#i feel like i grew but i also did endure a bit of a setback

[hinabae]

so now that everyone’s allowed to get vaccinated, who else is facing some degree  of anxiety in how they’ll appear and act once they fully re-enter society cus i am quietly panicking ............... ok fr i am panicking and more unsure than ever 

#tbd. #idk how i feel honestly i legit have become somewhat of a recluse now #and i miss people and i don't // i miss company and yet i am wary of new people more so #not even cus covid but how people suck a lot these days and idk if being inside helped or not lol #i feel like i grew but i also did endure a bit of a setback #like even just as myself like WHAT MAKES ME ..... ME #esp when you take away writing and anything creative and the feelings im able to give people but unable to give myself #like even as far as interests go lol i am just ..... dead everywhere #little life in me / on cruise control / unsure how to get to that place where i know i'm me #anyway ...... i hope you guys are okay its been a month or two i realize ...... #pls continue to stay safe ....... #i miss writing and i always say that #i really do lol ugh

[qtakesams]

When Life Goes On, Go with It

Two years ago this month, I moved to Edgewater, Maryland, to complete a summer internship with the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center. SERC, as we call it, is a branch of the Smithsonian Institution that specializes in climate, coastal, terrestrial, and various other types of sciences. Their campus is an hour east of Washington, D.C. They own hundreds of acres of land, on which they house their laboratories and fields.

It was just after my sophomore year of college ended. As with many underclassmen years, mine was turbulent. I endured a drastic shift in my social circle which had, even if temporarily, left me feeling stranded on a campus I was still learning about. I’d had a rough spring semester, finding a lack of motivation to complete any assignment.

Most undergrads face that year: the one where nothing feels right, and each path feels like a dead-end. I had applied for a SERC internship on a bit of a whim. Entering college, I’d seen myself as a fiction writer and editor, planning to end up in a corporate publishing house. Sophomore had shown me I desired other things, and I applied for SERC’s science writing internship completely unsure if I’d actually like the work. What if I didn’t? What if it felt worse than the previous semester? What would I do if I couldn’t bounce back?

All of this, I decided, would be worth the risk. When I got an email from the internship’s advisor in March, offering me the position, I accepted it. The rest, as some might say, is history.

SERC is a hard place to find until you’ve visited a few times. The brown sign is easily skipped by the eyes. Coming from the west, you approach SERC on the left side of the road. Immediately, you forget that you’re technically in the suburbs, less than thirty miles from the epicenter of political heat in America. After a few turns, you arrive at the gate. When SERC is publicly open, you drive on through. When you’re an intern coming back from the bar at night, you have to swipe your ID card. You drive a few more turns, watching closely for deer, before that final right turn that drops you into the parking lot of the intern dorms and the labs.

I fell in love with SERC within days of my arrival. There were the intimidating factors of the place: fellow interns at Ivy Leagues and respected colleges, scientific labs into which the government itself funded millions, no meal plan, and the stick shift vehicle I would drive all summer. I was terrified when my mom drove away. I explored the floor of my building, admiring the kitchen, perusing the book selection. By eleven, I was in bed. I was tried from traveling, but more so, I didn’t know what to do. I’d briefly interacted with the other intern already on my floor, but I didn’t know him well enough to go say hi. There were four interns moved in below my floor, but I hadn’t seen any of them yet. I suddenly seemed wildly out of my element, though I had felt comfortable at SERC the moment I drove through the gate.

Of course, I grew happier at SERC. The happiest I’d been in years. Within weeks, I made strong friends, adjusted to my job, and began to close my GPS when driving to the store.

My work felt good. The articles I wrote and the media I created reached thousands of people, many of which gave positive comments. My words were reaching people, and the people were responding.

I was raised by a scientist, but more importantly, by well-educated, empathetic people. Loving my planet was part of the gig when I was growing up. In high school, I began to see where my privilege in this education existed. My friends at school didn’t seem to care about the things I’d be taught to care about. Water consumption, electricity, knowing the landscape on which your house is built. I knew important moments in history, and how they affected me. I had early knowledge of politics, to the point where I knew who George Bush was before his presidency ended (when I was 10). Ignorance and empathy tend to go hand-in-hand, mostly because ignorance leads to apathy. We’ve seen this cause-and-effect equation hold catastrophic, deadly consequences in 2020.

When I arrived at SERC, it didn’t slip by me that I suddenly had access to information that most people only dream about. Many of us are ignorant (I remain ignorant to 99.9% of what happens on this Earth) by circumstance, not by choice. Accessibility is one of our biggest problems of a global society attempting to function in a digital, climate change-riddled world. Sixty percent of the globe now has Internet access, but that leaves 3.08 billion people without the knowledge they need to protect themselves from the setbacks of climate change. Most of those people, as it would turn out, are terribly affected most by war, poverty, hunger, climate, social injustice, etc. These things intertwine and cause one another. Not always, but often.

My position at SERC gifted me access to science occurring in real-time. When the Pandemic would hit a year later, it would be surprising but not shocking. On a planet where politics and science are brothers, and the population is soaring too high to properly maintain, containing a spreadable virus is like trying to hold a cup of water in your bare hands. Sooner or later, it’s going to slip between the cracks and go everywhere. If it slips far enough, you’ll never find a towel strong enough to collect it all.

In March of 2020, when I moved home to isolate, I knew the rest of college was trashed. Not my degree, necessarily, but the experience of college. I would lose that experience in its normalcy, and therefore the skills which develop from that normalcy.

I did soon realize, however, that we are not always fortunate enough to do something about mass-casualties or problems. There’s not always an answer, straightforward or not. When there is one, you should grab it with both hands.

That summer of 2020, I decided I wanted to pursue a master’s degree after college. Higher education is not unknown in my family; we boast high degrees from prestigious universities. I am the opposite of a First-Generation student (one of my great-grandparents also had a master’s degree). Graduate school had already been on my mind when I started college, but I didn’t know what for. An MFA in fiction had felt the most logical to my teenage self in 2017, but by 2018, that felt out the window. What I had realized by the summer of 2020 was that, in the midst of the chaos and absurdity, was that I could in fact do something about what was going on. I can’t solve climate change, or house the homeless, or save every polar bear, or even eradicate a virus, but I can help in my own way. On some level, I can do something about the many crises. This, in itself, is “doing something”.

Science writing is a polarizing subject, of this I have been aware my entire life. Unfortunately, we’ve made science political, though politics are generally opinion (with strong empathy) and science is fact. It’s a tough, competitive field, but so is everything else. If you want to “make it” in this world, you have to willingly shed blood, tears, and probably sweat profusely. As I watched the COVID cases skyrocket simultaneously to the people I knew who cared not to stay home, I could tell something was off. People weren’t listening. If they were, it was usually to the ignorant voices on television.

I could feel my cheeks burning as I watched the Johns Hopkins map. It seemed cruel that we, as a society, could do that to ourselves. That we could allow this virus to spread and kill, but also that we had put ourselves in this position. I had already been envisioning myself as a science writer every day since my time at SERC had begun. Finally reckoning with the knowledge that not everybody is a scientist, nor cares to be one, was the icing on the cake. I couldn’t fix it all, but I could offer my help. So, I would.

When I began this blog two years ago, it was solely for abroad purposes. It was a fabulous way to let anybody who cared know what I was experiencing and how I was handling those experiences. Studying abroad, no matter how or where or how long, is difficult. Studying in general, for any length of time on any subject, is mindboggling tedious. I give kudos to my friends and family who have any advanced, foreign, or nontraditional education.

What I discovered after I began writing blog posts and sharing my thoughts is that there’s always more to the story than the words on the page. That’s why I’ve added to this blog in the year and a half since my abroad semester ended; there is always more to tell.

In a few weeks, I begin my master’s degree at Northwestern University in Chicago. My degree is in journalism, with a specialization in Science and Health reporting. I’m nervous to my core, as I am with any new adventure. I just graduated college last weekend, so my emotions are running wild. Yet, I have a feeling I’m about to finally be where I’ve wanted to be for years. I love words. I love messing with them, shaping them, using them to fit whatever project I want. I also love science. I love knowing what is happening around me, and why and how it is. Combining them already feels like a dream come true, so I’m sure the next year will feel magical.

The classes of 2020 and 2021 are probably the most resilient in history. A Pandemic, racial and social injustice, wildfires, remote learning, wifi issues. We’ve seen it all, and it’s made us stronger every day.

I think I’ve worn this blog out for this phase of life. My thoughts on what I’ve talked about here are valid and important, but they don’t exist alone. For somebody who’s pretty much been writing since she could hold a pencil, I hate journaling. I’ve tried so many times, and never succeeded, with the exception of this blog. That said, it gave me an incredibly strong, consistent manner of getting my thoughts on the page, for which I am endlessly grateful. If you’ve kept reading my thoughts and words, you should know I’m endlessly grateful for you, too.

All of this is saying that, whether you’re ready or not, life keeps going. Life can be cruel, it can be challenging, it can be beautiful. No matter what, it keeps going. As my friend Ferris once said, if you don’t stop and look around from time to time, you could miss it. So much changed so drastically in the last year. I’m still processing it. I might always be processing it. Most importantly, I think, is that I’ve learned to flow with it wherever it goes. It’s harder sometimes than other, but the result is usually worth the grind.

You might read my stuff in the Times once day, or (my personal favorite dream) National Geographic. I don’t know honestly know where I’m going, but I’m okay with that because I do know that I’m on my way. I’m still going. When life continues, you should go, too. You never quite know where the climb will lead, but you do know that the view will be great.

#study abroad #science writing #thoughts #media #graduate school #graduate student #class of 2021

[lia-jones]

Growing Pains - Chapter Twenty One - Judgement Day

“Are you ready?” I heard my mother’s voice behind me. I looked at my desk. I had my flash drive, my laptop and five copies of my essay. Yes, I was ready. However, I felt far from ready.

“Yes, as much as I can be.” I sighed, offering my mom a smile, to show some confidence.

“We’re just waiting for your brother to come with Cristina, he won’t be long.” My mom offered.

“It’s ok, we have time.” I said, reaching for my phone to check for any texts.

“Andy.” My mom said in a flat tone.

“Yes?” I looked up.

“Are you expecting any calls?” She smiled slyly, like she was on to something.

“No.” I lied. Victor was also traveling on business, and told me he would call before my presentation. I was in Portugal for a week now, to make the last arrangements with my advisor before actually presenting and defending my thesis, and I was starting to miss him badly. Between his busy schedule and the difference between time zones, we barely talked at all.

I sat on my bed, lost in thought, not even noticing my mother leaving my room. My thoughts drifted to the memories of everything I had been through that had culminated to this very moment. The verbal and physical abuse, my strong will to overcome it, dealing with the severe physical injuries.

Don’t be silly, you’ll be overworking yourself for nothing, I heard Daniel’s voice in my head, sounding condescending as much as it sounded loving. You can’t work and study, you don’t have that kind of focus. Besides, why do you need it anyway? Aren’t you happy with things as they are, with me?

I took the green notebook from my desk and read the very words that I wrote in it, in red, filled with anger and resentment. My eyes filled with tears, as my heart grew in realization. Finally, I understood what my therapist was talking about when she said I would be thankful later on. I wasn’t exactly thankful for what Daniel had done to me, and I knew some scars wouldn’t really go away, but… I was ok with it. I could feel myself steady on my feet again, and I did learn a lot about myself. I learned that I was stronger than I thought, and that I could endure a lot, and that if I really put my mind to it, I could do things that I couldn’t possibly imagine before. I learned that even those who look aloof can hold a great deal of love in their hearts, and take me in without any kind of judgment especially. I learned to fully cherish those who love me, and to sift through the bad to find the good. I learned that I could love again, even deeper, even stronger.

And yes, for that I was grateful. I was so grateful that my heart couldn’t contain it all inside, and some of it spilled, making my eyes water, the tears staining the red letters in my notebook.

That’s when the phone rang. And when I saw Victor’s picture on my phone, I couldn’t contain a sob. God, I was so grateful for him. I took my time to answer, as I composed myself.

“Hello, handsome.” I said cheerfully, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Have you been crying?” He asked, worriedly. “What’s the matter?”

“No, everything is fine.” I laughed. “It’s been an emotional day, that’s all.”

“I understand.” He sounded relieved. “It’s a big day.” Victor paused. “I wish I could be there with you.”

I sighed.

“I wish you could be here too.” I said softly, hoping he wouldn’t notice in my voice the tears falling from my eyes. “But it’s ok, next week we’ll be together, and we can celebrate. No matter the outcome. I feel like a winner just coming this far.”

“You will do fine. I read your essay, I know how good it is. Just be yourself and you’ll do great.”

“Right, because if it has Mr. CEO’s approval, it’s nothing short of outstanding, right?” I teased.

“Exactly.” He bantered back. “I doubt you know anyone more demanding than me.” His voice softened almost to a whisper. “Don’t be nervous, ok?”

I heard my brother downstairs calling for me.

“I have to leave now. Wish me luck.” I said, feeling butterflies in my stomach.

“You don’t need it. Call me when you’re done.”

“Ok, I’ll talk to you later then. I love you.”

“One more thing.” Victor spoke again before I could hang up.

“Yes?”

“I’m proud of you. And I love you too.”

 I arrived at the auditorium with a feeling of dread, glancing at the huge sitting area, and at the table in front of it, where the people deciding my fate would sit. One of them was Professor Chancey Williamson, a renowned teacher at the University of Cambridge. I had heard he was overbearing and plain rude, making many people leave their own presentation in tears. I tried to remind myself that he couldn’t possibly be any worse than Victor. That didn’t bring peace to my heart though.

My family sat in the auditorium, as I was led to a separate room to prepare with the rest of the students. I read my essay one last time, trying to remember how to defend all the key points in my PowerPoint presentation. I decided to put it away, as I felt fully prepared, and just focus on my breathing.

I got up as I heard my name, taking deep breaths as I walked in. Momentarily turning my back to the audience, I plugged in my computer to the projector, opening the file with my presentation. I then turned to the teachers.

“Good morning.” I started. “Before I start presenting my thesis, I would like to thank the esteemed teachers for giving me the great honor of sharing my work with you, specially to Professor Williamson, who came all this way from…” My eyes scanned the room briefly, and stopped at one specific point. “… Cambridge.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Among the crowd, almost unnoticed if not for his impeccable suit and elegant posture, I could see… Victor. He had come to see me defend my work. I paused for a second, smiling widely at him, my heart beating fast as he smiled back. The room started fading around him. Remembering where I was and what was at stake, I cleared my throat, gathered my thoughts, and focused on my task.

“I would also like to thank Mr. Victor Lee, the CEO of Loveland Financial Group, where I had my internship, for coming all this way from Loveland. Your presence is deeply appreciated.”

Every head in the auditorium turned to look at him and he simply nodded in acknowledgment, not wanting to take my spotlight.

Seeing Victor there brought a spring in my step, and I felt confident as I presented my work. There was nothing to be scared of. I had worked really hard to get there, and my work would show that. I had done my best, and even if that wasn’t enough, it was all that mattered.

Professor Williamson had all sorts of questions, some relevant and some seemingly idiotic, designed to test my knowledge of the matter. From all the members of the jury, he was the one talking the most. And people were not lying when they said he was rude. He kept interrupting me, breaking my line of thought, and for more than once he implied I had plagiarized or that I wasn’t the sole author of my essay. On other occasions he would just ask silly questions, trying to make me trip. I managed to address his questions in a satisfactory manner, even the silly ones, but the way he was pressuring me made me feel more and more insecure.

Finishing my presentation, I asked if there were any more questions. Naturally, Professor Williamson chimed in.

“Yes, one last thing, Miss Jones.” He turned to the technical team that was taking care of the sound. “Can someone provide a microphone to Mr. Lee, so we all can hear him?”

I felt my cheeks burning as an assistant gave Victor a microphone. My mother gestured for me to calm down, but I knew she was also apprehensive.

“Mr. Lee, I understand it is unconventional to include the sponsor company in a thesis evaluation. I hope you don’t mind answering some questions.” Professor Williamson spoke to Victor.

“Not at all.” Victor spoke in his CEO voice.

“Mr. Lee, who supervised Miss Jones’ progress during her internship?”

“I was her supervisor.”

“And how do you assess Miss Jones’ work in your company, regarding her interaction with the three French companies she mentions in her thesis, as well as her performance in general at LFG?”

“Miss Jones’ performance was impeccable, to say the least. The French partners were very pleased with the cooperation and expressed their disappointment in seeing it end. I must also point out that recently LFG experienced a very sensitive setback, and I personally chose Miss Jones to aid in its resolution. Her insightfulness and quick thinking were paramount in solving said issue. Should she be interested, it is in LFG’s best interest to hire her.”

My family was dumbfounded at his statement, their mouths hanging open in surprise. During the first months of my internship, I had spoken of Victor to my family, and… I didn’t paint a very pretty picture. They perceived him like I did at first, overbearing, rude and entitled. It was obviously a shock to see him give praise so openly.

Professor Williamson looked at Victor with suspicious eyes, and dismissed the audience and myself, asking me to wait outside while the jury deliberated.

I walked out of the auditorium not knowing how to feel. I was immediately surrounded by my family.

“That professor was a jerk!” My brother gritted through his teeth. “For what it’s worth, I think you did great, Tiny.”

“It’s supposed to be like this.” My mother tried to calm everyone. “This is a very big deal. Of course they will test her.” She turned to me. “You did very well, Andy. You stood your ground. And the way your boss complimented your work… Impressive.” She raised an eyebrow at me.

“I’m a bit surprised myself…” I said, and then I noticed Victor leaving the auditorium. “I’ll be right back.”

I stood in front of Victor, not knowing how to act. I knew my family was watching us closely, and I also knew that Victor wasn’t very fond of public displays of affection. Victor seemed to be sharing the awkwardness for a moment, deciding to take my hand, squeezing it gently.

“You’re here.” I whispered, smiling at him.

“This is your big day. I feel slightly offended that you think I would miss it.” Victor raised an eyebrow at me.

“Thank you for speaking so highly of me. I hate it that he put you on the spot like that.” I made a face.

“Well, that could have been easily avoided if you hadn’t introduced me to the whole auditorium.” He offered. “But I don’t mind, I’m used to it.”

“Oh my God, I did, didn’t I?” I gasped slightly. “Sorry about that.”

“Like I said, I don’t mind.”

“Oh God, it gets worse.” I said, the stress from the presentation fading away and bringing my focus to obvious matters. “My family will want to meet you.”

“Good. I want to meet them too.” Victor touched the small of my back as he followed me.

“Mom. Dad.” I said, interrupting their conversation about the presentation. “This is Victor, my-”

“Andy, please, we all know who he is.” My father interrupted, oblivious to the real meaning of the situation. “Jeremy Jones. Thanks for supporting our girl. This is my wife, Mariana, my son Joshua and his wife, Cristina.”

“Nice to meet you all.” Victor said, shaking everybody’s hands.

“Will you be waiting for the results with us, or do you have a busy schedule today?” My mom asked.

“I’d like to wait, if I’m not imposing.” Victor wore his usual expressionless face, but I could tell he was getting uncomfortable.

“Oh, Mr. Lee, not at all.” My mom offered. “I actually want to invite you to come have lunch with us, if you are available. There will be plenty of Portuguese food, if you hadn’t had the time to try the Portuguese cuisine. It’s the least we can do for you, since you came all this way to support our daughter.”

“Thank you for the kind offer. It would be a pleasure. And call me Victor.” Although his discomfort was still very palpable to me, I could see Victor was making a (HUGE) effort to open up a bit, which was uncharacteristic of him. And then it dawned on me. He was trying to please my family. My heart melted, seeing him trying so hard to connect to my people.

I heard my name, and went in to get my grade. When I returned to my family, they all gathered around me, waiting for me to speak. Problem was, I found myself incapable of uttering a single word. I just felt like crying. Victor stood behind them, his eyes trained on me, a trace of worry on his face.

“Tiny…” My brother came and gave me a hug.

“No, no, don’t assume.” My father pushed Josh away, and took me to sit on the bench, kneeling in front of me. “Andy, what did they say?” He said, leaning towards me to hear me, since my voice decided to stop working. I mouthed my response the best I could, tears now falling freely from my eyes. “You got a what? Say it again, baby.”

It was so hard for me to talk, sobs wracking my body. But I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down a bit, and managed to answer with a slightly more audible tone. My mother caught it before my father could.

“Wait, twenty?” She paused, not believing what she heard. “Summa cum laude?!?!?” She cried, a lot louder than her usual calm tone.

All the other students waiting for their grades started clapping. My whole family came and hugged me, as I cried my heart out. I had done it. I had worked so hard, I had given it my all, and it paid off. I remembered Daniel’s words, and I realized how much of what he had told me was still so present in my mind, making me doubt myself. Until that day. I knew he was wrong. I had proven him wrong. And that felt better than any praise or honor. My mother must have thought the same thing, because tears rolled silently from her eyes too.

Suddenly, I remembered Victor, raising my head to see him. He was behind us, watching our family moment, his eyes filled with emotion. And the gratitude in my heart grew. He got me steady enough to achieve this, with his tough love, his patience and also his concealed tenderness. He gave me every opportunity to grow and to heal, and gave me all the love in his heart. Maybe he wasn’t the most expressive of people, but he sure was the kindest, always supporting me and cheering for me in the background.

I got up and went to him, only able to mouth a thank you before embracing him. He held me in his arms, stroking my back, his face in my hair.

“I am so proud of you.” He whispered in my ear, his voice thick. “Congratulations.”

He hugged me so tightly I thought he was going to crack my ribs. We held on to each other for a long time, until my sobs subsided and I relaxed, as I listened to his strong heartbeat.

We finally let go, holding hands, a wide happy smile on our faces. When I turned, I noticed my family was watching us, eyes wide, mouth hanging. Except for my mom, who wore her characteristic knowing smile.

#Growing Pains - Series #growingpains #mlqc victor #victor x oc #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #mister love queens choice #love and producer

[hyunllx]

                                                         Heathers & Gargoyles                A complete rewrite of Riverdale Season 3

A game, a cult, a murder. Sounds like a stereotypical october for the town of Riverdale. Yet when Betty, Jughead, Veronica, and newly freed-from-juvie Archie are recruited to join the increasingly dangerous game of Griffins and Gargoyles, they find themselves dodging assassinations and deadly traps designed to keep them on a pre-determined story path. Left without the help of their brainwashed allies, the core four must work in the shadows to stop the rising body count and unmask the King of Gargoyles before their story is finished.

                                                                   Prologue                                                                             Previous Chapter[none] | Read it on AO3

The summer leading up to junior year was like so many others in Riverdale; days spent by Sweetwater River were long and hot. Fireflies doubled the stars in the sky and the scent of wood smoke hung on the midnight air. Pink-grey dawns, filled with the song of birds and dewy treks through the forest while dusks of deep golds and purples painted the skies above countless barbeques and fireworks. The town, for once, seemed happy. Normal, if they could ever grasp the concept of ‘normal’ again. At least… most of the town.

Only in private spaces and shadowy corners was the dark cloud hanging over the community mentioned, as if the town itself wanted to forget, wanted to push away the very thought another tragedy could happen to a child everyone knew, grew up with, and loved. Though the town believed his innocence whole heartedly, they forgot about him the way one forgets a traumatic memory; slow, reluctant, and silent.

In the spaces where his cloud loomed darkest, Betty worked as an intern for Mary Andrews, putting her legal and investigative prowess to test in a more lawful setting than she was used to. She spent her days reading through old case files, police reports, and transcripts of similar court cases, analyzing and decoding the vast arrays of information into easily digestible chunks. Shorthand and stenotypy became her new language and, though she interacted daily with her friends, the codes of court ruled her consciousness until the August hearing. 

On the other side of town, Jughead put the Serpents to work collecting the not-so-legally obtained evidence and testimonies they were used to. Vigilantism was almost a comfort in the wake of Archie’s hanging shadow, a line of work Jughead threw himself into fully. There was a normalcy to it, a sense of nostalgia that ate away the trauma and suffering they had endured in the years since entering high school. 

Hyperfixation eating the peripherals of his awareness, it wasn’t until the final weeks that Serpent King Jughead Jones realized the absence of many of his members. He expected Toni and Cheryl; they spent more time together these days than the rest of the gang, though Jughead didn’t mind. He’d be hypocritical if he did given the time he and Betty and spent alone. However, as August grew from summer gold to deep early autumn red, the absence of Sweet Pea and Fangs caught his attention first.

Jughead would visit their homes in the afternoons and evenings and most of the time, there was no one home. They were often missing from the Serpent gatherings and communal activities, and their reports were brief when he asked favors or gave them a task. By the final weekend of summer vacation, Sweet Pea and Fangs had garnered a following of a dozen young Serpents, high schoolers or younger. All missing when Jughead needed them, all caught returning home or showing up to community meetings late and covered in dirt and various forest remnants. 

Though Jughead wouldn’t have known, it wasn’t just the Serpents undergoing this odd shift in youth attention-span. Veronica witnessed it too as her speakeasy, La Bonne Nuit, came to life under the floors of Pops’. Summer jobs, like most small all-American towns, were the pinnacle of high school vacation culture, and Veronica graciously contributed by hiring many of her classmates to help work on the place. This was, after all, a place for all of them to recover from the tragedies befallen the youth of the town.

Yet, as with the Serpents, many of them started skipping shifts, missing work hours, seemingly uncaring about their work or their pay as August bloomed to life. Though Veronica was not an aggressive person by nature, when she confronted their lack of vigor, she often left frustrated with no answers and a short staff. With her own attention torn between her project and her unjustly imprisoned boyfriend, the progress of La Bonne Nuit slowed to a crawl. 

Veronica was not the only person frustrated by this; her father had taken an interest in the speakeasy's construction and was growing worse at hiding his impatience as the month progressed toward the looming trial. His heed had not gone unchecked, but Veronica ignored it for the time being, not wanting to confront the man who probably put her boyfriend behind bars. It wasn’t difficult to avoid him these days; after school concluded the previous year, he’d also vanished for periods of time. 

“Business stuff,” he always said, a strange answer as he’d usually explain what the business was to her. The mystery and curtness was unusual, making his curiosity in her own projects even more grating. She finally stopped him the day before the trial, his judgement entering the speakeasy after 24 hours or longer missing from home.

“Daddy.” She greeted him with a mirror of his increasingly formal demeanor. 

“Good morning, Mija.” He forced informality as he approached the counter where she stood, rubbing dark stain into the wooden top. The smile on his didn’t reach his eyes, the wrinkles in his crow's feet and heavy brow ridge remaining flat and expressionless, “How is everything going today?”

She didn’t answer him, side-eying his suit as she focused more on the counter. Though he wore suits often, he was more dressed up than usual, and Veronica could already feel the judgement at seeing her helping with the work. Instead she asked, trying to keep the malice from her voice,

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I had to have an emergency meeting with a business partner.” He was lying, Veronica knew, though she couldn’t prove it. She just could tell from the way his back straightened and his hands clenched and the vein in his neck pulsed against skin as he swallowed. 

“The same business partner that’s been dragging you away all summer, I presume?”

Her father let out a tense sigh, his eyes leaving her face. His shoulders slumped slightly and for the first time that summer he looked as tired as she felt. A manipulation tactic, yet Veronica couldn’t help feel that twinge of pity deep in her chest for her dear old father. She put down the stain rag and wiped her hands on the apron around her waist, the deep mahogany brown leaving streaks on the off-white canvas.

“We’re having a bit of… a setback,” He met her gaze again, his eyes sharp as he thought about his partner with clear scorn, “Their facility is not being built properly and they’re refusing to send their employees elsewhere. It’s wasting a lot of time and money. I thought you might be able to relate.”

Veronica physically shrunk inward, the passive-aggressive swing pulling the pity straight from her torso and her self-esteem with it. She wrung the rag through her fingers again, looking down at the counter. Angry fire smoldered in the pit of her stomach in the sting of his words and she shook her head,

“No, I’m sorry. Things have been progressing just fine here.”

“Hmm…” Hiram looked skeptically at the unfinished furniture and the sparse employees laying wooden planks on the raised stage, the centerpiece for the room. His scrutiny turned back to her stained hands and the dark, unfinished splotches of the bar counter, “Well, for your sake I hope so.”

“Why are you really here? To judge how quickly we’re getting this set up and running?” Hiram looked taken aback by her sudden bite but those smolders of anger were bursting to life now.

“Two days ago the facility that is being built outside of Greendale was broken into. I figured you should know, since you’re in the same boat.”

Veronica rolled her eyes at the guilting; she had already heard about the break-in. That’s why she was working and not preparing for tomorrow’s trial like she should’ve been.

“Thank you for your concern, but I think we’ll be fine.”

Their conversation dragged on with as few words as possible, filled with vitriol and disdain. Even the boys laying the woodwork into the stage glanced over at the tension every so often felt it. Hiram finally decided his chiding was over and left with tense shoulders and a silent goodbye, and Veronica wouldn’t see him until the next day in the trial.

The entire town appeared to crowd around the courthouse that morning, as many bodies as possible squeezing into the seats and the hallway to hear the case of their beloved golden boy. Betty sat with Archie, anxiety overwhelming her relief to see him as they brought him into the room, his mother on his other side clutching his hand as tightly as possible. Jughead and Ronnie sat directly behind him, happy to see him but as anxious as Betty to his left. This could be worse, he thought.

All summer he was back and forth between holding cells, interrogation and visitation rooms, and court. Whatever the sentencing was, Archie was glad this would be over with. He knew he was innocent. His loved ones knew, and from the supportive looks around the room, everyone else did too.

For six grueling hours, Archie, Betty, Veronica, Jughead, and the rest of the town of Riverdale sat through recounts of their recent tragedies. The death of Jason Blossom, Archie’s vigilantism, the Black Hood murders, and their apparent involvement in major crimes over the past two years.

The word ‘guilty’ stung the hearts of everyone in the room when the jury announced the verdict late that afternoon. Though the weight of reality was still a shock, Veronica knew as soon as the jury entered the room after deliberation. They made up their minds long before that…. Or had someone make it up for them. 

At Archie’s request, the four had one more day together, then he left, hauled away to juvie the day before the start of their junior year. That looming cloud returned, and the halls of Riverdale High felt empty, heavy, and dark. 

In that darkness, something new and dangerous grew; a monster with stone horns and skull mask. A game where everyone was a player, whether or not they knew it. It started as groups of nerds huddled around an upright-standing folder at lunch tables. Here and there a faint, excited whisper of demons and puzzles.

Jughead and Veronica often found their missing bodies among these secretive spaces. They’d started skipping their Serpent jackets and sports-branded sweaters for odd, costume-like clothing and black hood.

“We’re playing Griffins and Gargoyles.” Sweet Pea told Jughead one day when he’d tried to pry his way into the group.

“What’s that… like Dungeons and Dragons?” Jughead frowned, regarding the map spread out between the ‘players’. They exchanged nervous glances as he asked.

“Um… kind of. But you have to be initiated to play.”

“How do I get initiated?” Not that he wanted to be… the question was more out of curiosity about his former family.

“You wait.” The unfamiliar girl behind the erected folder wall cut in before Sweet Pea could think to respond. Her blue eyes sliced through him under her shadowy black hood. “You wait for the Gargoyle King to call you.”

Veronica had a similarly chilling encounter when players brought the game to work. The Acolytes, so called for their worship of this mysterious Gargoyle King, multiplied like cockroaches over the first week of school. As a virus spreads, so did the game throughout Riverdale High, recruiting more and more players and attracting the “Deathknights” who watched the school grounds with stone masks and tattered black clothes. 

At the surface, it appeared to be just another fun roleplaying game. Underneath, though, lay a labyrinth of danger, destruction, and crime the town’s youth grew entangled in, unable to escape. It was not a game; it was anarchy.

The school became ground-zero for the cult-like following of the game, and Betty, Jughead, Veronica tried their best to navigate their first weeks of school together, away from the rest of their friends who quickly got sucked into the Gargoyle King’s clutches. Cheryl was among the loudest recruiters after being chosen for initiation early in the game. To their surprise, Ethel was as loud as the school’s resident HBIC.

Halls and classrooms became littered, eventually decorated, with iconography, various memorabilia, and art of the ‘game’. By the second Friday of September, kids were finding satchels and cards in hidden books and cracks in the walls.

That second Friday, a large cluster of kids gathered around the outside of Veronica’s home room, their whispers excited as they discussed their latest find. She tried not to pay too much attention to the conversation as she forced her small form through the throng, but anxious whispers of ‘kill’ and ‘plan’ and ‘escape’ assaulted her ears. She pushed it out of her mind. No, they’re talking about a game. This isn’t real.

Like usual, Veronica was early as she forced her way into the classroom, and there were few bodies in the room save for herself and the quiet outcast types that sat by themselves. She attempted a smile in their direction but, as expected, they didn’t return it. Instead, she took a seat at the front of the classroom, placing her books on the desk and sliding her bag under the chair. As she leaned over to do so, she caught sight of a small envelope on the floor, trapped partially under a front desk leg. The back where she expected to see a name or address was face up and blank, but she could tell there was something inside when she yanked it out from under the leg.

The envelope was small enough to fit in her hand, yet a smooth wax of a black seal still pressed into the back enclosure, already open by the rail of paper tear stuck to it. The embossing on the seal was a figure squatting on its hands and knees. Two thin, tined antlers rose from its head, and large, stretching bat wings protruded from its shoulders, the span larger than the size of its body.

Though she knew this was someone else’s, Veronica’s morbid curiosity seized her hands and pulled the flap up. There was only one object inside; cardstock nearly the size of the envelope give or take a few centimeters. Pulling it out carefully, she immediately recognized the pattern on the back of the card as being from the game. It was the same pattern as those people found for quests. This was definitely not for her. As she turned it over, her breath caught in her throat.

The word “QUEST” scrawled in medieval-reminiscent script at the top in bold black letters. Underneath stood a painting of a knight or a soldier; a very young man in shining silver-steel armour encrusted with rubies. She did not recognize the symbol emblazoned in red across his breastplate and intricately depressed into the shield he held at his side. His eyes were a warm brown, his hair an intimately familiar shade of red-orange, and an even familiar still innocent softness to his features. 

He looked just like Archie.

Yet, that was not what shocked Veronica most about the card. At the bottom of the image, a cream-grey box held tet that, mixed with the boy looking so much like her beloved, sent shivers up her spine.

Kill the Red Paladin. 

The trill of the class bell rang through the room and more bodies shuffled in through the door. Fingers trembling, Veronica stuffed the card back into the envelope and that into the back of the textbook on her desk. She’d have to show Betty and Jughead later. For now, she pushed it out of her mind along with the other stresses of her life and pretended to be a normal teen for the day.

September swelled into autumn and left as dangerously as it began, whispers of “Kill the Red Paladin” cards popping up all over school. Betty often inquired parties she caught talking about it, the Acolytes running the games, the Deathknights that now warded the woods and public areas about it, but she met with the same answer each time.

They could not participate until they were initiated. 

Instead of forcing her way in, Betty took the route she knew best and snuck her way through, learning the patterns of the Deathknights and following them long into the nights. They lead her through the forest more often than not, winding trails snaking through trees and long back yards, always ending in the same place, an abandoned recreation center on the outskirts of Riverdale, near the detention center. The grounds swarmed with Deathknights like cockroaches. Betty was certain the Gargoyle King resided inside the building, but she never got close enough to see inside.

While she was busy tracking her way around the cult, Jughead and Veronica focused on Archie. As September wound down, he abruptly became unavailable for phone privileges, and each time they’d travel to visit in person, he had a new scar or bruise somewhere on his once boyish face. He wasn’t the only one, however, as the Serpents stuck in juvie also started appearing with mysterious black eyes and broken noses, even ones released at the ends of their sentences throughout September. 

Jughead and a group of older Serpents visited the detention center on the first day of October, waiting for their most recent member to get released back into their care. When he exited the building with the guards, his face looked the worst out of anyone, including Archie. His nose had broken and started healing out of place and he walked with a significant limp, hunched over his belongings. His lips were twice their normal size with scarred over cuts and untreated swelling.

They drove him home in silence and set him up in a group house watched over by Tom Topaz. The boys that lived there set to work helping tend to their brother’s wounds, some of them recovering from their own horrors from that detention center.

“What happened in there?” Jughead asked when the boy, Slash, started to relax into the environment. He was quiet at first, his eyes trained on the floor and his head shaking as if he were refusing to tell him, just as the others had. Jughead waited a few minutes in silence, but broke just as he made to stand up and leave.

“Fighting pits.” Slash muttered, still looking down. “They put is in fighting pits.”

“Dude-” One boy who’d been in detention previously tried to reprimand him but Jughead snapped to shut him up. If Slash wanted to speak, Jughead needed to hear,

“Like an underground wrestling ring?”

“No. MMA. Bare-knuckle. Whatever you can do to take down the other guy.”

“Why? Just for fun?”

“Lotta rich people come to watch. Place bets. Give us special names. It’s a game or something to them.”

Veronica had given Jughead the Kill the Red Paladin card for safekeeping and it was burning a hole in his pocket listening to Slash, “You’re all forced to fight? What about the other inmates, non-Serpents?”

“You’re asking about Andrews.” It wasn’t a question; Slash’s face grew dark at the memory of Archie in the pits, “Yeah… he’s their main man. The Paladin.” He spat the title with a small stream of bloody spittle. He motioned toward his nose as he continued “I couldn’t take him down like they asked. He knocked me unconscious.”

Slash shook his head. “No, they take us somewhere else. Somewhere old with a big pool.”

Jughead stood up immediately and scrambled for his phone to call Betty and Veronica, recalling the abandoned building Betty found the Deathknights operating out of. He joined her on her near-nightly trek through the trees after that, studying the building, occasionally finding the parking lot filled with shiny and out-of-place cars. The rich folk that played with the lives of the inmates. On those nights, Veronica came to meet them as quickly as she could, using her name and money to barter her way into the games.

She became a witness to the horrible treatment of the kids in the pit, scrawny, bruised, and still forced to fight until one went down in the blood-stained pool. She had yet to see Archie, though every night she went she heard whisperings about him, excitement to see him return. Three weeks from now… two weeks from now… next time... 

Finally, it came to Archie’s fight day. It surprised him to see his friends come together with such an urgency that morning, especially given it was a Friday and they should have been at school. He was even more surprised at their questions about how the guards brought him in to the pits, that he never told them about, and their plan to break him out. 

The rest of the day came in a haze, and as the sun went down, Archie felt detached when the guards retrieved him for the fight. The energy of the pit was different as they paraded Archie through the crowd, the stench of expensive booze and cigar smoke making his growling, empty stomach turn. His eyes scanned the people as they gathered to watch him descend into the pool, many of them hungering with a deadly greed he’d grown accustomed to over the past month.

As he looked over the spectators, he caught the familiar gaze of Veronica, worried yet warm with the mischievous twinkle that told him to trust whatever she was plotting. And he did, wholeheartedly. 

The guards removed the shackles around his wrists as he reached the edge of the abandoned pool. They shoved him between the shoulder blades and he stumbled over the drop, landing sloppily in a 3-point stance. The impact left his sore, bruised muscles straining, but he stood up and faced the opposite end of the makeshift arena.

As expected, the boy was just as young as him, wrapped in a near head-to-toe black cloak with a hood. He’d never faced The Rogue before, but he’d seen plenty of his victims laid up in the infirmary during his recovery time. They allowed him to jump into the pit instead of being pushed, though Archie could see the pain in his form as he landed, all the weight leaning on one leg. Had this been a real fight, he’d know to use that to his advantage.

Excited cheers burst from the crowd as they faced each other, but the sound droned to a dull hum as The Rogue drew his hood back, revealing the familiar face of Joaquin DeSantos. Scars and bruising crossed his face just like all the other boys Archie fought, but he wouldn’t forget the face of a Serpent.

The sound of a bell echoed through the empty pool, shaking Archie straight through the bone and out of his trance with the reverberation. Joaquin stepped onto his off-foot and feigned a jab at Archie’s chest, which he backpedaled away from with ease. It was more playful than serious, mirroring the smile on Joaquin’s lips.

“Hey, Andrews.”

“Follow me.” Archie whispered, side-stepping his opponent into a flanking position. Joaquin frowned at him, confused by his nervousness.

“What?”

Archie scanned the crowd again to make sure no one heard, but the patrons focused on the swing he launched toward his opponent, missing intentionally, “When you see the smoke, follow me.” He repeated, slower, more seriously to get his point across. With a heavy step, he launched forward onto the drain grate, causing the steel to clatter under his feet as it wobbled in its place. With the momentum, Archie slammed his chest into Joaquin’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist and throwing his opponent down next to their escape route.

There was an echoing pop, a clatter of tin against tile, and a wayward shout as smoke began to creep along the bottom of the pool, filling the pit with obscuring whites and greys from all corners. Joaquin scrambled to his feet at the sight, looking to Archie for instruction as the smoke enveloped them like thick autumn fog.

As soon as his visibility of the audience completely vanished, Archie hopped off the grate and dug his fingers into the drainage holes, pulling up with all his weakened might. The steel was heavy, but Joaquin quickly rushed over a pulled on the edge that Archie lifted out of the hole. Struggling for a moment, they pulled it over the side of the hole, nearly taking Archie’s fingers with it. The steel grate banged loudly against the tile, but it didn’t alert the crowd as they rushed toward the exits above them, ushered by Veronica. 

“Come on, this leads outside!” Archie called to Joaquin, beckoning him to jump down first. He wheezed, and a cough wracked his body as the smoke clogged his mouth and nose. Joaquin hesitated, though, so Archie impatiently grabbed his arm and threw him into the drain pipe below. He landed with a loud thud, and Archie took a deep, wheezing breath as left the smoke swirling above.

The pipe was wide enough for them to walk in single-file, but they had to duck and brace their arms against the walls to get out quickly. It felt like hours while they made their way over spalling concrete and lichen growing through cracks in the old pipe. When Archie’s shoulders and thighs began to shake with the effort of holding himself upright, the hot, damp air, thick with the fetor of moss and fungus, suddenly caught the breeze of the outside forest. Rustling of dried leaves and grasses echoed around the mouth of the pipe when they rounded the turn into the dark forest.

“Archie!” Betty called out as soon as she saw the flash of brilliant red hair emerge into the night. She and Jughead waited next to an old pickup on an old, dusty path, the Serpent logo emblazoned on the truck’s rusting black doors. No time for relieved greetings, they packed Archie and Joaquin into the cramped space and sped off along the back roads of the Southside. 

By sunrise, news of the escape spread throughout the town, along with the alleged suicides of the warden and several guards involved in the fights. Governor Dooley issued temporary pardons by noon at the request of Mayor Hermione Lodge. Though not wholly removed from the system, Archie was finally free. 

That was, until late that night, when most of Riverdale was asleep, each of the four awoke to tapping on their window. A mirror of each other, they all grabbed the closest weapon and slowly got out of bed. In unison, the tapping ceased. There, wedged under each of their window sills, sat identical parchment envelopes, the black gargoyle wax seal too thick to slip under all the way.

Upon opening the envelopes, each found a letter summoning them in two night’s time to the Southside junkyard, where the Gargoyle King awaited their arrival. Through their subterfuge and prison escape, he had noticed them, and it was finally time for initiation. 

#riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale ff #varchie #bughead #heathers and gargoyles #h&g #mine #my writing #is this a grand scheme to combine 3 of my favourite things into one fic #maybe

[miernethepersevering]

Awakening

((Story takes place shortly before the events of The Eternal Palace raid. Co-written with Khanaros’ player, @thefugitivemango​ . @avehi-the-adamant​ / @argonas​ for character mention ))

~*~*~

Mierne’s head was flooded with nightmares. Her mind was finally free, but still reeling from being under zoatroid control. She remained unconscious for weeks after being returned to the Exodar; the combination of Shamanism and soothing Light treatments kept her spirit intact and guided her gently to the waking world. 

She couldn’t recall how she’d ended up becoming a prisoner of the naga, nor much of anything soon before that. There was no way of telling where her memories ended and where the mind scrambling began. The shadow tendrils on her mind ran deep, and would take months to heal. 

The Shaman stirred in her sleep, rolling over to her side and reaching a hand out. She found another there to take hold of and squeeze. Her features relaxed. The hand felt familiar, and she opened her eyes to look upon a sight she didn’t expect. A Lightforged Draenei sat at her bedside. He was unfamiliar at first glance, but, as her sleepy eyes came into focus, theface became one she knew. The Lightforging has changed the Vindicator’s appearance; he looked younger, his eyes were gold and his beard was longer, but there was no mistaking her oldest and closest friend.

“Kh-Khana...ros?” She starred, clearly confused.

The Lightforged’s eyes shot open in an instant. He sat up, seeming to have begun to doze off in the chair at Mierne’s bedside. His hand squeezed, a smile gracing his lips for what felt like the first time in weeks.

“--Mierne, thank the Light!” Khanaros exclaimed. “Easy, now. You have been sleeping for a while.”

His other hand reached for a large vessel, almost resembling a vase. He brought it gently to Mierne, bidding her to take it for herself.

“Drink this.” he implored her, tone neither demanding nor pressing. “It will soothe your throat, and rehydrate you.”

The liquid within the vessel was water… and something else. A dissolved powder, perhaps? It had a fruity smell to it, appealing in its own right despite the odd coloration. There was no hesitation on Mierne’s behalf. Her movements were slow, but she reached for the concoction, lifting her head just enough to bring it to her lips and drink it in little sips. It was surprisingly sweet, but not so much as to be sickening. Her eyes closed briefly as she felt its rejuvenating effects. She had to force herself not to gulp it all down too fast. The Shaman hadn’t realized just how thirsty she was until that moment.

She paced herself, keeping silent as she slowly but surely took in all of the vessel’s contents. She couldn’t help but side eye Khanaros as she did, however; the change in him was drastic. How long had she been sleeping? When had he Lightforged?! It suited him, certainly, but what a sudden change!

She cleared her throat, finally finding her voice again to ask one of the many questions running through her head.

“What… what happened?”

“Naga took you.” he replied, plainly and honestly. “Just before the seas opened up, and swallowed the Alliance and Horde fleets. Vindicator Argonas and Vindicator Avehi were sent down, and rescued you.”

Khanaros reached to take the vessel from Mierne when she had finished it, instead replacing it with a nutrient loaf - a small brown bread-like substance, unwrapped and ready for Mierne to eat at her own pace. It smelled… bland. Far less appealing than the liquid, but every bit as fortifying. 

“You are safe now… recovering well, physically,” he reported, smile clearly forced. “But… there can be no telling yet the extent of the psychological damage done to you. The Naga used some void creature known as a zoatroid to wrack your mind and alter your thoughts and behaviors. They… enslaved you, Mierne.”

The words almost seemed to hurt him as he spoke them, a hand reaching out to rest atop Mierne’s leg. Worry crossed his wrinkled face; worry and fear. He was eternally grateful Mierne was safe… but he knew this was only the beginning of her recovery.

Mierne nibbled on the bread given to her as she listened intently to Khanaros’ words. She frowned as she came to realize that not everything she’d dreamed about had been fabrication. She swallowed down a bite.

“I… vaguely remember some of it…” she admitted, “I thought it was a nightmare.”

She sighed, shoulders slumping. The thought of things she’d might have done under zoatroid control made her lose her appetite. She put the rest of the loaf down on the side table, before bringing a hand to her head. Trying to recollect things gave her a migraine. 

“Let us… let us speak of other things,” she requested, her eyes meeting his golden gaze once more, “I wasn’t aware that you had Lightforged. When did this happen?”

“--Hm? Ah… it was after our discussion at the Darkshore,” he replied, tone hiding well his concerns now - for her sake, he felt it best. “You don’t recall? It is fine if you do not… after all you have endured, it is easily excusable.”

Khanaros smiled, and gave Mierne’s leg another supportive, comforting squeeze. There was no question this was difficult for him. To see his beloved Mierne so scattered? To hear that she didn’t remember things? But for a hard as it was for him, he couldn’t begin to comprehend how hard it must’ve been for her. He did his best to keep that in mind.

“What do you recall? From before Nazjatar?” he asked. “We can start there, and I will do my best to fill in the rest. And separate truth from fiction. Alright?”

“Honestly? I am uncertain. I remember coming to visit you, as usual, after the Legion was defeated. I remember Argonas moving to the isle… Avehi coming to visit me… I -do- remember being in Darkshore, but as for why…”

She shook her head, “Naga and murloc populations increased on the isle… Are we at War again? Or was that a nightmare? And Teldrassil burning?”

She shrugged, but then could help but chuckle, “Fairly certain you and I getting engaged did not actually happen.” She laughed, “I mean… can you imagine?! That would be crazy!”

“Sadly, the war-related memories are all true. We--”

It struck him like a blade, as the words crossed Mierne’s lips. The laugh didn’t help, either. He suspected a while back she wasn’t fully on board with the engagement, but those concerns were softened when they made plans further to move in together. But… that, too, was probably not something she was interested in. Something else ‘crazy’, like getting engaged. His shoulders sank, though his smile remained - forced, of course.

“Heh, quite crazy!” he nodded along. “We haven’t made such plans, no.”

The lie tasted bitter in Khanaros’ mouth, however. Would it be better to tell her the truth? No, it was better for her to get her bearings, and recall her life as she wished it to be. Normal for Mierne didn’t include forecasting their nuptials, it seemed.

Mierne was visibly relieved. It wasn’t that she didn’t  have feelings towards her dearest and oldest friend. But marriage? Their lives were much too incompatible for things to go any further than their usual casual intimate encounters.

“--The war, though… it rages. Teldrassil did, in fact, burn by the Warchief’s order.” he frowned, now that the topic changed appropriately to do so. “This is why we went to Darkshore.”

It began to make sense to Mierne; why she had been in Darkshore. The enemy had been too close for comfort. She had to do what she could to protect the Exodar and the Isles!

“That explains the Lightforging, then,” she brought a hand up, fingers brushing his beard as she admired his changed features. “You look good. Really good,” she couldn’t help but smile, “This path suits you.”

The affections, of course, made Khanaros happy. But undertones behind it did little to stave off the great sense of loss he was feeling. This was more than just a setback in her memory… it was a setback in their relationship, as well. It hurt him deeply, in a way he couldn’t express.

He couldn’t let that show, of course. Instead, he plastered on a smiling expression, and nodded. 

“I’m pleased you still think so. We discussed it, before I underwent the trials. I worried you would not find me nearly as pleasing to the eye, so grossly incandescent.”

He let out a chuckle - a convincing one, considering. 

“But… yes, with the war continuing on as it has been, I felt Lightforging would be an appropriate means of coming out of retirement.”

“Indeed!” She chuckled, finally removing her hand to reach for the food she hadn’t yet finished. 

She was already looking stronger; her eyes more luminous and colour returning to her cheeks. Markings were left along the side of her face where the zoatroid had clung and been ripped off. The wounds would most likely leave scars, but, for now, Mierne seemed oblivious to them. Just as well. It was doubtful she would care. The hermit had never been one to fuss over her appearance. 

“And here I am keeping you from your duties… I hope I didn’t take too much of your time off the field.”

"Not at all. I am mostly a strategist these days, helping direct forces rather than fight on the front, directly." 

He shook his head, giving Mierne's leg one final squeeze before pulling his hand back. He stood.

"I would not burden you with details." He left it at that, planting a light kiss on her scarred cheek. "For now, rest. Recover. I will come by again later to see how you are feeling, yes?"

It grew too much for him - not just seeing her like this, but learning how much of her memory she had lost. Khanaros worried deeply for Mierne, of course. But he also worried about what this manner of regression could mean for their relationship. Suddenly, they weren’t engaged anymore. Suddenly, they weren’t living together anymore!

“Recover well, Mierne.” was all he could muster to say.

#Character Story #Mierne the Persevering #Khanaros the Inexorable #co-writing #thefugitivemango #dramaaaaaaaa #poor Khan #Avehi the Adamant #argonas the ironclad

[neon-knight-riders]

How Into the Spider-Verse helped me love Spider-Man again

I was just doing some thinking, and I honestly think...

Ok. So I grew up with Spider-Man as a pretty big part of my childhood. The 90s animated series was something I watched pretty often, and I even had some of the tie-in action figures and playsets from that series. The 2002 Spider-Man movie blew my mind as a kid, and I even had a couple of Lego sets from it. I saw the whole Sam Raimi trilogy in theaters.

Spider-Man 3 disappointed me a bit, in no small part due to the poor handling of Venom and the whole symbiote thing. That same year, Peter made a deal with Mephisto and sold his marriage in the execrable One More Day event. As the years passed, I found Spider-Man growing away from what made the character fun and enjoyable. 

In my mind, there are three ways Spider-Man writing can go wrong.

Way 1: “NO MJ I ANGST ALONE”

Biggest offenders: Spider-Man 3, The Amazing Spider-Man, The Clone Saga comics

Angst is a part of Spider-Man since the beginning, some what justified as he does start of as a teenager. However, some writers just blow this out of proportion, and make it so literally nothing can go right for Spidey. Every single day is a parade of setbacks. It’s draining. It’s overwrought. It’s unintentionally funny at times, too. 

Way 2: “Here are your options: 1. Fuck you, I’m Spider-Man.”

Biggest offenders: One More Day until Go Down Swinging (comics)

Spider-Man is often used as wish fulfillment by writers. Joe Quesada used the character to vent his frustrations with marriage. Dan Slott turned him into a discount pre-character-development Tony Stark. The problem is, unlike a teen spidey where this might be somewhat believable, the Spider-Man of the comics is a grown man. Nick Spencer at least is alleviating this problem by making Spidey a lovable guy again, complete with quirky supervillain roommate and getting rid of the James Bond-esque Spidey we had with the 500 gadgets and his own tech company. Letting Peter be an innovator was a great idea--but he lost so much of the “friendly neighborhood” aspect it wasn’t worth it. “Swinging Single” Peter would have been a lot better if it hadn’t come at the expense of all his maturity.

Also, personal issues showing, but did Superior Spider-Man need to run a whole year?

Way 3: “Ow, the Edge”

Biggest offenders: The Amazing Spider-Man, Superior Spider-Man, Spider-Man 3, The Clone Saga, One More Day

Spider-Man is not an edgy character. So every attempt to make him edgier...comes off as laughable. Everyone brings up the dancing scene (including Into the spider-verse) but any attempt to make Peter seem evil and menacing or just even grittier seems ridiculous.

There’s a great bit in the 90s series, and it’s great because it’s such a terrible moment. The Venom Saga has a bit where Spidey is getting royally pissed at Shocker, and in a moment of pure hilarity, he starts shouting like he’s William Shatner in The Wrath of Khan.

This moment illustrates precisely why it doesn’t work--it’s downright comical. The idea of the symbiote tempting him to evil isn’t bad--but it can be really really hard to execute.

Spider-Man Homecoming was the first time I’d really liked a Spider-Man movie since the first two Sam Raimi films, and I liked it because there was a profound lack of angst.

Into the Spider-Verse, however, confirmed my love of Spider-Man again. It captured the feeling of the best parts of the comics, got to show off a bunch of alternate Spider-Man concepts from the comics, and kept a feeling of fun and excitement throughout.

The very fact that the opening takes several potshots at the franchise at a whole, but affectionately, is great. There’s call backs to the classic Raimi films, Spider-Man Homecoming, the catchiness of the 60s theme, and even the whole “With Great Power” thing.

“Let’s do this one last time” sums it up--we know Spidey’s origins. We’ve heard them told and retold a ton of times since the 90s, since 2002. One of the greatest things about both this and Homecoming is that we’re not forced to endure Uncle Ben dying again and saying those same words. Peter B. Parker, the first alternate Spider-Man Miles Morales meets in this film, even says he’s sick of hearing those words about power and responsibility.

The film doesn’t shy away from drama--Kingpin and Prowler’s arcs are really, really sad, as are Peter B’s, Gwen’s, and Miles’s own. Yet, the whole time it never forgets the -hope- that Spider-Man embodies. 

“Anyone can be Spider-Man” is one of the biggest themes of the film. And that is precisely why it sparked my interest after years and years of watching Spider-Man being dragged through the dirt by writers, or rebooted again and again, all without realizing what makes the character amazing.

Miles Morales being the protagonist learning to be Spider-Man was what the franchise needed. We all know Peter at this point; we know him so well that it’s hard to imagine him ever being confused and learning what it means to be a hero--even in Homecoming, where that’s a recurring theme.

The other major theme of Into the Spider-Verse, the idea of others helping you grow, was great. One thing I didn’t really like about Homecoming was that as entertaining as the Tony Stark scenes were, I didn’t really feel like he helped Peter grow much as a person. Which was probably the point--Stark isn’t really a mentor figure. He’s got his own hangups, his own issues, and very little familiarity with kids who aren’t as jaded as he is.

Here, though, the differences aren’t an issue. We have a wisecracking but sad Gwen who couldn’t save her Peter. We have a teenage girl with a big spider robot. We have a cartoon pig. We have a 1930s detective who delivers flower monologues and broods in the rain to hilarious effect.

But all of them wear the mask. All of them know loss, and pain, but also know how to rise above it and help others do the same.

And that’s what makes Spider-Man great--that selflessness, and that knowing that anyone can be a hero. 

#spider-man #into the spider verse #spiderman #long post #essay

[icameheretowinry]

Ed for character ask, if you want! Have a nice day ❤️

If I want? If I want??? If I want?!?!?! OF COURSE I WANT TO. Ed ruined my life in the best possible way and I will ramble about him forever. LET’S. DO. THIS. 

How I feel about this character:

Obviously, you guys know that Edward Elric is not only my favorite character in the fma universe, but probably my favorite character in general. He’s excellently written, deeply representative of the nature of humanity, and endures beautifully subtle development over the course of his story. I’ve done several character analyses of Ed, but I tend to ramble. Here, I really want to take my time, and talk about specific aspects of his character I think are the most worthy of note. This might get l o n g, so grab some snacks and settle in. Let’s talk about the Fullmetal Alchemist!

One of most defining and well-written characteristics of Ed is his tragic backstory. The consequences of attempting to revive their mother follow Ed and Al years after it occurs, and forms one the main backbone of their story. While the immediate aftermath tends to define a large part of Ed’s personality in the beginning, what makes him so fascinating is that he eventually learns that using his personal tragedies as an excuse for his shortcomings with get him nowhere. Instead, he learns to use his suffering as a springboard to make sure no one else ever has to feel the way he and his brother did. The awful things that happen to Nina are a major setback, but instead of collapsing further in on himself, Ed, mostly thanks to Al, realizes that not only is it ok to start by trying to save himself, but with that effort, he can become stronger, and by extension, do more to help others. So, instead of using tragedy as an excuse for his weaknesses, Ed faces them to make himself stronger, and throughout his journey, use them as markers of his progress, or as checks to his humility. 

Ed is also incredibly well-written to reflect his age. Sure, your average twelve-year-old is not an alchemic prodigy serving in the military, but I’m talking about how Ed reacts to his circumstances as a boy who’s just trying to piece he and his brother’s lives back together. Ed can play up the adult facade as much as he wants, but Arakawa also wrote him to be what he is; a kid. In the early stages of his story, Ed reacts to many inconveniences with fits of frustration, triumphs with unabashed cockiness, and authority or criticism with an upturned nose. Most of these immature reactions lessen or die out as his story progresses, as it does when someone starts to grow up. I can say that after living with a younger brother at ages 12, 13, 14, etc., Arakawa did a spectacular job of not only capturing those years with deadly accuracy, but applying them to an extraordinary individual like Ed in a way that felt effortless. While on a quest that eventually would determine the fate of the world as they knew it, he also gets nervous over a crush, and deals with the ups and downs of teenage friendships. (I mean, 99.9% of people’s best friends in high school don’t give up control of their body to an immortal being but there’s a metaphor I’m getting at here.) 

Another super interesting aspect of Ed’s character is his guilt complex. For someone who so acts his age, he still takes on blame for many things that legitimately weren’t his fault. He blames himself for the loss of Al’s body, though there was no way he could’ve know what Truth would’ve taken from him, or that Truth would’ve intervened at all. He chastises himself for not being useful in dire situations when Winry stepped up to deliver Dominic’s grandchild in Rush Valley. It wasn’t his area of expertise, while Winry, he acknowledges, grew up with doctors for parents and reading medical textbooks. He feels helpless, but how could he know he would find himself in such a situation? He even holds himself responsible as a culprit in Hughes’ death for getting him involved in their research of philosophers’ stones. What Hughes discovered about the nationwide transmutation circle was, ultimately, his own doing. In addition, besides blaming himself for the loss of Al’s body, a guilt that Ed carries to the end of his story was his inability to save Nina. Just because he was the first person to put all the pieces together, he thought that if he realized Shou Tucker’s true intentions that much sooner, she would still be alive. Yet, realistically, no one else had figured it out either. He was just in the wrong place at the right(?) time. Yet, all of this being said, the moments during which Ed overcomes some of his guilt are some of the most powerful in the entire story. (Learning that Al didn’t blame him for the loss of his body is a prime example.)

As I’ve mentioned in other recent character analyses, a complex personality is key to a strong and likable character, and my god, does Ed have one. Ed has many traits that make him just fascinating to watch. While his early cynicism of humanity fades away, he remains cocky, stubborn, abrasive, short-tempered, sarcastic, occasionally hostile to figures of authority, and not one above stroking his own ego. Yet, a lot of those aspects of his personality veer towards superficial. He views every human life (in all forms) as sacred, and something he is painfully reluctantly to use to further his own goals. To those who earn his respect, he is endlessly loyal, selfless, and fights for those who can’t fight for themselves. His personality also takes on a different tint (like a real person) when he interacts with different people. He fights to see the Ling within Greed, but ultimately respects Greed as a member of his team. He’s in awe, yet honest with Riza. He’s sarcastic with Roy, but when in danger, is his greatest ally. He’s level-headed, firm, and forgiving with Al. He’s uniquely gentle and compassionate to Winry. In short, he’s beautifully and painfully human. 

Finally, Ed is an excellent foil to the character of Father. While the latter tried to make himself a perfect being by ridding himself of humanity’s seven deadly sins (an idea I remember someone, though I can’t remember who, likening his goal to the idea of Nietzsche’s “Übermensch,” which is basically a form of superior man who could rise above traditional Christian values to impose his own. That sounds pretty accurate to me, but I’m no expert in this corner of philosophy.), Ed actively embraced all of his flaws, guilt, and well, sins, to ultimately become a more compassionate individual who is able to ultimately triumph over evil. (As a side note, Greed’s aid in this final battle really adds extra emphasis to his earlier explanation to Ed that “everyone wants something they cannot have.” The fact that Greed sacrifices himself in this moment to assure Father’s defeat proves that point several times over, which just makes those final sequences of the battle that much cooler [and heartbreaking]). The fact that Ed, who is riddled with what Father considers the ultimate faults of humanity, still overcomes him, proves that the rejection of own’s own humanity is a greater evil than the sum of it’s parts. As a huge characterization nerd, that’s pretty freaking cool. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

Edwin is easily one of my top five OTPs, and I honestly don’t see shipping Ed with anyone else. Like Roy and Riza, Ed and Winry’s relationship is built on years of trust, respect, friendship, and tragedy. While they sometimes struggle with communicating their feelings, whether its about each other or the circumstances they’re facing, they always manage to get their feelings across when the moment demands it. It seems that their respective obsessions confuse or annoy each other, yet, they each possess huge admiration for the other’s accomplishments and passions. They understand the harsh burden of losing their parents, and Winry never judges Ed for attempting to revive his mother, likely because she had the same kind of longing. In addition, each of them are deeply concerned for the safety of the other, with Ed especially going to great lengths to ensure Winry is unaffected with his involvement in the military. Sadness of one pains the other, and they’re both hellbent on making sure the other is, in the end, happy. Talk about the makings of a great relationship! Also, at the most basic level, they’re SO DAMN ADORABLE.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: 

I have to go with Al here. (Also apparently this got too long to add more gifs so rip to that idea…) These two have been through so much together, balance the weight of their varying personalities, and as a result, are the ultimate allies. Besides the deep care these brothers share, the most interesting aspect about them is how their personalities contrast and support one another. Ed is typically hot-headed and impulsive. Al is calmer and leans more towards logic. Ed has a big ego and is sarcastic. While Al has his moments, he’s unflinchingly kindhearted. However, their mutual passion for alchemy, humanity, and completing their quest are unmatched. The story is about brotherhood, and these two are the ultimate protagonists. Al’s superior battle sense, levelheadedness, and gentle personality are the perfect balance to Ed. He brings him back down to earth, yet encourages him to race to the ends of it. They joke and argue, but you know they would sacrifice everything for the other. 

My unpopular opinion about this character:

*sigh* The Ed being really short joke did eventually get old… 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

As is the case with many fma characters in my book, I want to see more! Knowing Ed, there’s no way this kid would peak at 18. I want to see his adventures after the promised day. I want to see him with Winry and his kids, being a great father, but I also want to see him traveling, discovering, and maybe getting himself into a bit of trouble here and there! At the end of years of struggling and hardship, I want to see the next crazy step in his journey. There’s no way he’d sit still for long. The sky’s barely the limit for Ed, and i want to see how far he flies. 

Send me a character, if you dare. 

#edward elric #fma #fma brotherhood #character analysis #nikki speaks #good lord was this fun!! #lmao i wrote an essay;;;;;;

[itsronalynlumayag16-blog]

How did I make it? March 2018. As I was sitting on the chair in line with the candidates,I was in trance of recalling how I made it and  what contributed to make it. In minutes I will take you to the road I took 2 years before coming here. Just sit and I will walk you thru my journey of ups and downs, turns and move, hold backs, setbacks in the life of no going back; the journey you can never return but glimpse the past and soar. At the back of your mind thou already have an idea of the things commonly experienced by all in going thru with the things I did, though my story might sound ordinary but the things I am going to share with you are yes! common but not all were able to understand it. I was 16 then when I entered Senior High School, I was a bit dismayed by the Effectivity of the Kto12 Education System which fell timely on my age, I was supposed and ready to go to college, graduate, and then help my family immediately. But lo and behold! Another 2 additional years in High School I will take. I have no other choice. End of the story. No. This is the second part. Before I enrolled for senior high school private and big universities went to our school to share their senior high school offering and privileges. Ever since, I have this negative connotation that private schools bears students with high standard of living and socializing; I’ve always wanted to stay in a public high school because it feels like home and it feels about life. Government assistance were given to those who wanted to pursue a private senior high school. Luckily I was one of the recipients of that privilege and  I was kinda hesitant not to avail to that privilege since it helps in  the family’s finances and the chance to experience quality training and facilities of private university. So head on to the nearest private university and enrolled (and met the one who tickles my heart everyday) [clears throat]. Class days. I was expecting to have the same treatment of teachers from public and a private university. But in a private was a bit holding grips in terms of teaching styles and compliance. I was thankful enough to have my friends with me in this journey, my classmates and also my friends from public high school whose craziness and bond made me survive the senior high school, I met new friends whose life trips are the same with ours. In two years time it helped me adapt to the environment and molded me to a newer perspective of facing life–in a private university. The other face of life in grips. I believe….(As the Ms. Q&A starts their opening statement) it was the presence of my old friends from public high school and private high school (who has a prior experience in a private university), and the ability to soar, courage, helped me to survive senior high school life. I was thankful we were able to surpass our eternal friend who didn’t grew old and solved his own problems (Mathematics). So, new and old friends and family support helped me a lot to endure this journey and to the one who tickles me. This is so simple that most of us didn’t realize how these persons contribute to life’s survival. We must treasure them like pearls and value them pricelessly. I have stepped to the stage and received my Diploma in High School. May this simple journey  reminded you how invaluable our loved ones are. And I…thank you!

#positive mindset

[miraculousmidnightreviews]

War Storm Book Review

By Victoria Aveyard

3.5/5 stars

Spoilers for Red Queen, Glass Sword, and King’s Cage

Summary: Mare has endured the worst of betrayals. But as Maven’s obsession with her grows, Mare, along with Montfort and the Scarlet Guard, must put her tentative trust in Cal and his silvers. It is the only way to win the war. While both sides prepare for an inevitable conclusion, Cal and Mare struggle to establish a world in which reds and silvers can coexist peacefully. In the process, they learn the means by which they accomplish this are just as important as ending years of prejudice and hate.

The Romance (minor spoilers)

I have a feeling this entire review is going to be full of minor spoilers. I’m sorry, but there’s no other way to express my feelings.

First of all, Mare and Cal. Love them. Ship them. So. Hard. This book was torture to get through because Mare and Cal are now little stubborn shitheads who both want basically the same thing but believe in majorly different ways of getting there. I was not okay with the King’s Cage ending, alright? It ruined me. I had hope for War Storm but now...well, read it, and you’ll see what I mean.

On the bright side, I am totally here for the banter between Mare and Cal, especially while they’re at odds. It relieves tension among chapters of suspense and the foreboding sense that someone will soon die.

Cal = Mare’s giant teddy bear.

Evangeline, my love

Yes, Evangeline totally deserves her own section in this review.

I think we can all agree that no one really liked Evangeline until she received her own chapters in King’s Cage. If I’m being honest, I didn’t truly jump on the I-love-Evangeline-Samos bandwagon until this book. Maybe, it’s because spilling Mare’s blood isn’t a priority for her anymore. Probably. Definitely.

I truly enjoyed the relationship (friendship?) that developed between Mare and Evangeline during War Storm. It really showed the growth of these two characters nicely. Plus, I’m a real sucker for that enemies to friends trope.

Also, Evangeline and Elane are really cute together.

   Point of Views (minor spoilers)

As you know from the previous Red Queen books, Aveyard has written from the point of view of other characters in addition to Mare. I’m always wary of series in which authors switch to or include POVs other than the main character’s. What if I don’t like these characters? In the end, it’s a 50/50 chance as to whether or not I’ll enjoy a new perspective. Sometimes, I grow to admire a character I once despised, and other times, I end up favoring one POV over another. (Let’s face it. The latter happens 100% of the time.)

In War Storm, Aveyard once again switches up the POVs. I won’t spoil the surprise as to who gets their own chapters since this is the non-spoiler section, but I will say that, of course, Mare still remains the main throughout the book. Speaking of POVs, I wasn’t too pleased with one of them. For me, it ruined the pacing of the book. I would get bored with that chapter, and then I would have to put the book down in favor of doing something else. Those chapters just wrecked my reading flow. Right when I got to an exciting part, racing from page to page, I turned to the next chapter and there it was. My reading block. Ugh.

Thanks for reading! We hoped you enjoyed our non-spoilery review! Come back later for the spoilery stuff, or keep reading at your own risk! Check out our other reviews here.

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

Pacing & POVs but with spoilers

Continuing with the POV thing: Who the fuck is Iris and why should I care? I am not a fan of the different POVs. Just when I was getting used to Cameron in King’s Cage, BAM! She’s gone! And in her place is this girl, Iris. Not a fan, bro. (Yes, I do understand dramatic irony, but I did not think it was necessary for this book.)

But kudos to Victoria Aveyard. After reading, I now know who Iris really is inside, and I do care. A little bit. Not enough for her to get her own chapters, though.

Mare, Cal, and Evangeline keep their POVs in this novel, and I’m cool with that. Actually, I was surprised at how cool I was with that while reading.

Another thing: the pacing. My god, it’s a little bit of torture. First, let me be honest: I really wanted to like this book and give it a better rating than I did. It’s a part of one of my favorite series, and I love the author. Now don’t get me wrong. I still enjoyed it, but not as much as any of the other books in the series. It’s just the pacing. There were really intriguing parts, like Evangeline’s meddling, and Mare secretly planning to take Cal’s throne, but then there would be parts, like anything Iris-related, that bored me a lot.

When War Storm was good it was real good, but when it was bad, it was real boring.

Farley AHHH

I love Farley so freaking much. I’m not one for children, usually, but Clara and Farley are adorable.

Okay, the one thing I really love about this book is the friendship between Farley and Mare. Honestly, it’s more like they’re sisters. Aveyard did such a great job at showing how much they’ve developed as people and how far they’ve come, despite setbacks. Really, Farley stepping into a role as Mare’s big sister is what I live for.

Also, the way she doesn’t judge Mare’s feelings for Cal while simultaneously wanting to flay him alive is just perfection.

Mare & Cal & Maven & Everyone Else

Ever since Maven betrayed Mare, I dropped him hard. I’ve always been a Cal fan (even when he’s a dumbass). I know there are people in the fandom who love Maven for reasons I cannot understand, and I’m not here to judge you or come for you or whatever. But I do think Maven needed to die and he did. The end.

Is it terrible for me to say Ptolemus grew on me? I loved Shade as much as anyone, but I think his death was circumstantial. I’m giving Ptolemus a second chance. I hope he has a short story whenever those come out.

I’m a little disappointed in Evangeline. Yes, it’s in character of her to escape in that way, but I really wanted her to have a badass showdown, helping Mare and Cal. Oh well, I can’t wait for her short story with Elane.

Montfort

Ah, Montfort. Good ole Montfort. I don’t have much to say about this new terrain our characters venture across, but I feel like I should? I liked the way Aveyard described its government. She did a nice job introducing the world to her readers. Yay, democracy!

THAT ENDING WHAT

Alrighty, bitches. Maven Calore is fucking dead like he deserves (by Mare’s hand no less), and it was kind of underwhelming. I liked the way Aveyard wrote it, but no one else died in that battle, really? Like, not even Granny Calore? I just wish she had killed more people, that’s all. It would have been more realistic in a war setting, and also, it would have taken care of some problematic asshats. (Side note: I fucking support Volo’s death. That was good.)

I get it, though. It’s hard to kill off characters. It’s a balancing act; you can’t go all Game of Thrones on this shit, but you can’t let everyone have a happily ever after either. It’s complicated.

Seriously, though, what the fuck? Why are Mare and Cal not together like I dreamt they would be? Come on, Aveyard, why? I’m not cool with this ending. I NEED MORE FROM THEM. WHEN ARE THESE FREAKING SHORT STORIES COMING OUT?!

Thanks for reading! We hoped you enjoyed both our non-spoilery and spoilery reviews! Check out our other reviews here!

—Alexa

#war storm #war storm spoilers #red queen #red queen spoilers #glass sword #glass sword spoiler #king's cage #king's cage spoilers #victoria aveyard #rq4 #mare #marecal #mare barrow #cal calore #maven calore #farley #evangeline samos #book review #books #book reviews #Book Recommendations #book #review #reviews #reading #currently reading #miraculousmidnightreviews #MMR #writing #book blog

[safdsdg]

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[embhm]

Chapter 193: The SELFLESS CITIZEN

NOTE: This chapter is dedicated to both Tika and Warren for their kinky intuition bahahahaha. Also, a huge CONGRATULATIONS to Tika for delivering her first child, a healthy baby girl! As always, thank you Sae and Sienna, you precious translators. Where would we be without you? <3   

As a continued notice, please be advised that the “Addicted: The Novel” blog will always update the chapters earlier than here on Tumblr. Please visit https://addictedthenovel.wordpress.com for up to date postings on the translations. <Alec>

NO SPOILERS PLEASE!!!, in the comments or anywhere on this account. We have not finished reading the novel. No copy/paste and all that other shenanigans either. Votes/likes/comments are highly appreciated.

While reading, if available, please read the footnotes at the end of the chapter for clarification.

Translators: Sae & Sienna     Editors: Sae & Alec

As always, THANK YOU for reading and enjoying the journey with our SENSATIONAL boys:

GU HAI & BAI LUO YIN

《你丫上瘾了》

Chapter 193: The SELFLESS CITIZEN!

“You’re doing it all wrong. Look at me.”

Gu Hai stood up and facing the magnificent sea that surged forth against the delicate sands, he shouted loudly.

“My name is Gu Hai, male, 18 years old, from Beijing. The person sitting down beside me is my wife. Two days ago, last year, we fell in love with each other and made it official. It’s been a year already since our journey together started! Despite the ups and downs and the constant disasters thrown at us, we will not surrender or hesitate to advance bravely.”[1]

To his side, Bai Luo Yin watched as the plumes of Gu Hai’s breath billowed out and quickly dissipated into the air. The voice was unexpected. It was loud, with an agreeable trace of huskiness and a hint of more power than the once frail body could produce. Hearing it in such close proximity to him, Bai Luo Yin wanted to bury his entire being into the sand.

After divulging this supposed secret, a sense of relief also tugged at Gu Hai’s mind. A small smile drew back the corner of his lips as he looks down at Bai Luo Yin with provocation. “Do you dare?”

The underlying meaning to those three words were, ‘are you as bold as I am?’

“Why wouldn’t I dare to?” Bai Luo Yin also stood up and shouted loudly, “My name is Bai Luo Yin, male, 18 years old. My family lives in Beijing, Xicheng district on the most brilliant Lane 48. I am a third-year student studying at Beijing X High School, Class 27, who’s also a rather bad youth. Standing beside me is my wife. After enduring his shameless harassment, out of compassion for his mental state, I took pity and decided to marry him into my family. Since my father-in-law does not agree to us being together, this marriage has yet to be settled. But, I am wholeheartedly devoted to my wife’s love. Regardless of whether he will continue to have this mental illness or not, I will never betray or leave him in this lifetime!”

Gu Hai immediately started to laugh. The laugh was not only in his voice, but it also welled in his eyes, in the way his face changed into that vision of relaxed joy and unrestrained mirth. Yet, truly, it wasn’t only in his face either. His laugh came from within the core of his being.

You little bastard, you got me.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Gu Hai went on to shout, “Gu Wei Ting, I’m telling you, even if you send a whole army troop with thousands of men to hunt us down, I will still say those same words from before. If I firmly believe in someone, no one can even think of changing it! If I firmly believe in a relationship, no one can even think of tearing it apart! If I firmly believe in these feelings, no one can even think of destroying them!”

“Gu Wei Ting!......” Bai Luo Yin shouted those words but then he halted.

Raising his head, Gu Hai turned to look at him with great expectations.

“I fucked your son!”

Gu Hai ground his teeth as his big hand quickly reached out to pinch the back of Bai Luo Yin’s neck. Bai Luo Yin burst into a spell of smiles before laughter rang out from within his throat. The laugh came from him like a newly blossomed flower – timid at first then it grew a bit at a time. Gu Hai watched him attentively. The other boy wasn’t done yet though. He could tell, from the way Bai Luo Yin rolled his eyes back to the sky and half bit his lips. It was all too apparent, from deep inside his chest came a great shaking motion that caused his facial muscles to grow tight. Gu Hai’s brows rose, waiting.

In moments, Bai Luo Yin’s laugh was more like fully blossomed flower petals being thrown into the brilliant sky then falling around on everyone nearby with unrestrained gales that debilitated him to a stomach-gripping breathless picture of glee. Gu Hai wanted to maintain the sternness sheathing from his face—since after all he was the one being laughed at—but before long, his mouth twitched upwards and he too fell into a spell of laughter.

 “All these setbacks will not wear down our fighting spirit!”

 “No difficulties will stop our footsteps!”

 “We’ve joined together to oppose a common enemy!”

 “We will never waver!”

 The two shouted until all the oxygen in their lungs was nearly depleted.

All the people nearby practically walked away from them, leaving behind only a man who stayed firmly in his spot. The two simultaneously moved their gazes toward him.

The man merely looked at them and laughed inarticulately, “You two are really stupid!”

As a result, the two stupidly cute boys took this man and threw him into the sea.

Gu Hai took out a video camera that he had turned on before and showed Bai Luo Yin the video playback of what happened a moment ago.

 “You actually recorded it?”

 Gu Hai looked at him happily while saying, “Of course! This kind of mutual understanding is rare.”

 Bai Luo Yin stretched his head over for a look. The silhouettes of the two people on the screen were painted with exuberant youth and liveliness.

 “Say, when we look at this a few years from now, will we be terrified by ourselves?”

 “We won’t.”

 Gu Hai placed his hand firmly on Bai Luo Yin’s shoulder, “It’s rare to have a chance to be silly in life. To not be silly or make a mistake means to not have lived a youthful life.”

 The sea water rose, and the few tourists that were scattered around started to depart the area. Afterwards, Bai Luo Yin and Gu Hai found a restaurant and ate a great meal comprising of the most delicious seafood. On their way back, they bought a tent and two bed comforters to set up. They intended to spend the night on the beach so that they can watch the sunrise at dawn of the next day.

 In the evening, as usual, Bai Luo Yin gave Bai Han Qi a phone call, briefing him on their current situation as well as inquiring about any new circumstances at home.

 “Gu Hai’s father hasn’t gone over to look for you yet?” Bai Luo Yin asked.

 Gu Hai also moved in closer to listen.

 “No, he hasn’t. It has been unusually calm for the last two days. No one has come at all.”

 Bai Luo Yin did not feel at ease, “You’re lying to me, aren’t you?”

 “Why would I lie to you? Listen here, it’s really calm and peaceful in the house right now,” replied Bai Han Qi.

 Hearing those words, Bai Luo Yin was extremely puzzled.

According to logic, it shouldn’t be like that!

After putting the phone down, Bai Luo Yin faced Gu Hai and asked, “Do you think my dad is telling us the truth?”

“From the sound of it, it doesn’t seem like a lie.”

 Bai Luo Yin’s brows pulled close to each other forming a frown as he thought to himself.

What is Gu Wei Ting planning to do?

“That’s enough. Don’t think about it so hard. Let’s worry about it when it happens. Look, the sea breeze is really gentle tonight and the moon hanging high in the sky is quite luminous against the darkness. With such a beautiful scenery like this, there is no need for my wife to go and think about those troublesome matters. It is better to accompany your husband by being very romantic for a while.”

Hearing those nauseating words, Bai Luo Yin simply grabbed Gu Hai’s head and pressed it into the sand.

After working hard for half an hour, the tent was finally set up.

Being annoying as usual, Gu Hai pinched the smalls of Bai Luo Yin’s waist, “Come here, sit on me.”

Truth be told, being underneath Bai Luo Yin was Gu Hai’s most erogenous and preferred position. In this arrangement, not only could he reap some benefits by not having to do much, but he could also directly observe and enjoy Bai Luo Yin’s erotic expressions.

But, of course, this was also the posture that Bai Luo Yin despised the most. A while ago, Gu Hai had talked until his face turned blue in order to persuade Bai Luo Yin into giving it a try. From then on, he has been so fond of it that it was getting out of hand.

“That won’t do.” Bai Luo Yin refused his beckoning immediately, “The tent is not high enough. If I sit up, my head will hit the roof of the tent.”

Gu Hai was not willing to give up, “We can remove the tent!”

Once he finished saying that, he quickly went to untie the knot around the tent stake.

Noting this, Bai Luo Yin quickly took hold of Gu Hai’s hand, “You’re being fucking stupid again. Believe it or not, I’ll take advantage of the time you’re sleeping and throw you into the sea?”

“Even if we don’t take the tent apart, people will still know what we’re doing inside. Instead of letting them watch from the outside, we might as well let them see it directly. Not to mention, there’s no one here! It’s awkward having a tent covering us. Having the moon and stars in the sky above our head is a lot more romantic!”

Bai Luo Yin’s hand firmly gripped the frame beneath as he angrily said: “I want to go home.”

Gu Hai immediately admitted defeat, “Fine, fine, fine. We’re not going to do that. Just lay on me……”

The sounds of their bodies colliding against each other during sex consumed the tent while alluring gasps spread out and mingled with the breeze that whistled by. It was fast and slow, relaxed and tight, then soft and rough…...in the meantime, the balls of flames that radiated from their bodies rushed out wildly along the open flaps of the tent and traveled toward the surging waves. They crashed against the surf and were repelled back before settling calmly on the surface of the sea.

In the deep of the night, the two embraced each other tightly to sleep. Even though there was only one tent to cover them, they were still able to sleep soundly.

In the early morning of the next day, the sky was still painted in a canvas of darkness when Bai Luo Yin awoke with errant excitement.

After he finished putting on his clothes, he grabbed the camera and made his way out of the tent with a small smile tugging the corners of his lips.

Meanwhile, Gu Hai slept very vigilantly. The moment he became aware that the space beside him was cold and empty, his eyes immediately shot open bringing him out of his slumber.

At this time of the day, dusk was slowly waning in the open sky and their surroundings were filled with cold fog. Gu Hai stepped on the soft sand and walked towards Bai Luo Yin one step at a time. Once close enough, he reached out and encircled his hands around Bai Luo Yin’s waist from the back. He tightened his hold just a bit, making sure the loving warmth from his body spread before he rested his chin on Bai Luo Yin’s shoulder.

“The sky is still dark...” Gu Hai’s lethargic voice drifted into Bai Luo Yin’s ears, tickling it.

“Who waits until daybreak to see the sunrise?”

Nuzzling closer, Gu Hai’s lips were now glued to Bai Luo Yin’s warm cheek. He rubbed against it for the longest time, feeling the soft and familiar skin.

“Quick, look!” Bai Luo Yin exclaimed as he pointed towards the vastness that spread in front of them.  

Gu Hai lifted his head and looked up. A streak of rosy red clouds emerged in the distance just above Bai Luo Yin’s finger. It slowly changed to a deeper shade as it dispersed across the horizon, creating a colorful glow in the sky. Soon, the sun rose halfway, causing the surrounding clouds to be engulfed in an array of scarlet hues. The sunlight gradually became brighter, blending the sky and the sea into one beautiful scenery meant only for them to view. A pleasant feeling of warmth draped their bodies to the point that their bones became soft and ridden with happiness…...

“Come, let’s take a picture.”

Gu Hai lifted the camera and placed it in front of their faces.

With their backs facing the sea and their heads resting upon the sunrise, they snuggled their faces close to each other. As they looked at the camera lens, mischievous smiles bloomed on their faces, exposing a secret, mutual understanding that only existed between them.

Once the photo was taken, they looked at it with curious eyes. Within seconds, Bai Luo Yin laughed joyfully as he glanced at Gu Hai.

“Why does it feel like a buddhist ceremony?”

“Have you ever seen such a handsome buddhist monk before?” Gu Hai proudly praised himself, “Later on, I’ll use it as my laptop’s wallpaper.”

It was from this day on that Gu Hai’s photo album had one more picture of his exuberant smile.

Not far from where Bai Luo Yin and Gu Hai were, was a pair of lovers being photographed in their wedding outfits. The bride had on a glamorous wedding dress as she stood atop a large reef posing in various postures while the groom shifted back and forth beside her. Just right below where they were standing, a photographer and a consultant touched base. They talked--their voices were inaudible--while moving their hands in all sorts of positions.

After watching them for a moment, Gu Hai thought of something and spoke.

“That woman looks really ugly. If she wasn’t wearing any makeup, what would she look like?!”

Glancing at Gu Hai, a seemingly annoyed Bai Luo Yin gave him a shove, “Why do you care what other people look like?!”

Seconds later, the two walked side by side towards their own tent.

Just as they finished tidying up their belongings and prepared to leave, they suddenly heard shouts reverberating not too far from where they were. Curious, their eyes followed the source of the commotion. They discovered a crowd of people swarming the area where the couple were previously having their wedding photoshoot. Judging from the sounds, it looked like an incident has occurred.  

“Come on, let’s take a look,” said Bai Luo Yin.

Giving each other a quick glance, the two placed their belongings down and sprinted towards the disturbance.

As they approached the area, they came to realize that the bride had fallen into the sea. Gauging from the photoshoot earlier, it was most likely due to her excessive posturing and carelessness that caused her to fall from the reef.

Normally jumping in to rescue someone was not a difficult task but the crucial point was, it was winter then. Who would actually dare to heedlessly jump into the cold water? Moreover, the bride was wearing a wedding dress that seemed to weigh more than ten kilograms. Even worse, once submerged, the wedding dress soaked up the seawater and became even heavier. When the bride had just fallen into the sea, two men began to pull her gown in an attempt to save her. But due to the increase in weight, they were nearly dragged into the water as well. Ridden with apprehension and seeing no other options, they gave up.

In no time, the groom was driven crazy with anxiety as he watched his bride sink deeper into the sea. He stood on the same spot at the top of the reef and let out a heart wrenching howl. He completely had no idea of what to do! Unfortunately, at this time of the day, the lifeguards had yet to wake up. From the looks of it, by the time they arrive on the scene, the bride would have been dead already.

Unable to look on, Gu Hai took off his watch and cellphone and pressed it against Bai Luo Yin’s chest for him to hold onto.

“Wait for me right here!”

Bai Luo Yin’s eyes widened slightly as fear visibly drew across his face, “You want to go down?”

Without answering, Gu Hai quickened his pace and made way towards the seashore. Just as he tore of his shoes and jacket and prepared to jump into the water, Bai Luo Yin pulled his hand back at full tilt. He then asked with a hint of worry tracing his voice, “Are you sure that it’s safe?”

Instead of saying anything else again, Gu Hai jumped directly from the reef into the ocean beneath.

In such cold weather, Gu Hai had jumped directly into the sea without having done any prior warmups. The group of bystanders were terribly shocked as they watched this event unfold. They thought silently to themselves.

Does this young man not want to live anymore? There’s no need to go to such lengths to save someone! Is he just asking for a death wish?!

Complying to Gu Hai’s words, Bai Luo Yin stood waiting. His eyes lingered on Gu Hai’s form from the moment he jumped to when his body entered the water. Although he was unable to see them, he could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead that were rolling down the side of his face. His chest tightened, making way for a nameless feeling to wring his heart.

If something were to really happen, he would also follow after him and jump in. Everything else can just be as it is.

Meanwhile, Gu Hai swam while dredging about the water. At this point, the bride had already sank deeper. Concentrating, Gu Hai swam further out a few more meters. Suddenly, he sensed something unnatural in the current and plunged deeper into the sea.

All the bystanders ashore inhaled a deep breath of cold air as they looked on. The photographer muttered to himself, almost incoherent. “That young man is very kind. It’s sad that he died like that.”

Hearing those words, Bai Luis Yin's complexion immediately turned a pasty white. He quickly climbed onto the highest section of that reef and looked out, with focus, at the surface of the water. His eyes, barely blinking, scanned the area from one vast corner to the next. Ridden with worry and anxiety, he felt like his heart was about to jump out of his throat.

Gu Hai, you must come out!

“Young man, you shouldn’t be depressed and take things too hard!”

A couple of seconds later, Bai Luo Yin was pulled down from the reef by a foolish man, who continuously plead with him at the top of his lungs.

“Young man, I failed to stop him from doing such a stupid and dangerous thing because I didn’t have the time. Don’t you dare follow him and imitate such a disastrous move! Having the heart to save someone is a great thing, but you also need to act according to your capabilities. I’m only able to tell you this, restrain your grief. He is a good person!”

“That’s impossible! He will not die!!”

Bai Luo Yin bellowed out in anger as he resentfully shook off the person holding him.

Just as he flung the person’s hands away, Bai Luo Yin heard an exclamation crying in surprise from the side.

“He’s out. He’s actually coming out!”

Scrambling, Bai Luo Yin hastily ran over to the spot that Gu Hai emerged from.

At first, Gu Hai wanted to pull the bride along with her wedding dress to the shore. However, he realized that carrying both was too heavy of a burden for him. In the end, he dove deeper under the water, grabbed the dress and forcefully tore it apart. After he managed to free the bride from the tangles of her leaden garment, he proceeded to support her as he swam towards the shoreline.

Once they were ashore, the lifeguards also rushed over to assist one by one. The bride was lifted onto a stretcher and quickly given CPR. A moment later, she regained consciousness and cried out that it  was cold. Hearing her, the emergency personnel quickly covered her with a thick blanket. Soon, the bride’s emotional tears fell from her eyes.

Once Gu Hai caught sight of this scene, his heart was instantly relieved. In the end, all his efforts were not in vain.

Bai Luo Yin immediately wrapped the jacket, that Gu Hai had previously taken off, around him while urging him to change out of his cold and wet clothes.

Out of nowhere, a swarm of reporters rushed over. As soon as they got out of the car, they bee-lined over to the site of the incident.

As the news people questioned him, the groom pointed towards Gu Hai. It was evident that he was emotionally moved as he spoke to them. “It’s that young man. He’s the one that jumped into the water and saved my girlfriend!”

As a result, several reporters turned toward Bai Luo Yin and Gu Hai and ran over towards them as if trying to chase them down. The two had just set up their tent again and were about to change their clothes when suddenly they were surrounded by a throng of reporters and cameramen.

“Hello, I heard that you saved a person just now. Excuse me, may I ask, are you a local person? What is your name?”

The moment Gu Hai and Bai Luo Yin noticed the video cameras, their complexions changed.

Without saying anything, they exchanged a quick glance, took one huge step backward and jetted off into the distance. With the reporters wildly in pursuit, Gu Hai and Bai Luo Yin didn’t bother to take their belongings or change out of their clothes. It was in this manner that they escaped without looking back.

Unable to run any longer, the reporters soon stopped and gasped for air.

“That’s strange. There are actually still selfless people out there that does something good like this without leaving their names behind just like Lei Feng…...”[2]

---

Translator’s Note:

[1]勇往直前 - literal : to advance bravely {do not confuse this idiom with ”Advance Bravely” 《势不可挡》《Irresistible》}

[2] Lei Feng [雷锋] - Léi Fēng (18 December 1940  – 15 August 1962) was a soldier of the Chinese army in Communist legend. After his death, Lei was characterized as a selfless and modest person devoted to the Communist Party, Mao Zedong, and the people of China. In 1963, he became the subject of a nationwide posthumous propaganda campaign, "Follow the examples of Comrade Lei Feng." Lei was portrayed as a model citizen, and the masses were encouraged to emulate his selflessness, modesty, and devotion to Mao. After Mao's death, Lei Feng remained a cultural icon representing earnestness and service. His name entered daily speech and his imagery appeared on T-shirts and memorabilia.

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

Are you addicted?

The original novel is written by Chai Jidan.

We do not own any of its content, we are translators and editors.

#are you addicted? #addicted the web series #addicted the novel #bai luo yin #gu hai #xu wei zhou #huang jingyu #hailuoyin #heroin #chinese novel #chinese webseries #chinesebl #chinese translations #guhaixbailuoyin #Chai Jidan

[drink-n-watch]

It occurs to me that I have no sense of seasonal orientation when it comes to this season of My Hero Academia. Other series seem to be ending so the season must be close to an end, yet I still feel like we’re in the opening episodes. That can be either a good or a bad thing. Still, to me, it’s like season 4 of My Hero Academia is still in its opening arc. Crow, do you get what I mean?

  It’s funny you ask — I was just wondering about that today. For the other shows I’m reviewing, I’m preparing to close out the season and write the episode guides. For this one? It’s like it’s beyond mere seasons… Which, of course, is a hopelessly hyperbolic thing to day. Oh, I’m bold this week, there will be spoilers, and such…

And no shock — but you were right. Horribly, horribly right. Unless you think we should put this sentence later, since it’s pretty momentous and it might be better for later…

Ok, I said it could be a good or a bad thing…for me, it’s usually a good thing. Opening arcs and intros are often my favourite part of the story. I was that weird kid that really loved the Harry Potter series before he even learned of the existence of Hogwarts. I loved it after as well, but those early Dursley days have a special place in my heart.

 assume a season’s worth of buildup could be frustrating for some viewers but I’m eating it up… 

I think it’s the potential. Before the story gets underway, anything could happen. Once it chooses a route and gets moving, though, each plot point eliminates one or more possibilities. The closer to the end, the fewer possibilities. At least, that’s how it is for me.

I was planning to make this point in my closing paragraph. Crow, I’m sorry. It’s a good thing you’re here to keep some order! 

Not sure I’m helping in that regard this week! Or if indeed I’m the one keeping order in general! 

Oh guys, Crow is here and awesome as always. He’s also bold like our heroes. And we’re probably going to spoil episode 74 of My Hero Academia so if you haven’t seen it yet and want to go in blind, please go watch it now. Ok, one spoiler, it’s a great episode… 

Are you sure you should have let that slip so soon? Just kidding. 

The narrative framework of this week’s episode was pretty simple in fact. A brief opening tag reestablishes the context of the cooperation between the league of villains and the yakuza, then quickly moves on to the doublecross, allowing EraserHead, Nighteye and Deku to take out Irinaka fairly easily. Then the focus switches to Mirio/Lemillion who has to fight a number of yakuza solo in order to save Eri. In the process, we get a few brief flashbacks establishing both Chiaki and Mirio’s respective backgrounds and motivations rather effectively and showing how they are funhouse mirror images of each other. 

That’s all really. Yet that’s not even scratching the surface.

I mentioned this before but Overhaul’s voice actor is doing some tremendous work this season. I thought so yet again in the opening scenes of this episode as we see him talking with Twice and Toga. He sort of chews his words and talks from the back of his throat for a uniquely menacing effect. 

So much of the delivery in MHA is theatrically earnest and straight forward for obvious reasons, it’s part of the show’s identity after all, even in the villains, so the contrast is almost enerving. And really successful in my opinion.

I think the voice actors did a great job in general this week, but I gotta agree that Overhaul’s voice actor, Kenjirou Tsuda, did a fantastic job this week. 

I was curious about both Twice and Toga being able to easily resist confession when asked about Shigaraki planning a double-cross. I’m not sure if they got off on a technicality. As in Shigaraki never used the word “betrayal” or something like that, if they have some type of ace in the hole against this quirk, or if their singular devotion to the league has made them immune. 

I had the impression that Shigaraki never told them to betray or doublecross Overhaul. Shigaraki just said he trusted them. I took that to mean in the literal sense, which is why they’re so loyal to him. I also took it in the more broad sense that he trusted them to be themselves, and let’s face it: being themselves meant getting revenge for Magane. 

Considering how insubordinate they both tend to be, and how loose an organization the League of Villains is in general, the latter seems unlikely. Then again, they both got immediately angry when their fallen friend was misgendered by Chiaki. And not a cartoonishly exaggerated rage either. A genuine show of pain and solidarity and protection for Magne. It was a small human moment that reminded us that what holds the league together is something that may ultimately prove much more terrifying than simple greed, vengeance or ambition.

Um yeah, so that was the first few minutes… Let’s move this on. 

I was a little disappointed that we really didn’t get a chance to see Eraser Head in action at all, or how he works with Deku. All of Deku’s Big Hero Moments in the series so far have been solo. I was looking forward to seeing how well he plays with others. It would be a pretty big subversion of his archetype if it turns out that Deku can’t share the spotlight. I might be here for that!

But the real meat of the episode was of course Mirio. I really like Mirio as a name by the way.

I didn’t know how to feel about an episode dedicated to Mirio. I mean, he’s sort of redundant with Deku so why not just give us some Deku character building. Our series’ protagonist has been largely absent all season, that’s a little weird.

I keep wondering if that’s the point — that Deku’s One for All is expressed very differently from All Might’s was, or Mirio’s might have been. That might be a bit too meta for this series, but maybe not.

So first off, Mirio gets to square off against Shin Nemoto, the creepy old timey doctor guy who can make people tell him the truth when he asks a question, (By the way, plague doctor designs seem to be in this season…) as well as Deidoro Sakaki, who has contagious drunkness. 

You know, as soon as we saw his Quirk, I immediately wondered if he was a fan of your site. Or whatever form your site is in that world. 

You would think drunk guy’s quirk would be right up my alley but I must say, he’s my least favourite so far. He basically makes you skip the fun part of drunk (i.e. pleasantly buzzed, when you and everyone around you are both beautiful and fascinating. The point where you should absolutely switch to water and make sure you are not even getting near car keys for a good long while) and plants you right in the bad part, you should never drink again, drunk. I have to imagine, this must be one of the most unpleasant quirks to be a victim of, especially in a tense and dangerous situation.

I thought that confession was a pretty great quirk, to begin with, as we saw it used early on, for its information gathering purposes. But I hadn’t considered that it could be used as a mind break. To force someone to confront a truth they’d rather ignore. That was brilliant! And it probably would have been devastating on anyone else. I think it could have easily stopped Deku for instance. But Mirio isn’t Deku…

So Mirio managed to get past the first two and unexpectedly catch up to Chiaki and Hari Kurono, his henchman, as they were taking little Eri away. 

Ok, let me try to organize my thoughts here. This was a pretty epic fight and a lot of things happened. For one, Chiaki insisted that he had no children, therefore Eri isn’t his daughter. Which made sense to me as I really couldn’t imagine Chiaki in a romantic relationship. But then why would Nighteye assume this? Is Overhaul just playing mind games? I was thinking about this for embarrassingly long before I realized…of course, Chiaki isn’t Eri’s dad. Regardless of any genetic context, that’s just not what a dad is… duh… I’m slow sometimes…

In your defense, there are a ton of bad dads out there! I don’t know of any who would subject their daughters to the kind of experimentation Eri had endured, but it’s not outside the realm of possibility! 

To me, this entire fight showed us two men who could have been friends. Who in some ways, were very much alike. Both are very skilled physical fighters who obviously dedicated a huge amount of time and energy to training because they felt they had to. Both are smart strategists, able to adapt their quirk to the situation and use it while considering both the context of the fight and the surroundings. And both understand that winning doesn’t come down to destroying the opponent as fast as possible.

Did you notice how Mirio, Overhaul, and Kurono all mentioned, at least in passing, how much time the other must have put into their training? I think that supports the point you’re making. So much so that I wonder what else they’re going to do with that idea.

Beyond that though, I sort of think that they would have gotten along if they grew up together. Chiaki is obviously someone who is filled with gratitude and actually fairly selfless. An idealist, His motivations have nothing to do with personal gain and his position of leadership is uncomfortable as he is awkward and clumsy with expressing emotions. Not completely unlike Tamaki… or Deku. But he’s also dedicated and willing to work tirelessly for a cause he believes in. Sound familiar?

On the other hand, Mirio is, well, a product of failure. Having had the privilege of being surrounded by love and support, Mirio doesn’t take any of it for granted. When something was twice as hard for him to do, he simply worked twice as much. He considers his challenges blessings and his setbacks accomplishments. He cannot be broken by facing his flaws because he never thought of himself as perfect and that was never even the point in his mind. It’s not about being worthy, it’s not about him, he doesn’t want to be a symbol. It’s about helping others whatever way you can. 

In the end, Mirio’s power had absolutely nothing to do with his quirk.

I thought that was a beautiful thing when Shin asked, “What is he?!” about Mirio. Even Quirkless, he didn’t lose his close quarter combat skills. They were never part of his Quirk.

Speaking of losing his Quirk, shouldn’t we mention that happened? Nemoto caught up with Mirio, even though Lemillion thought he’d knocked the villain out. Overhaul threw Nemoto a single Quirk-stealing bullet. Nemoto, though, had seen how fine-grained Mirio’s control was. He had no idea where to shoot him so the bullet wouldn’t just pass through.

Did you see what he did?

He deliberately aimed straight at Eri. And fired.

Was it just me, or for an instant, did you also think that Eri might herself be happier without her Quirk? But of course, Mirio, being who he was, could only make one decision and stay true to himself. He put himself between her and Nemoto, and he took the bullet. And lost his Quirk.

I have to say, it’s something that to me, My Hero Academia’s heroes are always at their most impressive when they are at their “weakest”. And those quotes are very important! Mirio is nothing like Deku. He needed his own episode. And sadly, I think he needed to be limited in this way. Because Mirio’s heroism was plot destroying. 

My Hero Academia is the story of how Deku became the world’s greatest hero, and that simply can’t happen as long as Lemillion is around. He is the better hero. He is the better symbol in a way because he doesn’t want to be. It’s a tour de force that really enhances Deku’s underdog status if a fangirl like me is willing to admit this. And that’s a brilliant bit of story building right there.

With all this said, I can’t lie, my heart jumped for joy when Deku burst through that wall after the credits. I simply cannot wait for the next episode. 

I haven’t felt that kind of relief for a long time. I startled my poor cat when Deku burst through the wall — and it didn’t help that he wasn’t alone. Goodness knows they’re going to need all the help they can get!

My Hero Academia s4 ep74 – The Heart of a Hero It occurs to me that I have no sense of seasonal orientation when it comes to this season of My Hero Academia.

#action #anime #blonde bishie #Collab #episodic #My Hero Academia #shonen

[staggedbeetles]

Autistic burnout broke my ability to be feminine, and I’ve never felt more like myself

Looking back over my memories and photos of myself, I have “presented” in terms of clothes, hairstyle, hygiene products etc, in a lot of different ways. When I was very young, up until my preteen years, I didn’t really care what I wore. My mom tended to put me in jumpers and leggings and so on but was also a bit displeased with how often they came home covered in grass stains or with the knees ripped out, because I was a super clumsy child. When I began being expected to choose my own clothes in the morning and also manage the new expectations that came with puberty, I liked bright, silly and unique clothes but still overall what was simple and comfortable.

Things started getting a lot harder for me in middle and high school. While I hadn’t ever been super good at fitting in, both socializing with and sometimes getting bullied by other girls now was a lot more colored by things like appearance, clothes, weight, makeup... All of these things can be sensorily overwhelming to an nd person. I felt hyper-conscious of how my body was changing. I remember the first time my mom suggested I start wearing a training bra to school, it felt so obvious and awkward on my body that I was sure everyone could practically see it through my clothes. All the books about what would happen to us described acne as generally “nonpainful” but I could practically feel my skin crawling and swelling as zits grew. I smeared on concealer that seemed to sit on my skin like oil slick on a puddle. Where I felt like I could make fashion choices, I still opted for the colorful and weird, but comfortable. All-over print hoodies, fingerless gloves from hot topic, and yes, homemade anime pants were all foundational parts of my wardrobe. For a time, I wore big dangly novelty earrings, smudged eyeliner around my eyes to look almost like a raccoon, and colored in my nails with a lime green sharpie. (I have never been “cool” per se but this was the early aughts so I stand by the assertion that this wasn’t AS uncool as it would be today, ha ha) throughout this time I would occasionally wear things like blouses, dresses or skirts, especially for special occasions, but it always felt kind of artificial/loaded/alien.

(long post abt autism/gender presentation/sexuality continues under the cut :))

When I got into college I figured it was a chance to start fresh, maybe have a more “normal” friend group and so on. I was also cheated on by my doofy high school boyfriend a week before prom and so in the midst of a bit of a crisis about my personal desirability. Going out of my way to be more feminine seemed to be a way to potentially “fix” this, whipping my face into shape with increasingly harsh, stingy anti-acne products, becoming a bit neurotic about what I “should” eat, clumsily trying to get better at makeup products beyond plopping concealer on my zits and smearing eye pencil around my eyes... I even tried wearing mostly skirts with stockings or leggings for a whole semester... unfortunately I was much more modeling on Twin Peaks than fashion circa 2010 and so the classification of “normal girl” still eluded me. Aside from the heavy wool skirts, which I mostly picked up from thrift stores, it strikes me how harmful, and if not actively harmful just wasteful or unpleasant these actual routines were to me, and yet my brain fixated on them as if they were a territory I was just on the verge of winning...

It took me until I entered postgrad to buy myself flannel shirts to wear. I know, it sounds ridiculous! I had always thought they were stylish and had begun to get more interested in the uncool-ly cool styles of male musicians, dorky post punk weirdos and kurt cobain’s dweeby multilayered looks, but actually owning a flannel shirt seemed too openly masculine via its association with “butch” sapphicism... fortunately I was also finally coming to terms with my bisexuality. Naturally trucker caps, an undercut and bomber jackets followed, lol. Despite this, I still felt like I had to wear makeup, especially when my hair was shorter. Even when seeing my own face made me feel alienated from it, even when I felt annoyed at the amount of plastic and glass detritus on my counter, even when I felt like I was not very good at it and not improving either, even when I felt like it was a waste of money.

Autistic burnout is the cumulative strain of years of “masking” hitting you all at once. And autistic women are often overlooked until later in life not just because of the “male brain” stereotypes that are applied to the diagnostic process and public perception of ASD, but also because of the social expectations towards women, we are most likely to “mask,” put up a normal and sociable “front” through the elements of life we have to endure, and then escape to restorative and safe solitude through reading or imaginative play later. This makes us “appear” to be not autistic to untrained or simply oblivious adults as children, but makes the possibilities for major mental health issues later in life more dangerous. Basically, in the second year of my PhD, between generalized anxiety, uncertainty about my research, TA-ing and pushing myself to attend many high social pressure events like festivals and conferences related to my research topic, I became exhausted. I felt like I had no time for myself, no time to think, and had become so racked with anxiety and fear over the future at every moment that I could no longer think about what I wanted or enjoyed doing. My body and mind needed to withdraw, and it wasn’t a matter of having a self-care spa day or weekend away.

I felt like my social and presentation skills tanked. My productivity suffered. I had trouble getting out of bed before noon on days which I didn’t have anything scheduled. I sought therapy with the aim of “fixing” these things, but the therapist referred me to an educational psychologist to be evaluated for ASD. When I looked up more about women’s experiences of autistic burnout, I realized that this wasn’t a setback or a hurdle I had to overcome, but what I, as an autistic person, needed to do to restore myself, from years of being pressured and overstimulated and unhappy with myself, as a “weirdo.”

Another element of the burnout was that, when once makeup and skirts and other style choices that were my attempts to fit in with expected femininity seemed like something worth giving a seemingly endless number of “second chances,” I now simply did not have the energy anymore. I stopped wearing makeup, I donated the majority of my skirts and dresses, and haven’t had the desire to wear the few I hung onto “for special occasions.” I got myself an old, oversized biker jacket and some heavy leather boots, the most heavy-duty minimizer bra I could find, more flannels, each bringing more joy than I thought a piece of clothing even could. I finally like how I look, and feel in control of it.

I guess I am still a little stumped about what to wear if I ever do have another sufficiently formal “special occasion” to go to... but I can always just skip it.