#but here’s a little thing to tide you over: empathy does not a good person make | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astro-syd · 3 years

Text

Jimin’s Duality (From an Astrological Perspective)

Jimin has become quite famous for the dual nature of his personality, so today I’m here to give a bit of astrological insight into this phenomenon! Jimin easily transitions between his sweet, adorable, mochi self and his passionate, intense stage persona. Neither of these “personas” are an acting stunt of any kind. They’re true aspects of Jimin’s personality! He simply knows which moments are the most appropriate and effective for channeling each side of himself, and all of these sides show up clearly within his natal chart. Let’s take a look!

Cancer Ascendant: child of the moon

Jimin’s Ascendant falls within Cancer, a cardinal water sign ruled by the moon. This also means that the moon is Jimin’s chart ruler! It holds a lot of significance in his natal chart.

Because Cancer rules over your home, family life, childhood and foundations, people with their Sun or Ascendant in this sign tend to have a very sweet, innocent, even childish nature about them. They tend to keep in touch with their inner child as they grow older, and might have something of a mischievous nature because of this too!

Cancer and the Moon often rule the mother in astrology, so people with this ascendant can easily take on a very motherly, nurturing quality. Jimin has been known to keep a close eye on the other members and he’s often the first one rushing to comfort them if need be.

This also somewhat stems from his emotional intelligence and sensitivity. Those with a Moon ruler tend to be very sensitive to emotions and mood swings, and Jimin is no exception. He’s highly empathetic, and with his Libra Sun & Mercury in his 4th house (ruled by Cancer), one of his natural gifts revolves around bringing balance to others’ emotional states. Others will feel magnetically drawn to him for healing.

Cancer is a common Ascendant to see in people within performing arts careers. This is because of their emotional availability and talent for expressing feelings. There’s something about Jimin’s vulnerability which makes people empathize with him, understand him on a very human level, and even want to protect him, much like you would a small child. It definitely contributes to his very “cute” and “sweet” vibe, even if he is a fully grown adult who’s capable of handling himself, haha.

Cancer rising people are very sensitive to their environment. When Jimin is put on unfamiliar ground, he will tend to withdraw or act shy until he feels more comfortable. He’s also likely to become flustered easily, especially when he’s in public and knows he’s got many eyes/cameras on him. His overarching moods and personality take on a very changeable quality, much like ocean tides. The ways in which he chooses to present himself are often highly based upon his immediate environment.

The Ascendant also holds a lot of weight over someone’s physical appearance. Cancer rising people can have a round, moon-like face shape and cute apple cheeks, especially when they smile. They’re known for a very large, bright smile, and large, puffy lips. Cancer natives often possess tiny hands and feet, and might even have something of a frail appearance.

They usually are quite soft-spoken, and with Jimin’s Moon residing in Gemini, this sign will have a lot of influence over his tone of voice. It definitely contributes to his light, “angelic” tone and the emotional quality of his singing. The Gemini influence here also appears in his sloping jawline and more pointed chin.

Moon in Gemini: messenger of emotion

Within Jimin’s chart ruler residing in communicative Gemini, he definitely knows how to put his feelings, memories, and experiences into words. Even if he doesn’t like to talk about his feelings too often, they’ll naturally bleed into his speech, his writing, and his art.

His emotions are easily influenced by others’ words as well, and this is especially true of his family and the people he loves. ARMY has picked up on the fact that our Jiminnie loves praise, but he’s not really using it as an ego boost. His feeling states are genuinely affected by the words of those around him. Watch the way his whole face lights up when the members compliment him and you’ll see what I mean. This also makes him more sensitive to negative feedback though, so he has to be a little careful about the opinions he chooses to expose himself to.

One of his greatest life lessons is to learn how to articulate his own inner feelings and experiences, as well as encouraging others to do the same. Allowing himself to be vulnerable and emotional is not only extremely healthy for him (even more so than the average person), but it also helps others to feel more comfortable and healed when doing the same.

In his childhood, his family members probably spent a lot of time talking about their feelings, but they might have struggled to actually feel them and discuss these emotions from a genuinely vulnerable standpoint. This is part of Jimin’s ancestral lesson to carry out in this lifetime!

His moon resides in his 12th house, which is a highly intuitive and spiritual placement. The 12th rules all things unseen, including spirits, dreams, secrets, hidden enemies, and religion. It’s a very foggy, mystical house. A lot of his feelings and mood swings are at least somewhat subconscious, which is also why it’s very healthy for him to speak about them. Communication will help to draw his emotions out of this hazy house and into the light of day where he can then process and make sense of what he’s feeling.

The 12th also rules the collective unconscious, so Jimin unfortunately also has a very good understanding of all of the underlying pains, traumas, and wounds of our societies. He’s very good at understanding human nature and human suffering, which makes him a great artist and an incredible healer, but it’s also a heavy burden to bear. Much of his empathy stems from this awareness which he’s possessed from a very young age. It’s possible that he even has psychic or empathic abilities of some kind, regardless of whether or not he’s in touch with them.

He’s a very trustworthy confidant. Jimin is a great listener, and because the 12th house rules secrets, he’s fantastic about protecting people in this way. He can be trusted with just about any information and will genuinely take these secrets to the grave. He enjoys the process of healing and supporting others, and protecting their most sensitive memories, experiences, and information is just another way for him to nurture those around him. This is another part of his appeal as a celebrity- he simply feels trustworthy, especially when he’s speaking from the heart and caring for those around him. He’d also make a great therapist, haha!

Libra Sun & Mercury: creator of harmony

Jimin has both his Sun and Mercury residing within fair and balanced Libra. It’s a sign which enjoys showing a polite, friendly, peaceful, and harmonious attitude, especially in public. Jimin is very much aware that there’s a time and a place for all aspects of his personality, and he knows when to utilize each side in order to achieve the best response from the public. He knows how to play an audience very well while still coming from a very genuine place within himself.

Because Libra is ruled by Venus and rules over the house of partnerships, these people tend to be natural flirts- and Jimin is definitely no exception. Flirting with others and generally being a huge tease is very fun for him, in fact he sees it as something of a game (more on that in the next section). He likes to charm others and be received well in the eyes of the public as much as possible.

Libra is a very non-confrontational sign which dislikes conflict, and Jimin can act as a peacemaker within their group whenever disputes or misunderstandings occur (though all BTS members share this energy to some extent). When appearing in public or voicing his opinion in interviews, he often has a very well put-together, diplomatic vibe about him.

Scorpio Venus, Mars, & Pluto: the playful devil

So, we’ve discussed our charming, diplomatic prince Park Jimin, as well as our cute and loving mochi, but where on earth does that stage persona come from?! Let me introduce you to Jimin’s most deadly placements: His Venus, Mars, and Pluto all within his 5th house in Scorpio.

Venus and Mars are both planets which deal with romantic relationships. Venus in astrology tells us about the sorts of people, things, and experiences we’re attracted to, as well as the kind of person we’ll be within a romantic relationship. It rules over the arts, fashion, partnerships, and commitments. Mars, on the other hand, is a lot more masculine and aggressive. It rules over our anger, our motivations, and our drive. It can indicate how we’ll chase after the people, goals, and experiences we desire in life.

Jimin has both of these romantic, charismatic planets in his 5th house, which rules performance, the arts and creativity, fun and games, parties, lighthearted romance, and children. It’s very common to see actors and performers with strong planetary placements within this house, but Jimin certainly has quite the combo working for him here.

The emphasis around his intense, passionate, and charismatic stage persona comes from the sign we’re in: Scorpio. It’s ruled by Pluto, the Underworld planet, and rules over all things dark, mysterious, and taboo in society. Secrets, mystery, the occult, psychology, sexuality, and power all fall within this planet’s reign.

People within strong Scorpio placements like to dive deep into their relationships and experiences. They like a little mystery, but the appeal comes from the act of uncovering these secrets. They often make great detectives or psychologists because they’re fantastic at understanding human nature and getting to the bottom of a situation.

This is the reason behind Jimin’s intense stare. Many Scorpios are known for having really intimidating eyes, and it’s because they almost seem to peer straight into the depths of your soul. It can feel as if they’ve exposed all of the things you wish to keep hidden simply by watching you- and with their keen observational skills, maybe they have.

That said, the lure of the dark and mysterious catches the eyes of many- and Jimin uses these placements to his advantage when performing. Scorpio is a fixed water sign, so you can think of it like the depths of the deep ocean. His art, movements, and power are all influenced by this energy. His movements are fluid but powerful, his art is deep, emotional, and moving but still mysterious and somewhat guarded, and even just this side of his personality seems unique and captivating when compared to his usual off-stage personality.

This is also a sign which is prone to obsession. Jimin’s work ethic and attention to detail has been praised time and time again, and it likely stems from the careful attention he gives to every aspect of his work until it meets the image he wishes to portray. He knows what the audience wants to see and how best to meet their expectations. He lets you glimpse into his power, his depth, and his sexuality through his performances, but never exposes more than he wants to.

Remember that those Libra placements love to tease, and in the 5th house here, he plays his movements like a game. His performances become a place where he can momentarily flaunt the darker Underworld energies within his personality, knowing that the audience will respond well when it’s within the right context. The sides of himself which are deep, obsessive, jealous, intense, and passionate find an outlet on the stage, and he needs this outlet to avoid taking these energies out on either himself or others in more destructive ways.

His Mars conjuncts his Pluto here, which is a wildly powerful placement. Pluto is the planet of death and rebirth, destruction and transformation, and in joining with the God of War in a chart, these two become a major force to be reckoned with. You can see it in his confidence on stage, his presence, and the ways in which he influences a crowd. He’s magnetic and attractive, and he can command attention without hardly lifting a finger.

In any other sign, this combination of planets has the power to become incredibly destructive (and in fact, it can be the worst in Scorpio if not handled properly), but Jimin’s grasp on this force he embodies is admirably strong. Remember when the other members said that he’s the scariest when angry? You wouldn’t want to see this placement out of control. The same forces which can give the strongest ability to understand, uncover, and heal others’ hidden wounds also has the potential to use them for harm.

Jimin, however, understands his power and channels the most intense sides of his personality into his art. When he steps onto a stage, he knows exactly what he’s there to do. He has rehearsed tirelessly, he knows what he wants to portray and how to achieve it, and he has a great sense of how the public will respond to his every move.

His chart is water dominant, and he’s a constant reminder that the water element is not just sensitive and emotional. Jimin’s Moon ruler pushes and pulls at ocean tides in the same way he influences our emotions. The same waters which flow through Jimin’s heart and psyche also have the power to create new life or flood entire cities. He’s a great example of how our charts become what we make of them. He’s successful and powerful while still retaining his humility, he’s sensitive and emotional without being too fearful or avoidant, and he’s understanding and manipulative but uses these forces for healing. An angel, perhaps?

201 notes · View notes

cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Shaw’s Tide of Emotions Date (Eng Translation)

🍒Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers!🍒

The entire date summarised in one picture:

The date begins with MC feeling nervous about playing for the band’s upcoming performance.

Shaw: Didn’t you say you’d show me what you’re capable of? Are you sure you can do it?

I look at Shaw, who has already strapped on his bass, his ear stud reflecting the stage lights. Even his eyes are illuminated.

MC: …Of course I can!

Shaw neither agrees nor disagrees. He lets out a ‘hmph’. The lights suddenly change. He lowers his head and the low bass resounds.

Drum beats follow after, and I come to my senses, frantically pressing the keyboard, its clear notes following the rhythm.

As the performance goes on, MC gets increasingly nervous because her 20-second solo is coming up

Once she’s done with her solo, she notices that the initial excitement from the crowd has dulled considerably, and some of the audience members are even frowning and whispering among themselves

…D-did I mess it up? Was the mood wrong or did I make a mistake somewhere?

I have no idea what to do and find myself glancing at Shaw’s position on stage, only to realise that he is walking straight towards me.

MC: You…

Shaw: Don’t say anything.

He hands his bass to me and stands in front of the keyboard. Only now does the synthesizer reveal its true capabilities, and the magnificent and strange rhythm resounds loudly. The audience seem to be roused from a dream, and once again come alive.

Applause, whistling and cheering ensues. Fire jets spew flames at the front of the stage while a rain curtain descends at the back.

The keyboard gives off the feel of a bass, as though it is accompanying the sound of the water droplets, and yet also sounds like shouting.

The water droplets pelt down on us and onto Shaw’s face, tracing his sharp features as they slide off.

I hold onto the bass dumbfoundedly, my heart beating violently along with the notes he plays with his fingertips.

Only after walking off the stage, far from the lights and the crowd, that my heart rate finally slows down.

MC: That scared me…

Shaw casually leans his bass on a box. He glances at me, and his voice carries not a single shred of disdain.

Shaw: That’s enough to scare you? You really lack guts.

I look at him wordlessly. This person finds every opportunity to taunt me, doesn’t he?

Then again, I would have been too embarrassed to do anything had he not stepped in to help just now. I suppress my rebuttal.

MC: … Thanks for helping me just now.

While I have yet to fully shake off my anxiety, Shaw looks somewhat indifferent. He leans on a pile of boxes with a relaxed posture.

Shaw: I didn’t help you.

MC: Eh?

Shaw: I only changed the final portions of the bass to the keyboard. That song was meant to have two solos anyway. No one told you?

Blinking blankly at him, I catch the corners of his lips turn up. With this realisation, I become even more flustered.

MC: No! One!

Shaw: Maybe it slipped my mind. Why are you glaring at me? Is there a problem?

I vigorously nod my head, at the same time increasing the intensity of my death glare.

The other members of the band prepare to go for supper. While MC excitedly prepares to enjoy a good feast, Shaw stops her just before she leaves.

Shaw: You don’t want your jacket?

With his reminder, I suddenly realise that I am dressed in a thin shirt. The evening wind blows and I hug my clothes together to myself. I can’t help but cast him a look of suspicion.

MC: Did you hide it again?

Shaw: I have nothing to do with the things you leave backstage.

Still harbouring doubt, I head backstage only to find my jacket on an empty bench.

MC: Turns out he can tell the truth sometimes…

When MC returns to the meeting spot, she realizes only Shaw is around, and the other members are gone. Shaw snatches her phone away before she can send a message to the other members.

Shaw: Supper is too boring.

MC: It’s just a meal… How “boring” or “exciting” can it be?

Looking slightly disgruntled, he turns off her messaging app.

Shaw: Here.

He throws the phone to me, his voice cutting through the loud music.

Shaw: Come with me, let’s go somewhere else.

They walk around for a while until MC asks Shaw where exactly they’re going, to which Shaw replies:

Shaw: No idea.

Slightly frustrated because she missed out on supper for this walk, she asks Shaw to at least decide on which direction they are going.

Shaw: Sure, let’s try it.

I thought Shaw was just playing along, but he seriously considers it for a moment and points towards a path.

Shaw: Let’s go that way.

MC: …

MC unwillingly trudges along with him. As the path cuts through a forest, she is faced with a beautiful lake. The lake rests under a starry sky, and flowers of various colours are strewn across the grass.

As she peers into the river, she sees Shaw’s fragmented and distorted reflection and starts laughing.

Sensing that he was the cause for my laughter, the expression in the reflection becomes even more unreadable.

Shaw: What are you laughing at… You’re not allowed to laugh.

Seeing that he is about to “torture” my hair with his hand, I immediately dodge, laughing even more.

Shaw: Hey!

A flash of consternation flashes across Shaw’s eyes. Before he can finish his sentence, I slip and fall backwards onto the ground.

MC: Ah, it hurts…

After his eyes sweep over my form, they morph into a gloating expression. His tone follows suit.

Shaw: This is what happens when you laugh so exaggeratedly.

I angrily rub my back, about to accuse him of lacking empathy. He unexpectedly plops down beside me.

With a look of surprise, I turn towards him.

MC: It’s fine if you didn't offer to help me up… But why would you sit down too?

Shaw: It’s my pleasure.

I am unable to refute, so with a small ‘hmph’, I turn my head towards the lake.

The faintly distinguishable stars are strung high above. Darkness cloaks the sky and the distant lights flicker.

For a while, neither one of us speak. The air suddenly becomes very peaceful, as though the hustle and bustle from before was all just a hallucination.

MC: What do you think everyone is eating now?

Shaw: Are you hungry?

MC: A little.

Because of the nature of our band rehearsals, I had gotten used to the routine of pulling late nights. Having supper became a regular occurrence.

Thinking about this “indulgent lifestyle”, I sigh. I can’t help feeling hungry, and when one is hungry, one should eat.

MC: Do you know of any good places to eat nearby?

Shaw: Not in the vicinity.

MC: You replied so quickly… Are you just lying to me again?

Shaw: I’ve been here thrice. Of course I know.

MC asks whether this means that the band has been together for a long time. Shaw looks at her intently till she feels uncomfortable.

MC: What’s wrong?

Shaw: Nothing much. Just wondering if you interrogate everyone you meet.

MC: Of course not, do I look like I have that much free time…

Shaw doesn’t respond and returns to staring. It makes my heart feel fuzzy.

MC: It’s fine if you don’t want to answer. You’re always so secretive anyway… Ah! But when it comes to adjusting the music score, no matter whether or not you want to, you should tell me!

Just thinking of the live performance makes me feel slightly gloomy.

Shaw: Why are you still hung up over it?

MC: It’s because you always bully people…

I pause, stretching a hand in front of me and bending my fingers while counting his “guilty” moments.

MC: The other time, it was only after I reached Live House that you told me the location had changed, and the other time, you- ACHOO!

My list is interrupted by a sneeze. I rub my nose, pulling my jacket closer to myself.

A rustling sound makes me lift my head. A jacket which still retains a lingering warmth is placed around me.

MC: You…

As though he didn’t hear me, Shaw stands up. With a white shirt framing his back, he looks both familiar yet foreign. I hurriedly stand and follow after him, wanting to say something and yet not knowing what to.

MC: Thank you… But aren’t you cold?

Shaw turns around and surprisingly does not mock my vulnerability to the cold. He just arches his eyebrows and his eyes rest on my right hand. I follow his line of vision but can’t find anything wrong with it.

I quickly notice the hand that is stuffed into his pocket, thinking that he is once again going to give me something, just like the last time he took out the Dragonfly Eye Bead. [Note: MC is making reference to an earlier date].

What trick is he going to pull again… Even though I have a bad feeling in my chest, I still stretch my hand forward.

Before I can react, Shaw takes my hand in his.

He is not wearing gloves. His five fingers wrap themselves around my palm.

Warmth emerges from our point of contact and melts the coldness of my fingers… A surprising gentleness and warmth.

After this thought fills my mind, the warmth gradually travels up to my cheeks.

I move my lips, but before I can make a sound, Shaw’s laughs.

Shaw: Look at how obediently you gave me your hand - Are you a Chihuahua?

After several seconds, I regain my senses and glare at him.

MC: What…!

I try shaking off his hand in a huff, but he merely tightens his grip, even using this opportunity to interlace our fingers together.

The struggling of my fingers creates an even more scalding warmth, and I feel my face flushing redder than before.

MC: L-let me go!

Shaw: I don’t want to.

He raises an eyebrow, not giving me a chance to extricate my fingers from his grasp. He turns around and pulls me along as he moves forward.

MC: Wait! The jacket is falling off! The sleeve, the sleeve… Slow down…

I stumble to keep up, desperately holding Shaw’s jacket in place with one hand, while the other hand remains in Shaw’s firm grip.

Leaves sway in the wind, rustling in the air. There is a dim light on the horizon and a crisp scent. It looks as though it is about to rain.

By the time we return, it is already dawn.

I bought a few tidbits on the way back because I was starving. Wanting to share them with everyone, I discover that the place is completely empty. Cradling my big bag of snacks, I feel slightly worried.

MC: Didn’t you say everyone came back already? Why isn’t anybody around?

Shaw takes the bag of tidbits away from me and throws both our bags onto the table. He plops down on the sofa, crossing his legs and looking at me.

Shaw: I only said that they “should” be back, not “would” be.

MC: I wouldn’t have bought so much if I had known… Forget it, I’ll leave it for next time.

I sit next to Shaw, rifling through the bag.

MC: Oh right, this is for you.

Retrieving two cans of different flavoured soft drinks from the bag, I hand them to Shaw.

Shaw has a earpiece in his ear. The morning rays of sunlight penetrate through the glass, making his hair look slightly furry.

Shaw: For me?

Who else? Where in the world can you find another person who would mix two different soft drinks together?

I hide a grimace, too lazy to explain, and stuff the cans into his arms, turning my head back to rifle through my bag again.

MC: These too – fried chicken flavoured shrimp crackers and hotpot flavoured cake. They’re all for you. Don’t you like eating… hmmm, what do I call these?

Stopping myself from calling them “junk food”, I struggle to find a synonym.

With his arms full of different tidbits, he purses his lips with an unreadable expression.

Silence takes over for a few minutes. He frowns, placing all the tidbits on the table until the only thing remaining in his hands is a can of Coke.

I stop what I’m doing, my eyes shifting back and forth from the can of Coke on the table to the can of Coke in Shaw’s hands.

MC: You don’t want that can?

Shaw: I don’t. I don’t want the rest either.

He shakes the can of Coke but doesn’t drink it. Instead, he shifts his gaze to me.

Shaw: …Don’t think that you understand me very well.

MC: What… I bought these for you out of the kindness of my heart. If you don’t want them, then forget it!

Annoyed, I whip my head around and refuse to look at him.

This person is really… baffling, completely unfathomable.

Band performances are so loud but he finds no issue with them. Yet, he often complains that I’m noisy.

The word “boring” hangs on his lips all the time, yet he enjoys strolling around aimlessly; one moment this, one moment that, always having an opposing view to me.

Before I knew it, I already held a full length “Criticise Shaw Meeting” in my heart.

The more I think about it, the more upset I get. I snatch the hotpot flavoured cake off the table and rip off the packaging.

MC: Since you’re not eating it, I will, hmph.

I mumble softly. However, the way I ferociously ripped open the bag catches Shaw’s attention.

Shaw: Hey, are you angry?

MC: Nope.

I answer immediately, tearing the cake and grabbing cutlery on the table.

I hear a soft “tch” from him as well as the ruffling of clothes.

Shaw: What a bother… Give it to me.

MC: Didn’t you say you didn’t want it?

Shaw: I do now.

I mimic him, letting out a “tch” and “what a bother”.

He doesn’t seem to have heard me, and only looks at me.

MC: You’re not allowed to change your mind this time!

I hand him the cake and a spoon. He unwillingly puts the spoon into his mouth.

MC: How is it?

I studiously observe his face but am unable to find any hint of an answer, so I can only ask him directly. With my question, Shaw’s face returns to its usual expression - the corner of his lips turned up, his eyebrow arching upwards.

Shaw: You’ll know it yourself once you take a bite.

Hearing this, I unconsciously shirk backwards, waving my hands frantically.

Since he’s so adamant about making me eat it, it must taste weird…

Looking at my stubborn refusal, Shaw’s mood seems to gotten even better, shoving the spoon in my face, flashing me a smirk.

MC: I’m not eating…!

The taste of oil is mixed with sweet cream. The strange combination of these flavours makes me question my existence. Worried that this taste would linger in my mouth permanently, I immediately reach out for the lollipop I had just unwrapped, wanting to ease the taste.

Just as I grab the lollipop, a hand suddenly reaches out for mine.

Shaw’s fingers wrap around my wrist. Exerting slight force, he pulls it over to him.

While he takes off his earpiece, he pulls my hand upwards until the lollipop is just about to touch his lips.

The morning sunlight outlines his facial features and illuminates the lollipop. His faint breaths fall onto my fingers. At this moment, my concentration is focused entirely on how my heart is beating like a drum.

I take a step back, but Shaw grips my wrist even more tightly.

Shaw: Why are you hiding?

Under the warm sunlight, it seems that even his voice has become softer and has taken on a tinge of laziness.

Light laughter enters my ears, and I blush, snapping out of my daze.

I push the lollipop towards Shaw, stuttering:

MC: You… If you want it, just take it. I don’t want it anymore…

Shaw looks down at the lollipop, but the corners of his lips turn into a frown.

Shaw: Then I don’t want it either, save it for yourself.

He finally loosens his grip on my wrist, returns to his original position, and decides to lie down. It’s as though he has marked this entire place as his territory, sitting wherever he wants to sit, and lying wherever he wants to lie. And he likes taking things…

I lower my head towards the lollipop, feeling my heart rate accelerate once more. I shake my head vigorously, wanting to forget about that earlier scene. Even so, my gaze unconsciously lands on the sofa.

Shaw is lying down on the sofa, holding on to an old MP4 player. I remember seeing him with this same MP4 when we first met too…

My curiosity is set ablaze.

MC: That MP4 player… were you listening to it that time on the bus?

He seems to have finally picked a song that he’s satisfied with and rests his head on his arm. He slowly closes his eyes and casually answers.

Shaw: Yeah. Someone gave it to me a long time ago.

His straightforward, honest answer is one that I did not expect.

Such an answer gives me the boldness to probe further, and I inch closer to him. The music from the earpieces isn’t very loud, but the quietness of the surroundings and the fact that he is only wearing one earbud results in the music from the other earbud flowing into my ears.

Surprisingly, what I hear are not fierce rhythms, but a very warm, low and pure music mixed with the sound of rain.

It sounds like a guitar, or is it a bass? Perhaps a mix of both. I can’t really tell, so I can only tread lightly and inch even closer.

MC: What are you listening to…

Shaw does not answer me, his breathing melding together with the music, steady and slow.

He’s asleep? That’s fast…

Because his eyes are closed, there is a lack of his usual sharpness. I can even make out a touch of softness on his features.

MC: Shaw?

I try calling out to him but receive no response. After a moment of hesitation, I slowly reach for the earpiece that rests on his clothes.

At this moment, an irresistible force presses against the back of my head, followed by Shaw suddenly opening his eyes. His expression is slightly different from usual, as though stripped of all his pride, leaving behind only the purest, most inner part of himself.

Shaw: You’ve been curious about me the whole of today. You really want to know?

Our breaths are exceptionally close. Just a slight movement forward would suffice in breaking this paper-thin distance. Our tangled hair parallels my messy thoughts.

Time seems to stop and my heartbeat has lost its steady rhythm. I can’t tell whether I am looking at him, or looking at myself through the reflection in his eyes.

MC: I want to know… Can’t I?

There seems to be a flurry of emotions in his eyes. He frowns, and lifts his eyes to mine.

Shaw: Bring your ear a little closer.

My body reacts on its own accord, taking the earbud in my hand.

Shaw: I can tell you about myself.

I slowly nod before realizing that Shaw’s hand is still on the back of my head, with no intention of letting go. He even pulls me closer to him.

His scorching breath spreads across the rim of my ear, and it feels like all the blood in my body is rushing to that spot, setting me aflame. I tremble lightly, realizing why I am reacting this way, and my face heats up even more.

Shaw: In exchange…

…What?

Before my mind can comprehend the hidden meaning in his words, I feel the warm touch coming close once again. There is a light, stinging pain accompanied by a slightly moist sensation on my ear.

I shiver and close my eyes, the sensation becoming even clearer. Blood floods back into my heart, and even the apex of my heart feels tender.

The lollipop in my hand falls to the ground with a ‘thud’, but I don’t bother looking for it. In my ear, the muffed sound of the bass strums thrice, followed by the sound of rain.

Yet, Shaw’s voice is clear as day.

Shaw: Tell me everything about you.

🍭

Phone Calls: First Call // Second Call

#mlqc #mlqc shaw #love and producer #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #Shaw gives me high blood pressure #HOW IS HE SO DIFFERENT FROM HIS BROTHER #apart from perfect bone structure and gorgeous amber eyes

212 notes · View notes

rachelthompsonauthor · 3 years

Link

What is social proof? It’s a marketing concept that we are all inadvertently, unknowingly contributing to every time we click on, retweet, like, reply or comment, and share any kind of social media, article, or blog post on the net. Technically, social proof, as defined by Sprout Social is:

The concept that people will follow the actions of the masses. The idea is that since so many other people behave in a certain way, it must be the correct behavior.

Social Proof and Me

As an author, social media is a hugely important part of my author platform, as it is for any writer or blogger. This is how we connect with readers now, even before the pandemic. Virtual, online events are now the norm. Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube Live video discussions are the new book signings. Twitter chats are weekly on any number of topics; I have two of my own, in fact, #SexAbuseChat every Tuesday at 6 pm pst/9 pm est and #BookMarketingChat every Wednesday at 6 pm pst/9 pm est.

All important for visibility, branding, and most importantly, connection.

However…there’s a limit. I reached my limit over the course of this past year. It didn’t come all at once. It came, little by little, reaching a peak this past month or so.

Why? How? Me, the so-called social media expert?

Access. Like many people, I have issues with the incredible level of access Facebook gives people once we friend them without our consent. PMs (private messages) are automatic, now with the ability for people to call, voice, and video message us, with no option to shut these options to OFF unless we unfriend the person (we can, however, mute a specific conversation). Technically, we do give them consent in the legal mumbo jumbo we all agreed to when we joined back in the 2010s.

I am not okay with this. And Facebook doesn’t care. Nobody cares. You’re probably thinking, “Geez, Karen. Shut up, already. Stop your whining, white lady.” I get it. I do. First-world problems.

I counter with: I hear you. It’s also part of my business. A huge part. Here’s why:

As someone who manages over 70+ various social media accounts as part of my BadRedhead Media business, plus my own accounts as well, Facebook requires I have a personal account in order to manage all those other Pages. I do understand why, particularly with all the ridiculousness of the past four years with the abundance of fake accounts, fake news, and such.

As a survivor of sexual abuse and stalking, this is ultra-concerning to me. So, what happened this past month or so? Suffice it to say, one person repeatedly tried calling me. I never pick up Facebook calls, especially if I don’t know you. Another left me a few voice messages saying they were offended by something.

Yet another left me another message in ALL SHOUTY CAPS that she didn’t find what I posted inspirational enough and she expected better from someone who is “supposedly on the side of authors.”

Oh, and there is the one lady who started replying on ALL my posts to the kind people who did comment that she didn’t think I replied often enough or to her satisfaction.

Well. I’ve been criticized before. You should read some of my 1-star reviews. There’s plenty!

But, for whatever reason, this struck a chord. I got up in my feels. I cried. I talked with one of them and we worked it out because we like and respect each other’s work in the mental health space. The others I blocked. It’s darn frustrating to donate hours of my time each week to helping writers solely because I want to, only to be told it’s not enough. Like, seriously? Fuck off.

My blood raged. My heart sank. Understandable, right?

But what really made me angry is that I put myself in that position by being available. I accepted that ‘it is what it is.’ This is what the social media platforms have given us, so that’s what I have to work within.

I’m too available. It’s too easy to leave me shitty messages. This is why people hire people like me – to handle this crap for them! So they don’t have to read these ridiculous criticisms from judgy people who apparently have nothing better to do or are having a bad day.

And I get bad days. It’s a damn pandemic. We’re all struggling. Where’s the damn compassion for one another?

I have a dislike/hate relationship with Facebook anyway, since about ten or so years ago when I discovered that a past love had died by suicide by going to his personal profile and seeing, “RIP dude,” messages there. We had spoken early that day. It still haunts me.

So…what to do? I’m claiming my time. I’m not posting to my personal Facebook profile right now. I’m ignoring it. I am checking my Pages and of course, my client Pages. When I feel like I can face it again, I will cull my ‘friends’ down from *checks real quick* 4385 people to maybe, I don’t know, the few hundred in my groups, many of whom I do know and treasure.

Social Proof and You

If you’re a writer, social proof matters. This is the world we live in. Publishing is not only writing.

You need to be ‘findable,’ not only on Google, but also on each individual social platform, so your readers can learn more about you and hopefully, buy your books. If you go the traditional route, publishers and agents want to know how many followers you have (easily upped by buying fake followers or likes from Fiverr or wherever). I suggest not doing that, because:

1) fake followers don’t buy books

2) it’s usually pretty obvious when you have fake followers because they’re all foreign names, have questionable bios, and no tweets

3) do you really want to start your publishing career with a lie?

They also want to know what you post, how often, and what your branding is. If you’re an indie author, honestly, the same applies. Social proof is about connection, building relationships, and authenticity. I’ve believed that since I started my business and writing career way back in 2011, and I stand by it now. Start slow, grow slow. It’s not a race.

I’m the furthest thing you’ll even find from a conspiracy theorist – I don’t believe in chemtrails, pizza parlor cabals, or that the earth is flat. However, I am a realist. Watch The Social Dilemma sometime. These huge tech companies share our data without our knowledge or consent (Cambridge Analytics, anyone?). Younger generations are so used to this, they don’t really care – ask them.

(My kids think having a chip implanted in their hands with all their data is a fabulous idea. “So much easier than having to talk and repeat everything over and over. Just scan me and be done with it,” says my daughter Anya (21). “Agree,” grunts my son, Lukas (15). Buy stuff, go to the doctor, whatever. Scan and go. Talk with any GenZ kid, you’ll likely get a similar answer. They’ve been tracked since birth everywhere. They don’t know life without a computer, tablet, or phone in their hands.)

Know that whatever we do, it’s all part of each platforms’ AI, and they share data, which is why that darling pair of shoes you just saw on Amazon is now showing up on Google, Facebook, Twitter, and every website you visit going forward. It’s all about the money, and they all get a piece of that affiliate link.

Every bit of every click is recorded, even when you’re watching videos on YouTube, or a subscription service like Netflix, or perusing goods on Amazon. It’s all connected. I’m not shocked or surprised by any of this, are you?

It’s Not Personal

What people say to us and about us is ultimately incredibly revealing about them. We know this, at an intellectual, psychological, and emotional level. Still, when people say mean things, it hurts. We’re human.

Does it matter in the overall scope of our lives? Who can say. It matters at that moment. It can matter when it comes to overall visibility when you’re marketing your book(s) or trying to get that book contract or interview. Only you can say if it matters to you.

Already a longtime fan of THE FOUR AGREEMENTS by Don Miguel Ruiz, I took a moment to reorient myself with this one agreement: Don’t take anything personally. I also stumbled across an excellent short and entertaining TEDTalk by Frederick Imbo. His main message to stop taking things personally is two-fold;

It’s not about me. Look at the other person’s intention and

It IS about me. Give yourself some empathy. Speak up. Ask questions. Pay attention to how you feel and be vulnerable with your needs.

I’m glad I was able to, inadvertently, employ point #2 and work out some issues with one of the people by telling him what he said made me cry. He apologized. I apologized. We talked it through and we’re still friends.

Ultimately, social media is what we contribute to it. What we make it. How much we allow of it into our lives. Social proof is going along with the tide. I’ve been in this space since 2008. Being connected to others is a big part of the work I do to help and support not only other writers, but also other childhood sexual abuse survivors. However, I’ve reached that point. I knew it was coming.

I’m not shutting my doors. I’m just adding a screen. With a strong lock.

***

Read more about Rachel’s experiences in the award-winning book, Broken Pieces.

She goes into more detail about living with PTSD and realizing the effects of how being a survivor affected her life in

Broken Places, available in print everywhere!

Please subscribe to my newsletter so we can stay in touch!

Mailing List Sign Up

Email*

Name

First Last

Privacy*

By using this form you agree with the storage and handling of your data by this website.

jQuery(document).bind('gform_post_render', function(event, formId, currentPage){if(formId == 8) {} } );jQuery(document).bind('gform_post_conditional_logic', function(event, formId, fields, isInit){} ); jQuery(document).ready(function(){jQuery(document).trigger('gform_post_render', [8, 1]) } );

The post What Is Social Proof and Does It Matter, Really? appeared first on Rachel Thompson.

via Rachel Thompson

#IFTTT #Rachel Thompson

6 notes · View notes

kotoplasm · 3 years

Text

assets in liabilities

summary: his dreams always go a little like this. high tides slowly washing into the cliffs of the shoreline, sometimes getting as high as his ankles. there’s a feeling of hesitancy that resides in him when he feels the desire to move forwards but he feels stuck in the sand, forced to watch the waters swash and backwash gently in the dead of the night.

when he blinks, he’s fifteen feet away from where he had originally opened his eyes, perched on an ancient bridge with an old woman supporting herself on a battered cane.

usually it’s the same woman wearing the tarot card earrings: one with a grim reaper etched on it, the other being the moon.

in his mind, the elderly were always the same: speaking lost thoughts or tongues of wishes into existence, hoping they’ll come true – a sign that they didn’t get to accomplish a goal they had originally sought out to complete during their youth.

from all the past nights that he’s had this dream, the earrings that she wears would always change to something different.

he doesn’t take note of it initially – not because he doesn’t want to but because he physically can’t remember what they looked like once he wakes up – and still decides not to.

because there is something else that catches his eyes and that’s the woman in the distance, water rising just to their upper thighs and hair drenched in the same substance.

he can’t recognise the face from the distance that he’s stood at but he partially blames that on his sudden reflex to jolt awake once he gets within two meters of their radius, forgetting the tarot cards, what the older woman says and what the other woman looks like.

so he stays and observes from a safe distance, staring at the how soft the moonlight made her silhouette look from this bridge or how entrancing her figure was, something that he couldn’t help to look at since their clothes were so tightly clung to their skin, carving out the curves and dips of their figure. everything about them felt ethereal.

then if he stayed there for too long or did something stupid like try to get their attention, he would end up back in his room, panting for air.

this time was different.

the first difference was that instead of waking up in his bedroom, he was in an interrogation room, the ones which they usually had for asking suspects of guests questions before deciding what to do with them. from all the ones that he’s seen, it’s always been miya who was usually holding them, flicking through sheets of questions and scribbles highlighted in crimson red.

where he had woken up was in the corner of this room, eyes shooting awake to a scene he was all too familiar with.

the only difference was that it was you being questioned.

the same you who had laughed after calling him a pervert and the same you who would rather make sure that one friend was still alive and breathing instead of worrying about yourself.

yet he couldn’t help but think that there was more to you than just some selfless being who only strived to achieve the best for others first before yourself.

he already knows your intentions from the look in your eyes. it was just a character.

he says this because the you who stood a few meters away from you looked like a mess.

dark rings that encircled your eyes sunk deep into your skin like bullet wounds, hairs that only elicited disregardment and just your outward appearance only:

the person standing in front of him wasn’t the same person he had spoken to last night.

along with yakushi, something inside of you had also died along with every single person in that establishment.

was this the normal miya spoke so casually about? were the deaths of people who were mostly innocent normal in his eyes? what was normal about watching so much bloodshed? sending waves of bullets through men who came with guns larger than an average child? wiping away that same bloodshed away from his skin?

he knew he didn’t mean it in that way but the way sakusa grimaces after discarding his mask now tainted with someone’s blood didn’t sit right with hinata. or maybe how bokuto could look so unbothered by this whole situation? or miya who wasn’t saying anything?

why wasn’t he saying anything?

say something!

“what about the people that attacked? do you know anything about them?” meian asks. miya sits beside him, head sat comfortably in the palm of his hand whilst his free, unoccupied hand flicks through pages of your files; the same ones that he showed hinata just a few days ago. he could catch glimpses of portraits; some of you, some of your siblings who were still presumably alive.

he wonders whether they’re worried about you.

he wonders if you’d even care.

“nothing. i don’t know anything.” you hoarsely reply back. for the first time, you look up and make eye contact with him. he feels nauseous.

“okay so i’m going to ask a few more questions if that’s okay with yer. feel free to answer when prompted to do so,” the blonde haired man drawls on, running his eyes over some of the questions he’s written in red.

“i’ve already told you everything.”

“hmm well if i remember correctly, yer told us nothin’ that we can actually go by.” his eyes stay fixed on you, narrowed with malice. “keep in mind that we’re not the bad guys here. then again we’re not the good guys either. what happened back there with yer co-workers and friends… we’re just as curious as you are. but that isn’t our job. if yer don’t tell us what yer know about the organisation yer used to be a part of, a lot more people could die – probably double the number of deaths that happened that night.”

after some silence passes, you scoff, the most that they’ve been able to get. “and that’s assuming i even care about more people dying.”

you feel the air in your lungs disappear once the blonde pulls a fistful of your shirt towards him, jaw knotted with frustration and knuckles a deep hue of red.

you’ve seen this face before. not on him in particular but seeing it again so up close makes your stomach sink lower.

“just admit that you don’t have any leads,” you spit. there isn’t any sign of empathy in your eyes. from what hinata could see, your eyes looked and felt cold. “i’ve seen this happen before: the deaths, the blood, the violence; getting me to say anything won’t help you or your organisation at all. unless you’re prepared to risk even more of your men’s lives, then find another solution. because trying to pawn me off won’t make your troubles go away.”

in a way, your words held some truth. miya atsumu was a man who put his all into an idea he truly believed would bring out the better outcome. his only flaw was his inability to evaluate and see that not all things were bound to go as planned.

it was an affinity that nature had for chaos.

it’s a flaw that his friends noticed but never succeeded in helping.

perhaps that’s why his last “plan” spiralled into such a deep downfall…

meian grabs him by the collar, pulling him back to his seat and prompting him to let you fall back into yours. the expression on your face settles to disdain, mostly at the men in front of you, some targeted at the ginger now named hinata shoyo who was observing.

why isn’t he saying anything, you wonder absentmindedly.

“calm down. we still have some time before we do anything drastic. just take a breather before we make any informed decisions,” you hear the man beside him, meian you remember him calling himself, hiss in a hushed tone.

just moments after and you’re dismissed, finally allowed to return to the medical ward for further inspection.

what they were looking for was beyond your comprehension but it was better than sitting in silence and refusing to answer their questions.

your eyes shift over to hinata shoyo; perhaps if he let me go that night, there might’ve been a different outcome.

the tearful chuckle went unnoticed by the others. don’t be so naive, you tell yourself.

not in this cruel world.

in their prime, miya atsumu and miya osamu were known collectively as the miya twins. to ask why was redundant as they were twins so the name would of course be fitting. what came as a surprise was the sheer amount of fear instilled into anyone who mentioned their name.

he notes that though it wasn’t perfect, he was glad that there was always someone he had to challenge himself with during the academy years. it wasn’t perfect but he supposes that perhaps there was a single joy in that.

it almost feels bittersweet the more he thinks about it - though most saw atsumu as the better twin, in his mind he always knew that osamu would be the one with the better life and better future.

he was already settled in his business, found someone who he was glad to start a family with and already had things set in place for the future.

in a way, the two were similar, both dedicated to something they loved but at times that proved to be the root of conflict.

atsumu regrets a lot of things in his life: the way he rushes into things in the spur of the moment, his ridiculous tendency of being dedicated to his work and ironically his brother, but not for the reason people think.

sometimes he hates himself too. because he let his hot-headedness get in the way of his judgement and let the last words his brother heard be a declaration of hatred.

to be completely honest, he’d hate himself too if the roles were reversed.

and sometimes he does. deeply.

“we’re not getting anywhere with this!”

“of course we’re not. you keep letting your emotions get to the best of you instead of calming down and assessing it properly,” sakusa replies, narrowing his eyes at his blonde comrade. there were days when atsumu could deal with his bluntly put responses but today unfortunately wasn’t one of them.

“well how about yer empathise with me for a few minutes sakusa? if i don’t convince the higher ups that this plan will work, then even more people are going to die because i messed up! tell me how yer’d try and calm down knowing that fact?”

then it goes silent. there’s an unsettled look in sakusa’s eyes and hinata felt fearful knowing that anything could set him off.

“do you think they’ll make us find out who those other people were? the ones who attacked and shot all those workers?” bokuto asks, attempting to change the topic.

“no. i heard that they’re sending the schweiden league to do that,” sakusa says. “captain says that it’s to allow us to rest for a few days before we get assigned to any more missions.”

“schweiden league?” hinata asks.

“yeah,” guessing from his tone, it seemed like miya had finally calmed down. “there’s actually a few of them located in this place. the others are located in different parts of the globe like the european countries.”

“yeah and it’s really fun to visit there on unofficial business!” bokuto tells hinata, earning knowing looks from sakusa and atsumu.

sometimes his tendency to make light of heavy situations proved to be a useful gift in the most unexpected ways.

“i remember visiting france to receive some advancements on a request i made and i got to visit some of the landmarks and try some of the food there!”

“really?!” hinata bursts with anticipation.

“yeah! i’ll show you some of my favourite spots when we have the chance to!”

“anyway, different leagues have different specialties. schweiden is usually dispatched for recaptures and stake-outs, sendai for investigations and analysis and raijin for the long and drawn out missions and interrogations.”

“okay. so are we expected to do anything during this break?”

“well not exactly. it’s called a break for a reason,” atsumu sighs. “ just recuperate and then i’ll let you know about the next stage.”

when he walks away, there’s something unsettling about his stance that puts hinata on edge. it’s subtle, perhaps too subtle for anyone to ever notice, but he realised it sooner than most.

conclusion: maybe if it weren’t for the circumstances he might have been able to understand that although this mission wasn’t something that the others treated to be such a big deal, it was all or nothing for miya atsumu. [2.1k]

#[ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔ ~ myworks]#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hinata shoyo #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata x you #hinata x reader #hinata shouyou #hinata fluff #hinata angst #haikyuu hinata

9 notes · View notes

edhaneyyy · 4 years

Text

Hope Because Humanity Is Within Us

“Being human is given.But keeping our humanity is a choice.” – Ida Protuger

This quote simply showsor tells us that humanity is a choice.Meaning wenare human ourselves but living here in this world, humanity is hard to keep for some of us.

When we get asked, what is humanity? Answering this question is just as easy as a pie. Humanity is the good qualities a human could have. Humanity is our ability to have compassion, care, empathy and love others. Humanity is helping other wherever and whenever, it is being selfless. If humanity is a person, the best example is Mother Teresa. But, the real question is, is there any hope for humanity when some of the human beings keeps on ruining humanity in our world? Our deepest humanity, however, is rooted within the fragility of all of our lives. Unless we work together we are going to be unable to save lots of the earth. If we cannot see that our vulnerabilities, and not our masks of perfection are what bind us to one another, we are going to be left wondering what's wrong with us.

There is such a common scene in human history when the media community says that men have lost their trust in humanity. That's because most people these days are starting to be cruel to themselves and others. They hurt themselves and the people around them. A common problem was the many facts that made this "virus" bigger and affected the whole world. When we talk about humanity, we should think of it only about human life, not because humanity is about humanity, including all humanity on earth. It is also a terminology of the qualities that make us human. For example, the ability to love, be considerate, be creative, and not be a robot or an alien.

We have to keep humanity within us. Why? Because that is our only key to prevent chaos in our modern world. Without a little bit of humanity do you think we can live, sleep peacefully and have friends around us? No. I listed some acts that show humanity from the website Good Housekeeping . ( https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/inspirational-stories/news/gmp5124/random-acts-of-kindness/)

1. Florence Rescue Force - After Hurricane Florence caused devastating flooding in North Carolina this fall, kindhearted citizens like Amber Hersel jumped into action. The volunteer from the Civilian Crisis Response Team helped rescue 7-year-old Keiyana Cromartie and her family from their flooded home on September 14, 2018 in James City.

2. Donor Network - The decision made by Patricia Almonte (right) to donate the organs of her late 3-year-old daughter Veronica Garcia helped save three lives: Essence Walls (left), an 8-month-old baby, received her heart; a 2-year-old received her liver; and a 68-year-old woman received her kidneys.

3. Canine Heroes - A lucky dog got a ride from some unnamed helpers in the aftermath of Hurricane Matthew two years ago. Photographer Sean Rayford caught these two men pushing a makeshift boat through the floodwaters in Lumberton, North Carolina.

4. Earthquake Heroes - Frida the rescue dog and her trainer Israel Arauz Salinas went viral for their life-saving efforts during the 7.1 magnitude earthquake that shook Mexico City in 2017. The 9-year-old Labrador has detected the bodies of 52 people during her career, and the duo recently received their own statue for their service to the Mexican navy.

5. Helping Hand - American Abbey D'Agostino and New Zealander Nikki Hamblin won a special Olympic commendation for their sportsmanship at the 2016 Rio Games. After Hamblin tripped in a 5,000-meter heat, and brought D'Agostino down with her, the American helped her competitor to her feet. Later on in the race, D'Agostino fell again as a result of her twisted leg, but Hamblin stayed by her side until the finish line.

6. Moments after posing for a fun photograph at a local beauty spot, brave teenager Cheng Changjiang was dead. Despite being unable to swim, Cheng, 18, waded into the lake to save the lives of three young children who had got into trouble in the water. But the brave act cost the teenager – branded a ‘hero’ by onlookers – his life. Cheng was enjoying the public holiday at the rural spot in Xinyang, at Henan province in central China, when tragedy struck.

7. ryclectic’ wrote: “My Buddy Witnessed an Act of Utter Kindness Today…While he was standing on the corner waiting for the crosswalk he saw this woman buy two meals at a street vender and go sit down beside this man and give him one of the meals. She proceeded to introduce herself and talk to him about his life and just shot the [breeze] with him. She wasn’t acting superior, she was his equal, she just wanted to talk to and express inclusion to a fellow human being.”

8. This is a picture of a chap called Tully holding a 46 year old, wheelchair bound man with severe mental handicaps. Tully picked him up so he could go on the hay ride with everyone else. 5 minutes into the ride the man got so excited that he peed all over himself and Tully. Tully sat there soaked in pee for the remainder of the 40 minute hay ride. As soon as it was over he changed the mans clothes before his own. If that doesn’t show character we don’t know what does.

9. I will not let you go. This woman spent 3 hours holding the horse’s head above the tide after it got stuck in the mud on a beach in Australia. The horse was later rescued, unharmed.

10. Strangers Leave her Money While She Gently Sleeps. “alexthegreat90″ wrote: “I took this picture this morning. Ever been somewhere and seen something that amazed you? I’m at the east side McDonald’s and this lady was sitting in front of me sleeping. She has everything she owns in a small backpack. Curled up with her blanket she sleeps not knowing what is going on around her. While she is sleeping everyone is getting their money out and putting it on the table so it’s there when she wakes up.”

These are only few of the acts that restored humanity. These acts showed us that no matter how cruel the world is. There are still people out there who shows kindness and selfless love without any hesitation despite any situation. So what are those things that could destroy our humanity? Stephen Hawking who is known for his work on black holes and gravitational singularities thinks that there are three things that ruin our humanity, but I will only cite two. He have this outspoken ideas about human civilization. Hawking suffers from a nerve cell disease just like amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or ALS, which left him paralyzed and unable to talk without a voice synthesizer. But that hasn't stopped the University of Cambridge professor from making proclamations about the wide selection of dangers humanity faces -- including ourselves. He is part of a small group who voiced out their concerns about artificial intelligence.

First, according to Stephen Hawking, “The development of full artificial intelligence could spell the end of the human race," "The human failing I would most like to correct is aggression. It may have had survival advantage in caveman days, to get more food, territory or partner with whom to reproduce, but now it threatens to destroy us all," The Independent reported. I believe that Hawking here is telling us that AI could destroy us just like in the movie entitled Wall-e, we could see there that the AI are already controlling every move of the humans in the ship. They are dependent to the robot around them and don’t seem to care to anyone. There would be no care, love and empathy left.

Second, if AI won’t kill us, our own self might kill us. For example, a major nuclear war would likely end civilization, and could wipe out the human race, Hawking added. When asked which human quality he would most like to chose, he chose empathy , because "it brings us together in a peaceful, loving state.” Chaos would be everywhere without humanity.

In the current time, we ask ourselves sometimes, where is humanity? There are certain issues in our modern world that made us question ourselves. Despite those, we should look at the brighter side. There are still good people who we have mentioned above.

This year, our humanity is being tested. During this pandemic time we should remember our humanity. On the occasion of taking care of the elderly, and those who are sick and needy. This is what's happening in countless hospitals, clinics and medical aid units round the world, where truth heroes of this ordeal – the doctors, nurses and physicians – are risking their lives to avoid wasting others. This deeper humanity must spread to each street, every neighbourhood, every city and each country if we are to defeat the virus with our science and technology but also showing wisdom, compassion and humanity.

In the event that food and fun are what we were destined to be, there is one thing we should remember. Indeed, even creatures can do such exercises. In the event that God made us human, there must be an explanation behind it. No one but people can comprehend the importance of mankind, and it is humankind because of insight that truly gives the center substance to human presence. You needn't bother with a solid financial balance to add to helpful exercises. Paying your family help reasonably is humankind as well. You're prepared to pay a large number of dollars for your clinical test, yet with regards to paying your collaborator; You need to spare each penny. Compassionate exercises ought to never be embraced to pick up distinction or get a superficial point of interest. You can without much of a stretch accomplish popularity through the work you do. Lifting the weighty sack of an elderly person is humankind, helping an incapacitated individual to go across the road is mankind, helping your mom at work is humankind; truth be told, it is humankind to help whoever needs it. How would we express or show mankind? One approach to show our mankind helping poor people and the individuals who crippled. Additionally utilizing indicating counterfeit mankind to pick up distinction ought to never be one your choice. Did you experience finding a major measure of cash and when you return it, there's the incredible inclination that we can't clarify? Since on the event of indicating our humankind to other people, we have that believing that we can not get.

Humanity is significant in our daily lives. It teaches us to understand the problem and gives us ideas. It helps us understand others. Humanities students specialize in writing and critical reading. Humanity encourages us to think creatively. They teach us to explain why we are human and to ask questions about our world. Humanity produces informed and critical citizens. Democracy cannot flourish without humanity. We all need to assist one another. We humans are like that. We need to live by each other’s bliss – not by each other’s hopelessness. We don’t need to despise and loathe one another. Because that's not what humanity is.

Some may say, we are losing our humanity. No, we are not losing it. We could see it everywhere. It is within us. Humanity is lively and the light is sparkling profoundly within the hearts and souls of numerous individuals from all works of life. They are of all races, societies, social status and religions. It is individuals who see their commitments to the world as their employments and they continuously inquire what can l do to contribute to distant better;a much better; a higher;a stronger; an improved" a stronger world. It’s just that, humanity is covered by our selfishness, our hatred, all negative traits that prevents us from helping and doing good for someone. Never lose hope for we still have humanity stored in us.

https://www.humanitystyle.com/new-page-5

https://kindnessblog.com/2014/11/03/34-examples-of-heart-warming-humanity/

2 notes · View notes

unluckyadept · 4 years

Text

Follow Me, and You’ll See

“I would say that I hope you’ve learned a lesson, but I don’t think you quite understand everything that’s being thrown at you.”

“That would be an accurate understanding of the situation.”

[Tired.

He was tired.]

“Echo was right, you know.”

“I know.”

“Have you considered making an effort to talk about something else?”

“I’m no good at small talk, Sheba, and this… chaos is consuming me.”

[The Jupiter Adept gave something of an amused expression, looking over her shoulder as she continued brushing her hair.

Felix was staring out the window at the sea, lost in thought—ever the serious expression on his face.]

“Felix, it’s not like either of you lost your passions—and you might put a little more effort into discussing something pleasant before giving up on the idea. It’s not like you don’t have plenty of things to talk about besides the unrest in Angara.”

[She closed her eyes, still smiling gently.]

“The solstice is coming up. You could talk about that.”

“Sheba, the last time I tried—”

[She hushed him, with a brush of Mind Read to go along with it.]

“That wasn’t what Piers was trying to get at. Of course he’d be more concerned about the growing unrest—he’s devoted his life to trying to prevent that from spreading. Do try to remember that he wants the same thing you do—and he isn’t as affected by what happens in Prox as you are. You shouldn’t be surprised that it didn’t have the same meaning for him as it did for you.”

[Silence.

A stony wall holding back the ocean… at low tide, now.

It was an improvement from the raging waves of pain that had drowned out everything else, that was for sure—but she wasn’t fooled.

It was like the smell of seawater—the salty, bitter sense of faded pain.

A breeze was sent out to cast ripples in the water, pulling him out of whatever dark pool of nothing he was sinking into.]

“Mmm.”

“It’s never bothered you before this badly.”

“Yes, it has. But that was before. Long, long before.”

[He heaved a sigh, sagging his shoulders.]

“Sheba…”

🍃I didn’t expect it to be just… brushed off like that. 🍃

[He looked up, a weary kind of sad.]

🍃To me, it was… something joyous, something monumental. A sign of how much progress had been made, a light heralding in a better future. After all these months, I… really was overjoyed at the best news I had heard since the beginning of the year. 🍃

[He looked down at his hands, a deep, heavy regret pulling away at his composure, which was sinking in a shrinking perimeter.]

🍃I should have said something then rather than just leave. But that’s not what happened, and then… then it got worse. 🍃

“-Sigh- Felix… consider what happened in your last ‘conversation’ with the man; you expected the worst and didn’t get it. Stop passing judgment on both yourself and on him without getting his input.”

[Felix turned his back, growing moody.]

🍃That’s so much easier to say than to do. He deserves better than this. 🍃

“If you mean, ‘Better than being fearfully kept at a distance’, then yes. If you mean, ‘better than someone like me’, then… sorry, Felix, but that’s not your decision to make.”

🍃But…🍃

[The weight. Oh, Stars, the WEIGHT on his chest, the darkness in his eyes—]

🍃What if he changes his mind…? What if he’s just… what if it was just said because he wants to be kind about it, but— 🍃

[The darkness was shattered by taking in a deep breath and dispelling the suffocating sense of despair.]

“I know it’s hard, but you… really should trust him.”

[Felix could only close his eyes, doing his best to keep his composure as she put her hand to his shoulder and continued on.]

“He has your best interests in mind, and there’s no reason for him to be dishonest. He’s as busy a man as you are, even more embroiled in the fog of diplomacy and law than before. He doesn’t have to spend any time or energy on anything that makes his life any more difficult than it already is—and he chooses to speak with you. What does that tell you?”

🍃I’ve made a terrible mistake in not keeping to myself. 🍃

[He put a hand to his mouth to stifle his expression, but he couldn’t fight back the strain from reaching his eyes.

It took a lot of effort just to keep his head above the water—to avoid from going under and drowning in despair.

And it was exhausting.]

🍃I don’t even know what to do anymore. The only thing…🍃

[At least he was calming down, now.]

🍃The only things I can think of… 🍃

[Oh, he felt so WISTFUL thinking about it!]

🍃There will be bonfires and feasting, and music, song, and dance… 🍃

[A chance to truly enjoy the community, to celebrate all that they valued together.]

🍃But he… doesn’t see it the same way I do. It’s like you said… it doesn’t affect him the same way. The last… the last time I tried, it… didn’t work. 🍃

“That might be partially because you only described what was going on, not what it meant to you. Maybe he wouldn’t be as invested in the actual content, but I’m sure he would be happy to see you in such good spirits, with your eyes set to a hopeful future. Especially with how things have been as of late…”

[Felix lowered his eyelids, giving something of a sullen look into the distance.]

🍃I don’t know, Sheba. All this time, all this progress—and I still feel… 🍃

🍃I still feel like… if I were really myself, it would be too much for other people. I can’t… can’t say to other people when I feel threatened. I… get told that… that I’m being irrational, that I deserve it, that I have no right to… entitlement. That my… my pain frustrates them, that it’s… intolerant. 🍃

[He was finding it hard to breathe again.]

🍃I don’t know what to do but keep to myself and just… try to appreciate what I have, even if I… don’t feel I can say when I’m hurt. And I couldn’t even manage that much, in the end… 🍃

“This is only the end if you make it so, Felix.”

🍃And that’s the worst thing about it. This is my fault to start with, and the fact it’s still… in disrepair is my fault, too. 🍃

[It was pressing down on him, to the point where he stopped breathing normally anymore.]

🍃It’s the same… same. My pain is… getting in the way. 🍃

“Your fear is getting in the way, not your pain.”

🍃I can’t do it, Sheba. If we’ve misread the situation, I don’t think I could take it. And I can’t put that kind of pressure on him; this is my responsibility to figure out on my own. 🍃

[She sighed.]

“You’re always so set on taking everything upon yourself.”

🍃That’s my responsibility. As the eldest, as the leader—people rely on me to keep it together and be there when they have need of me! I can’t—🍃

[She put a finger to his lips to hush him, even though he wasn’t talking.]

“That’s your responsibility to your sister and to those who work with you, side by side. But we’re your friends and your equals, Felix—no one wants to see you fold in on yourself from all the crushing weight of what you’re trying to take on alone.”

🍃I can’t stand it…🍃

“No, you can’t. And you can’t hide it, either. When you try, people get worried from your sudden silence… because it’s only ever bad news when you avoid your close friends for days on end. And we get concerned, for reasons I shouldn’t have to explain. How do you think the others felt, when your heart bled with compassion after you were wounded by empathy, and you cracked from the sorrow? This isn’t unique to Piers—it’s just that he had the distinct misfortune of suffering the fallout when you made bad choices.”

🍃That doesn’t help, and it doesn’t make anything better. 🍃

“The fact that it’s NOT personal does MATTER, Felix.”

🍃It makes it worse, that I’m not… not strong enough.🍃

“Failing to admit and work with your weakness is what is making it worse. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

[His eyes stung from the shame.]

🍃I don’t… I don’t know that I can do it. It hurts, it hurts so much…! 🍃

[He shut his eyes against the pain, lone tears marring his face.]

🍃It still hurts, and I can’t… I can’t bear to… to seek comfort in this, after what I’ve done! He deserves better than that. 🍃

[He clenched his teeth, trying to block out the suffering.]

🍃He deserves better than that. 🍃

“Your sin was in lashing out at him the way you did, not in being upset in the first place. Don’t you remember what he told you?”

[She reached out to his memories, bringing echoes of the past that he could barely remember to the surface.]

=-=-=-=-=-=

“There was one thing made abundantly clear… the man facing me was—and still is, I can see it before me right now—in an overwhelming amount of pain and overcome by deep sorrow.”

“You’re my friend, Felix… and I didn't want my friend to feel like this.”

=-=-=-=-=-=

[He wept. Ever so briefly, too TIRED from the strain of the last WEEK to have much despair left to overtake him.

He was exhausted. Absolutely exhausted, and he didn’t have the energy to fight anymore.

Not against himself. Not against the world. Not against the truth.

Not against the loneliness.

Not against the pain.]

🍃It hurts being treated like I’m at fault and deserve to be tormented until I die from the pain. 🍃

[There was a brief flash of searing agony—the twisting of the burning knife still embedded in his soul.]

[He lived his life day by day, working hard to cover the cost to get by. He had suffered for decades with a pain and a loneliness that never seemed to fully go away—and the sense of wild pain and despair had been so torturous, so maddening, that at one point—]

🌪I’m here for you, Felix.🌪

🌪You’re not alone anymore.🌪

🌪We care.🌪

[He didn’t have anything to say, anymore. He just felt tired.]

🌪Get some rest, then. It’ll be alright… and it’ll be better in the morning.🌪

🍃Have to… have to get ready for the trip….🍃

🌪Other people can deal with that. Get something to eat and go sleep. You can think things over after you’ve had some rest.🌪

🌪With all that’s coming up… 🌪

🌪…you’ll need it.🌪

#cje #unluckyadept #Golden Sun: The Lost Age #Eclipsed by Tyranny #still relevant

3 notes · View notes

dogbearinggifts · 5 years

Text

“Dad Sent Me to the Moon” vs. “Because Dad Made Me”

How Luther and Vanya Talk About Trauma, Part Nine

This is Part Nine of my series comparing and contrasting how Luther and Vanya talk about their own respective traumas, and respond to the traumas of others. This part will conclude my examination of the series itself, and my analysis of each episode’s events. I have one more installment planned, where I discuss my overall findings for each character—both how they are portrayed in canon and how they are portrayed in fandom, as well as some general insights on each that I’ve picked up along the way—so stick around for that.

If this is the first time you’re seeing this series on your dash, you can find previous installments here:

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

and then I swear I’ll finally go through and add links at the bottom of the page on each essay I’m sorry I’ve just been lazy, y’all are awesome for sticking with this

Episode Nine: Changes Part Two (aka Apocalypse…Now?)

This is not the first mention of trauma in this episode; merely the first mention in this half of it. Nevertheless, it comes when Allison joins Luther, Diego and Klaus in the basement, where Vanya is being held.

Luther: Allison, what are you doing down here? You should be in bed. Allison: LET HER GO Luther: I can’t do that. She hurt you. Allison: MY FAULT Luther: I’m sorry, but she’s staying put. Just until we know what we’re dealing with. She stays put. Now, come on. Come on. You need to rest.

It’s easy to read this scene as Luther adopting a patronizing attitude toward Allison (“Oh ho ho, I know what’s best for you, silly girl”) or adopting a vindictive one toward Vanya. However, I think both of those interpretations fail to account for the most important piece of the puzzle here: Until very recently, Luther blamed himself for all the awful things Reginald did to him.

Think back to his reaction upon learning he was sent to the Moon for no reason: “I wasn’t a good enough Number One? I couldn’t cut it?” Luther had just discovered evidence that something awful had been done to him, and he immediately assumed it was a result of something he did. While it’s never explicitly stated that he blamed himself for Reginald mutating him, I would say that based on how Luther reacted to the reveal on his Moon mission, it’s very likely he did blame himself. If only he’d been more careful. If only he’d paid more attention in training. If only he’d done some minor thing that allegedly would have turned the tide in his favor and prevented his near-death.

And now here’s Allison, who narrowly survived having her throat cut, robbed of her powers and reduced to writing short messages on a notepad—and she’s looking at the woman responsible for her state and saying MY FAULT.

To Luther, this probably bears a striking resemblance to the self-blame that was his constant companion for years.

I think that’s why he doesn’t listen to Allison. Not because he thinks he knows what’s best for her. Not because he wants to hurt Vanya further. He’s telling her that Vanya stays put because he believes that Vanya was responsible for her condition. And honestly? He’s right. Allison has received a lot of undeserved ire for her attempted Rumoring of Vanya, but as I pointed out in my previous installment of this series, Allison had no other defense. Vanya was out of control, and Allison had absolutely no idea if catering to Vanya’s demand would allow her to leave that cabin alive or if it would simply prolong her death. What happened to Allison was not her fault. Responsibility for Allison’s state lies with Vanya and Vanya alone.

Luther wasn’t at that cabin. He didn’t see what happened. But even without firsthand knowledge of what left Allison powerless, he’s still able to recognize self-blame when he sees it. His response to that recognition is poor and leads the family closer to tragedy, but it is rooted in empathy—not spite.

*********

Our next trauma mention comes from Vanya, who is….technically talking to herself, although it makes sense in context. Regardless of how difficult it is to quantify something like this, I feel as if what Vanya says here is disregarded in favor of the context in which she says it—that is, fandom tends to woobify Vanya for having a psychotic break and ignore the rather unsympathetic motivations she reveals.

Young Vanya: They’re still afraid of us. Even after all these years. Afraid of our power. Vanya: You’re not real. Young Vanya: We killed Leonard. Vanya: Because he lied to us. Young Vanya: Not about everything. Vanya: What are you talking about? Young Vanya: You know. You’ve always known. Our brothers and sister, they’re just like Dad. Driven to keep us down. A muted voice, isolated from the group, never in the limelight, never the center of attention. It will never end. Not until we act. Vanya: But they’re our family. Young Vanya: They fear you now. They’re gonna keep you in here forever. Vanya: No. Young Vanya: Do you remember what that was like? Staring at these grey walls, hour after hour, day after day while they played together? Do you want to live like this for the rest of our lives?

Much is made in fandom of the fact Vanya is trapped in this anechoic chamber, but very little is made of what she says while trapped in there. While I’d like to give fandom the benefit of the doubt, I’m inclined to believe that the dialogue in this scene is excluded less by oversight and more by design, because this dialogue surgically dismantles the popular image of Vanya as an innocent victim who is neither dangerous nor at fault for what happened in the cabin.

First, note what she says to her childhood self about Leonard’s murder: “Because he lied to us.” No hesitation. No remorse. No attempt to justify what she did with claims of self-defense. Leonard lied to her, and so she feels she had a right to kill him.

So many people in fandom have pointed out Luther’s childish moral code. Sometimes this is done to make him appear less sympathetic; sometimes it is done to point out how his proximity to Reginald stunted him, but it’s done quite often. However, Vanya’s moral code is equally childish—if not more so—and I have yet to see anyone point that out.

Luther’s moral code: If it hurts people, it is an enemy. If it helps people, it is a friend. This is why he locked Vanya up: She hurt Allison, so she is an enemy and not to be trusted. It’s also why he defended Reginald all those years: Reginald saved his life and gave him and his siblings a roof over their heads and three square meals and material possessions and an opportunity to develop their powers, so he was a friend. This completely discounts Vanya’s remorse and the abuse Luther and his siblings suffered, and the harm this code does is clear.

Vanya’s moral code: If it makes me feel special, it is good. If it makes me feel ordinary, it is bad. Good things should be held close and defended at all costs; bad things hurt me, so I can hurt them back. Leonard made her feel special for most of the series, so she defended him despite all evidence pointing to the fact he was actually a creepy stalker. Allison made her feel ordinary simply by virtue of having access to and knowledge of her powers while Vanya lacked this, and so Vanya felt justified in punishing her with verbal put-downs and abuse and—eventually—open threats and shows of force.

One thing I’d like to call attention to, before we go any further, is that Luther’s moral code, while childish and leaving no room for reform or wolves in sheep’s clothing, is fundamentally focused on others. He believes it is his duty to protect others from danger, and from those who wish to do harm—no matter the cost to the person he believes is causing harm. Vanya’s moral code, on the other hand, is fundamentally focused on herself. She judges good and evil, right and wrong based on what people do to her and how they make her feel. Luther’s moral code leaves room for selflessness, or a form of it anyway; Vanya’s moral code is fundamentally selfish and cannot be focused outward.

Another thing I’d like to call attention to is that in this moment, Vanya has nothing to hide and no reason to conceal her motives. She is alone, and hallucinating her childhood self. If ever there were a time to be honest, this would be it. This is when we get to see her motivations, when we get to learn how she feels about her siblings. And we do.

“You know. You’ve always known. Our brothers and sister, they’re just like Dad. Driven to keep us down. A muted voice, isolated from the group, never in the limelight, never the center of attention. It will never end. Not until we act.”

So often she is portrayed as a lost and broken little girl who only ever wanted love. Her rampage is made out to be the final snapping of a girl who learned she would never gain the affection she craved, but that assumption is torn to pieces by the words of the very character who is so misconstrued. Vanya is not motivated by a longing for love. She never was. She is motivated by a longing for attention.

Think about it: Leonard never made any overt displays of love, like flowers or candy, but he did shower her with attention. He listened to her more than he talked, put her center stage, wanted to know everything about her and celebrated her triumphs. When Vanya walks in on the emergency meeting and assumes she was excluded, love was never part of the equation. Attention was what they failed to give her. When she bought the typewriter with which she would write her autobiography, it was the comic book featuring her siblings in the pawnshop window that caused her to snap. The world was still fawning over her siblings; she decided it was time the world listened to her for a change. When she goes on her rampage in the next episode, she doesn’t try to find her siblings and scream at them for never loving her; instead she dons a suit and goes to play her concert. Her rampage, like everything else she does, is not a brokenhearted reaction to a lack of love. It is a blatant attempt to make the world pay attention to her and what she can do.

I don’t think this is indicative of a character flaw in Vanya, or even her fault. Reginald Hargreeves was not an affectionate man, and his favor toward his children was measured in how much attention he lavished upon them. Luther, as the favorite, received the most; Vanya, being excluded from family life, received the least. It is natural that Vanya would crave attention more than she craves love, or even conflate the two. But it is important to accurately name her motivation. Misconstruing it as heartbroken retaliation for a lack of love fails to adequately explain her actions.

Another thing worth noting: Vanya doesn’t argue with her childhood self’s assessment of the situation. When her childhood self says “They fear you now. They’re gonna keep you in here forever,” Vanya doesn’t bring up the lack of fear on Allison’s face or the fact she wrote LET HER GO on her notepad for all to see. You can argue that, without the ability to hear what was said, Vanya could have mistaken Klaus’ horror for fear and Diego’s anger toward Luther as anger toward her, but it is impossible for her to misinterpret what Allison wrote. Yet she doesn’t mention it, not even for her childhood self to refute it.

Nor does she bring up the reason why she’s locked in that chamber: the near-murder of her own sister. She flew into a screaming rage because of her own selective memory, cut her own sister’s throat and spent much of the previous episode assuming Allison was dead at her hand—and that doesn’t even enter her thought process. Yes, she now knows Allison is alive, but she also knows that Allison’s powers are gone because of her. She nearly murdered Allison because Allison took her powers away; yet now she knows she has taken Allison’s powers away, and if she feels any guilt over that, we don’t see it. She only thinks about her siblings in the context of how their actions will impact her.

Finally, her childhood self reveals a lot about how Vanya sees her siblings’ abuse: “Do you remember what that was like? Staring at these grey walls, hour after hour, day after day while they played together?” Her book (shown in a few blink-and-you’ll-miss-it scenes, and in slightly more detail in the comics) mentions that her siblings were experimented on. She knows they went through training. Yet here, they were just playing. Nothing more than that. Playing without her, having fun in her absence.

I cannot for the life of me understand how Luther has a reputation in fandom for insisting he had it worse than anyone when Vanya is the only one who calls persistent abuse and experimentation playing. It’s true that she was kept at arm’s length and so this misconception was allowed to grow unabated, but it’s telling that in the ten or so years since she’s left home, she hasn’t reconsidered her adolescent perspective on what her siblings went through.

********

Episode Ten: The White Violin (aka Apocalypse Vanya)

This episode is primarily the conclusion of all the story threads introduced thus far, and the only moment I’d like to discuss is the montage where Vanya walks through the Academy hallucinating childhood versions of her siblings rejecting her and treating her as if she doesn’t belong.

Or, so fandom tells me.

Here’s what actually happens.

Vanya opens a door and finds Allison and Luther sitting on the bed about to kiss. Allison hears the noise, turns, and screams at Vanya to get out.

She opens another door and finds Diego sitting on his bed. He looks up and says, “What do you want?” in a rude, demanding tone.

Behind another door, she finds Klaus and Ben suiting up for a mission. Ben looks to her and says, “To go on a mission, Vanya, you have to have a power.”

In the parlor (or a parlor—the Academy is fucking huge) she finds her father and siblings posing for a photo. She watches her teenage self beg Reginald to let her be in the photo; he persistently refuses. Her siblings stand mutely as the photo is taken without her.

Other users have pointed out that these instances of alleged cruelty are actually normal in families with siblings, and I’m inclined to agree. Vanya interrupted a kiss—possibly a first kiss—and I would say Allison is well within her rights to be angry and upset about it.

Diego’s reaction is a bit less sympathetic, on the surface, although not uncommon in families with siblings. She intruded on Diego’s privacy, which is annoying in families where parents respect the privacy of their children; but if Reginald believes he has a right to walk in and out of his children’s rooms as he pleases, then Vanya’s intrusion is tantamount to a small betrayal. I speak from experience—I grew up in a household where, when we moved into a house with locks on the bedroom doors, it was made abundantly clear that we were never to use them. My parents rarely knocked, and became belligerent the few times I asked them to. As a result of this, my brother and I treated privacy as sacred. We knocked when the door was closed, we knocked when the door was open, we asked if we could come in. When a much younger sibling of mine would traipse into my room without knocking, I would remain angry about it for much longer than was normal or healthy. Point is, Diego’s annoyance could be normal sibling irritation over a failure to respect his privacy, or it could be something more. Either way, it’s understandable.

Ben’s reaction is blunt, I’ll say that much, and definitely rude. I could see how Vanya would be hurt by this. However, he’s right. At this point in their childhoods, they both believed she didn’t have a power. If she went on a mission, she’d die very quickly. What Ben says here is less bullying and more brutal honesty—and while the line can definitely blur between the two, I’d say he’s more on the side of honesty than on the side of bullying.

Reginald is the only one who acts out of malice, refusing to let her be in the family photo. While this is par for the course for him, her siblings say nothing in Vanya’s defense; but I don’t think this is a count against them. Yes, they are all probably powerful enough to take Reginald down almost instantly, but he has conditioned them too well. They obey his authority and fear his retribution. None of them are going to risk his wrath by ruining the family photo.

I think there are two ways to view this montage.

These are the worst memories Vanya has of her siblings, the most blatant examples of their bullying, as evidenced by the fact they have stuck with her this long and are painful enough for her to destroy whole rooms as a result of them.

These are not the worst memories she has of her siblings; rather, they are simply the first to come to mind. Her siblings did far, far worse things to her as a kid, but for some reason, she remembers the mildest ones as she walks through the Academy.

Personally, I think the first option is more likely. Vanya has spent the entire series ascribing the worst possible motives to her siblings’ actions, even when those actions were either friendly or unintentionally exclusionary; and since she’s already in a heightened emotional state, it seems odd that her mind would move to the mildest memories of their alleged bullying when far worse ones exist. Additionally, the one her mind dredges up about Reginald is pretty awful, so it seems her mind would go for memories of her siblings it considers equal to that of Reginald.

In other words, I think Vanya is an unreliable narrator when it comes to the suffering her siblings inflicted upon her, and I think this scene is evidence of that.

I don’t think she is fabricating events out of thin air, and I don’t think she’s twisting details regarding her siblings. When she’s storming out of the Academy, ranting to Leonard about how “nothing is good enough next to their holier-than-thou, weight-of-the-world bullshit,” Vanya doesn’t fabricate snatches of conversation and pass them off as fact. She doesn’t change anything about the details of what happened. She does ascribe motive, and the worst possible motive at that. She does the same thing after Allison’s confession: Rather than presenting an entirely new version of events where Allison tosses off some parting shot (”That’s for taking Dad away from me” or some such) Vanya instead presents her own interpretation of events that directly counters Allison’s recollection of her own motives.

I believe Vanya is doing a similar thing here. I think the events she is hallucinating actually happened. I do think she walked in on Allison and Luther about to kiss, had Diego rudely rebuff her when she entered without knocking, and heard Ben say she couldn’t go on a mission without a power. But I think her interpretation of them is wildly inaccurate—that is to say, she is assuming that these rejections of her presence were an intentional and willful rejection of her as a person and a member of the family; when in reality, they were actually something far more mundane and, while perhaps not quite benign, not actively malicious.

I do think her siblings participated, to some extent, in Reginald’s exclusion of her. In an earlier episode, we see Allison confronted with this fact as she witnesses Vanya in the security tapes, always off by herself while she and the others went about their training. Allison is surprised and saddened by this. If she participated in an intentional conspiracy to exclude Vanya, I think she would have made some excuse for it (“Well, she didn’t have a power, so what were we supposed to do? Let her play with us and get herself killed?”). Instead, she is disgusted by the actions she took as a child—actions she evidently didn’t put much thought into at the time.

I think this is at the root of Vanya’s exclusion: Her siblings did exclude her. They didn’t fight back against Reginald’s cruelty toward her, and they didn’t make a lot of effort to try and include her in their daily activities. However, they didn’t do so out of malice, or even a dislike for Vanya.

In some branches of Christianity, theologians differentiate between sins of commission and sins of omission. A sin of commission is a conscious choice to do something you know is wrong. You choose to steal. You choose to fudge your taxes. You choose to gossip about a person you don’t like. A sin of omission, on the other hand, is a failure to do what you know is right. You don't go to church. You don’t listen to sound advice. You don’t reach out to someone who desperately needs a friend. I may have some quibbles with Christianity now, but I think this principle is a sound one.**

From all the evidence we have, it seems Vanya’s siblings excluded her in an act of omission. They knew it was right to include her in more than their late-night donut runs, but they didn’t. Maybe they meant to do it and never did. Maybe they were too afraid of Reginald to reach out. Whatever the case, they should have tried to make her feel like a sibling and not a stranger, and they didn’t.

Vanya, however, sees this act of omission as an act of commission. Where her siblings know it was tragic oversight that led to a childhood of exclusion, Vanya sees it as intentional. Complicating matters is the fact Reginald’s treatment of her was an act of commission, of willful cruelty and a desire to punish her for something beyond her control. Because her siblings were closer to Reginald than Vanya ever was, and because they too excluded her, I think she came to believe they possessed the same motives as he. This isn’t true, but Vanya has believed it for so long that she now sees every act of omission as an act of commission, and every act of commission as monstrous and unforgivable—even when the person sinning against her is working off of incomplete knowledge and a desire to protect others.

Running count of trauma mentions (cumulative of all episodes thus far)

Own Trauma: Vanya 11*, Luther 11

Trauma of Others: Vanya 5, Luther 5

*I could count the montage where Vanya wanders through the Academy as a trauma mention, but since she doesn’t technically talk about it to anyone—and in fact, no one sees it but her—it doesn’t quite fit the criteria I used to include Luther’s mutation and exclude Vanya’s book. However, I felt it was crucial to my overall analysis, so I included it in that.

**I have nothing against it as a religion. If you consider yourself a Christian, great! I think it’s a good faith, and I’m glad it works for you. It just didn’t work for me.

Read on to Part Ten

132 notes · View notes

maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years

Text

Devil’s No 1(7)

Chapter 7: Abundance

Loki x fem!Reader, Bucky x fem!Reader

Theme: The definitions of devils, angels, demons etc. are twisted here in this world. But some things remain the same.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, everything that my mind can conjure, really.

Chapter warnings: None... is a kink a warning?

A/N: This was written two years ago (I think) on @phantomrose96 ‘s prompt/situation of a shy girl summoning the devil to be friends with him (and something else that he does but I’ll leave that part out for you guys to have fun with). But I- being thirsty for tragedies- twisted things a little.

Word Count: Work tomorrow. ugh! Sundays always make me feel lonely. So lonely. I need a hug.

MASTERLIST in bio, love. Tags are open

credits to @russian-hiddlestoner for the picture

It was a journey. Through a tunnel, maybe? Or something deeper in the ground. Well, that's what it felt like. Like when you travelled in a train and passed a junction, or where the tracks met, maybe even a tunnel there! That was how you were feeling. Or rather, your conscience was feeling? Or should we call it your soul?

Let's just skip to the part where you felt it all and woke up.

...

WAKE UP!

A loud gasp rose from your lungs as your eyes threw themselves wide open.

"There you are," you heard the dark honey voice of the devil himself from somewhere around- hopefully he isn't still inside you, "I was worried about you."

By the layers in Loki's voice, you could clearly tell how he was mocking you but your brain was on too much of a spin to even consider registering that idea right now.

"Ughh," you responded, trying to get up from the sofa. "What happeuuh-" you barely stood straight before feeling yourself falling down again if not for Loki breaking your fall, catching you in his slender but surprisingly strong arms.

"Woah! Now, now. We haven't even had proper drinks yet."

You took the support of his arms- which were eerily stone-like under all that expensive fabric that he was wearing- and scrunched your nose as you stood up, this time slowly. "We had freaking Jagër didn't we?"

"And that's got you so blurry already," he announced, sitting down, and took you by your shoulder with him, causing you to look at him with a bit of a diluted and confused rage, "we really need to work on your drinking capacity."

You don't know who you shared a look with- God, an angel or any entity that was invisible right now- but you were certain of the age-old fact that the devil was not a good influence on you.

"That's the only way I get that thing out of your system."

Now hold on. What was that?

"What? What thing?"

Hmm...maybe not as bad an influence?

"That thing inside you make you all-" he flayed his hands like an English noble while scrunching his nose just a bit- "so depressing and boring."

Your neck hurt having to turn to look at him but your ego was taking none of it. "Excuse me?"

But did he show any empathy for you? Unless that devilish smirk- that was meant kill thousands of weak-hearted earthly creatures when gazed upon- was his way of showing you how he felt for you, he clearly wasn't anywhere close to 'e'.

Oh, what am I even expecting! And from whom?!

Loki turned to you and relaxed into the sofa, his back being supported by the arms of your comfortable furniture.

"So, humans don't count being saved by the devil from a demon empathy?"

The broken harp inside you made the worst possible sound any instrument could.

"Please stop doing that," you begged, turning away from his face, heat radiating from your cheeks from the embarrassment.

"Why?"

"Those are my private thoughts," you tried to stress but your voice broke.

Loki got up and leaned a little closer to you, making you shift a bit to the other side- never stopping him from leaning closer. "Oh but I like hearing how irresistible you find my form," he nearly moans into your ear.

Holy Buddha! Lord of mercy!

"Aw," he pretended to groan- quite seductively though- in your ears, "don't take his name," whispering while moving your stray strands of hair away from your face, "he always kills my party mood by giving me his eerie smile and asking me how I'm doing. Like he cares."

He nearly spat out the last sentence and you sat there with raised brows, wondering what choice had you made that brought you straight in the arms of the devil while he narrated his dislike for Buddha.

"It was a Wednesday and you had your exams that week," Loki began, still playing with your hair.

"No, stop!" You shifted to the other end of the couch, raising your leg over the sofa to block his body, "stop telling me what I chose wrong. Stop telling me how excessively great Buddha is and definitely stop reading my thoughts."

The rims of Loki's eyes light up in a fiery-green glow, looking at you with a tilted curiousness. "Are you ordering me, darling?"

Great. Now he brings his powers in play.

"I am requesting you," you stress, folding your hands in front of him, "this is really uncomfortable and my head hurts and...wait." The tone of your voice changed, so did that pleasing colour in your eyes that Loki was loving till you dropped it wear a hint of confused blue before turning into a suspicious grey. "What exactly did you do inside me?"

"Woah," Loki raised his brow, "I didn't know you were into those kind of...kinks."

You looked like a sad confused potato till it dawned on you how of context the devil was taking your words.

"Seriously? I am dying here from this unending pain and all you can think of is sex jokes," you nearly shout with whatever energy you have left inside you.

Loki flicked his finger and within seconds there were vines coming out of the floor, wrapping around your limbs like snakes ready to devour you whole. "Stop," you said with a hint of rage but the vines only grew tighter, beginning to dig into your skin. "Loki, please," you begged this time, watching them force your hands behind your back.

"Loki," you cried softly with just the right amount of fear burning in your eyes. Exactly what Loki wanted.

And so, he finally shifted, fixing his arms around you as his hovering figure came to a stop above you, blazing eyes looking at you with the intensity of burning everything between your skin and his.

"Do not forget, pet," he cooed, too close to you, "that I am the one who holds the chains to your life. And if I want, I can yank them as hard as I please because in the end, your cries will only deliver me pleasure."

You should have been afraid. You should have been shivering in fear and panic; your heart should have been pounding for watching death right in the eyes. But this scorching sensation that you felt inside you did not seem fear like. The shiver was definitely not because of panic or your nerves feeling this unhinged tide. And all you could do was look at him while blinking with visible stupidity, gulping down something to moisten your dry throat while Loki's eyes seemed to shift.

"See?" He nearly sang, "Now that's the colour I love to see." He inhaled your essence in, moaning as he felt it register inside him, making you question his senses- and for this one very discreet almost 'invisible in the darkness of the moonless night' reason, made you question yours. "Smells like the right amount of fear," he chuckled, "with a hint of something I can't really put my finger on."

Her kink of being tied up and aroused by you! Your insides shouted.

Shut up! Shut up!

"Hm," Loki looked at you with fresh eagerness, nearly killing you with the intensity of embarrassment about to explode inside your head, "I have to say you seem interesting to play with without your thoughts too. So, I'll keep this thing off till as long as I like."

He finally got up and away. You were relieved.

Danggit, your inner voice didn't seem, though, I thought he'll finally kiss you without context!

Awesome, you hit back at her, just the person I want you to be rooting for!

You know if she had a physical form, she would be rolling her eyes at you now because both of you knew you had felt something glow inside your chest- and heat up inside your legs- at the mention of being at his mercy.

Shaking your head, you tried to bring yourself to reality.

No, I am better than this. I have to be.

"So," Loki chugged a glass of your Jager, "what do you want to do now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm not going to wait for you to decide on getting drunk and all that because I know the moment you hit the limit you will be crying your eyes out and I am not in the mood to ruin my suit for pent up tears tonight," he declared, letting his hands show you the piece of work layering his body, "more critical tears of underpaid labourers and cattle have gone into the making of this."

You shared that look again, with no one, in particular, being done with the devil for the night and yet knowing that there were still so many more hours to go.

"Fine," you got up, realising the vines had long since vanished, leaving barely any scars on your wrists and ankles, "we can go somewhere then? Uhh...someplace you'd like to visit? There's a pizza place here that's open at this time of the night."

You went on and on while Loki's concern for you modified into a chuckle transforming into laughter. "Oh, you poor human. You are about to die in five days and you are still worried about the things I want to see? Honestly, woman, who died and made you the queen of ethics? Wait, is there a course for such things now?"

He wasn't wrong. Because he admitted it right now, it all started to seem more real. You were going to die in five days. He was going to take your soul to hell and God knows do what all with it. Peter's disappearance and your state then had created such a perfect picture for it to make sense but now...

"Are you having second thoughts, darling?"

His words broke you out of this nauseating spell that you cast upon yourself and you found yourself standing in the kitchenette with your shot glass in your hand looking down at the floor where broken glass lay in a puddle of water along with one of your ceramic angels. You picked up the ceramic figurine to look at, a familiar old ache replacing whatever little glow had risen inside your chest.

The angel seemed to be looking at you, begging you not to do this.

"Yes," you finally declared, throwing the figurine in the bin, "I'm sure."

The angel on the watch sat by the lake on the lone bench, going through his device, looking at various statistics while someone hummed in the back somewhere, going about its own business.

"And another one and another one and another bites the dust..."

The humming was not as serene for the angel at work as he wanted it to be, but he was trying to get through it somehow. It was a really special person after all. One couldn't just tell him to stop humming.

"Would you stop humming," the angel announced, "I am trying to work here, Peter!"

Everything went silent, letting the angle heave a sigh of relief and go back to his tablet.

The tree behind him rustled before Peter popped out of it upside down. "Whatcha dooooooin', Happy?"

"Tryna' work."

"Can I help?"

"You've helped us already."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. No go cuddle spiders...or something."

"Well, technically our friend did. You know, that woman who goes by the name-"

"Peter I just want a few moments of silence to track down what exactly does Tony want from that stupid-"

"Bad word."

"Excuse me?"

"You said stupid, put some of your essences in the swear jar."

"Yeah, right. That's not gonna happen. Now please just shut u-"

"Oh shoot! Happy-"

"Aha! Now you take out your essence young man and put them in the swear-"

"No, Happy, look!"

The angel followed Peter's gaze to the lake as he watched a figure soaking in it coming out with scars and wounds being healed by the water. The figure- a man, apparently- was heaving for breaths, his glass eyes searching for someone, anyone.

"Hello!" he shouted, the tiredness in his voice abruptly changing his pitch. "Is there anybody there?!"

"Should we let him in?" Peter asked in a whisper.

"Hello! Mr Stark?" he shouted again, catching Happy and Peter's hundred per cent attention, "it's me, Scott. Can you please let me in? There is some very very important news I have to share with you."

Happy turned to his device to open the gate of mirage.

The man, still tired as he was, lit up on seeing Peter and Happy standing in front of him.

"Oh! Thank God!" he almost cried, putting all his energy in his legs to walk towards, "thank you! Thank you so much! I need to s-speak to Tony Stark."

"Identification please," Happy announced, earning a confused stare from Peter.

"Happy, he can barely walk."

"I don't care. Whoever has to meet Tony has to go through me."

"But Happy!"

"It's okay," the man smiled at Peter, still breathing heavily, "it's okay."

"My name is Scott. Scott Lang. I'm Y/N's guardian angel," he declared before falling on the ground and losing all consciousness.

28 notes · View notes

tamakomarket · 5 years

Text

as requested on twitter

i use tumblr literally once a month at this point in my life and this time its for the vanven fic rec list someone requested over there

under a readmore so i don’t stretch any dashes

the word counts and au/canon tags all vary, but as a general rule of thumb these are all sfw! ill post ratings too tho

god, there are so many

tide me over, love and life - G, 9k, modern au. vanitas used to be an amazing part of the swim team but finds himself distracted and his times slowing lately. ven, the team manager, takes it upon himself to help vanitas out. very introspective heavy, featuring beautiful turns of phrase and a laid back pacing appropriate for your favorite slice of life anime. this is probably my favorite vanven fic, tbh

Heart Is Where The Home Is - G, 341k, canonverse. one sided roxas/vanitas. this is VERY LONG but its 1 the fic that got me into vanven and 2 in my mind, THE GOLD STANDARD FOR HEART HOTEL FIC. it bounces back and forth between two plotlines - a messy vanitas redemption as he and ven learn to live with each other, and how things get complicated once roxas and xion join the hotel. the characters are all amazingly written, the worldbuilding is very in-depth, and it also features one of the best written xion arcs i’ve ever seen in fic. DEF worth the read

You’re not the boy you used to be. - T, 176k, modern au, namixi sideship, mentioned terqua, sorikai, and leaisa. HUGE FOCUS on the friendship between vanitas and xion. hahaha you really thought i wouldn’t write a rec list and NOT include my own fics? blease. this is a story about grieving an abusive parent that got distracted by a romantic subplot. it’s a non-linear fic, following three different parts of vanitas’s life at the same time. there’s a xion quote that sums it up best imo: “We carry our childhoods with us. For better or worse, we still do. But we can be better from where we came from. We always can.”

Belief, Faith - G, 2k, post kh3-vanitas-somehow-redeemed-au. also my fic. vanven go on a trip and vanitas struggles with being accepted and loved. very introspective-heavy.

my heart’s on the (drum)line - G, 9k, marching band au, rokunamixi as a secondary ship. my last fic! this is 100% a romantic comedy in fic form, featuring the most obtuse vanitas ever seen. vanitas gets a huge crush on ven and is legit too stupid to figure it out, so he spends all his time being angry and melodramatic instead. props to his long-suffering best friend namine, who obsessively polishes her flute to blind the people who are mean to her and is a complete disaster about her own crushes.

Only You - G, 2k, canonverse. a heart hotel fic. waywardriot wrote an entire series of fics for vanven week and while i recommend all of them, this one is my favorite! basically vanitas finds redemption through the power of love. its cute as heck.

Salvation - G, 17k, canonverse, wip. a post-kh3 fic where vanitas is taken in by the guardians of light and very slowly redeemed. eventual vanven. no romance yet, but i LOVE how vanitas is written here (so much bitterness! he’s like a wounded feral anime) and i especially love his interactions with kairi and xion here.

Chains Unbroken - T, 72k, canonverse, side terqua and sorikai. post-kh3, post heart-hotel where vanitas gets to chill with the rest of the squad. he was stolen by xehanort and forced to become one of the 13 darknesses and it broke his heart, so ven and pals look for a way to help him out. the pov rotates between multiple characters, so you get a good look into many different relationships here!!! i especially love kairi here, too.

Codenames - G, 4k, modern au. vanitas is a secret agent and ven is the little voice in his ear keeping him on track. well-paced, funny, cute, and with enough intrigue to make the heist aspect super gripping!

we follow our own steps - T, 13k, canonverse. post-kh3 where vanitas doesn’t die, but finds himself with nothing other than his intense attachment to ven. this vanitas is SO fun and SO snappy, and learns how to be something other than completely unhinged. it’s also adorable and very sweet.

has no one ever? G, 390 words, canonverse. all lower-case, but it’s so short that it doesn’t bother me. this prose is ABSOLUTELY lovely and sad and it’s exactly what it says on the tin - ven helps vanitas clean up after a fight. vanitas does not understand what a gentle touch is. it’s good.

As He Sleeps - Not Rated (but sfw), 1.5k, canonverse. slight body horror warning. this features some BEAUTIFUL PROSE and it reads the way being in a dream that isn’t-quite-bad-but-isn’t-good feels. the kind of dream that you KNOW affected you deeply but slips through your memories the moment you wake up. fitting, since it’s a fic about ven’s dreams as he sleeps during the ten year gap. featuring some beautiful metaphors and comparisons to vanitas as a fallen angel. this makes me want a canonverse fic where vanitas is somehow alive and acts like a knight to ven’s sleeping body. please. someone grant me this wish.

Habit - G, 2k, canonverse. ven develops this weird habit of seeing vanitas at night. it develops into something more. very sweet, very cute, a good read overall.

heart to heart - G, 1k, canonverse. vanitas finds out ven is in love with him through their empathy connection. also adorable.

Come, My Purrloiner of Nightmares - G, 1k, modern au. LOOK. I JUST. IM A SUCKER FOR THE “CUDDLING DURING NIGHT TERRORS” TROPE

recovery is a long road (but there’s no traffic) - T, 10k, implied terqua and a bigger focus on the individual relationships between the wayfinders + vanitas than romance, canonverse. a REALLY GOOD post-kh3 fic exploring the wayfinders + vanitas healing after the big war. the prose is lovely and the exploration of every character is beautiful (AQUA IS MY FAVORITE IN THIS FIC, ACTUALLY)

ok these last two are in french but uh, look, LOOK. they’re readable with google translate. there are some weird translation things but these plots are good enough to push past that

Safety Lock - T, 10k, superhero au. LOOK. I LOVE SUPERHEROES. I *REALLY* LOVE SUPERHEROES. the worldbuilding here is SOOO MUCH FUN. ven is part of an agency of superheroes called the guardians of light, and when local supervillain vanitas starts stirring up more trouble, ven takes it upon himself to stop him personally. it’s what ya gotta do, when you have a shared past the way they do. it is SUCH a fun read and ven is SO MUCH FUN, it’s just a good time all around.

Eux, premiere partie (translation: Them, part one) - T, 38k, au. i have a huge weakness for a very specific type of story and that is “really rich kid is, for whatever reason, unable to leave their mansion and their life changes drastically when someone new enters their life” and this story is 100% that. the world outside vanitas’s family’s property is dangerous, filled with these people that aren’t really human anymore. ven is a bodyguard hired to protect vanitas, mostly from trying to escape the mansion again. thing is, the mansion is just as dangerous for vanitas as the world outside. i will be real with you the xion here is SUUUUUUPER OOC, and while she is a compelling villain in her own right, the role she plays and the personality she has here is something more akin to larxene. even then. EVEN THEN. the worldbuilding is SOOO GOOD, the relationship between ven and vanitas is very compelling, and the way vanitas is written (as this very bitter kid) is AMAZING. there’s so much mystery and intrigue about the world outside the walls vanitas inhabits, and there’s a ton of angst but it’s just. ugh. it’s so good. i love it especially for this line here, re: what desperation does to us: “Hunger, especially. It is she who destroys what remains human.”

there are other fics i have read and enjoyed but these all are like, top tier (or at least high tier) for me!!! looking at them all in a group its very obvious what kind of tropes i like

#i forget my text post tag lmao #fic rec

8 notes · View notes

arcana-apprentice-lizbeth · 5 years

Text

Puppy Love

Hey guys, I'm back to writing fanfiction. Here's some content of my MC Lizbeth interacting with Asra. Hope you enjoy some backstory.

Lizbeth x Asra Fluffy

Lizbeth met Asra properly for the first time at the Masquerade. She had seen him hanging around behind Aunt Gail's shop, peddling fortunes to the customers who came to Gail looking to magical or spiritual aid. Today he was selling trinkets and baubles, bundles of leaves and sticks that he was saying were charms. She had thought at first that he was just another con, a swindler, someone selling magic when what they really had was junk. But he was young and cute and to be polite she paused at his little stand and picked up one of the little bundles.

Power zinged up her arm and left her palm tingling. This charm was Alive and filled to bursting with duty and the love it's creator had poured into it. Lizbeth blinked down at the charm as her heart raced. "These are beautiful." She said when she looked back up to Asra. What she had wanted to say was "these are far better than I would have expected from someone who obviously lives on the streets."

She bought the charm and stayed to chat. He was of age with her, it turned out, but his willowy frame and fluttering white eyelashes made him look so much younger. Perhaps his fortunes were as good as his charms- if so she may be able to convince Gail to let him rent a table in the shop to do his business. A safe place to work and a few warm meals a day might do him some good.

They were interrupted when the Countess, new and shimmering and glorious, approached Asra's table. Lizbeth had expected their new Countess to be escorted by guards or perhaps and entourage; instead she was alone. But no less regal for it.

As Nadia began to examine Asra's fare Lizbeth slipped away, the charm she had purchased clasped tight in her palm.

Lizbeth visited Vesuvia the following year for the Masquerade. Again she kept to herself, examining what trinkets or costumes or services were for sale, what over-the-top experiences had been set up. She floated along, the tide of emotions from all of the revelers filling her up.

Asra was hard to miss, with his halo of white hair and that periwinkle ball python curled atop his head, her head raised like a periscope. He was... Anxious. Searching for something. When Lizbeth focused upon him the chorus of emotions from everyone around them faded and his came into focus. Yes, he was searching, a fluttering anxiety twisting inside him. He looked her way, eyes first passing over her and then rebounding back, his gaze locking with hers. Lizbeth felt his anxiety crest, a fever pitch-

She stepped towards him, herself enthralled by his gaze and feeling his uncertainty as if it were her own, and when she did his disquiet fled and a serene calm filled them both.

He looked better now, she noted as she came to his stand. Gail had said she had offered him a space in the shop for his readings, but she must have been feeding him as well. As a result Asra looked healthier, his frame still lean but now with muscle instead of just bone, his skin warm instead of sallow. When he smiled at her his teeth were white and perfect, and Lizbeth's heart raced with a thrill that was all her own. He was beautiful and smiling at her, how else should she respond but with the warmth of a blush coloring her cheeks?

"You came back." His voice was heated as summer sun, his smile calm despite their racing hearts. She felt hope bloom in him as she reached down to trace her fingers over the charms he had to offer. His table was overflowing with them this year, and the magic in them sang to her.

"I did." Lizbeth found herself shy around him, unable to meet his gaze. Her heart fluttered with an infatuation all her own. She took a breath and closed her empathy, forcing those channels closed so she could be alone with her own mind and feelings. She was not a schoolgirl who got flustered when a pretty person flashed her a smile. She was an Ahmari, a descendant of mages brave enough to fly and bed with dragons. She straightened herself, took a deep breath and felt the fire of her magic filling her chest, moving through her body with each beat of her heart. She was an Ahmari.

The adoration in his eyes nearly melted her again, but this time she kept her composure. "You brought more charms this year. They are very good, very lively. Who helps you make them?"

His grin quirked up on one side, as if he knew she was near to falling apart. "A friend of mine helps me gather the supplies, but the magic is all mine." He paused as his snake slid down his shoulder and reached towards Lizbeth. "Well, mine and Faust's, that is. She helps."

"Friend!"

The snakes voice was small and child-like, and entirely unexpected. Lizbeth blinked even as her magic purred in response. She could picture great wings spreading and then folding again, scales rippling with satisfaction. Like called to like, it would seem- one reptile to another.

Lizbeth reached her hand out, palm up, to accept the curious Faust. "I would like to be a friend, I believe." She murmured as the snake coiled around her arm. "That is, if your handsome friend is alright with it."

This time it was Asra who blushed and glanced away to gather courage. Lizbeth nearly laughed at how cute he looked, but she kept her amusement to herself. It was a nice change in this interaction to have him be the one flustered. Faust reached back to her master and Lizbeth handed her over, her skin tingling faintly from the brush of scales.

"You can hear her?" He asked as Faust draped herself over his shoulders.

How interesting. "Does she not speak to everyone?"

"No, just me and a few others."

"Ah."

The silence stretched as the Masquerade continued to swirl around them. Lizbeth let it. Seeing Asra off balance made her footing seem firmer, like she was more herself. A smile spread over her face, a little predatory, a tad prideful, and every bit the dragon smile of an Ahmari. Her breed may be dying but they were still powerful, still held sway in many places. She would not be set adrift by the smile and charming words of one Fortune Teller.

But what if she wanted to be adrift? her heart asked her. What if she did not want to be cruel and detached?

"Would you care to dance?" She asked. Had her control of her empathy slipped for a moment, or was she just as surprised by her question as Asra looked?

"Who will watch my booth?" He has recovered from his amazement and that fox-sly grin was back on his face.

Time to show this boy what she could do. Lizbeth cast her left hand over the table, her right curling towards herself as if she was reaching for a Familiar that was not there. This reaching, a cupping of a hand over her heart, was a habit left over from when she had learned to harness the dragon magic that touched some Ahmari's. As she made the motion now her magic flared up, surging towards her hand before stilling under her control. Lizbeth murmured a word and a circular sigil flashed into existence over the table, blue light flaring and pulsing with power before vanishing from sight.

Asra stepped around the table to stand beside her, both hands held towards his wares as if towards a fire. "A ward?" He asked. "I've never seen one this-"

"Strong?" Lizbeth interrupted, unable to keep the vainglorious note from her voice. "Complex?"

"Close up." Asra purred, glancing to her. "I was going to say I've never been this close when one was cast. But go ahead and keep talking, I would love to hear you brag about it."

Lizbeth's magic growled as shame bit at her, but she shook it off. If he wanted to hear her boast then she would not let herself feel ashamed. "It will dispel anyone with sticky fingers- they simply will not see the treasures here. And anyone who would like to make a purchase will leave their coin where you can find it."

There was awe in his eyes when she looked to him, a disarming sort of openness that made her pulse flutter. "You're right, that is the most complex ward I've ever seen." He offered her his arm and she took it. Her pulse raced as he lead her to the dance floor and then spun her into the first few moves of a slow waltz. "Thank you, Miss Ahmari, for protecting my charms and for allowing me this dance. Now..." He leaned in close, close enough that she could feel his heart drumming in his chest, "will you offer me your name or will you expose me as a cheater, since I already know it?"

His teasing made the hair on her arms razor up, made want ripple across the scales of her magic. She could see herself pressing her lips to the hollow of his throat, see herself biting onto his shoulder as if to claim him. So she laughed to distract herself from the warmth tingling in all of her most sensitive areas and gave him the answer. "Call me Lizbeth." She smiled up at him. "I would hate to know what nicknames for me my Aunt has taught you."

Her relationship with Asra was like spring, soft and full of promise and surprises. When she wasn't in Vesuvia they wrote letters back and forth, but she visited more often now. He was puppy soft sometimes, loving a cuddly, while at other times he was as mischievous as a fox. Being with him softened the cruel edges of her, chipped away at her armor until her laughter was less condescending and more full of joy.

Gail, who was considered weak for an Ahmari and who had married an outsider, showered them both with her approval. Her husband Alexi, the closest thing Lizbeth had to a father, teased her gently and always threatened to read Asra's letters before sending them off.

So when Gail began to lose pieces of her memory and Lizbeth moved to live with her Aunt and Uncle full time she was glad for Asra's support. When she came to him after long days he let her cry without trying to shush her. When scales began to appear upon Gail's hands and face and she stopped making sense it was Asra and Alexi who ran the shop while Lizbeth cared for Gail.

He was so soft and gentle with her, like a bed of new grass in the spring, like the creeks that babbled through the woods, like rose petals. When Lizbeth asked him to go away for a few days he did not argue- he merely kissed her lips, and then her forehead, and then each eyelid before departing. When he returned three days later he waited at the door to the shop instead of letting himself in. And when he realized that Gail was gone he simply held Lizbeth as she sobbed.

Asra was the first outsider Lizbeth found she could rely on. When Alexi did not have the emotional stamina to run the shop without his wife at his side it was Asra who took on the responsibility. She could not have done it without him. She may not have survived it without him.

When Alexi moved out of the upstairs loft and to a different district of the city Lizbeth was presented with how she could repay Asra for his seemingly unending patience, kindness, and love. She relocated her bed from the little back room that had been her bedroom since childhood, taking it and her sparse belongings upstairs to the now empty loft. And then into that backroom went the table Asra had been using for his readings. She hung tapestries from the walls, piled jewel toned pillows in every corner, removed the door and hung curtains instead.

"You made me a present?" He had asked, laughter bubbling in every word. She walked behind him, her hands over his eyes to blind him. She was guiding him forward slowly, careful not to bump him into any of the furniture. When they reached the threshold of the back room he instinctively reached out for the door, but his fingertips found warm fabric instead. Lizbeth felt his surprise begin to flavor his curiosity and could not help but to press her lips to his shoulder. A spike of desire made her magic surge against the edges of herself (or maybe it was the magic that fueled the desire) and for three heartbeats she wished his clothes were not between his flesh and her lips, her teeth. Not now, she told herself, perhaps later.

She showed him the space she had created for him, and through her empathy was able to taste Asra's amazement and gratitude and wonder. She felt that if she could bottle those emotions they would sustain her for the rest of her life.

She allowed him to explore, then took him by the hands and said "one more" and led him upstairs. She watched him carefully as he took in the loft, two places set at the little table, the second dresser and wardrobe, both empty. Then he kissed her as if he already knew the question, before she could even ask "will you move in with me?"

#The Arcana Game #the arcana #fanfiction #lizbeth ahmari #apprentice liz #asra the magician

3 notes · View notes

rainbowguardassemble · 5 years

Note

Here is a good Meta on Renly just messaging you because it wasn't tagged - joannalannister(.)tumblr(.) com/post/182019038016/renly-baratheon-seems-like-a-rather-sad-figure-to

First of all, it’s a post I and a lot of my fellow mods on the blog hadn’t seen before, so thank you for bringing it to our attention - new Renly content is after all what we’re here for, and we welcome all sorts of creations from fans everywhere!

Secondly, hi! Mod Felix - bpdrenly - responding here with a few thoughts on the post you’ve recommended. Obviously I am responding with my own thoughts and opinions only, and I welcome input not only from my fellow mods but also followers of the rainbowguardassemble blog and fans everywhere. (Please keep us company! It can be so lonely in this little corner of the internet!)

A quick disclaimer however: whilst I am in no way attacking OP for the post, I have to admit that the disclaimer at the start of the post about ‘Yes, I know he’s x, y and z ‘bad things’’ doesn’t sit all that well with me. Having empathy, or even just sympathy, for someone - fictional or not - doesn’t require a disclaimer. Own those feelings! It’s okay! And let’s be honest, especially when next to people like Tywin, Ramsay, the Mountain, etc... Renly is not a bad person.

Renly’s a fascinating character, and the point OP has raised about how the relationship between he and Stannis must have been influenced by and has evolved since the Siege of Storm’s End is an interesting one. I personally have given a lot of thought to Renly’s childhood and young years, especially because we are given very little detail about it in the canon and never from the horse’s mouth, so to speak, as Renly is not a pov character. The description of him as starved for attention, starved for love is particularly striking and, i think, apt. Renly’s behaviour in the ASOIAF canon i think does demonstrate this point beautifully. Maester Cressen’s anecdote from the ACOK prologue, ‘the bold little boy with wild black hair and laughing green eyes was a man grown now […] ‘look at me, i’m a king”, portrays him as a small child who acts out imaginatively to get that attention.

I work with children, and although I’m not by any stretch of the imagination a child psychologist or an expert on kids’ behaviour and the hows and whys, I can speak from experience to say that when children say ‘look at me, look at me’ enough for it to be an abiding memory you have of them… they are starving for attention. I look after a little boy (K) who constantly shows you what he’s doing, asks you to come and play with him, wants to know what you’re up to and can he join in and is it okay if he…? and it’s because he’s in every single day of the working week, from 10am to 6pm, and he just doesn’t get that attention at home. I’ve seen him present pictures he’s spent a lot of time and effort on to his mother only to have her glance at, outright refuse to look at, or even deposit them in the recycling outside the nursery. Children need validation, affection and support from parental and familial figures in their lives, and when they don’t get it, they search for it everywhere else they possibly can. Which, yes, is actually very sad to see. I love K to distraction, but the lack of attention he gets at home means he also acts out at nursery and isn’t as socially adept as his peers - which again, I think probably strikes true for Renly as well. He’s a pro at affecting masks and hiding his true feelings, which can make him come across as callous and unfeeling - perhaps the reason for OP having described him as ‘a dick’.

I’m not saying Renly is a saint. There are definite negative aspects to his character, including the level of attention-seeking he goes to. Stannis is correct when he says that he has the stronger claim to the throne, being the next eldest son of the current ruling family and therefore above not only Renly but Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen who are technically Robert’s stepchildren.

For me, the situation is reminiscent of the Anarchy, a civil war of succession between Stephen of Blois and Empress Matilda following the death of William the Conqueror. Ignoring Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen (as we all know that they’re not blood relations of Robert), the line of succession would pass first to the next eldest blood relative of the most recent ruler, which would be Stannis, and then to Renly. Obviously things like fitness to rule would have to be taken into account - infirmity of mental and physical health, for example, or ‘moral infirmity’ (such as, for example… incest) - but as an able man of sound mind and of an age to rule alone, Stannis is the prime candidate to become the next king. I’m sure anyone who has younger siblings will agree with me that there’s nothing more infuriating than a younger sibling being given precedence or preferential treatment, and Stannis has already had a long-standing grudge against Renly for having received dominion over the Stormlands and residence in Storm’s End, the Baratheon family seat and hereditary lands, whilst he gets Dragonstone. It’s a long story and one that’s been done to death in meta, so I’m not going to rehash it here, but suffice to say that the way I’ve always personally read the relationship between Stannis and Renly is a long-suffering and bitter older brother resenting his younger brother for essentially being given what was ‘mine by rights’ (ACOK Catelyn III).

Speaking about the siege and the effect it had on Renly, and on his relationship with his brothers, I would agree with OP that it must have had a profound and lasting effect. OP says he is starved for food; undeniably, the castle at Storm’s End spends a year under siege ‘surviving on rats and boot leather’ (AGOT Eddard VI) and would certainly be empty of food long before said siege was broken, to the point where they are almost forced to resort to cannibalism: ‘Maester Cressen told Stannis we might be forced to eat our dead, and there was no gain in flinging away good meat’ (ACOK Catelyn IV). Renly, being Renly, is being pretty flippant about it, making a joke - but even sixteen+ years later, he remembers that they were almost ‘reduced to dining on corpses’ (ACOK Catelyn IV). That would have been a deeply psychologically scarring experience to have had to even think about, let alone have it be a distinct possibility. A small child, looking over the parapet of a castle under siege, who has been forced to eat rats and boot leather for god knows how long in the attempt to survive said siege, is going to be desperate to join the amassed ranks of banqueting, feasting enemies outside his door. He’s a child. He doesn’t understand why he can’t go out there and eat with them, and I think it’s highly unlikely that stannis would have bothered to explain all of the intricate details of how and why they were enemies and so out of bounds to a five-year-old child. All he sees is food, and his tummy is grumbling. Stannis, however - ever a pragmatist, and considerably wiser to the perils of war than his five-year-old brother - sees the bannermen and armies of a king who is known to be cruel to the point of madness, who will have been charged with taking the castle and obtaining it and its inhabitants’ surrender by any means necessary. He knows that if the Tyrells get hold of him, Renly, or Robert, who are all technically traitors to the crown, the penalty will be death. He would rather starve slowly, keeping himself and the rest of the people in the castle as safe as can be expected under the circumstances, and deny them the satisfaction. It’s a very brave thing to do (and I’m not in any way, shape or form a fan of Stannis).

The thing that must really grind Stannis’ gears (or his teeth!) about Renly… is that his brother probably doesn’t remember that. He doesn’t remember the green and gold being the symbol of the people who were threatening his life and withholding essential food and resources from him as a child. He sees Highgarden as it is in the summer of his life: practically a utopia, beautiful and wealthy and full of all the things Renly loves, from music to fruit to luxurious surroundings. Renly entirely allies himself with the Tyrells. as OP says, almost every time we meet him, he’s clad in green and/or gold:

‘a man near twenty whose armour was […] a deep forest-green’ (AGOT Sansa I)

‘the king’s green velvet tunic as well, worked in gold thread […] the Baratheon sigil in the colours of highgarden’ (ACOK Catelyn II)

‘his green velvet doublet […] a chain of gold and emeralds around his neck’ (ACOK Catelyn III)

‘green leather straps and […] golden buckles’ (ACOK Catelyn IV).

Even when he dies, Renly ‘stumble[s] […] a dark red tide that drown[s] his green and gold’ (ACOK Catelyn IV).

His chosen partner is a Tyrell, his wife is a Tyrell, the bankroll behind his claim to the throne and the army supporting him: ‘Tyrell swords will make me king’ (ACOK Catelyn IV).

And Renly adds insult to injury with the peach scene. he outright admits that the fruit is ‘from Highgarden’ (ACOK Catelyn III)’, just like the men making up his army, his queen, and his lover. ‘You’ve never tasted anything so sweet’ (ACOK Catelyn III). He says, and I’m sure to Renly it’s true. I’m sure there’s a part of Renly that’s still the scared little boy seeing the bounty of Highgarden right outside the walls of his home and wanting desperately to be part of it. The Tyrells are not only Renly’s practically adoptive family, they’re his benefactors in more ways than one. His fortunes and his destiny are inextricably linked with them and theirs. Renly has found love with the youngest son of their family, a boy who adores him so much he takes a vow of chastity at sixteen years old because ‘when the sun has set, no candle can replace it’ (ASOS 1 Tyrion II), a vow that mirrors Jaime Lannister giving up Casterly Rock and all of the Lannister fortune and power for love. OP asserts that Renly was starving for love as much as he was for food; Stannis was a dutiful, not a loving, brother, and Robert was not only absent but openly preferred the company of Ned, who is almost an adopted brother to him, to that of his actual blood siblings. Is it any wonder that, when Loras offers him his heart, he takes it with both hands, no matter how it infuriates Stannis?

to cut this long and rambling essay down to the thrust of it:

Renly is, as OP says, starving for love and attention above all, because as a child he didn’t get any of that from anyone in his family. He’s damaged, traumatised, and dealing with that the best way he can. I personally am very drawn to him because i can identify strongly with that aspect of his character (my url is bpdrenly because i headcanon him as being a bpd sufferer too, and I have another meta about why I feel that that fits his character here). His was the type of childhood you see written about in those Cathy Glass books about neglected kids in the foster system in bookshops. My heart honestly breaks for him. Yes, he says and does some cruel things. No, he probably would not have been a good king, even if he had been given the chance. But he’s a complex and incredibly interesting character who it is my deepest regret - and also deepest joy - that we don’t get to have even one pov chapter for. I love him, which is why i joined the rainbowguardassemble mod team. We’re all fans of Renly, and that’s why we’re here.

#renly baratheon #bpdrenly #meta #anonymous #ravens for the king #ASoIaF #asoiaf fandom #asoiaf meta

15 notes · View notes

luccie-eclair · 5 years

Note

What do you think of this whole Salem v Gods thing?

My original response was going to be “I’m completely neutral. All three were awful and no one is truly innocent. However, some of their actions can be justified, blah blah blah.” But I think there’s something I am missing or misinterpreting, so I’m gonna rewatch this episode and type as I go with direct… er, paraphrased quotes. This will also be long ass a mess, so I’m sorry. Also, don’t read on mobile. It will compress into one whole paragraph.

•"How could the Gods let this happen?“ -Salem. No commentary, just wanted to point it out for future ref if needed.

•"I understand your pain. But you demand of me what I cannot make so. Life and death are a delicate balance” -Light. So… it’s not like he “no” and gave zero reason behind it and no remorse. The first thing he says is “fam, I’m sorry your S/O passed and I understand that you’re grieving”. He gave his reasoning and I think he has a point. We live. We die. Whether that death is fair or just or neither. It’s a fact of life.

•This is probably not the first time he’s had to have this conversation. He’s probably given a similar answer to many people. Now think about this: he brings Ozma back. Oh well that’s so easy and would solve everything. No, it wouldn’t. If he brings back Ozma, and news gets out that all you have to do is ask, do you know how many angry people who were told “no” will come back and demand loved ones back? I hate to be that person, but if Light bends the rules for one, he’d have to bend the rules for everyone.

•"To disrupt the cycle-“ and then Salem cuts him off by saying it’s not fair. …see the point above.

•"Let him rest”- Light. That response was kind of cold especially in its delivery. She’s grieving and doesn’t know how to handle this (and the way she chooses to is… not good). He could stand to have empathy despite the fact that she completely snapped at him.

•"No"-Salem. Hoe, don’t do it.

•"All while careful to make no mention of his elder"-Jinn then the whole fight thing. I said it once already, but I tried this tactic when I was a child. My parents argued over it and at the end of it grounded me. Let me explain why. 1) My mother/father had already told me no and gave me a REASON for saying no. 2) I went behind their back to Parent #2 to ask a question I already got an answer to and purposefully omitted prior information. Omission of the truth when the other party has a right to know is still lying. 3) I got caught doing what I wasn’t supposed to be doing to begin with. My parents, in no uncertain terms said, “that is not how you get what you want.” But Salem is mourning and doesn’t understand how to cope with death. Yes. I completely agree with you. That’s why this should be a learning experience. She, gradually, learns how to cope and move on (which is easier said than done, of course). So… I guess you can kind of justify this. I was harsh about this is in an earlier post, but my opinion has slightly changed. This still isn’t any less manipulative, BUT factoring in the sheltered upbringing and inexperience with grief (which I didn’t previously) makes the situation a little different.

•"What is this? Where am I?“ -Oz. I think this should’ve been a sign not to bring him back again. He was resting perfectly fine. Hanging out with the other legends and every dog that passed at the pearly gates. Yall bring him back into drama, make him disappear, rinse, and repeat. All three of them are causing a resting man pain. Yes, all three. I said it.

•"When you came to me, I pitied you. But you were selfish/arrogant” -Light. I’m on the fence with this. I don’t think that she intended to be selfish and arrogant, but it didn’t translate that way. Perception and interpretation is everything especially if you’re on one end while someone else is on the other. Because of her actions (getting angry, refusing to accept answers, going behind his back, manipulating the situation), Light and now Dark perceive Salem to be exactly as Light described: selfish and arrogant. I can’t say that my reaction would be very different had I been in their position. Whereas Salem, with no experience with grief and losing the one and only person she held dear, is trying to regain what she lost. I wouldn’t call that selfish or arrogant, but her means of doing so say otherwise and that’s where we have issues.

•I know that someone’s going to say that she had no knowledge that what she did wasn’t really okay, but… I disagree. She is cunning. If Salem didn’t think that going to Dark to ask the same thing again was wrong, she would not have “carefully made no mention of his elder”. She knew that if she mentioned what happened with Light, Dark would also say no if only because she was never true worshiper of Darkness to begin with.

•"You are immortal. […]. You can never be with your beloved. […]. You must learn the importance of life and death. Only then may you rest" -Light and Dark. I understand teaching her that there's consequences to actions, but immortality? Really? I think that was overdoing it. Granted! They did give her a way out: understand the Circle of Life like Mufasa, and you can move on.

•But who is actually going to understand something so philosophical like that? She’s not Socrates. And to be fair to Salem, I think that she… somewhat accomplished that. She tried to kill herself many times to end the cycle and be with Oz. Does that not demonstrate her “understanding the importance of life and death” or are there hidden instructions in the .5 sized, Wingdings, fine print that is nowhere on the screen?

•"[Salem committing suicide] grew to be nothing more than acts of defiance against the gods"-Jinn. Ohhh, I guess I can see that as not understanding the lesson or whatever. But when she did it the first few times, it was with the intention of being with Oz. Thus we are back at the previous point. Why does that not count?

•"They were fallible (?). If she could turn them against one another, she could easily turn humans against the gods" -Jinn. Okay, this is about the point where I stop holding out hope for Salem. At this point, if it backfires, it’s on her. She lacks an excuse unless I can find one. Also, don’t throw swords at Ruby. That’s rude.

•"[Salem said that] she stole immortality from the gods. […] Claim the powers of the gods for themselves and perfect humanity" -Jinn. Refer to the point above. Before, I could argue that she was grieving and perception and all that. I can’t justify this.

•Unrelated, but the humans are low key dumb and that’s exactly why they all die. One, lone person stole immortality from not one, but two omniscient gods? Really? You fell for that?

•[Humans using gifts that the GODS gave them against them]. Refer to the above. This is exactly why ya’ll die. You really thought that these tiny little bursts of power were gonna… Okay, Susan.

•[Dark goes genocide mode]. This was a huge overreaction. And Light is just as bad. He just sat there and did nothing. Like I said, a passive bystander is just as bad as the perpetrator. Dark could’ve just killed those in front of him. I suspect that he was under the impression that Salem would just get another army of people and try again, but… I don’t think Salem is that dumb. If he’d killed only the people there, she would see that clearly if she tried again, she’d get the same result. So we’re back at this point, why did everyone have to die? Like, children died, dude.

•"I’ll tell the rest of the world [about the murders] and build a new army" -Salem. Dammit. I just got done saying that you wouldn’t have been that dumb, and here are proving me wrong. Doesn’t excuse genocide, but you know, method to madness I guess.

•[Dark destroys the moon?] Don’t really get why he did that. You just screwed up the tides, dude.

•"…a tragedy has befallen your home at the hands of my brother" -Light. No. At the hands of YOU and your brother. Refer to my point about passive bystanders. You’re just as guilty.

•"Return to your desolate world" -Light. I- no? Why would he want that?

•"Get world peace or die, dummy" -Light. What is it with this man giving impossible tasks with zero direction?

•But he gave Oz a choice. He could’ve said no. This series is all about the choices people make and the consequences and rewards for such. Nothing comes without some result.

•Why did Light make it so that Oz would jump in and take over some unsuspecting person’s life and get them involved in their soap opera?

•"You can’t" -Jinn. I- why???? Why would you even give him this task knowing that he wouldn’t be able to- Okay, Susan.

The rest of this just Salem and Oz: the Slice of Life Sitcom. So… my answer is unchanged? I am still very neutral and think all three are responsible and made less than stellar decisions, but not without some justification. I definitely understand the arguments others have made, but I think it really boils down to choice. They each made decisions that resulted in the current situation and that’s on them. I think that they share blame equally. I think this time, I do empathize with Salem a little more (to a certain point) so I am tempted to argue more for her, but at some point, I just couldn’t find any solid reason to do so.

#salem v gods #rwby thoughts #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 6 #rwby6 #rwby6 spoilers #rwby volume 6 spoilers #rwby vol6 spoilers #rwby vol6 #rwby volume six #rwby volume six spoilers

31 notes · View notes

gurguliare · 5 years

Note

DVD: that one scene from your fic about Dirhaval, with the elf lady and the two of them being really intent with each other over the fire. "Do you love me" et cetera. I hope that makes sense I'm on mobile.

omg IT DOES although since that fic barely has scene divisions I’m going to take this excuse to do… a lot of it.

“I have remembered something,” she added, inconsequentially. “My aunt’s husband was Guilin’s steward. Everyone in my family hated him because he always making up to us with stories about the great princes. He said that Gwindor and Finduilas fought much over the Adanedhel’s love for her.”

I… I love this OC. She’s not even a box of rocks, she’s like, a box with one rock in it. Selectively dense; elsewhere, airheaded.

Dírhaval considered the fish with great interest. He had been told triumph lent him a fierce expression. He had no wish to scare his friend off now.

I can’t remember if @crocordile and I had a conversation before or after I wrote this about Dirhavel being like, not necessarily a big but an energetic guy who’s frequently seen around the camps doing SUPER WEIRD athletic shit to see if some of the feats he attributes to Turin were physically possible—anyway, whatever the timing, that concept was what I was psychically tuned into when I wrote this description. He has a beard and it bristles despite his best efforts to keep it trimmed.

“Raised voices—he overheard—Gwindor said, ‘Why does he seek you out, and sit long with you, and come ever more glad away?’ And that was true, I remember; they sat together in all kinds of places, on the terraces, in the treasury, and even by the earthworks for the bridge. No doubt he told her much you would be glad to know. But as for me, I think Gwindor a fool; few men would have loved her for listening. It reminds them what they hold dear in themselves.”

It was really hard for me to strike what seemed like a reasonable balance between hearsay and direct observation, but I leaned on the idea that Nargothrond, though huge, was not like, “modern city space” huge, more “sprawling overdeveloped apartment complex and you need a permit to go above ground”—so in five years and with perfect memory, everyone has a decent chance of stumbling on everyone else’s attempts at fresh air.

“That’s true,” he said. The first time he had interviewed her, she had spoken for an hour about the cavern of assembly, like an egg on its side—but so vast!—and with stalactites Finrod himself had sung down into pillars, or was it that he had worn holes in the walls parting small caves, she couldn’t decide; and the window on the river, whence a grey light came, like a shadow thrown on the gliding light of a thousand lamps and torches.

I think this description of the great hall is kind of cute but I have to acknowledge it was influenced, consciously or subconsciously, by the great hall in the Rats of Nimh.

And now when she spoke it was matter-of-fact and with hardly a jibe at her uncle. She was Túrin to him in that moment with her straight-sloping neck, the flushed skin of her neck and jaw with her face as fair as fair could stay at sunset, the cupful of shadow under her chin. He had burned the roof of his mouth. The fish was tender, almost flavorless, flaking between his teeth like a cake of river-flesh; a little muddy, even, as all water here was. He ate the crisped-black skin for a whiff of charcoal, which coated his mouth. “Don’t you love me, your loyal hearer?”

She gave him a startled wink; and smiled, and smiled.

Okay, so yes. I do love this moment, I hope it does a lot of things at once; basically I want 1) Dirhavel to be ironic in a nice way about his elf friend attempting to invent the term “emotional labor,” which reflects both a male impatience with this attempt to generalize everything to men talking women’s ears off, but also some vague species-based edginess about him trying to construct this human story out of testimony from elves, and like, navigating elves’ possessiveness of Turin but also the way they patronize him in the same breath, Adanedhel. And at the same time having to confront the fact that people are people and the elf-human boundary has gotten increasingly blurry with the end times, however much he might want to retain a sense of lofty apartness, whether as a human among elves, a writer among subjects, a man among women, whatever—that tension between observer distance and involuntary empathy is another big theme of this fic. And 2) I want the cook to catch it but not quite get it—like, she knows he’s making fun of her but she doesn’t necessarily interpret it in the same way he does, what she gets is that he’s talking about the limits of different kinds of love, that you can love someone and it can still go just so far: that’s why it triggers her next thought about Finduilas –> Turin.

“I do not think Finduilas loved the Mormegil either. Or, that is, I believe they loved one another as sister and brother.”

I said this in my commentary on an otherwise VERY different LOGH fic but I love when characters are wrong. Every time. Also, I love childish oversimplifications that have good reason for existing—that is, I like when you can really see why a character would with all their heart want to believe x, because the alternative is both messy and depressing.

Trying to lick his fingers clean just spread around the soot. Among the things she had told Dírhaval was that she was an only child. But he was inclined to believe her, almost. To Finduilas Túrin should have been a child. She must have wanted to love him like a brother—it would have been best, by far clearer and finer, to love him as a brother, even when her death walked near. The death he handed her down to; but if they were kin, it would have been her right to love him, blaming him.

“Do you not agree?”

Dirhavel takes this basically as like, confirmation for his thesis that all real love is irrational and unconditional (see also Gwindor wanting Finduilas and Túrin to be happy at his own expense, a few lines down) but only familial love has the “excuse” to be so. So the distinction is not, “would I love him whatever he did to me,” but rather, “do I feel fucked up and guilty about that fact or not.” In a vague way, this is supposed to set up the extremely bleak lines he gives Nienor after she gets her memory back: twice beloved.

“I can’t say.” Up again to pace. She followed him, basket on her arm, and settled onto her haunches when she saw he had no journey in mind. He stood when he performed, which was not hard, but it made him more restless when alone.

See above remarks about Dirhavel’s acrobatics, and also maaybe his ADHD

“I think—by the time—no, Túrin did not love her, and as for Finduilas, well, surely she cared for Gwindor? If they argued. Let’s see. And Túrin pursued her at last and fell in a swoon on her grave, we know that. And he loved Gwindor; how not, when Gwindor was with him at Ivrin? But Gwindor—I suppose—Gwindor must have hated him. No. He must have hoped Túrin loved Finduilas, and that was why he couldn’t be persuaded of the truth. For he would have wanted her to be happy, in the end.”

“Oh, no!”

His mood tipped down at once. “Oh no,” he agreed, and took his sandals off and stepped into the stream.

Again, I just think this interaction is fun. I mean I like the placement of his realization about Gwindor, but I LOVE the cook being like “oh no!! that’s so sad!” I hope other people enjoy “stories about the process of idiotic sadstuck brainstorming” as much as I do.

His mother had said once that both he and his father were happier than other men, but that they had no ballast, to keep steady the craft. If he took on an ounce of grief he’d sink, and yet he felt the flood almost as freedom. It made him more the master than had his dry, feckless race, his high-riding. As long as he struggled he had yet to succumb; that was the rule for a wasted night. He ought to go beg a bowl of sour milk from Linnor, or go and sing a service for the king. He could see as far as a night of stars.

I wanted to communicate a particular kind of mood downturn here where you can still clearly remember being happy, and the rising tide of discontent isn’t overwhelming on its own, it’s just depressing because you know where it leads—but for the same reason it’s also a relief, in that you know where it leads. Whereas joy is weird and easy to get lost in and you never know when the plug will be pulled. But I’m not sure the boat metaphor really works.

But it was day, it was red evening. It was his companion’s grief, filling his mind from above. She crouched and watched the far bank huge-eyed, not a tear in evidence, eyes opened but sealed, as it seemed, against sadness that strove for entry, not escape; she sat with wide mouth cracked, nostrils flared, sucking in great absent sniffs of sea-wind. She was besieged as an afterthought, safe and calm except besieged.

I also wanted to include some telepathy! As always! Dirhaval I imagine to be something of a natural, who probably has had some experience with elf mind-speech at this point—enough to recognize it but not really to manage it. I like this description of the cook in pain, I think it works well with her established personality and also evokes Nargothrond itself, which is of course the thing she’s actually grieving for. I mean, and she identifies it with Gwindor, reasonably enough, and takes unhappy pride in him as a lord of Nargothrond, and in this moment is kind of shot through herself not just with the fact of his defeat but the like, honorable necessity of his defeat, knowing that on some level he accepted it.

(Gwindor surely wished Finduilas joy. Finduilas, dying, remembered Túrin, and told him where his quest should end. The feathered tops of the reeds glowed on dark stems, like a fire in a field of reeds—there before nightfall he planted for ever the standards of the Noldor and their unsheathed swords, kindling in the dawn.)

I’m so proud of this stupid line lol, it’s just the reverse of Tolkien’s—“The light of the drawing of the swords of the Noldor was like a fire in a field of reeds”—but I LOVE THAT LINE, it’s so perfect for Dirhaval as an author and Sirion as a place of memory/last battlefront/first battlefront for this long war. And its conclusion, still to come.

He washed his hands and greasy beard in the river. “Your fish will be cold,” he advised. He had abandoned hope of dinner until she brought it, but that was no reason to encourage bad habits in her.

Dumb friends. Dumb friends are great because they are attuned to the hazards of stupidity, and can help each other.

Then he had to pick some scales out of his teeth, and couldn’t elaborate, but he heard her uncover the basket, anyway.

He had met her before with a handful of salt, pressing a few grains to her mouth to check their purity. “Dírhaval,” she said wisely, mouth full. “Dírhaval, I have forgotten how to cook.” Meaning she had no spices, witched ovens, and trained assistants—maybe, with her, it really was as though she had forgotten; at least it was something else she had lost.

Yeah… the focus on memory in this is another unexpected link to the LOGH fic uh, an inevitable byproduct of writing about a historian, and it’s also supposed to reflect that loss of separation between elves and men, since so much of what distinguishes elves is… their wealth of resources, psychological and material. And the material resources are essential to and interwoven with the psychological resilience, as noted here, so I really wanted to capture that sense that *not having* all the wonderful things she used to have baffles her as much as a hole in her memory. Because the default is that you keep everything forever, right? Another feeling which is not unique to elves. God I love………………………… “people.”

#Anonymous #no one expects the fannish inquisition #silmarillion #dirhaval #thank you for asking! i remain really proud of this fic and thrilled to blather about it

11 notes · View notes

forlornmelody · 5 years

Text

Double the Trouble Chapter 13 – Mirrors

Rating: Explicit (lots of smut. so much smut)

Ship: FemShep x Femshep Clone, Femshep x Kaidan, Femshep x Femshep Clone x Kaidan, OT3

AO3 Link: Here

Summary: Jane faces old demons, and dares to explore new love.

Note: Whoop. This update is months late. Guess I got a little behind. Good news is that the epilogue is nearly finished, and likely on schedule.

The Alliance detention center lies outside of town, in the mountains, untouched by the Reaper’s destruction. Instead of taking a skycar, Kaidan has Jane and Shepard escorted by shuttle. While they murmur in the corner, Jane stares at the floor, trying to parse out what she’ll say to the woman who brought her to life--what she’ll say to the woman who left her to die.

Alliance soldiers salute them when they land, and Shepard returns their salutes, despite not wearing her uniform.

“At ease,” Kaidan says, though the guards are too busy staring at Shepard to notice. Jane’s okay with it--she doesn’t want to be noticed right now.

The guards lead them inside and start to scan them before Kaidan stops them. “Spectre business.”

When the guards look at each other, Shepard snorts. “Really? Do I need to show you my burnt left side to prove it to you?”

The guard on her left blanches. “That won’t be necessary, Commander.” He waves all three of them through. Another guard leads them to an interrogation chamber, and Kaidan opens the door to the viewing room.

Shepard glances back at Jane. “You sure about this?”

Jane pushes grabs the handle of the interrogation room, pushing it open.

The door clicks shut behind her, and it locks. Rasa looks up at the Clone finally, and she smirks. Something sharp and cold settles in the Clone’s stomach and her skin bristles. She wants to shake it off, but she can’t. She can’t give Rasa that satisfaction either, so she balls her fists behind her back.

“The prodigal returns.” Rasa’s eyes glimmer under the harsh light.

“I didn’t leave. You did. Why?”

Rasa rolls her eyes. “Because you failed. You were a mistake.”

The Clone breathes in sharply, trying to still her shaking. “You made a mistake. I’m not the mistake.”

Leaning forward, Rasa clicks her tongue before she whispers, “she’s standing right behind that two-way mirror, isn’t she? The real Shepard?”

“Does it matter?”

“Don’t tell me you’re content as Shepard’s pet.” Before Jane can protest, Rasa continues. “Don’t bother lying. I have ears everywhere.”

Jane Doe sits back as she realizes it. Honestly, she’s surprised it never occurred to her before. “There’s no substance to you, is there? Just smoke and mirrors.”

“You’re nothing but organic tissue.” Rasa frowns, and so Jane Doe pushes forward.

“You couldn’t feel real emotion even if you wanted. And you have been trying to feel something, anything, haven’t you.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re the fake. I’m the one who’s real. Have fun spending the rest of your life alone, in a cell.” Jane Doe pushes her chair back and stands up, ignoring Rasa’s protests as they increase in volume. They soften as the door shuts behind her.

Kaidan and Jane step out of the control room, concern written all over their faces. Shepard rushes forward, pulling her into a hug. “You okay?”

Jane hugs back woodenly. “Yeah, why?” She asks quietly.

Kaidan pats her shoulder gently, at arm's length. “You’re crying.”

Why is she crying? Rasa is a monster. And she’ll be better off without her. Then why does she feel like part of her just died? Jane pulls Shepard closer, breathing in her scent. She always smelled different--not better or worse, just different.

“She’s awful, isn’t she?”

Jane nods, hiding her tears in Shepard’s hoodie. Kaidan finally removes his hand, only to hug her from behind. “Okay?” She nods again, basking and drowning in them at the same time.

Time slips away as they shuttle back to Kaidan’s apartment. Jane stares at the wall of the shuttle in front of her, exhausted and numb. So many times, she imagined and rehearsed that conversation with Maya, with every possible outcome she could think of. To have it in her past instead of looming in her future? It feels like a dream.

Jane follows Shepard and Kaidan inside their home, wondering if this is what Maya feels like all the time. Shouldn’t she feel happy to see the end of their relationship? She hates Maya more than anything. Maya is a monster. Maya used her. Maya accused Dreya of horrible things because she was a distraction. Yet Jane still feels like part of her has died.

“Hungry?” Kaidan pops open a couple of beers, passing them around. He hands her one, and Jane realizes it’s the same variety of stout she had the first time they--did it count as a threesome if Kaidan wasn’t--?

Oh.

It’s then Jane realizes she hasn’t hardly spoken a word to Kaidan all day. She hasn’t talked to him about the night she broke his heart.

“Jane?”

She blinks, meeting Kaidan’s expectant gaze. “Huh?”

“I’m thinking about cooking up some steak. Want some?”

“...Sure.” She isn’t really that hungry.

“He makes a mean steak,” Shepard drawls as she takes a pull of her beer, “when he doesn’t burn it.”

Kaidan shoots back. “I don’t remember you complaining about dessert.”

Shepard blushes. “Mm. Yeah. It was pretty good dessert.”

“On second thought. Never mind. I think I’m about to throw up.” All three of them laugh.

Clearing her throat, Shepard mutters something about needing a shower, and then Jane and Kaidan are alone. They watch each other from across the room, studying each other’s faces, searching for clues and signs. Instead they find mirrors of their own nervousness.

Jane approaches him like she’s walking into a minefield. Kaidan isn’t Rasa. She must remember that. But her own mind won’t believe her. Swallowing she leans against the counter next to him, Jane tries to think of a good way to apologize? Take back what she said? Swear her feelings have changed? Instead she says, “So how do you cook a steak, anyway?”

Kaidan eyes her up and down, squinting as if that’ll help him read her better. He offers her a hand. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

She allows herself a small smile. “Alright.” Jane takes his hand.

Spinning her around, Kaidan pins her front-first against the stove, so that the aroma of cooking beef fills her nostrils. Suddenly Jane’s starving. Maybe not for steak. Kaidan feels so warm against her back as he takes her hand again, reaching for some sage. “First step is to season the meat correctly,” he murmurs against her ear. His breath vibrates against her amp and she sucks in a breath. A sizzle pops in the air, and it could be the steak cooking...or it could be their biotics interacting.

“Mmhm,” Jane says, trying to pay attention to his cooking lesson, but the feel of his free hand on her hip has her heart racing.

“Don’t add too much at once.” He set the sage bottle down with her hand and picks up the salt and pepper adding them to the steak. “Don’t heat things up too quickly, unless you want to sear the meat.” His stubble scratches her ear. Kaidan clears his throat. “Now, Jane, how do you like your steak?”

A shiver goes down her back as Kaidan steps to her side. “Mm?”

Kaidan grins slowly, tracing her bottom lip with his fingertips. “Do you like it raw or well done?”

“Raw? Isn’t that a bad idea?”

“Uh…” Kaidan reddens like the meat cooking next to them. “Did I say raw? I meant rare.” He backs off slightly, fumbling for his composure. Admittedly, Kaidan’s rather cute when he’s flustered.

Jane seizes her chance, turning on her heel and closing the distance between them. She plays with the top button on his flannel shirt. Her noses brushes against his as she murmurs. “Were you talking about the steak or…?”

Kaidan’s lips crash into hers, tipping her back with the force of his kiss. Jane swears softly as she kisses back, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck and holding on. There’s so much of him to touch, to hold onto--she feels like a meteor caught in his orbit. His warmth, his gravity, pulls her faster and harder, and she breathes raggedly against Kaidan’s lips when he finally pulls away. “We…” Kaidan pants, “we should talk about this.”

Even though Jane knows what he means, she’d so much rather touch than talk. Human or not, describing her feelings feels like speaking in Thessian rather than English, and she’s going to describe meat when she really means to talk about her heart. “Pretty sure you already know about my kinks, Alenko.”

He smiles a little despite himself. “Yeah I do. But I don’t know much about you.” His hands keep wandering across her front, her back, her shoulders her hips, like he’s itching to take her clothes off. What’s keeping him? Kaidan’s cheeks flush, his breath comes out ragged. Why hesitate when he wants her?

“There’s not much to know, Kaidan.” She leans forward to capture his lips, and Kaidan pushes her back with a finger.

Biting his lips, he asks quietly, “Is this just about sex?”

“Does it have to be about anything else?” She leans against him, feeling him hard against her.

Kadain swallows a groan. “I can’t do this if...this is all there is.” His hand cradles her face, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to just fuck you, Jane. I want to make love to you.”

Why does he have to do that? “People I love either end up dead...or they leave me dead.” Did she ever love Rasa? Can someone who’s dead inside truly love another person?

“I’m not going to do that, Jane.” Kaidan swallows, searching her eyes desperately. She...she hasn’t been looked at like that since...God, and he’s not lying. Jane’s heard stories about what him and Shepard have been through.

Jane trembles with all the feelings she’s kept locked up tight. Maybe...just maybe that’s Rasa’s problem. Love, empathy...they leave one exposed, vulnerable. Rasa spent so long surviving she forgot how to do anything else. “I don’t deserve--”

“Love isn’t about what you deserve.” His thumb brushes her cheek gently, slowly, like an evening tide. “But I think you already know that.” He dares to smile a little, as if he already knows what she’s about to say.

“I already do...love you, Kaidan,” Jane manages to say. “If I’m even capable of such a thing.”

“You are capable of so much more than you think, Jane.” Kaidan kisses her again, pulling her into space with him, like they’re the center of the universe.

Jane holds onto him tightly, kissing back like he’s her only tether in zero gravity.

They break for air after what seems like forever and nothing at all. Kaidan laughs softly against her mouth. “And you probably already know, but I love y--”

The smoke alarm screeches as the steak fills the air with smoke.

“Oops.”

Kaidan swears, turning the stove off and setting it aside. “Pizza?” He says sheepishly.

“Mm... I was thinking teriyaki.” Jane keys in an order on her omnitool. “Done.”

“Mm,” Kaidan agrees. “That place serves everything a la carte. We better make some stir fry.”

“You gonna teach me? Or are you gonna set them on fire too?” Jane grins, drawing a finger down his chin.

“I can be very focused when I want to be.” Kaidan kisses down her neck as if to demonstrate his point.

Jane moans softly, winding her fingers into his curls. “What--what veggies are we stirring and frying?”

“Carrots.” Kaidan pushes a hand up her shirt. “Broccoli.” His tongue and his teeth run across her neck. “Snap peas.” He breathes against her ear, hot and heavy, “and onions” and his biotics stir her hair.

Putty in his arms, Jane manages to undo his shirt, pushing her hands inside to brush the rough knit of his tank top. “Sauce?” She breathes.

“Sesame, of course.” He bites her collar bone as if to illustrate his point. The sound of a cabinet slamming open buries her next moan. Kaidan pulls out a wok, dropping next to the burner.

The next few moments are less about learning how to cook, and more about Jane trying to distract him from cooking. “Do you like having your tits played with?” She says completely out of the blue, pushing his flannel off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

Blinking at her, Kaidan opens the fridge door, biting his lip when her hands sneak underneath his tank top. “Uh...yeah, I guess. Been a while since--”

He manages to get the stove turned back on before she latches on to his nipple. “Fuck.”

“Mm. Sensitive, are we?”

“Nng.” Kaidan wipes his forehead, reaching for the chopped veggies he has waiting in the fridge. “Fuck, Jane,” he swears as her teeth ever so slightly graze his skin.

Distantly, Jane hears a wet towel hitting the carpet. “Hot damn.”

The two of them turn to see Shepard standing stark naked in the living room, just outside the bathroom, with steam still rolling off her shoulders.

“...Oh. I uh, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can uh...go take another shower.” Shepard turns, muttering under her breath. “A cold one.”

Jane and Kaidan exchange a look. “Get your ass over here, Shepard,” Kaidan says gruffly, and his voice rumbles in his chest against Jane’s fingers.

Shepard saunters over, carrying her towel with her as Jane snickers. Instead of getting between them, she drapes the towel on an empty space on the kitchen island, plopping her bare skin on top of it. Her heels bounce against the cupboards as she munches on some thawing broccoli. “Well?” she says as they stare.

“Suit yourself.” Jane turns toward Kaidan again, finding his nipple still moist and erect from her attention earlier. His head falls back as she takes it in her mouth again. Shepard’s heel stills as her partner moans.

Kaidan pulls her head back up, kissing her ravenously. He leans heavily against the opposite counter, bringing her with him. His fingers slip up under the hem of her crop top, exploring her edges and curves. In turn she explores his mouth with her tongue, taking note of how tentative and cautious he is compared to Shepard. As Jane breaks for air, his thumbs brush the curves of her breasts, and he gazes at her with wonder. She should say something, anything, but her mouth feels so dry.

“It’s okay, Jane.” Shepard murmurs from behind her. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Fingering the edge of her top, Kaidan asks softly, “Okay?”

Part of her brain still doubts this is happening. Jane has dreamed of Kaidan taking her clothes off--more than once--but in real life? “Yeah,” she says thickly, pulling his tank top off so that they’ll be a matching pair.

Tracing the bare skin of his chest, Jane wonders if Kaidan waxes or shaves--if it’s his preference or Shepard’s. Sliding her fingers down the lines of his abdomen, she decides it must be his idea. Kaidan seems like the type to show off, but not in an obvious way. Jane shivers as he follows her lead, skimming the lines of her tattoos one by one, with his lips parted. The sight of those lips does something to her, and she leans in to kiss him again.

“You’re so beautiful, Jane,” Kaidan says softly against her lips. “Has anyone told you that?”

Shepard hums in agreement, and Jane blushes despite herself. They’re making her soft. Somehow, she doesn’t mind. “Quit buttering me up. I’m not on the menu.”

Kaidan laughs. “Is that so?” His knuckles bump the button on her jeans, and Jane sucks in a breath, leaning into his touch as she kisses down his neck. She bites his skin just enough to leave a mark and his fingers fumble as they pull her zipper down.

Jane’s about to reciprocate, but Kaidan starts kissing down her neck, then her collarbone and her chest. She wets her lips, glancing back at Shepard as she moans softly. Shepard herself grins, her hands clenching and unclenching as if she’s itching to touch them or herself. Her thighs rub together almost imperceptibly. Winking at her, Jane steps out of her jeans, shivering at the sight of Kaidan on his knees.

He caresses her thighs, and her ass through her underwear, smiling up at her. “I can’t wait to taste you,” he says softly. Shepard tosses him her box of dental dams, grinning widely.

“You sure I taste all that differ--” Her own words get caught in her moan as Kaidan licks her through the thin rubber. Kaidan takes his time, looking up at her frequently to gauge what works and what doesn’t. Jane’s grip starts to slip on the counter as her legs begin to shake. “Kaidan--”

“I got ya,” Instead of plopping down, Shepard crawls across the counter, her weak knee almost falling into the sink. She takes her towel with her, settling behind Jane’s shoulders, holding her steady with one hand. Her fingers scratch her scalp with the other.

Kaidan murmurs his thanks against her folds, holding up a hand for some gloves.

“Yeah yeah. Make the gimp do everything,” Shepard mutters playfully as she pulls the box toward them with her biotics.

Kaidan pulls away long enough to put his gloves on and shoot back, “Excuse me? Who’s the one cooking dinner?”

“Are you?” Jane glances over, turning the burner off.

“I’ll....warm up something in the microwave.” Shepard slides off the counter, fishing out a can of green beans from the pantry. Must be Kaidan’s doing--Shepard would eat out all the time if left to her own devices.

Jane pats Kaidan’s curls as he finishes snapping his gloves into place. She swallows as a wicked grin blooms across his cheeks. “How do you like to be touched, Jane?”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “You’ve seen Shepard fuck me how many times?”

“I want to hear you say it.” He says gruffly as he runs his gloved hands up and down her thighs.

Her first instinct is to ask why he cares. Just let him love you, damnit. Shepard squeezes her shoulders soothingly. Jane knows what she likes...but saying it out loud? Goddess, she must be blushing as bright as her hair. “Can I show you?”

Kaidan kisses the back of her hand. “Of course.” His thumb brushes her knuckles.

Taking his hand, Jane guides his fingertips to her clit, circling the edges of her inner lips, shivering at how wet she is already. Together they circle her clit slowly, lightly until she starts to squirm. “Harder,” she croaks, letting go of his hand, so she can take two fingers from his free hand.

Shepards hands scratch behind her ears as Jane closes her eyes. She rocks into Kaidan’s fingers, letting one moan after another slip from her mouth. “You want to come yet?” He looks up at her thoughtfully.

“Y-yeah,” Jane stutters, feeling Shepard’s nails scratching down her skin. Then she feels Kaidan’s biotics stirring against her. Oh fuck, she wasn’t expecting that. Crying out, she swears in at least two languages as she loses herself in him, letting him work his fingers in and out until she’s too sensitive to touch. Grabbing his wrist, Jane croaks “Don’t let me have all the fun.”

Kaidan chuckles, pulling his fingers away, and Jane looks directly into his eyes as she reaches below his belt. “Mm. I know I’ve seen it before but feeling it up close is completely different.” His chuckle turns into a laugh, and then a groan as her touch grows firmer and faster.

“Jane,” he whispers, closing his eyes.

“You like the way that feels, Kaidan?” Jane asks, and Kaidan manages a strangled reply. She reaches over, deftly undoing his belt, button, and zipper, shoving his jeans down his hips. As she slides her hand into briefs, she hears the slick of Shepard’s fingers moving against her own cunt. Glancing over, she finds Shepard watching them both hungrily, drinking in the sight of them as she touches herself.

“If I’m bothering you, just say the word,” Shepard says hoarsely.

“I think Kaidan likes being watched.” She turns to watch Kaidan melt in her hand, “Don’t you?”

Kaidan groans, rocking into her hand a little as she slides it up and down. “Jane...I’m not--bed. Now.”

Jane leads the way to the bedroom, releasing him from her grip so she can take his hand instead. It’s strange--somehow the hand squeezing, and the hugs, even the kisses on the back of her hand--it stirs the heat inside her more than anything else. She sits on the bed, patting the space next to her until he crawls next to her. Shepard leans against the door, holding her arm. “You coming, or not?”

“Uh--”

“There’s plenty of room, Shepard.” Kaidan patted the space beside him.

“It’s a queen size, Kaidan.” Was Shepard...nervous? “It barely fits two people.”

Jane quirked her head. “You ate me out on your couch with Kaidan sitting on it. You didn’t complain, then.”

“That wasn’t our first time.” Ah, there’s that blush. Shepard’s confident--not much can make her do that, and it makes it all the sweeter for Jane. “I want this to be special.”

“It is special. Now c’mon.”

Shepard swallows, sitting on the edge. “If you’re sure.” She watches Jane push Kaidan onto his back, crawling over to straddle his hips.

Jane leans over him, running a hand down his chest, all the way to his navel, relishing in the way it shortens his breath. Her fingers linger at the top of his underwear, grinding up against his length. She closes her eyes, shivering at the way his hips arch to meet hers. “You ready for me, Kaidan?”

“Nng. Almost.” He reaches into the bedside drawer, pulling out a condom from Shepard’s sex toy collection.

“...You bought those recently.”

“Since when do you take inventory?”

“She does that every time she’s in here, Kaidan,” Shepard drawls.

Jane ignores them both, sliding Kaidan’s briefs off so she can slide the condom on, adding some lube just in case. This is it, she thinks to herself, chewing her lip as she looks down at Kaidan. He reaches up, caressing her cheek.

“Are you ready, Jane?”

She answers him with a heated kiss until he grips the sheets. Jane guides him inside her with her fingers, and they moan in unison. Kaidan watches her with half-lidded eyes as she rocks into him. Part of her can’t believe this is really happening. A year ago, the Clone would have laughed at the idea of fucking Shepard’s boyfriend, but her body can’t deny how nice he feels--so full and warm, and--

Kaidan pulls her face down so he can kiss her. They’re a tangled mess of limbs and sweat and with the way his fingers slide through her hair she knows it won’t look the same without a shower. She pulls his bottom lip between hers as she moves faster, and she breathes raggedly against his mouth, their breath intermingling in a way that makes her head spin. “Fuck, Kaidan. You feel so good.”

Shepard groans beside them, and Jane glances over, shivering at the way she eyes them with want. Soon. She tells herself. Kaidan takes in a sharp breath, drawing Jane’s attention back to him. His eyes pinch shut and Jane grins as she gets an idea.

“Getting close, Kaidan?” His strangled moan his only reply. She starts to pull off him, leaving just the tip inside.

“Nng.” Kaidan grasps her hips, trying to pull her back.

“Shepard,” Jane says, nodding at Kaidan’s hands.

“Mm. Need some help?” Shepard smirks, crawling over to the headboard, sitting on top of the pillows behind Kaidan’s head.

“Not...fair,” Kaidan manages to say as Shepard pulls his hands back and holds them down.

“Shh. You’ll love it.” Jane edges her way back onto him, bringing him to the brink before pulling completely out, over and over until he’s begging her to finish what they started.

“Jane, please. I--” His fingernails turn white as he squeezes against Shepard’s grip.

“I got you.” Jane kisses him soothingly, holding a thumbs up for Shepard to release him.

Kaidan flares so hard that all of Jane’s hair stands on end. He rolls them over, plunging in and out of her so hard his balls slap against her skin. Gripping her hips, he changes the angle so that he pushes deeper and deeper inside until they both cry out.

“Holy shit, Jane,” Kaidan gasps softly, pulling out of her and disposing of the used condom.

Jane sits up against the headboard, staring at the door across the room. Usually by this point she’s already reaching for her clothes...but with Kaidan and Shepard it feels different. “It wasn’t too much, was it? You said you liked being dominated somet--”

Kaidan presses a finger against her lips, bonelessly squeezing her hand. “You were amazing. You are amazing.”

Pillow talk feels so foreign to her, but she feels a little bit better. Jane’s ever so much aware of Kaidan’s nearness to her, and every fiber of her being itches to touch him again. Words escape her. She can’t go with snark, or it might come off the wrong way--Hey, you were a better lay than I thought. Or I see why Shepard likes you so much. Honestly, what does come to mind seems so simple and childish, but Jane can’t think of anything else, and she needs to say something. “I think I like being with you.” Her skin must be as red as her hair.

Kaidan’s lips taste like the cherry flavoring of their lube. “I like being with you, too.” He glances to the side. “Speaking of being with.”

Shepard pulls her fingers out sheepishly. “I...should go clean up before we do anything more.”

“We all should.” Kaidan sits up with a groan.

“Whatever you say, old man.” Jane rolls off the bed, following Shepard to the bathroom.

By the time they’re done washing and rinsing, Shepard’s stomach growls. “Shit.”

“Dinner.” Kaidan and Jane say together. The green beans and teriyaki (found out on their doorstep) don’t taste as nice as they would have had they been eaten fresh, but it fills them nonetheless.

Halfway through her next bite, Jane spots something across the apartment, sitting on a stand next to the front door. In retrospect, Jane realizes she never paid much attention to the living room as she came in. Usually her attention was focused entirely on making Shepard come undone. “Is that--?”

Shepard’s eyes narrow and her lips press together in a fine line. “The hamster you put in a dumpster? Yeah. His name is Jeff, by the way.”

Jane blinks, speaking quickly. “Maya wanted to space it with the rest of the stuff in your cabin.”

Kaidan quirks his head, taking her in. “You wanted to save him.”

Focusing her attention on her half-eaten dinner, Jane nods. “Maya would have never let me keep it.”

“Mm.” Shepard hums, probably chewing on an apology along with her food. Kaidan elbows her. “Fine. I’m glad you did the best you could.”

“Thanks.” Jane dares to glance up at her. “...I’m glad he’s okay.”

“Yeah, me too.”

The rest of dinner passes without fanfare, though Jane is painfully aware she hasn’t hardly touched Shepard all night. It’s when Shepard’s dish has finally dropped into the sink that Jane closes in. “Hi,” Shepard says with a smirk. “Looking for something?”

Jane runs her finger down Shepard’s cheek. “Someone, actually.” She eyes Kaidan. “Who wants to be in the middle?” Her heart races as she says it, and her mouth goes dry. Already she can imagine several possibilities and they send goosebumps down her spine.

“You thinking DP or--?”

“Mm... that or doubling down on Kaidan.” Jane licks her lips as Kaidan blushes.

“You down for that, Kaidan?”

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly, his eyes already a shade darker than they were a moment before.

Taking both their hands, Jane leads them back to the bedroom. Kaidan stretches out on the bed eyeing them with that shy smile. Jane and Shepard help each other out of their clothes, crawling towards Kaidan with their lips parted. Each steals a kiss from Kaidan, before descending on each other, kissing each other ravenously, and giving the man next to them a small taste of what’s to come. They work on his cock together, both Jane and Shepard pumping up and down his shaft with their right and left hands. Shepard whispers naughty things in his ear and Jane sinks her teeth into his neck--not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark.

“God, you two are--.” Kaidan groans, one hand on Shepard’s ass, the other on Jane’s back. His distracted fingers fail to find purchase when as they tag-team his body.

“You ready for us, Kaidan?” Shepard whispers into his ear, running her thumb across the tip of his length.

Jane knows she’s ready. Every fiber of her being aches to feel both of them. But in what way? She sucks in a breath when the idea comes to her. Shepard turns to her, grinning as her breaths turn up short. “You know…. I had a turn riding Kaidan. Shouldn’t you have one?”

Shepard licks her lips, unable to help making out with Jane a second time, kissing down her neck to her collarbone before looking at her (their?) boyfriend. “Kaidan?”

Kaidan chews his grin as he makes eye contact with Jane. “So, you’d be the one riding my face.”

“Mmhm.”

Leaning back, Kaidan takes Jane by the elbows. “C’mere.”

She leans over him, letting him taste Shepard on her lips, winding her fingers through his curls. She feels the snap of latex panties against her hips, and she grins as she licks Kaidan’s lips until his fists clench. Parting from his mouth is such sweet sorrow, as he trails his kisses down her neck, then her chest. Just as a moan escapes from her mouth, Kaidan and Shepard switch her around, so that Kaidan lips are on her spine, and Shepard’s are on her mouth.

“Nng. Fuck.” Jane gasps, kissing Shepard sloppily as she feels Kaidan's lips trail down one of her butt cheeks.

“Mm,” Shepard hums in agreement, pulling away for air. She guides Kaidan’s girth inside herself, and Jane sucks in a breath as she watches.

Reaching down, Jane stimulates Shepard’s clit, grinning as Shepard starts to ride Kaidan, losing her rhythm as Kaidan finds her cunt with his mouth. Shepard swallows her cries with her kisses, gripping her head with one hand, steadying herself with the other. At first it’s too much, and Jane is a quivering mess, but Kaidan’s hands guide her hips against his tongue.

And it is beautiful. She feels whole for the first time in her life. Jane is weightless, beyond the atmosphere or the confines of a life-supporting spaceship--but she knows she won’t drift away. Shepard and Kaidan anchor her to Earth, pull her in with their gravity as they writhe and twist in the bed sheets until they are pile of sweat-laden limbs gasping for air.

Later, Jane wakes in the middle of the night to find the First Human Spectres using her shoulders for pillows and smiles at the irony. Never would she have imagined, let alone dare to dream she would end up in their arms. What did Jane ever do to deserve this? To be loved, to be safe? Who is she, but a copy of a real hero?

Staring at the ceiling, Jane chides herself. Stop over thinking it. You’re happy. You get to be happy. Deal with it.

#lemon #mass effect #femshep #femshep clone #clone shep #kaidan alenko #fshenko #fcloneshenko #melody writes

2 notes · View notes

littlebigkaiju · 6 years

Text

Turns out I had a lot to say about Pacific Rim: Uprising

Opening statement: It’s now VERY clear why Guillermo Del Toro has had nothing at all to say about this movie on Twitter. Has it ruined Pacific Rim for me? Nothing could. Has it destroyed the future of this franchise? Almost certainly. No real spoilers in the list of good points, but BEWARE OF SPOILERS IN THE BAD POINTS.

THE GOOD:

Dr Hermann Gottlieb gets arguably the best deal out of all the returning cast. His position in the PPDC at this point is unclear, (research and development?), but he plays a fun, engaging part with a surprising amount of screen time. It’s great for him to have such an important role in this movie despite his separation from Newt, and I honestly loved him.

Liwen Shao. Definitely a character with more depth than I had expected. I really came to like her and her role in the movie.

The new Kaiju designs are GREAT. They’re suitably different than those of the original movie without being a complete departure (there are definitely some familiar themes in Raijin and Shrikethorn).

The Mega Kaiju is terribly underutilised, but he’s wonderful. He turns the tide of battle very quickly and really feels like an unstoppable force.

I WAS RIGHT ABOUT MOUNT FUJI, and this turned out to be an interesting revelation about the Precursors’ plan of action. Very cool, although by the end of the movie I was wishing their plan had succeeded.

THE BAD (SPOILERS EVERYWHERE):

Let’s get this one out of the way: Uprising is a massive “fuck you” to the character development of its returning cast. Pacific Rim holds the distinction of having had an alternative to the Bechdel Test created after it. (It’s called the Mako Mori test – At least one female character who gets her own narrative arc that is not about supporting a man’s story.) Almost unbelievably, Uprising manages to destroy this. The vision and portrayal of Mako in the original Pacific Rim is fantastic. Her motivation is driven by tragedy, as her family was killed during Onibaba’s attack on Tokyo, but she’s incredibly smart (the head of the MK-3 Jaeger restoration project, in fact) and a talented Jaeger pilot in training with a simulation drop to kill score of 51 to 51, something that makes even veteran pilots turn their heads. Not only was Mako in charge of restoring Gipsy Danger to her full glory and installing the chain sword that would become her trademark weapon, she became instrumental in defeating the most powerful Kaiju ever seen, avenging her family and ultimately saving the world. Despite this, she’s a humble and strongly emotional character; a brilliant example of what a strong female character should be. (Strength doesn’t preclude emotion or empathy, but movies like to tell us it should.) I really can’t emphasise enough how important she to this franchise. In Uprising, Mako has become the secretary general of the PPDC – So far, so good. Unfortunately, that’s where the ‘good’ ends for Mako. She’s briefly in contact with her estranged adoptive brother Jake Pentecost to create the impression that they’re making up after some longstanding disagreement, just enough to indicate to the audience that we should care about their relationship. Because the next time we see Mako, she dies in a helicopter crash purely so Jake can have some angst and a reason to take his position in the PPDC more seriously. This REALLY pisses me off. Mako Mori, arguably the most important character in Pacific Rim, is given a screen time of around 5-10 minutes and reduced to nothing more than the victim of the infamous fridge trope in its sequel. Mako deserved better. If she was going to die in this movie she should have been in a Jaeger, fighting to save the world once more. What a travesty of a decision this was.

Though John Boyega plays a good part, it’s painfully, painfully obvious that the character of Jake Pentecost was invented solely for him to have a larger role in the movie, one with a direct link to some of the most heroic figures in the Pacific Rim universe. Given that John became a producer for Uprising, it’s hard not to feel like his ego is the primary factor driving this decision (and, ultimately, the death of Mako Mori, since she’s the only other relative of Stacker Pentecost and the only original pilot to return in this movie). Jake’s manufactured existence causes the audience to question what we know of Stacker, the strict but doting adoptive father of Mako Mori. Given the appropriate time and care, this could have had the potential to be a plot point that would add more depth to Stacker, Jake, and Mako as a family, but as with all the character development in Uprising, it’s rushed. Jake’s relationship with Mako and their father is barely mentioned at all, such that I only know that Jake was inducted into the Jaeger Academy like Mako, but was kicked out of the program for attempting to pilot a Jaeger alone. Jake was either disowned or simply ran away. There’s no more discussion than that, giving us the impression that Stacker Pentecost couldn’t care less that his son was living rough and stealing Jaeger technology to make ends meet while he continued with his duties as a PPDC marshal. None of this adds anything of value to these characters. It simply conflicts with the way Stacker was portrayed in the original movie, tarnishing the legendary reputation that Uprising is otherwise so fond of bringing up.

The characterisation “fuck you” continues with some very poor handling of a villainous Newt. (Oh Newt, buddy, how they’ve wronged you.) It’s not news to most fans that Guillermo Del Toro was toying around with the idea of taking Newt in a villainous direction for the sequel after his repeated exposure to the Kaiju hivemind in the Drift. Ghost Drifting is a known quantity in the Pacific Rim universe; essentially a residual connection outside of the Drift that results in shared thoughts and behaviours. The idea of this being an opening for the Precursors to hijack Newt and use him for their own gain is REALLY interesting and something I was legitimately excited about, but the execution of it here is just plain bad. The reveal of Alice is appropriately creepy, but is left unexplored beyond a singular, unsavoury scene. The implication of it ends up feeling more like Newt betrays all of humanity for the sake of some virtual reality Kaiju sex, rather than because he is being used as a literal puppet by the Precursors, and that’s a pretty awful thing to do to a fandom-beloved character who had more than a small part in saving the world the first time around. He gets a couple of nice scenes with Dr Gottlieb and a small moment with his monstrous Mega Kaiju creation (which smacks of Leatherback’s curiosity about Striker Eureka, minus the personality), and that’s… it. For the rest, he’s treated like shit.

Uprising is also a massive “fuck you” to the world building of the original movie. In Pacific Rim, it was established that the highly pollutant nature of Kaiju Blue meant that Jaeger pilots had to avoid using weapons like swords that would cause bleeding while fighting Kaiju in populated areas. Apparently, no-one gives a shit about this 10 years into the future, despite the fact that we’ve discovered Kaiju Blue is also incredibly explosive. Nope, we’ve got a mace coated in knives, massive machine guns, and chain swords abound. There’s Kaiju Blue everywhere, but who cares?

On the above note, watch Gipsy Danger carefully during the Battle of Hong Kong in the original movie. Her pilots, Mako and Raleigh, take great care not to damage the buildings around them where possible, even stepping over a bridge instead of simply walking through it. Not so in Uprising – Apparently Tokyo’s shiny new skyscrapers (which are only around 10 years old) are all fair game. Jake Pentecost uses Gipsy Avenger’s gravity sling to intentionally pull down a good four or five skyscrapers onto Raijin, for all the good that does, while the pilots of Saber Athena casually drag the Jaeger’s twin swords through the buildings at either side of her for no particular reason.

Likewise, drifting is important… except when it’s not. This movie pushes the idea that it’s easier to form bonds (and thus be Drift compatible) at a younger age, which is why all the new cadets in training are in their teens. They’re not actually meant to be deployed until they’re older – Fine, I’ll buy that. Amara repeatedly fails to successfully drift with anyone in training, making her a very weak contender in the Jaeger Program, but then magically drifts with a total of three other pilots for the battle in Tokyo because… Well, because the plot required it to happen.

As previously mentioned, the character development in this movie is almost non-existent. This hits the new Jaeger pilots especially hard because we get almost no information about their backstories, their training history, etc. so seeing them in action becomes an unknown quantity with little impact. There is a pilot called Jules and I know nothing about her, because Jules is a character who exists to be nothing more than an object for two men to compete and drool over. This is the sequel to the movie that prompted the creation of the alternative to the Bechdel test, everybody. Good job.

Uprising tries very hard to be its own thing, (much to the detriment of the returning cast and the world building of the original), but it just can’t help but lean on the legacy of its predecessor. References to the original movie appear in the form of bargain basement scene reshoots instead of clever nods. There are many, but here’s the worst: Amara lost her family to a Kaiju known as Insurrector, just like Mako Mori, who lost hers to Onibaba when it made landfall in Tokyo. We see this in a flashback when she attempts to drift with Jake, just like when Mako drifts with Raleigh for the first time. And just like Mako, she gets hold of the memory and can’t let go, so the pair of them are thrown out of neural alignment while Jake appears in her memory and pleads for her to stop. At this point we’re not really referencing the original movie so much as remaking it shot-for-shot.

True to the genre, Pacific Rim’s Kaiju had powerful abilities – Flight, electrical discharges, acid spit; things sometimes a step removed from reality but certainly inspired by real creatures. But the Kaiju in Uprising are magic. They can do some very bizarre things that are never given any kind of explanation, like absorbing energy from attacks to send it right back to their Jaeger aggressors. Even more bizarrely, when succumbing to the influence of the Precursors, the drone Jaegers suddenly sprout Kaiju flesh and appendages like glowing Kudzu on speed. We’ve never seen Precursor tech with any level of regenerative capacity, let alone the ability to flash-grow an entire Kaiju from an old sample of a brain, yet this happens and then it’s never referenced again. None of the other Kaiju exhibit abilities like this, so not only is it out of place but it feels like a missed opportunity because it could have been used to great effect for the false scare with the shattered Mega Kaiju at the end of the movie.

The individual designs of the Kaiju are great, but they’re given frustratingly little time to shine on their own and have absolutely no personality to speak of. Raijin gets some nice screen time, but Hakuja and Shrikethorn are barely visible and never really get to feel like a threat despite being Category IV Kaiju (the same as Leatherback and Otachi, who REALLY fuck shit up in Pacific Rim). This is especially disappointing given that they appear only in the last 20 minutes or so of the movie. Even the Mega Kaiju, who is quite magnificent to behold, only shows up for about 5 minutes and gets nothing in the way of special moves or tricks hidden up his sleeve; certainly nothing we didn’t see in trailers. Seriously, if you’ve seen the trailers for this movie, you’ve seen all the Kaiju action.

Both the Kaiju and the Jaegers are weightless. They move far too quickly and unfortunately so does the camera, meaning that fights quickly descend into a sort of mild chaos in which it can be quite difficult to focus on what’s happening. This is in stark contrast to the original, which took great pains to express the sheer weight and volume of Jaegers and their Kaiju foes, and carefully choreographed and framed the action for maximum impact. When Gipsy Danger prepares to fire the rocket on her elbow, the process takes a good few seconds – The moving of armour plating, the ignition of the rocket, the lowering of air brakes and then the swing of the punch. In Uprising, Avenger does all of this in about half a second. There’s no anticipation; blink and you’ll miss it. Likewise, Uprising misses these beats with its Kaiju. There’s a brilliant moment where Bracer Phoenix launches its mace into the side of the Mega Kaiju’s head, (to hilariously underwhelming effect), only for the Kaiju to whip around and shred the Jaeger in a matter of seconds. Had this been a shot in Pacific Rim, the Mega Kaiju would have taken a moment to shake its head, express its displeasure with a roar, and then clamp its jaws around the offending Jaeger. Sadly, this injection of personality and humour is skipped.

Under the persistent control of the Precursors, Newt designs a swarm of small creatures called Rippers who deconstruct Raijin, Hakuja, and Shrikethorn to recombine them into the unnamed Mega Kaiju. There’s no indication of whether the Kaiju are prepared for this, or, like the abused living weapons they truly are, whether they’re actually distressed by having something happen to them that they don’t understand. All we’d need here is for them to fall weirdly still and assume a formation, or to show signs of distress or aggression, and we could get the idea either way. Unfortunately, what we get is somewhere in the middle, so I suppose we can just assume they don’t care. How blank and characterless.

There are plot holes and lost threads all over the place in this movie. Here’s one of my favourites: Hermann requests help from Kaiju biology specialist Newt as he tries to figure out a way to combine Kaiju blood and rare earth metals to create a propellant more powerful than rocket fuel. Newt declines, Hermann despairs… and then somehow figures it out anyway off screen, just in time for the fuel to be used in a Jaeger launch. What?

Similarly, we find out why Obsidian Fury is a rogue Jaeger, but we never get an explanation for who’s responsible for its existence. The inference is that it’s meant to be Newt, but the idea that he somehow used Shao Industries’ automated factories to construct an entire uncommissioned Jaeger without anyone ever noticing is a stretch, to say the least. The same goes for the Rippers.

Ghost Drifting, Part II? This is very minor, but as much as I enjoyed him there’s something odd about Hermann’s characterisation in this movie. He’s not just a mathematician but a really goddamn passionate one, (“Numbers are as close as we get to the handwriting of god.”), but that job just doesn’t exist for him in Uprising. The closest we get is him talking about using a ‘fractal algorithm’ to decode some damaged data. Instead, Hermann seems to be spending his time messing around with Kaiju biology, having discovered that Kaiju blood reacts violently with rare earth metals. I assume we’re meant to be seeing the residual effects of the Drift, but even despite that, taking up the dissection of Kaiju samples just seems like something Hermann would never do, given his sheer distaste for Kaiju biology. (“No Kaiju entrails on my side of the room,” per the first movie; “…when we drifted with that disgusting Kaiju brain,” per the second.)

Tone. Pacing. Both of these are awful. The movie opens with a vague recap of the original, complete with footage lifted directly from it. This is otherwise known as Really Shitty Exposition.

There’s a terrible and wholly unnecessary montage scene with an equally terrible rendition of the Pacific Rim theme as remixed by Patrick Stump… because of reasons. I threw up in my mouth a little.

The movie contains a whole lot of forced Marvel-style humour. Everywhere. That’s not an inherently bad thing but never once does it feel fitting here. In addition to this, a dead meme is shoehorned in because apparently Steven De Knight is a cheap asshole who’d rather fall back on a meme to try for laughs instead of committing to a serious tone for more than 5 seconds at a time. Out of nowhere, one of the cadets is playing the Russian Trololol song on one of the Jaeger’s internal screens during their deployment. What the ever-loving fuck does that have to do with anything? Except for utterly destroying the moment the movie was trying to build?

I really could go on, but I think I’d rather forget the existence of this movie.

#Pacific Rim Uprising Spoilers #PRU Spoilers #Pacific Rim Uprising #I'm gonna have to go ahead and pretend this movie never existed #Strifespeak

144 notes · View notes