiling in the mirror

it’s a woman thing it’s a coronary heart thing it’s in my vagina that you will never know it’s my holy space and you are going to never know it

I am the Pope now as I leave you you threw the rocks too hard at me the girl standing on the wall you were a man, not a boy and the rocks were your brutal fists your distressing raging slaps you existed for meanness you were a massive terrifying rigid form following to me ready to hit me again as I lay in your cold cold bed I left you early – for the duration of the during the encountering breaths I take I left you already! but you didn’t know or care because it was never my bed only yours

I had no room to breathe and I slipped out from between the sheets early one early morning as you slept a deep satisfied rest I looked carefully at your no-guilt icy face I never went back to caring as which is how you caught me caring for you lying in your bed trapped between your legs you are a mean man with truly mean hands AND for this cause I AM LEAVING YOU I AM LEAVING YOU I AM LEAVING YOU I AM LEAVING YOU GOODBYE YOU LOSER GOODBYE. ADIOS. LATER. SEE YOU NEVER. ANOTHER TIME FOR LOVE

You poured a loam fertilizer product on what’s now international soil in our backyard I bought it in Hechingers for a family members backyard garden You didn’t wish Placing me in the cheap coffin again you said I am going to be back I didn’t be reluctant even so and climbed out of the coffin buried under a foreign place I never knew as our home before without my identity intact as you stole it everyday through violence expressed toward me my skin and my occasionaly delicate woman’s soul even kid’s soul at times

You were the doctor in a white mask at the opening to the grave exhuming tilling the soil almost packed down over me supplying to free me from bondage through a conscript program as some variety of welfare draftee It is euthanasia you said Provider or nothing less than suicide introducing “You’ve a fixation on death” and you put me in the medical center again “one more time we are going to do this” you remarked casually as a frigid stranger once more negating my will nonetheless hanging terror in my heart and disgust that always prevails when I need you to come through for me in a crisis you simply never do I AM LEAVING YOU

You made me feel like a servant while you were in my body a maid in hypnosis that I am not with a leash around my neck hopelessly pursuing you into ignominy and eventual death against my will and not able to speak with silent screams I left with my spirit into acquainted terrain not as an insect again

It is the abstruse point of watch Nothing at all you gave me was yours to give I already own everything Incorporating my entire body I own my face and my expressions on my face you couldn’t give me anything let on your own take anything away this is not said by me it is said by Jesus I may sound wonderful but I am not nice relating to this for fucking me over just once I am leaving you

There is certainly no final voiceover No voice overlay It was your voice drowning me in my life Just my voice Just mine It is always my voice I speak with It is mine only It is finally my beautiful voice I hear And it always was Mine. It truly is all mine. My voice is me. I’m being it for the future for my dad for my unborn child perhaps never born because I lost my voice once or more than 2 times and because I want to still feel in God for my peace of head and simply for myself I am leaving you I have already left you yesterday for the ugly bruises on my beautiful body that I can still see and feel I don’t stay tied up for long I had to walk out of my body to leave you Here is goodbye. Adios.

The post I’m Leaving You appeared first on Beautiful Women.

source http://topbeautifulwomen.com/im-leaving-you/

0 notes