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datleggy · 3 years

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I need both of your “surprise Buck was/is pregnant with Eddie’s baby and they find out because Chris finds him” anons to finish their drabbles. I need the Buddie confrontation scene with all the angst and betrayal from both sides. (Meanwhile Chris happily keeps his baby brother occupied and whispers about how he’s gonna parent trap their dads.) Please and thank you.

he anon sent more and here it is! it's wonderful, pls read!! <3

ANON: As the anon who your last ask was talking about might I just say I am sobbiiiinnnnnggggggg 😭😭😭 that was so good omg but ALSO now I have an addition to my earlier blurb 👀👀👀

Eddie is frantic, from the moment Buck called to now. Let's rewind a bit though, for context.

After running into Buck in Austin, they did meet up, without Chris, to talk. Buck had Eddie meet him at his new fire house, which. Hurt? It hurt, in a weird way that Eddie couldn't quite place at first, but he realizes now what he was feeling; jealousy that Buck has moved on and seems so comfortable here, longing for Buck to return to them, to the 118 (if he's being honest though, it's him he wants Buck to return to more than anything, but that's hardly fair after everything), regret that he treated Buck so poorly that the other man not only felt he couldn't tell him about the baby, but that he felt he had to move states.

Eddie met him there regardless, though, because ultimately it was Buck's choice. Eddie was grateful Buck chose to talk to him at all, so he wasn't going to argue over the chosen venue.

They met up, and they talked, and Buck confirmed that the baby he was carrying was Eddie's. He was in shock at the confession, upset for the first few moments, even. And it showed on his face, because the next thing Eddie knew, Buck was backing away from him, arms crossed over his stomach and tears running down his face, begging Eddie not to try and take his baby from him.

"I know I shouldn't have ke-kept this from y-you, but Eddie pl-please! He's all I h-ha-have left, I won't make it if you t-take h-him!" Eddie was shocked, and horrified at Buck's words. It took him a few minutes to calm him down, and weeks of slowly increased communication between the two of them (and Christopher, of course) before Eddie was able to convince Buck that he wasn't planning on trying to gain custody of the baby. He had explained that, yes, he wanted to be in their son's life, wanted Chris to be in his brother's life, but he wouldn't do anything to hurt Buck anymore then he already has.

It took almost the remainder of the pregnancy, but they were finally close to where they had been before everything went to shit. Not that they were lovers again, Eddie doesn't think either of them are ready for that, and Buck agrees, but they were on the fast track to becoming best friends again.

So of course he's the first person Buck calls when he goes into labor.

"I'm sorry, you're what?"

"In labor," Buck says sheepishly over the phone. "Or at least, I think I am? I mean, I'm three days overdue so I doubt these are practice contractions, but I guess there's always the possibility, and oh my god if I called you at 3 in the morning because of practice contractions, Eddie, I am so sorry oh god--" he can hear Buck working himself into a panic attack, so he cuts in.

"Hey hey, none of that. Even if these are Braxton Hicks or whatever they're called, I'm glad you called me. We agreed we would be in this together, right?" There's a pause on the other line before Buck speaks.

"Yeah. Together."

Eddie smiles at the soft tone of Buck's voice, and he can picture him perfectly in his mind's eye as though he were there in front of Eddie. Sitting at the end of his bed, both hands framing his belly (which has gotten big since the first time they ran into each other three months ago, the doctors estimating that the baby is somewhere between 8 and 9 pounds, which Buck was Not Pleased to hear, and blames Eddie for, especially when he found out that Chris was nearly 8 pounds when he had been born), and tears in his eyes despite the smile on his face at the prospect of meeting their baby soon.

Eddie takes a deep breath to steady his own racing heart and asks "So, what do you want to do?"

"Huh?"

Eddie can't help the breathless laugh that leaves him, every passing moment feeling more and more surreal as he realizes that /this is happening/. He's going to be a father for a second time, he and Buck are having a baby together and they're going to meet him soon.

"Do you want me with you, Buck? Because I can leave now, fly down there and be with you when he's born. Or we can stay on the phone, or you can FaceTime me. Whatever you wanna do, babe." The endearment leaves his mouth before he can stop it, but he doesn't try to back track.

"I--" Buck cuts himself off with a cry, more surprised then in pain, but Eddie still hates the sound. He starts to wonder, if Buck wants him there, will Eddie even be able to face seeing him in that amount of pain? He'll do it, of course he will, he would do anything for Buck and their boys, but god it might just break him. This isn't about Eddie, though.

"Breathe, baby. Deep breaths, just like in those classes TK took you to." Everytime he and Buck talk, the other man has stories either related to the baby, or related to his new family. Sometimes even both, like when he told Eddie about the Lamaze classes Buck's friend TK took him to, highly recommended from when TK went himself with his boyfriend Carlos leading up to their son being born. Eddie couldn't help but feel that ugly, burning jealousy, but he tried to sound as happy as possible over the phone. Buck wouldn't appreciate the jealousy, since Eddie lost out on what they could have been thanks to his own anger and mistreatment of Buck.

A few moments pass before Buck comes back on. "That hurt," he says with a small, pained laugh. Eddie can't tell if he wants to cry, punch something, or both, but he tamps those feelings down.

"I know, I know. But you've got this, Buck. You're gonna kick labor's ass, right?"

"Right," Buck responds weakly.

"Damn right, right. You're so strong, Buck. There isn't anything you can't do, and nothing you won't do for your kids. You've got this." He hears Buck take a deep breath, steeling himself.

"Yeah... yeah! I've got this. I've got this!" That golden retriever enthusiasm is back in full force, and Eddie grins.

Buck announces that he's going to start packing some stuff and getting his things together, so Eddie will be in speaker phone. For the next few minutes, Eddie listens to Buck ramble off random facts about babies and labor between verbalizing his hospital bag checklist. He hums in the appropriate places to show he's listening, asks clarifying questions so Buck knows Eddie isn't bored or just humoring him. Before too long, Eddie can tell that Buck has picked the phone back up, removing it from speaker phone.

"Hey, Eds?" His voice is quieter, more subdued then it has been for most of their time in the phone.

"Yeah, Buck?" His own voice is soft, curious but undemanding.

"I-- you said, earlier, that you would-would come down, if that's what I wanted? Like, to be here when the baby is born." Eddie feels his heart start to race in his chest, not sure if he's eager to hear Buck's decision or dreading it.

"I did," he confirms anyway, wanting Buck's comfort more than anything else.

"... Is that offer still on the table? You coming down here, I mean." Eddie can feel his breath catch in his chest, and he realizes that, yeah, he was eager to know what Buck wanted him to do. He feels like jumping into the air and cheering, knowing Buck wants him by his side as he delivers their baby boy into the world.

"I can leave in ten minutes, and be with you in four, five hours at the most." His response is almost immediate, and Buck laughs on the other end of the line. "Is that what you want, Buck? Me to be there, with you?" Eddie hears a sniffle and he knows Buck is in the verge of crying.

"I-- is that alright? I don't-- I can't do this alone, Eddie. I know I have everyone from the 126 here, and all of them would sit with me through this in a heartbeat, but... I need it to be you that's here with me. I want you to be here when our son is born, want you to cut the cord, be one of the first to hold him, all of it. I... I need /you/." And how could Eddie ever say no to that?

"Give me a few minutes to pack a bag and make some calls, okay? I'll call you right back, and before you know it, I'll be right beside you, holding your hand and letting you break as many fingers as you want." Buck gives a wet chuckle and agrees, but both men have a hard time saying goodbye, even if it will only be for a few minutes.

"I'll see you soon, Buck, okay? I swear."

"Yeah, I know you will, I know. I'm just nervous, is all. Having you here, even just over the phone, it helps. So much, Eddie." He knows what he means. Hearing Buck's cheerful voice after a long day never fails to make Eddie feel better, make him feel that no matter what, everything will be alright. He can only imagine how much better things will feel for the both of them once they can actually see each other, touch each other.

"I know exactly what you mean. I'll be there soon, okay? I'll call you back in a second and you can tell me more statistics about babies born in cars, or whatever." Buck snorts a laugh and Eddie smiles at the sound.

"I swear to God if you jinx this and I end up giving birth on the highway, I will kill you." They laugh together, but Eddie knows now that he has to get things in order if he wants to be with Buck ASAP. Neither man wants to say goodbye.

"I'll be with you soon, Evan."

"Yeah, okay. Eddie, I-I..." Eddie waits patiently for whatever Buck was going to say. His heart hammers in his chest.

"... Be safe, Eddie." He can't help the bitter feeling of disappointment that floods through him, but he returns the sentiment, regardless.

They hang up, and for a moment, Eddie simply sits on his bed, head in his hands. All he wanted to do as they said their goodbyes was to tell Buck that he loved him. He doesn't feel like he's earned the right to say that to him yet, though. He has to earn it.

With that in mind, he starts packing a bag, calling Hen to see if she and Karen would be able to babysit Chris while Eddie is in Texas.

Dhdhjajsiejsj so sorry about that again, hope you enjoy (and thanks again to that person who sent that other ask, bc that was an amazing blurb they sent 😌) 😭😭😭

#sorry it took me forever to post #i am bad at posting auierhgihef #but this is a fantastic continuation <3 #i was ecstatic when i got this in my inbox !!!#ALSO CAN I JUST SAY #the line about statistics about babies born in cars was so ON POINT #i died #thanku anon #this made me emotional at work euohrgwriojf #ask #anons

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afinepricklypear · 3 years

Text

Confessions & Deleted Scenes

I get a lot of anxiety when it comes to comments on my writing. When a story of mine starts to garner a lot of attention, replying to readers and continuing the work, becomes increasingly difficult. Maybe it’s a touch of Imposter Syndrome, but I get stage fright. Yet, if I got no comments, or I saw no increase in comments, I couldn’t continue either. It’s this strange “damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t” struggle. I used to get around it by starting new fanfiction accounts and starting over, rebuilding an audience in a new fandom, but I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to run from my stories. But. I’m in that mental place right now, even looking at comments and trying to muster the werewithal to reply makes me sick to my stomach and want to break down. I can’t breathe and I start crying, the thoughts in my head: I’m not this person, I didn’t write this thing that you liked so much, it’s trash, it’s all trash, and if I did, it was a fluke, and I can’t recreate it. Then the paranoia sets in: the readers are leaving, they see that I can’t do this, they hate me, they hate my work, I knew all along it wasn’t good enough.

Ah. Well. I’m working on it. I want to move past this and feel confident and continue with the stories in my head without the fear that no one will like it or they’ll like it too much so that eventually I’ll disappoint them. The words are there, I just can’t get them on to paper right now in a way that is satisfactory. So I’ll try and I’ll fail and I’ll try and I’ll fail.

In the meantime, while I get my shit together, here’s the original chapter 1 from my first attempt at writing “Wake Up” for my BSD fanfiction series Release (posted here on AO3). I haven’t read it since I retconned it, so it’s not edited. I wonder if anyone will find this here.

*Chapter*

A cold gray frost coated the windows of every building along the dusky alleyway. Chuuya leaned back against a building’s brick wall, crouched low to the ground, head tipped to one side, and a heavy gray, linen coat draped over his shoulders. He tried not to think about the lingering scent of urine on the air, or the fact his thin shirt and jeans provided little protection from the severe drop in temperature that evening. The hair on his arms and back of neck prickled on end, his ability, For the Tainted Sorrow, was desperate to unleash and wreak havoc on the cityscape around them. But like the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that, he wouldn’t be using his ability that night.

A week had passed since Chuuya was forced to join the Armed Detective Agency after his violent departure from the Port Mafia. The injuries he sustained from leaving the organization he’d called home for seven years, and the incident leading up to it out in Hiratsuka, were little more than dull aches and scars, now, thanks in part to the Agency doctor and her healing ability, but the memories lingered like bad dreams. He kept waking in the middle of the night, lost and disoriented, in a vaguely familiar bedroll that his instincts rejected as ‘home’. It was only Dazai’s slumbering embrace, unconsciously blanketing Chuuya with No Longer Human that kept Chuuya from doing damage to his surroundings on instinct with For the Tainted Sorrow.

On top of that, he was still adjusting to his change in employment, still settling into his decision and the concept that it could be right for him, even beneficial, to work with the Agency of detectives he’d called enemy a month ago, and even tried to kill on more than one occasion. Those facts, of course, were the reasoning behind the strict conditions of his joining the Agency, which included a moratorium on his ability use without ‘permission’ from the Boss, Agency President Fukuzawa, and a zero-tolerance policy of No-Killing, No-Torturing. To say sticking to these conditions proved difficult was an understatement but Chuuya was nothing if not willing to rise to any challenge. Even despite Dazai’s constant efforts to rile him up at the office, or Kunikida breathing down his neck, eager for him slip up so they could oust him like the Port Mafia. Every day he felt like a caged tiger, gawked at by zoo patrons, while pacing his confines, flexing his claws and unable to do anything with them.

Luckily, and speaking of caged tigers, Chuuya’s week with the Agency had been spent shadowing his new “mentor” in the Agency, Atsushi. He worked alongside the boy and the boy’s partner, another newcomer to the Agency from the Port Mafia, Kyouka. They were the greenest detectives in the Agency, so while the rest of the detectives took on any higher priority cases that walked through the door, Atsushi and his mentees were tasked with handling all of the smaller, more tedious, and lower risk ones. That night they were following up on a serial burglary case in a prominent neighborhood following a lead given to them by the Agency’s resident smug bastard detective, Ranpo. After hitting multiple dead-ends on their case all week, Atsushi finally took their case file to the “best detective in the world” and appealed to him with a box of candy to use his “Ultimate Deduction”. He recommended they stake out a particular convenience store in the targeted neighborhood that night – odd, because all of the burglaries had been at residences – and he warned that they were dealing with an ability user.

“As if we hadn’t already figured out we were dealing with an ability user,” Chuuya muttered under his breath. He hadn’t been impressed with Ranpo’s display. There had been no signs of a break-in, no forced entry, just items missing. The only clue was uncovered at one of the victimized houses, the back portion of a shoeprint cut in half by the house’s exterior wall. Chuuya shuddered again from a wintery breeze nipping at any exposed bit of his skin. He knew he should’ve brought a scarf, but he’d been too preoccupied about ensuring Dazai was properly packed and prepared for an overnight in Hiratsuka. Chuuya couldn’t decide if the other man was really so terrible at taking care of himself, or if he just got a kick out of Chuuya doting over him. Years of ‘hating’ one another had taught Chuuya the latter was more likely.

For the most part, the Agency was in limbo regarding their most recent case out in Hiratsuka that had revealed there was a mysterious organization kidnapping ability users for experimentation and using them to manufacture replica abilities. It was the kind of discovery that, according to everyone at the Agency, despite Chuuya’s skepticism, needed to be handed up the ladder to government officials for them to determine the next plans of action. Meanwhile, Dazai and his partner, Kunikida, were tasked with gathering any and all evidence left behind in Hiratsuka, as well as, maintaining relations with the leader of Hiratsuka’s syndicate, Lady Murasaki, who had hired Dazai to investigate the disappaereance of one of her employees, Fujiawra Sadaei, before the conspiracy was exposed.

It was Dazai who uncovered the entire plot, only to go missing himself, but not before setting up a series of cryptic messages to be sent to Chuuya. Chuuya had been ordered to ignore the messages and delete them from his phone, but he couldn’t turn his back on his former partner, and onetime Port Mafia traitor, regardless of the fact they’d spent the months prior sneaking off to play house together at a small house out in crater city, Suribachi. The decision, and a stack of intimate photographs from that Suribachi house that had been delivered unbeknownst to Chuuya to his former Boss, Mori Oogai, were the toppled pai gow pieces that led to his own fall from grace in the Port Mafia. He still didn’t know where the photographs had come from, but he narrowly escaped their fallout with his life.

Chuuya spotted Kyouka across the street at a park, sitting in a swing and fiddling with the phone she constantly wore around her neck. For all intents and purposes, she looked like a young, middle school aged girl, that was enjoying her winter break. Atsushi, Chuuya knew, was on the other side of the building keeping watch towards the backside. They all wore headpieces to keep in contact with one another.

“Was it supposed to be this cold tonight?” Atsushi’s voice crackled through the headset.

Chuuya frowned, letting his breath out in a puff of steam. He heard a crackle and pop from the metal dumpster beside him and, glancing to it, realized with a start that he could see the frost crystals growing, “I don’t think it’s ever supposed to be this cold, kid. Looks like an ice ability, user’s got to be nearby.”

“There’s movement,” Kyouka’s voice was soft, almost inaudible as a whip of wind roared from nowhere, but firm, “Above you. Third floor window.”

“I can walk up there, no problem,” Chuuya offered, itching for the excuse to defy gravity.

“No,” Atsushi quickly and sharply replied. Chuuya could feel the boy wince at the severity of his own reply through the headset, “I mean…what I mean is…I’ll go, Mr. Nakahara. You and Kyouka stay put, continue watching, in case anyone else shows up.”

Chuuya bit back his frustration, he knew Atsushi was only worried about him, as he said between grit teeth, “Fine. You’re in charge, kid.”

On the other side of the building, Atsushi activated his ability, Beast Under the Moonlight, partially transforming into a mystical white tiger form. He climbed up the wall in a few short jumps, and rounded the corner to investigate the movement Kyouka had seen. Chuuya tucked his gloved hands under his arms, his fingertips aching from the growing chill in the air around him. He stalked towards the back of the building to take up Atsushi’s post. After a couple minutes, Chuuya tapped his foot impatiently.

“You see anything interesting, kid?” he asked.

Silence.

“Atsushi? What’s going on up there?”

Still silence.

“Kyouka, you got eyes on Atsushi?” Chuuya said, pulling away from the backside of the building and hurrying back towards the front, spotting the little girl in her position at the park, dull gaze now fixed skyward, cell phone dangling from its chain around her neck.

“Yes,” she answered, her typical monotone trembling slightly, “He’s at the window. He hasn’t moved for many seconds.”

The sound of several gunshots erupted through the night, and before the ring of their report could finish, Chuuya was sprinting up the fire escape. One quick, last glance to the park to note Kyouka was gone from her post, as well, and without thought to his agreement in joining the Agency, Chuuya used his ability to lift the third-floor window, diving through its entry and rolling to his feet in a light fighting stance, hands loose at his side and senses on high alert. The hallway he’d landed in was empty and somehow cooler than outside, it felt like an ice box. Somewhere inside was the sound of soft sobs. He started forward through the dark apartment and nearly slipped backwards to the ground, catching himself on the wall and a hallway table, the framed pictures atop it quacking and falling over. He winced, but the sobbing didn’t stop, his carelessness hadn’t been heard. Breathing a sigh, his eyes dropped downward to find the wood floorboards were coated in permafrost.

Delicately, Chuuya righted himself and took small, deliberate steps to slide with some semblance of control along the hall. He passed by dark, empty rooms towards a luminescent glow ahead in what, Chuuya assumed, would be the kitchen. He sidled up next to the entryway, listened for a moment. The sobbing, he surmised, was a woman. There were no other noises. He frowned, reached for the knife he kept strapped at his thigh and held it low against his side, out of sight but ready if he needed it. He stepped into the kitchen.

On the floor, there was a woman kneeling in a tattered gray bathrobe, a gun on the ground beside her. There was splintered wood around shallow bullet holes in the wall on the far side of the room where her gunshots had hit. Chuuya’s breath caught. Outside of the window was Atsushi, his skin pale and lips turning blue. His eyes were moving but the expression behind them was dull, as though staring through a fog, and, every so often, his breath steamed the window in wet puffs.

The floorboard creaked under Chuuya’s weight and the woman reached for her gun, spinning around to point the barrel at Chuuya. Her crisp green eyes were wide, her short, chestnut colored hair falling in greasy, uneven dregs around her tear-stained face. From the corner of his eye, he could see Kyouka’s demon ability hovering beside Atsushi outside, its hand on the ethereal sword at its hip.

“Whoa, let’s be reasonable about this, lady,” Chuuya said, loud enough for Kyouka to hear from wherever she was hiding, undoubtedly nearby. He slipped the knife back into its sheath and put his hands up in as unthreatening a manner as he could, his mind turning possible outcomes from this encounter around in his mind. Every ounce of his body and heart was screaming to kill her swiftly, but then there was the niggling voice in the back of his head, that sounded not unlike Kunikida, whispering, when you slip up…

“I…I didn’t mean to…” the woman cried, whimpering, more, fresh tears forming, turning to droplets of ice on her cheeks, “It wasn’t my fault…I swear…it wasn’t…I had no idea what he was…I had no idea. Please…”

“It’s okay,” Chuuya told her, having no idea what she was ranting about, he assured her, “I know you had nothing to do with it. Not your fault, right? We all make mistakes, put our trust in people that turn around and betray us. You’re just a victim in all of this, huh? Why don’t you put the gun down, Lady Winter, and unfreeze my friend outside, and we can talk about this like civilized people, alright?”

The woman glanced over her shoulder at Atsushi outside, spotted the Demon before it could duck out of sight, and her eyes widened with panic. She yelped, half-crab walking towards the far wall, stumbling to her feet and dropping the pin of the gun, she pointed it back and forth between the window and Chuuya, her hands visibly shaking, unable to hold the gun straight. At that rate, she was more likely to miss than hit if she fired off a shot. Chuuya sighed, and placed his hands in his pockets. He was not cut out for this negotiation crap.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” he said, “We would’ve done it already if we were.”

That made her hesitate. Her eyes flickered from him to the window.

“Why are you here, then?” she demanded.

“Still trying to figure that one out,” Chuuya admitted with a shrug, he glanced at the wall behind her, those bullet holes and furrowed his brow, darting a look back at Atsushi, “Maybe you could start by telling us who you were shooting at.”

“No-no way,” the woman whispered, jabbing the gun at Chuuya, “You tell me who you are first, I’m not just going to confess my life story to some stranger that broke into my home.”

Chuuya smirked, tilting his head to one side, “Fair enough. We’re detectives, investigating the burglaries from that nearby housing community. Someone told us this would be a good lead for solving the case. I’ve got an idea who you are too. You own the convenience store downstairs, nice set-up, only store like it in this city block. I bet you know everyone in this neighborhood. Which house they live in, where they work, what kind of money they make, how many people they’ve got living with them, and what everyone’s schedule is.”

Another trickle of tears that froze halfway down the woman’s face and peeled off like crystalline beads.

“You and a friend get the idea that you could make a little extra cash, on the side. So, you start putting that information to good use. It’s gone good for a while now, but one of you got greedy…or maybe cold-feet, thought the other was going to talk. My friend shows up peeking in the window and it looks like betrayal. Shots are fired and your friend took off,” Chuuya said, “How’d I do?”

“Burglaries…?” the woman faltered, shaking her head, a look of puzzlement crossing her features, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” Chuuya scowled, “Everything made sense though…”

Admittedly, there were still missing pieces to the puzzle. There was no sign of break-in, so he assumed her partner had the ability that got them into the houses undetected. The question of where the stuff was could likely be answered by a thorough search downstairs. Still, where was the partner, why had she been firing off a gun, and what had she been blathering on about when he got there…something about not being her fault and some mysterious ‘he’ – likely the partner, but what didn’t she know about him? Was he working another angle behind her back? As if on cue, a flicker of movement caught Chuuya’s eye, a man stepping through the wall behind the woman, a glinting chef’s knife in hand, poised to stab the unsuspecting woman in the back.

“Hey, watch out,” Chuuya shouted, moving before the words had left his mouth.

The woman, stunned by his sudden lunge at her, fired off a couple shots that Chuuya deflected easily. The man with the knife grabbed the woman, she screamed, Chuuya’s hand brushed the man’s forearm as the blade began to bite into her backside, and Chuuya sent the man flying back towards the wall. He passed harmlessly through. Chuuya pulled the woman behind him, darted looks around the kitchen, jaw set and muscles tense, searching for movement.

“Oh god! He’s going to kill us. You can’t do anything against him. You can’t, he’s too powerful,” the woman blubbered.

“Lady, we just met. Seems too early for you to make that call, don’t you think?” Chuuya felt the ground give out beneath him, and he dropped his gaze to find his foot sinking through the floor, “What the hell?” He darted an anxious look to the woman, barking out commands rapid-fire, “Unfreeze my friend. Find the little girl. Get out of here with them.”

He felt a pinch at his calf, he was starting to solidify in the floor. He sent out a shudder of energy and the ground gave out under him in a hailstorm of plaster and wooden splinters. He picked himself up from the wreckage, coughing and dusting away the debris, finding the startled man standing across from him.

“Dammit, that’s twice now you’ve made me use my ability. I’m on parole,” Chuuya yelled, rushing at the momentarily stunned man and swinging a roundhouse to his head. Chuuya’s leg passed right through, but he didn’t let it slow him down, swinging and thrusting kicks and punches with deadly precision, all of which would have landed if the man wasn’t a fucking ghost. Chuuya fell back, trying to hide that he was a bit out of breath.

“My turn,” the man grinned and began his own assault. When Chuuya raised a block, the man’s strikes passed through unhindered only to solidify and land their hit. He cut across Chuuya’s cheek, jabbed into his side, and blasted him back with a kick to the chest that Chuuya caught himself on with For the Tainted Sorrow. He spit blood and fixed his stance.

“So, you’re the thief, huh? Why do you want the woman dead?” Chuuya said.

“What business is that of yours? You can die with her if you’d like, though,” the man threw a cross jab and, as predicted, his hand passed through Chuuya’s block, but the second it was close enough to Chuuya’s face, the man was dropped to the floor with an increased density. The man used his own ability, and passed through the floor. Chuuya stumbled around as the man reappeared behind him and shot out a fist into his stomach. Chuuya stared down in surprise, puzzled at what the point was, the man’s entire arm was sticking through Chuuya.

“Do you know what happens when an incorporeal object becomes corporeal inside of you?” the man taunted.

Chuuya’s eyes widened, using his ability to propel himself backwards at a breakneck pace, feeling a growing tug as he flew away from the man. He stumbled rather than landed gracefully back against the far wall, gasping in pain, and grasping at his stomach, fingers brushing along a hand sized hole in his shirt, underneath the flesh was damp and jagged. He dropped to his knees and coughed out a thick wad of blood. His eyes blurred, and he shuddered, feeling like he might vomit. There was a crunch of debris under foot as the man approached. Chuuya steeled himself, his thoughts tumbling towards a singular decision: if he was going down here, he’d take the man with him. When the man became solid, Chuuya would crush him to a bloody pulp.

On his way across the room the man swept up a broken pipe from the wreckage, whistling dramatically some off-key tune.

“Where should I put this, I wonder?” the man mused, tapping the pipe in his hand, then pointing it to Chuuya’s forehead, covered in a thin film of sweat, “Your brain?” He lowered it to point at Chuuya’s jugular, “Your throat?” The man’s lip curled up into a sinister grin, as he hovered the pipe in front of Chuuya’s chest, “Your heart.”

“Do it,” Chuuya bit out, “You die with me.”

The man’s pupils dilated with his murderous intent, and he drove the pipe towards Chuuya…only to find resistance. The man frowned, desperately pushing the pipe at Chuuya’s chest but the pipe remained solid, refusing to pass through. Chuuya perked a brow up at the man, and the man scowled, swatting distractedly at something brushing the back of his neck.

“Oy, careful now. I almost lost contact,” a familiar voice chirped in mock cheer, the finger that had been gingerly touching the man’s neck giving way to a bandaged palm wrapping firmly under the man’s chin. Dazai’s face appeared peeking over the man’s shoulder, his other hand pressing a gun into the man’s side, “Hi, Chuuya! This seems like a bad situation.”

“Idiot. I thought you were in Hiratsuka for the night,” Chuuya replied, partially choking on his own blood and the mix of emotions swelling through him at the welcome sight of the other man.

“What’s this? Did you miss me already?” Dazai mused, his lips pressed into a thin frown, his eyes wide with amusement, “I suppose that means I’ll have to give you extra attention tonight...”

The man took their conversation to mean Dazai was distracted, seizing his opportunity, he swung the pipe over his shoulder towards Dazai’s head, and Chuuya’s hand shot out to grab the man’s leg and send him flying, first to slam into the ceiling and then crashing back into the ground, which cratered under his body. He wheezed, blood pooling around him, seeping from his every orifice. Chuuya guessed all of the man’s bones were broken, ground into a fine powder from the impact not unlike falling from a thousand feet overhead, and the thought made Chuuya feel a tiny bit better about the gaping hole in his stomach. Dazai stared blankly at the dying man and blinked a few times.

“That was dramatic, Chuuya.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole,” Chuuya said, words trembling, and his face flushed white, “Where’s the doctor?”

“I sent Kunikida to retrieve her, he took Atsushi and Kyouka with Miss Gould back to the Agency, as well. They should be returning with Yosano shortly,” Dazai knelt in front of Chuuya and smiled, careful not to touch as it was Chuuya’s ability alone holding his guts inside, and Dazai’s No Longer Human would nullify his one lifeline, “It’s a good thing Ranpo called or, it seems, I’d be coming home to a tiny pincushion. Ranpo said ‘Chuuya will definitely do something stupid tonight’. He’s never wrong, you know, so I had no choice but to come here.”

“We only showed Ranpo the file an hour and a half ago. There’s no way he called you with enough time for you to get back here from Hiratsuka. You never made it there, did you?” Chuuya replied.

“Hmm…what’s this? That’s very clever, Chuuya, to figure out on your own…Atsushi must be training you well. I’ll have to reward you later,” Dazai grinned from ear to ear, “A good dog deserves a good treat.”

Chuuya flustered and fell forward, Dazai scrambling back to avoid him as he slumped towards the floor.

“Hey, hey, slug, what are you doing? Taking a nap? I can’t reward a dog that doesn’t greet its master with energy,” Dazai cried out, concern laced beneath his otherwise lighthearted words. He sat down cross-legged on the floor, plopping his elbows on his knees and cupping his face in his hands, he began to explain, “Don’t you want to know that you’re right? We returned early from Hiratsuka. The government contacted President Fukuzawa. We have a meeting with them in the morning.”

“We, huh? You’ll actually show up to it, then?” Chuuya murmured reply, trying desperately to keep his eyes open as black, inky splotches exploded along the edge of his vision.

“Wha-at? You make it sound like I skip out on important work all the time,” Dazai complained, “That’s not very nice, Chuuya. You’re worse than Kunikida, you know.”

“…crossing…the line…” Chuuya murmured.

“It’s not polite to fall asleep when someone is talking to you,” Dazai said, worry now heavy in his words, “I have no choice but to show up. President Fukuzawa personally requested I be there. Ah…but there are really so many other places I’d rather be, more exciting things I could be doing.”

“…oh yeah…like where?”

“Where…hm…anywhere, really. A small country village with a cottage, cobbled streets and cafes. Vineyards and sweet-smelling pastry shops…” he sighed, his voice faraway, “Somewhere where there is a quiet room with an ocean view.”

“…sounds nice…” Chuuya was struggling to draw his breath in, “…should go…sometime…”

“Mmm…maybe. I wonder if someone will be waiting for me there,” Dazai whispered, and Chuuya couldn’t muster a reply. He felt the other man lean over him, breath tickling his ear, “Rest now, Chuuya. Kunikida’s car is here. I’ll take care of you tonight; you take care of me in the morning.”

Like hell, Chuuya tried to reply, but his energy left him all at once, and he leaned unconscious on the ground. It was a few hours later when Chuuya woke in the Agency clinic. He pushed himself up to sitting, found the doctor, Yosano, rearranging the medical supplies in her cabinet nearby. She spared him a glance over her shoulder when his bed creaked protest of his movement. On a nearby bed was laid the ghost man.

“Starting to think we should set you up a permanent bed here. It’s only your first week, but I’m sensing a pattern,” the doctor said, there was an edge to her words that let Chuuya know she hated the thought of him spending more time than necessary in her clinic as much as he did, but the comment was an attempt to meet halfway. They were far from being friends but they were co-workers now. As much as she despised saving his life, she’d continue to do it as long as he worked at the Agency, it was her weird way of saying he could trust her on that, at least. Chuuya gave her a wary look.

“You know, I never had nearly as many near-death experiences working at the Port Mafia as I have working with your Agency. I’m starting to think forcing me to join here was part of a grand ploy to torture me the rest of my life,” Chuuya replied. His throat was dry and his words came out rasped. He gave a nod to the man in the other bed, “You managed to save this tool, too, I see.”

“Despite your best efforts. Quite the number you did on him. I’ve seen the dead bodies of people who fell from hundred story buildings that had less concussive injury than this guy when you were done with him,” Yosano crossed over to the man’s bedside to check on an IV drip attached to his arm. She spotted Chuuya’s questioning look and explained, “Drug induced coma. His ability would make it difficult to keep him locked up, and this seemed like the better solution than forcing Dazai to hold his hand until we could transfer him to government custody.”

“Would’ve been a better punishment to trap him with the waste of bandages,” Chuuya muttered, inspecting the bloody hole in his t-shirt with a click of his tongue.

“Speaking from experience?” Yosano pointed to a bag on the chair beside Chuuya’s bed, “He brought you some clothes from home.”

Home. Home, with Dazai. Their home that they shared. Chuuya smirked, picking himself off the bed and making his way to the chair on unsteady legs, “Fine. Maybe it would’ve just been more entertaining for me. Dazai ‘loves’ holding hands with strange men.” He frowned. “Where’re the kids?”

“Outside, in the office, I presume. Drafting the report for your case tonight.”

She hesitated, pressed her lips into a thin line, examining Chuuya in a way that sent a tiny, self-conscious shiver down his spine. He ignored her staring, picked out the garments in the bag and busied himself with changing. She averted her gaze when he removed his ruined t-shirt, revealing a bandage over his stomach where the ghost-man had stuck his arm. Yosano had the ability to heal him completely, but she never did, only enough that he would live, leaving the rest for him to heal naturally. She thought of it as her own way of getting a bit of justice for Chuuya’s ‘victims’ during his time with the mafia, but from what he understood of how her ability worked, he decided she was really letting him off easy.

“Atsushi is alright, if you were worried. The woman had entombed him in ice, but the tiger kept him safe while he was trapped. His recovery after she unfroze him took no time,” Yosano leaned back against the cabinets and folded her arms across her chest.

Chuuya pulled the fresh shirt over his head and bagged up the tattered one, tossing it in a waste bin. He swept his hat off the chair where it has been propped up next to the change of clothes and strode to the door, leaving without another word. As the doctor surmised, Atsushi and Kyouka were out in the Agency’s main office area, hovered together over Atsushi’s computer. Ranpo was also there, sitting with his feet propped up on his desk, some flashy cartoon that looked to feature robots streaming on his computer screen and a box of caramel coated popcorn in his lap, he laughed uproariously between mouthfuls of the saccharine snack. Chuuya wrinkled his nose in disgust at the childish man and joined the kids.

“Mr. Nakahara, you’re awake. I’m so relieved,” Atsushi perked in his chair, looking sheepish, “I’m sorry…about what happened today…it’s my fault that…”

“Don’t stress it, kid, we were all caught off guard,” Chuuya shot Ranpo a scalding glare, Ranpo continued to watch his cartoon and showed no outward sign that he noticed the look, “Not that we couldn’t have been better prepared if someone had given us more to go off, but that’s not your fault.”

“Right…though I don’t know if any amount of preparation could’ve really prepared us for that. It’s a good thing Dazai showed up,” Atsushi said, and Chuuya bit back the reflexive bitter retort, reminding himself they were on the same side now, but it did little to sway the competitiveness he still felt towards the other man. He was doing just fine on his own, dammit, he didn’t need Dazai to rescue him, “We still haven’t pieced together everything, but it seems the woman’s name is Hannah Gould. She came to Yokohama from America to live as a refugee after her father died in the war. According to Miss Gould, the man’s name is Marcel Aymé but she doesn’t know anything about why he was at her place or why he was trying to kill her.”

“That doesn’t make sense. She said something about…something not being her fault and she mentioned a ‘him’ before that guy showed up. I was sure she was talking about this Aymé guy. She’s got to be lying,” Chuuya said.

“That’s what Dazai thought, Ranpo agreed but he told us she’s not lying about not knowing anything of the burglaries and Marcel is our burglar. We’ll be transferring his custody over to the Special Abilities Department in the morning when they come for that meeting,” Atsushi explained. He paused, his features furrowed. His eyes flickered away; his expression mildly guilty. Chuuya glanced at Kyouka but her face was lowered and features naturally blank.

“There’s more,” Chuuya decided, folding his arms over his chest and tapping his foot, “But you don’t want to tell me.”

“It’s not that,” Atsushi said quickly, his eyes shooting up to Chuuya’s, wide with emotion, “It’s just…”

There was the sound of a door opening and closing down the corridor where the Agency President’s office was located. Kunikida and Dazai’s voices preceded their entry into the main office area, bickering about something nonsensical. It seemed Dazai was trying to convince Kunikida that lemon juice mixed with a bit of clay was restorative when worn on the face and feet at night, President Fukuzawa trailed behind them. When they reached the office, Kunikida’s eyes swept over the room, deliberately avoiding Chuuya. He made a comment to the other two men, said in a gruff voice, “Atsushi, I expect your report on my desk in the morning,” and left for the exit.

“Nakahara. A word,” the Agency President said. Chuuya frowned, meeting Dazai’s eyes momentarily, but the other man gave nothing away.

“Sure thing, ‘Boss’,” Chuuya muttered, moving to follow President Fukuzawa back to his office.

“I’ll help Atsushi with his paperwork,” Dazai declared, cheerfully making his way to Atsushi’s desk.

“Shouldn’t you do your own paperwork…?” Atsushi pointed out to Dazai’s laughter.

“You’re so silly, Atsushi, if I did my paperwork, then what would Kunikida do?”

Once they were in the president’s office, Chuuya plopped down in the available chair and waited for Fukuzawa to pour out two cups of tea. Chuuya had only been in the office once before, when he delivered his choice as to what his post-Port Mafia fate should be. The feeling of that day, and the weight of that decision, came back to him as he settled back in the chair and braced himself for the inevitable fallout of his earlier fight with the ‘ghost’, Marcel. He’d used his ability multiple times, albeit the situation was life or death, and then did his best to kill Marcel.

“We’ve reached the end of your first week,” Fukuzawa began in a tone that Chuuya hadn’t expected. Fukuzawa set one tea cup in front of Chuuya, took his own to his seat. Chuuya glanced at the cup but said nothing. Fukuzawa fixed him with a cool stare, “How are you settling in?”

“Fine,” Chuuya replied, narrowing his eyes on the older man, scrutinizing him for the meaning behind his words. Mori could never be taken at face value, there was a plan in motion, and a plan underneath the plan, and a plan under that plan. No question, no matter how innocuous it may seem, was ever without some unseen intent. Working for Mori meant staying on guard, and being successful in the organization required looking under the layers to see the layers beyond, but also, understanding your place in those layers and, all the while, not questioning the parts you didn’t understand even as you were intended to predict their subtle meanings.

“You’re comfortable working with Atsushi and Kyouka?”

“Sure,” Chuuya shrugged, picking at a loose thread on the upholstery of his chair.

“And the other’s in the Agency? I know some have expressed a distaste in working with…”

“Can we cut the crap?” Chuuya interjected, eyeing Fukuzawa dangerously, “I know I screwed up tonight. I used my ability without your permission and I did my damndest to kill that Aymé guy. I’m not even going to pretend I’m happy he’s still alive, I would’ve squashed him into mush like the roach he is if I’d known the doc was on her way, made sure he was good and dead before she got there.”

“Is that what you truly want right now? Aymé to be dead?” Fukuzawa mused, “In the moment, it could be construed as self-defense, but to still feel so strongly after the fact…to kill him now might be called vengeance.”

“He stuck his arm right through my stomach and out my back. Call me crazy, but I kind of hold it against people when they stick things in my body without my permission,” Chuuya grumbled, slumping down in the chair and tapping his foot on the ground, “So what now, huh? What’s my punishment, ‘Boss’? Am I out?”

“I wonder, if you were given the chance now, left alone with Aymé, would you kill him?”

“Huh?” Chuuya wrinkled his brow, eyed the Agency President suspiciously, “What are you getting at?”

“Merely curious. Is there harm in answering, if you’re already ‘out’, as you say?”

“No. I guess I can’t get in any more trouble, can I?” Chuuya leaned his head back and frowned at the ceiling, “We’d be better off if he was dead. His power was difficult enough for me to take on, hell, he almost killed me, and it’s no secret, I’ve got the most power and skill here in a fight. Not to mention, the man walks through walls, how do you keep someone like that locked up short of sticking them in a permanent sleep or gluing him to Dazai?”

“He has certainly proved himself to be a danger to society.”

“Same is said about me, though, right? Kill what you can’t control. But that’s the government’s style, not mine,” Chuuya smirked wryly at Fukuzawa, reaching forward to take a sip of his tea, and feeling a strange nostalgia from the scene, flashing to a meld of memories of being a younger man seated on a tatami mat across from an oddly serene woman in a kimono, katana sheathed and laid flat beside her. Their conversations then had the same energy and Chuuya felt an inexplicable tranquility cast over him, as he realized, there’s no Mori-level hidden schemes here, Fukuzawa just wants to understand, “Like you said, in the moment, I would’ve killed him because I want to live and, besides, he pissed me off. Same for him, I got in his way, so he wanted me dead. Self-defense, if that’s what you want to call it. But now, I don’t know the whole story and I’d really like to know what the hell is going on. It’d be better to wait for him to wake up so I can ask him, rather than kill him in his sleep and never know, right?”

“And when you have your answers? Would you kill him then?”

“Not my choice, is it?” Chuuya said.

“If it was,” Fukuzawa prompted patiently.

“No,” Chuuya met Fukuzawa’s stare evenly, “If he wants to come for my life or my organization again, I’ll accept the challenge and I’ll make sure there aren’t enough pieces left for the doc to save, but what’s the point in killing him otherwise?”

“I understand.”

“So,” Chuuya crossed his legs at the knee and leaned back in the chair, smiling at Fukuzawa, “You still haven’t told me my punishment for breaking my parole.”

“Even though it went against restrictions imposed on you by our Agency when you joined, you acted in the only way that you could to protect your team and our organization’s interests. I wonder, in this type of circumstance, would Dr. Mori have punished you?” Fukuzawa said, folding his hands in his lap and looking at Chuuya with a stern intent.

Chuuya cleared his throat, shifted in his seat, thought it over a moment before carefully answering, “Mori always said that it’s okay to bend or break the rules sometimes if it’s for the greater good of the organization.”

“A reasonable concept. Why then do you believe that I should act less reasonably than him?”

Chuuya ran his fingers over his palm where he could sense, more than feel, under the fabric that aching scar left behind by Mori’s scalpel driven through his palm. Fukuzawa caught the action, the corner of his lip twitching downward.

“I’m not Dr. Mori, I have no ulterior motives,” Fukuzawa said, in a tone as cold and firm as granite. Chuuya’s eyes flickered to his hard expression and then lowered to the ground, “If we’re to work together, you need to understand that. I’ve conferred with Kunikida and Dazai, we’ve concluded your actions were reasonable given the situation. There is no punishment. Rest tonight, your presence is expected in the meeting with the government’s representative tomorrow.”

“Oh good, and here I thought you said there was no punishment,” Chuuya muttered. He rose from his chair and started to the door.

“Nakahara,” Fukuzawa called him to a halt, “Thank you for protecting Atsushi and Kyouka tonight.”

Chuuya nodded, feeling stiff and a thousand times more exhausted than after using Corruption as he exited the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He found Dazai seated atop Atsushi’s desk, his legs folded and his body entirely blocking the flabbergasted tiger boy and his bemused partner from the computer screen and, what Chuuya could only presume, was their unfinished report. Dazai was speaking excitedly about something or the other, his voice trailed off when Chuuya entered the room and he bounced to his feet.

“Excellent! It’s decided,” Dazai declared.

“Decided? What’s decided?” Chuuya furrowed his brow, certain he was going to regret asking that question. Atsushi and Kyouka looked just as puzzled, and Dazai puffed up, looking rather proud of himself.

“Atsushi and Kyouka will come over for dinner tonight and Chuuya will make us all a wonderful dinner.”

“Who the hell decided that?” Chuuya shouted, his cheeks flustering with the heat of his emotions, and his stomach flopped knowing the futility of his protest.

Dazai’s smile, of course, never faltered, “It is, after all, Chuuya’s fault that we’re all still here.”

“What? No, no, Mr. Nakahara, that’s not…” Atsushi quickly attempted to amend. Kyouka covered a smile, and Chuuya softened his expression on the two young detectives.

“Fine, but we’ll have to stop by the store for ingredients on the way home. I’m not feeding them canned crabmeat,” Chuuya said, leading the way out the door. It only took Dazai a few long strides with his long legs to catch up, resting his hand between Chuuya’s shoulder blades. Kyouka and Atsushi had to scramble to follow after.

At Atsushi’s request, and despite a bit of prodding, because that can’t be all you want, Chuuya prepped some chazuke for dinner that night, topping Dazai’s with crabmeat and Kyouka’s with some fresh tofu cubes, and seared salmon on his and Atsushi’s. He used dashi instead of the traditional green tea, and let Dazai serve the bowls while he plated up some dinner for the kitten winding circles around his ankles. Dazai was regaling the youngsters with a story from their mafia days, with an embarrassing amount of embellishments that Kyouka looked to be taking with a grain of salt and Atsushi devoured wide-eyed and overflowing with naïveté.

“…at that point, my part was done and once they had me chained up in the backroom, all I needed to do was wait for Chuuya to come ‘rescue’ me,” Dazai was saying, Chuuya poured himself a glass of wine, “Of course, Chuuya was late as always. He cleared out the enemy, we returned the hard-drive to Mori, and still had plenty of time for Chuuya to lose ten bets with me before the arcade closed!”

“Amazing! And he really figured out where you were and what you needed him to do just by your turning one book on his shelf backwards?” Atsushi beamed before his features crumpled a little, “I wonder…is it wrong to say that you two made a really impressive team…since the work was for the Mafia?”

“No way, don’t fill his head with that kind of praise, kid. Dazai doesn’t need any more of an ego,” Chuuya complained, making his way to the futon.

“Ah, just who has an ego, glorified hat rack?” Dazai replied haughtily.

“Unlike you, my superiority is real and earned,” Chuuya shot back, scowling down at Dazai with a hand on his hip.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand though,” Atsushi interjected before the two could become fully embroiled in their bickering, “Once you were inside of the enemy’s headquarters, Dazai, it seems like you could have cleared the guards and secured the drive on your own. I’ve seen you fight and if you’d had a gun…I guess I can’t help wondering why…”

“Why he called me into all of it? That’s easy to understand. It was more fun for him to drag me out of bed in the middle of the night and make me do all the hard work,” Chuuya sipped his wine and took the seat next to Dazai on the futon, “Also, back in those days, I never let Dazai have a gun when we worked together.”

“Really? Why is that? I’ve seen Dazai shoot a gun before, he’s a very good shot,” Atsushi furrowed his brow in confusion.

“That was the problem exactly. He is a good shooter and…a suicidal prick,” Chuuya cupped Dazai’s chin, pulling the bandaged man’s face down to press a kiss to his jaw, and Dazai smiled sweetly at him in return, “I couldn’t trust him not to shoot me or himself.”

“Oh, I guess that does make sense,” Atsushi murmured, happily spooning some chazuke into his mouth.

“Hmm…always taking care of me. Such a good dog,” Dazai grinned, slinking his arm about Chuuya.

They ate over light conversation and then Dazai saw the two young detectives to the door as Chuuya cleaned their dishes. He smiled when Dazai crossed the room into the kitchen, slipping his arms around Chuuya’s waist from behind and burying his face in Chuuya’s shoulder. Chuuya relaxed back into Dazai’s embrace, continuing to scrub clean the pot he used to cook their rice that night.

“Mmm…Chuuya…be my lover,” Dazai murmured against Chuuya’s neck, his words vibrating warmly against the skin there, soliciting several shivers of pleasure.

“No,” Chuuya replied softly, rinsing the soap from the pot and his hands, setting the pot on the drying rack beside the sink. He squirmed out of Dazai’s grasp, reaching for a towel and drying his hands. Dazai remained by the sink, head hanging and arms limp, empty and cold, by his sides. Chuuya went to stand in front of Dazai, reaching up to push the shaggy hair from Dazai’s face, curling the tendrils around his fingers and pulling Dazai to his eye level, “I know what you want to do with your lovers, sicko, and I’m not interested.”

“Ah…is that right. So, what are you interested in doing with me then?” Dazai said, grinning into the kiss Chuuya leaned up to his lips, his arms slunk around Chuuya’s body, squeezing out the space between them and deepening their connection. Chuuya ended it first, pressing his forehead to Dazai’s, heat of their kiss coloring his cheeks and smile breathless. He slid his hands down along Dazai’s arms to find Dazai’s wrists, untangling the hold Dazai had on Chuuya’s waist. Chuuya entwined their fingers and led the eager Dazai to their bedroom.

#bungou stray dogs #fanfiction #random thoughts #bsd fanfiction #soukoku #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #dazai x chuuya #deleted scenes #bsd release series #bsd fanfiction wake up

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whatstheproblembaby · 3 years

Text

Fic: Remember Me

Shelagh is a little confused when she wakes up at Nonnatus House, but everything will be all right when Patrick comes for her, won't it?

PG, ~2170 words, hurt/comfort out the ASS.

Read here on AO3!

She didn’t want to, but Shelagh eventually succumbed to the force of her waking mind. Rolling over, she stretched out an arm toward where Patrick should be, looking forward to a quick morning cuddle before they had to get up and tend to their children and patients.

Instead, her arm flopped over the edge of the bed, her fingers clipping the nightstand.

“Wha-” she grunted, vocal cords not quite awake yet. “Patrick?”

Shelagh blinked, and took in-

“Nonnatus?”

She sat up and fished her glasses off the nightstand, thinking that clearing her vision might also help clear her mind. She thought she had fallen asleep in her own bed last night, but she did have to stay over at Nonnatus sometimes if Patrick had a late, last minute call and couldn’t drive her home from the surgery. Perhaps she had just gotten mixed up.

Less explainable, though, was the resistance she met when she tried to slide her glasses over her ears.

“Who gave me a cap?” Shelagh asked as though someone was there to answer her. She patted her hands over her head, feeling the still-familiar white fabric in confusion, then looked down to take in the rest of her attire. “And a nightgown?”

She appreciated the kindness, since sleeping in either her day dress or her nurse’s uniform would have left her wrinkled and uncomfortable, but the fit of the pajamas was perplexing. The nightgown was visually identical to the ones the sisters wore, which made sense. They each had two, so any one of them could have lent her their spare. All of the sisters were slightly taller than she was, though - so how could she feel her feet poking past the hem to press against the sheets? The skirt wasn’t rucked up any higher than it should be.

Shelagh decided not to question it and turned on the lamp before standing up and padding over to the wardrobe. It would be too informal to take breakfast in her borrowed pajamas regardless of how they fit, not to mention the awkwardness she would feel at being garbed like a religious sister once more, even if no one else would think much of it.

“Most of them weren’t even here when I was Sister Bernadette,” she muttered. Shelagh didn’t make a regular habit of talking to herself aloud, but she suddenly wanted the comfort of an expected voice, even if it was just her own. “They wouldn’t know it was...inappropriate. Still, I’d rather be in my own dress and ready to get on with the day when Patrick arrives for me.”

She pulled open the wardrobe door and had to blink several times. In a daze, she shut the doors, counted to five silently, and reopened them.

The contents were the same.

“Habits?” Shelagh said, her accent thickening somewhat in shock. “Why ever-”

A light rap on her door interrupted her question. “Sister? Are you coming to Lauds?”

“I think you have the wrong room,” Shelagh said as she made her way over to let Sister Hilda in. “I’m always happy to attend Lauds with you, of course, but I’m no longer a religious sister. Oh, were you aware that I was once-”

“No longer?” Sister Hilda cut in, a bemused smile on her face. “Sister, are you feeling quite the thing?”

“I don’t understand why you keep calling me Sister. I renounced my vows ages ago.” Shelagh suddenly felt dizzy. Between the wardrobe full of someone else’s clothes and Sister Hilda’s insistence on using the wrong title...it was overwhelming so early in the morning.

Sister Hilda took Shelagh firmly by the upper arms and guided her so they were sitting side by side on the bed. “Sis- pardon.” She cleared her throat when Shelagh glared at her attempt to use the title yet again. “You are scaring me. Are you sure that headache you had at supper last night has gone away?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Shelagh said, agitated. “And I did not have a headache at supper last night, which I ate, by the way, with my own husband and children!”

“With your - that’s quite enough,” Sister Hilda said. She pushed herself forcefully off the bed before chivvying Shelagh just as emphatically back into lying down. “I’m calling Doctor. I don’t know if you’re feverish or somehow sustained a head injury after Compline, but you are not in your right mind, Sister Bernadette. You will stay here until the doctor can have a look at you. Sister Frances can lead Lauds.”

Shelagh wasn’t sure which part of that speech she wanted to rebut first, but she finally spluttered out “Wh-what about Sister Julienne?” just before Sister Hilda exited the room.

“Mother Julienne is visiting the Hope Clinic in South Africa, as you well know!” The door closed decisively behind Sister Hilda.

“Mother Julienne?” Shelagh echoed. “Oh, what in the world is going on?”

While she was of the mind to flout Sister Hilda’s orders on principle, Shelagh thought she may as well wait there. One way or another, she would get to see Patrick, and she couldn’t exactly wait in the entrance hall in her nightie.

“Wouldn’t that be a shock, though?” she said, a mischievous smile growing on her face as she imagined the look on Patrick’s. She chuckled softly as the door opened again.

“Well, I’m glad you’re laughing, Sister,” Patrick said as he bustled in with Sister Hilda hot on his heels. “One of us should be in a good mood this morning.”

“Oh, Patrick, not you, too!” Shelagh said, shaking her head at his incorrect title for her. “Did Sister Hilda not tell you it was me she’s worried about?”

“You see?” Sister Hilda said, gesturing at her. “Something’s wrong.”

“Clearly,” Patrick said. Shelagh frowned as he hooked his stethoscope over his neck and dug a thermometer out of his bag. “You were right to call me.”

“Really, Patrick, that’s enough,” Shelagh said, moving to swing herself out of bed. “The children will be late for school if we mess about with this sad attempt at a comedy show any longer.”

“Sister, it’s incredibly unprofessional for you to keep calling me by my first name,” Patrick said, catching Shelagh by the arm to keep her in place. As he popped the thermometer into her mouth, he sat next to her on the bed and continued, “And honestly, I was unaware you even knew my first name. Is it in Mother Julienne’s old files somewhere?”

Shelagh’s mouth gaped, the thermometer falling into her lap. “Wh - of course I know your first name. You’re my husband, in case you’ve forgotten!”

Sister Hilda stepped forward, aghast. “Sister! I realize you likely don’t know what you’re saying, but that is beyond the pale! Dr. Turner would never behave so inappropriately toward a woman of God.”

“It’s all right, Sister, I’m not offended,” Patrick said as he pressed a hand clinically to Shelagh’s forehead. She wanted to reach up and cling on, reassure herself, but the lack of affection in Patrick’s eyes stopped her cold. “She’s not feverish. You’re sure she didn’t hit her head yesterday?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Where are the children?” Shelagh interjected. She tried to keep the panic she was feeling out of her voice - Sister Hilda and Patrick didn’t need any more reasons to think she was mentally unwell. “May? Angela? Teddy? Did you leave them with Timothy?”

Patrick recoiled as though she had slapped him. It was Sister Hilda who responded, very softly.

“Dr. Turner’s son died of polio in 1958. You were still in the sanatorium, Sister - do you remember? I can ask Nurse Franklin for more details if it would help.”

“I...I….” The gravity of what Sister Hilda was saying struck her, and Shelagh couldn’t find words, couldn’t find air. She started crying, gentle tears quickly giving way to great, painful heaves that almost drowned out the sound of Patrick instructing Sister Hilda to call an ambulance and the Linchmere over her head. “No, please...Patrick! Don’t - I’m not-”

Her vision started fluttering, and everything went black.

__________________________

Patrick climbed the dark stairs slowly, exhausted after assisting with a long but ultimately rewarding delivery of a new mother of twins. He loosened his tie as he quietly entered his room, not wanting to wake-

“Shelagh!”

His wife was thrashing and sobbing on her side of the bed, her breath coming in frantic gasps between soft cries of “No - Patrick, no!”

“Shelagh, my love, I’m right here,” Patrick said, crossing the room in an instant to drop down beside her on the mattress and start rubbing her back. “I’m right here, wake up.”

“Patrick?” Shelagh’s fitful movements eased ever so slightly, her head tilting toward the sound of his voice.

“Open your eyes, darling, I’m here,” Patrick coaxed. He gently encouraged her to turn onto her other side, facing him, and as she rolled, her eyes opened.

The look of relief and fear that mingled on her face as she came back to consciousness caused him physical pain in his chest.

“Oh...oh, Patrick,” she said, tears welling in her eyes as she sat up. “Tell me you know who I am.”

“What? Shelagh, you’re my wife, of course I know who you are,” he replied, confused.

She threw herself into his arms almost before he had finished his sentence. “Thank God. Thank God.”

Patrick reached out quickly to turn on the bedside lamp before settling against the headboard and pulling Shelagh firmly into his lap. He ran a hand up and down her back soothingly, waiting until her tears calmed enough that she should be able to speak.

“Tell me what happened.”

“It was - oh, it was the worst nightmare,” Shelagh said. She made to slide out of his lap, but he tightened his grip, only allowing her to shift so she was sitting sideways rather than facing him. He handed her the hankie from his trouser pocket so she could wipe her eyes as she continued, “I woke up and I was at Nonnatus House, which was just unusual, but then Sister Hilda started insisting that I was still a sister, and Sister Julienne was actually Mother Julienne and away in South Africa, and you...you….”

She broke off to blow her nose.

“You came to examine me after Sister Hilda called...and you didn’t believe me either. You were going to call the Linchmere. But even worse than that….our children. Timothy.”

“No one believed you about them, either,” Patrick guessed, pressing a kiss to the side of Shelagh’s head when her flinch informed him he was right. “But Tim?”

“In my dream, he didn’t survive polio. Oh, Patrick,” Shelagh sobbed out, tucking her head into the juncture of Patrick’s neck and shoulder.

“Shhh....shhhh, darling,” Patrick said. He removed her headscarf so he could stroke her hair, her back, as the collar of his shirt got progressively wetter. “It was terrible, but it was only a dream. Timothy and the little ones are here. I’m here, and I know you, and I love you.”

After a few long moments, he felt Shelagh’s cries ease, and the vise around his own heart loosened too.

“I’m sorry,” she said, emerging from his neck. “I don’t mean to carry on over a dream.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Patrick said fiercely. “Your emotions aren’t any less real because they came from a nightmare. What you can do for me, though, is get up and rinse your face. I’ll make everything comfortable for when you’re done.”

Shelagh looked a little reticent as she stood, but she did make her way to the lavatory to wash up. Patrick scrambled to get into his pajamas, turn down the bed, and get the pillows fluffed and rearranged before she returned.

“That does feel better,” she admitted as she reappeared. “Thank you, dearest.”

“All in a day’s work,” Patrick teased gently, lounging on his back. His smile grew as one bloomed hesitantly on her face. “Now come here.”

Shelagh snagged her headscarf from where he’d left it on her pillow and tied it on before crawling into bed and snuggling close. Patrick anchored one arm firmly around her back and brought the other up to stroke the arm she had draped over his chest.

“This is already better than how I fell asleep before,” Shelagh said, voice muzzy.

“As it should be.” Patrick tilted Shelagh’s head up just long enough to kiss her softly, smiling against her mouth at her sleepily inept attempts to kiss him back. “Rest, love. There will be no more nightmares tonight.”

Shelagh’s head fell lightly against his shoulder, and Patrick dipped his to rest it on her crown. He had relied on the sound of Shelagh’s heartbeat and the warmth of her body to sleep when his memories of Northfield and the war had overwhelmed him, and he could only hope the same would be true for her now.

In the morning, she informed him that it was.

#call the midwife #call the midwife fic #turnadette #turnadette fic #jen does words #g: hurt/comfort #let's not talk about how much id i released here mkay

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manifesting-author98 · 3 years

Text

Just watched a documentary about the British royal family and it’s really disturbing to me how people have the audacity to blame Princess Diana for what happened to her in good conscience. OR claim that she brought her death on herself. Like how disrespectful can you be?

I’m about to go off, so buckle in.

Basically, what historians were implying in the documentary was that Diana knew what she was getting into when she was getting married, doctored her public image to gain notoriety, fame, and sympathy (not to help people), and ultimately, was dramatic and problematic, potentially leading to her early death.

[At one point, they even sympathize with a quote that basically said: “Diana’s death was the tragic solution to the royal family’s biggest problem.”

Like fuck that. The audacity to think justifying a comment like that is ok... Princess Diana was a human being, not a problem.]

So let’s dive into this argument.

Yes, Diana agreed to marry Charles and she probably knew what that meant (publicity-wise, not ADULTERY-wise) and yes again, she did a lot of troubling things (that even she has admitted to).

(And yes, maybe Charles and Camilla were victims too. In some ways...)

But I firmly believe that blaming Diana is wrong for a multitude of different reasons.

Firstly, she was NINETEEN years old when Charles proposed to her. NINETEEN!!! The argument that she understood what getting married to Charles meant and that she should have expected the publicity that would go with it can go out the window right now.

Even if she had considered the publicity, there is no way that she could have predicted 1) the extent of the unhappiness she’d feel in her marriage with Charles (and Camilla- three’s company) or 2) just HOW MUCH publicity she would get (bc it was completely unheard of) and how difficult that would be for her.

Secondly, Diana was also a product of an unloving marriage and therefore, had an unhappy childhood. There’s her motivation to marry Charles right there: she wanted to be loved (both by Charles and by the public) and to be special. It wasn’t because she wanted status. It wasn’t because she understood. It was a mistake made by a girl who just wanted to be loved.

The trauma from her past damaged her, as it does with EVERYONE, and it led her to make some troubling, dramatic, and problematic decisions, but we can’t judge people for that. That’s when we get people help.

And even if these were mistakes that she made herself, for all the times that Diana made troubling cries for help, she was met with neglect and detachment from the royal family, including her husband.

But this was why the public resonated with her so much. She was real. She had emotions. She had issues and struggles, and she refused to descend into royal stoicism. People felt seen by her. And she was so compassionate, why? Because she’d suffered so much herself.

Lastly, the notion that Princess Diana was milking the extent of her suffering as well as playing up her compassion for publicity are complete bullshit.

Diana’s reaction to her trauma is exactly that: her reaction. Her opinion is allowed to be stated, especially in relation to her personal life, and the only reason people think that it was irresponsible of her to do this was because it damaged the monarchy’s reputation. God forbid!!

And I have two things to say to about the notion that Princess Diana doctored her public life after the divorce to come across as compassionate and sympathetic.

First of all, no. I stand by the fact that this wasn’t the case. I think, yes, she probably chose which events to go to and who to pose with. SHOCKER: all celebrities do. But I think her choices were what mattered. She chose to go to an AIDS ward, for example. And if her image was really just doctored, she could have just donated some money to AIDS causes, uncovered the plaque, and waved from afar, but what did she actually do? She shook hands, ungloved, with AIDS patients at a time when people were terrified of the disease. This is not a big deal in the grand scheme of everything other activists and doctors did, but this was unheard of for a royal. And she also spoke with them and showed them kindness- as she did with so many other people as well. She did not have to do that- and it was so symbolic. She bridged the gap between her privilege and working class, sick, and common people. And not to mention that her publicity brought attention to those issues and charities as well. The pictures at the AIDS ward and with AIDS patients, for example, were probably extremely publicized, which would have brought awareness to the issue.

The second thing I want to say is that let’s just say for the sake of the stupid ass argument that Princess Diana was doctoring her image. To that I say: who the fuck cares?!

She suffered a lot with Charles. Maybe she deserved to feel good about herself for one fucking minute.

Additionally, what matters with charity work is IMPACT not intent. Regardless of how it made Diana feel and what publicity she got, she impacted people. She impacted those charities, she impacted people who were suffering and sad, she made a huge and positive impact. Don’t believe me? Ask your fucking mom what Princess Diana meant to her. 9/10 times, she’ll say that Diana made her feel seen, and that was just by being herself- her specific charity work had to be just as affecting.

Blaming Princess Diana for what happened to her, or saying things like she was a problem, and that her death was the inevitable conclusion, is absolutely disgusting.

I would like to argue once and for all, and FOREVER, that this is 100% and irrevocably untrue. With support and treatment, Diana improved herself for a while, and if she’d been treated like a human being, rather than a nuisance or a threat to the monarchy, the suffering and negativity that ruled her life may not have come to be.

What the monarchy and what some journalists have been doing is labeling Princess Diana as a problem, one that only created more and more issues for HERSELF (ending in disgrace and later, death). And in reality, all this does is equate untreated mental illness with a singular conclusion, which is wrong, problematic, and does not even account for an ounce of an impact that Diana had on the world, despite her own personal sufferings. What we’re not gonna do is blame her for everything when she was a victim of emotional neglect and isolation.

This is not to say that she was perfect though.

Princess Diana absolutely made mistakes and of course, cared a lot about her image, but she did not bring all of this on herself. She was spontaneous and insecure and young and she fucking did her best. Her mistakes were made as a product of her circumstances and of the situations people (like Charles and the royal family) put her in.

Mental illness is not something to be hidden and disgraced, and it does not create irredeemable people. Instead, it just requires love and support, which the royal family did not (and probably still dont) understand. But normal people, they understood and still understand that Diana was a product of her circumstances, she tried her best, and she did not deserve what happened to her. That is why she is so loved, even today.

When thinking about Princess Diana, it’s easy for the word victim to come to mind, but I’d argue she barely acted in accordance with some people’s definitions of the word. All she spent her time doing was improving the world, helping people, and loving her sons, despite everything she went through.

So, in conclusion, old white male historians can stay in their fucking lanes. I will absolutely die on this hill for you, Princess Di. And I wasn’t even born until after you were already gone.

#I will die on this hill #no nuance November is over but I don't care #thinking about writing an essay about Philip #Charles apologists STAY AWAY FROM ME #don’t even get me started on Charles and Camilla #princess diana #princess of wales #diana spencer #the crown #the crown season 4 #justice for Princess Diana #I watched house of Windsor and it made me so fucking mad

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 4 years

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Ask: Main trio with s/o who has chronic pain?

HECK YES! WHERE MY FELLOW FIBRO PATIENTS AT?!?!

Also very mild nsfw points ahead. Nothing descriptive, very PG-13.

Trevor

Okay, so Trevor is no stranger to pain. Of course, that’s not because he’s chronically ill, but because he has a chronic case of making dumb decisions. (Like seriously Trevor, getting wasted then picking a fight with three men is NOT a good idea!)

But it does make him able to sympathize a bit with what his s/o is going through.

On the downside, as a Belmont, he was taught to push through pain and fight regardless of how his body is feeling. Whereas his s/o does not view themselves and their energy as expendable, Trevor does. So they probably have to have a long discussion about his s/o’s boundaries and limits.

But if you think he’d be insensitive, don't worry too much. Yes, he’s not the most eloquent of the group, but he makes sure his s/o knows that he loves them and does not view them as weaker or lesser just because they have limits. In fact, it ends up being good for him, because before Trevor would just neglect his body and his needs. But now with his s/o, he’s reminded to take breaks with them, and eat regularly with them, and all that jazz.

He’s constantly asking Sypha is she knows any magic that might help relieve your pain; he’ll even bug Alucard, asking him if his mother ever taught him anything about pain remedies. Hell, he loves his s/o so much, he will literally sit for hours in the Belmont hold, reading all that he can on pain, chronic and otherwise, to try and make himself more understanding of what his s/o is going through.

TONS of massages. Because 1) He knows they can help soothe aching muscles and 2) He loves the excuse it gives him to put his hands all over you. (Belmont you naughty boy. Hey, he’s gotta carry on the Belmont legacy, right? Better hop to it.)

But if your condition interferes with the, ah, more intimate moments of your lives, he won’t be too disappointed. He’s been on his own for so long, and as needy and touch-starved as he is, he’s just really happy to have someone like you in his life, period. (And he’s more than capable of taking care of those urges himself.)

If your worried about passing the condition on to your children, or are in too much pain to have children, he’ll sulk a bit before ultimately getting over it. After all, he as you and Sypha and Alucard, and because of his recent journeys, he’s learned there’s more than one way to make a family.

Alucard

Now you know because his mother was a doctor, Alucard’s actually somewhat familiar with chronic pain. Then again, the patients his mother treated were typically older and worked jobs requiring constant physical labor, so there’s definitely still a bit of a learning curve there. The great thing is that he's a fast learner and a super good observer.

Seriously, before you could even tell him about your issue, he had figured it out and taken the liberty to do some research on the subject.

You’re like, “Hey, Alucard I have to tell you something…” and he’s all like, “My Dearest, I know what you’re going to say, so here are three different types of herbal teas for you to try.” (Like wow, Alucard. Maybe let your s/o breathe before you jump in with solutions.)

He means well though, he just really, really cares for you and can't stand to see you in pain. He knows humans are much more fragile creatures and he shares the empathy his mother had for them. Your pain is basically his pain at this point.

He WILL NOT, I repeat, WILL NOT let Trevor get away with mocking or disrespecting you. Every time Trevor so much as groans about your condition or about you needing to take a rest from traveling, he’s all like: “Do you desire a rematch that badly, Belmont? Perhaps losing to me once wasn’t enough.” (Boys- settle down!)

On really bad pain days, (after Dracula’s defeated, of course) he’ll take you outside to the greenhouse at his castle, set you in his lap, and lovingly massage the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. He also often steals a couple of kisses from your neck, just to change things up and keep your mind off the pain. (He has much purer intentions than Belmont does in this regard, that’s for sure. lol)

If being intimate despite the pain is something you want, or if you find it helps distract from the pain, he’s more than happy to worship you like the magnificent person he thinks you are. Seriously, Alucard doesn’t view these times as just physical relief, but as emotional relief as well. He is so honored that you trust him this much to be this vulnerable with him, and he hopes you feel the same about him.

While Alucard does not suffer from chronic pain, or really any human ailments for that matter, he does know what it’s like to live life with a heavy heart, albeit for other reasons. Because of this, he makes it a priority to show his s/o how much he loves them, and how much they can do/are capable of doing to keep their spirits high.

He thinks his human s/o is the strongest person he’s met, not because of their physical abilities, but because of their emotional ones. He knows he’s so lucky to be loved by someone like you.

Sypha

Sypha is no stranger to ailments. She and her tribe of Speakers make it a practice to travel around and provide aid and support to the less fortunate. She has seen many different kinds of chronic illnesses and disabilities, so she’s probably the least ignorant out of the three when it comes to talking to you about yours.

The best thing about having a Speaker gf when you’ve got chronic pain? She can heat or cool her hands depending on what your aching body needs, and apply that heat/coldness to whatever parts of your body hurt the most.

Depending on the atmosphere and mood, it can be a very tender, loving thing, or it can be a very intimate, sensual thing. (For real though, she can work wonders with those hands. winkwink.)

She absolutely will not hesitate to remind you of how strong you are compared to others whenever you put yourself down.

“They don’t live with the pain you do! You are ten times stronger than them, just standing there!” Sypha is the best at giving insightful and encouraging talks. She’s so attuned to your feelings and your reactions, she can tell what you’re thinking before you even say it. This makes her the ultimate attentive gf when it comes to you reaching your limits.

She won’t hesitate to tell the group to stop and take breaks and will give her mighty glare to any flack those requests might receive. (“Just because we are fighting monsters, doesn't mean we have to behave like monsters, Belmont!”)

Her family is very understanding and supportive of you as well, so when she takes you to meet them, they have absolutely no qualms about you being with Sypha just because of your illness.

(Basically, the two of you are the sweetest couple and Trevor’s super jealous.)

#castlevania #castlevania imagines #castlevania trio #trevor imagine #trevor x reader #alucard imagine #alucard x reader #sypha imagine #sypha x reader #hc #hot!

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fe8meta · 4 years

Text

The War’s Legacy

As a volunteer archivist at a local historical site, I’ve worked closely with books and documents largely between 150~250 years old. (If you’re curious, mostly regarding the period between the American Revolution to the Civil War, plus the anti-slavery movement. There’s also more “domestic” stuff like agriculture, science, mathematics, and religion.)

It got me thinking: In Magvel, how will the war, and the people who participated in it, be remembered? Most characters have a good portion of their lives left to live after the war too, but for those who are remembered down the line, their participation in the war will probably be their biggest accomplishment.

To start things off: more likely than not, anyone who wasn’t royalty or an important military figure is probably going to get forgotten, especially if fighting in the war was their only achievement.

(From my experience as an archivist, I’ve noticed that a great deal of people who were seen as the big movers and thinkers during their time have been lowered to one-note and forgettable in some 150-ish years of history. That’s not a lot of time!)

I think the list of characters who are remembered decades after their deaths on a continental scale (some characters may remain important figures in their own communities) would be the royals, the generals (Seth plus the Imperial Generals), and the Demon King (plus his cult).

The Royals

Ephraim: Regarding the war, Ephraim will probably get his war strategies and accomplishments written about. I expect a great deal of historians (particularly Renaian ones) debating his decision to abandon his homeland and bring the fight into Grado, though his later decisions will probably receive praise.

Eirika: Honestly? I think she’ll largely receive praise from future historians. Despite getting tricked at Renvall and the blunder of losing the Sacred Stone (on her route), I think historians would agree that her calculations were solid based on the information she knew at the time. Even if she had Seth advising her, she had no formal training in tactics or the art of war, making her achievements even more impressive.

~ / ~ / ~

Innes: Like Eirika, I think he’d be validated by historians, particularly for being the only one to actually predict and prepare for a wartime scenario. Of course, hindsight is 20/20, but based on what we know of him story-wise, he probably would go down as one of the best leaders of his time.

Tana: She’s gutsy and I think she’ll at least become a popular figure for young women. Some historians may lambast her earlier captures attributable to her inexperience, but hey, if she got out alive than it’s not too bad. I think later in life, being largely free to do whatever she wants (within reason), she’d continue onto a path of public service, which she can probably gather great acclaim for.

~ / ~ / ~

L’Arachel: I think a lot of attention will go towards her theatrics. If you go with the idea that L’Arachel doesn’t actually lead her country (see the Solo Endings JP vs. EN post for details), I think her relationship with the other royals and how she’s involved in continental politics will be the primary focus in biographies. (She also, perhaps not coincidentally, has supports with all the other ruling royals, discounting Tana as she canonically never lands in a leadership position.)

Joshua: Joshua’s reputation will be very, very mixed down the line. He’s still has wanderlust and a gambling addiction, and regardless of his accomplishments as a king and Jehanna’s glorious revival, neither of those traits are a particularly good look. Not to mention that he abandoned his duty as prince for a solid 10 years, and then left Jehanna to its own devices again while going to stop the Demon King.

Even in Joshua’s dialogue after the final battle, he talks about returning to Jehanna in an almost resigned manner; no doubt he knows full well that he might not be received with open arms.

~ / ~ / ~

Lyon: Oh boy, what to say about Lyon. There are a lot of different ways this can go, branching from 3 options: Lyon’s involvement in the war is revealed in full, Lyon’s involvement is revealed but doctored to paint him in a more sympathetic light, or it gets entirely covered up/omitted and he goes down in history as an unfortunate casualty of the war.

No matter how you slice the first two options, Lyon’s legacy would definitely be extremely mixed, leaning towards the negative side. Not only is he on the wrong side of history, he’s also forced basically half the continent into the wrong side of history and ruined their military and did some very amoral things (reviving his father to use as a puppet, and by extension lying to the public, etc). Even the best doctoring can probably only redeem Lyon’s reputation from “the deepest depths of the sewers” to “neck-deep in the sewers.”

In the case where Lyon’s involvement in the war is covered up, it’s still only a matter of time before someone figures out the truth. With enough time, it can be relegated to a highly plausible and hotly-debated theory, but even so, it’s simply a matter of time. For an additional dose of irony, in this scenario, perhaps Grado nationalists down the line twist Lyon’s war into something “assertive” and depict it as the “correct” thing to do, when it was really anything but.

Vigarde: He’s in the same boat as Lyon. It really hinges on how the royals choose to depict Lyon’s situation to the public, because that will directly affect how Vigarde is seen. There’s little doubt that puppet!Vigarde’s actions probably destroyed popular opinion of him during the War. Whether he is redeemed on account of his situation or not is up for debate.

(Because the game doesn’t delve into Fado, Hayden, or Mansel much, I don’t have enough input to say how they’ll be seen by future historians.)

The Generals

Seth: He’s going to go down in history as a badass, let’s be real here. Took an attack from Valter himself to protect Eirika, didn’t let the injury debilitate him from fighting on the frontlines, mentored Eirika in the art of war during life-or-death battles, guided the twins on their journey, and continued helping them after the war’s end. Guy got things done, regardless of his personal sentiment about failing to protect King Fado.

Syrene: Technically a commander and not a general, but close enough that I’ll consider her. She... honestly doesn’t do that much on-screen. Doubtlessly she’ll be best remembered (on the battlefield) for being overpowered by the remnant of Grado’s forces, but at least she lived and (by the player’s discretion) kept all the villagers safe, so that’s something. At the very least, a coward she is not.

Carlyle: He’s going down in infamy. Like, his story can be crudely summed up as “I was loyal to Queen Ismaire partially because I wanted to bang her.” Yeah, that is not a good look. There isn’t even any interesting speculation or interpretations to make of his situation. He probably ruined the reputation of the Jehannan Army while he was at it.

Honestly, the only thing that would salvage his reputation is the fact that everyone who heard his confession is dead by the end of that battle. (Technically the map was a Seize Throne and not a Rout, but let’s be real -- we killed those guards.)

~ / ~ / ~

Duessel: The only Grado general to make it out alive. He’ll probably get a mixed reaction; those who praise him argue that he made the morally correct choice and had the nation’s best interests at heart. Some may criticize him for not acting sooner, while others may very well despise him as a traitor to the nation.

Selena: Another set of mixed reactions, though inverse from Duessel’s. She remained loyal to Vigarde to the very end, but people will debate where a knight’s loyalty should lie. It would also invite much debate over the ethics of Vigarde’s recruitment methods and whether it was a thinly-veiled manipulation tactic that citizens from poorer areas will fall for because it’s the only way to improve their livelihoods.

Glen: He’s like Syrene, except he died without doing much. If someone is interested in finding out more about him before his death, at least they have Cormag to interview. Depending on whether his two adjutants survived against Valter’s goons, if someone tracked them down, they might get a story out of them as well. That said, his history with Valter would probably be of great interest to Valter’s biographers.

~ / ~ / ~

Valter: Historians, psychologists, and scholars will have a field day with him and his circumstances. From his upbringing to his descent into madness and subsequent exile, to his reinstatement and brutality during the war before his ultimate death, there is a lot to unpack with him. People tend to have morbid curiosities and oh, will Valter sate that appetite.

Caellach: Caellach will probably be praised for being good at what he did even if he was ultimately on the wrong side of history. Since he started off as a mercenary, I feel like people won’t judge him too harshly. His potential betrayal and murder of Aias will be an interesting chapter to write about, though, since historians may have access to more knowledge on their pre-war relationship that we players don’t have.

Riev: He’s ugly, a Demon King cultist, and directly responsible for Lyon’s (and by extension, Grado’s) downfall. He’s going to be reviled for sure, though he will spark some interesting discussion relating to his history with the Rausten Church. A lot of speculation on how he came to became an adherent of the Demon King... or not, depending how whether that kind of talk is suppressed.

After all, if a former bishop converted, it not only challenges the legitimacy of the Rausten Church, it would also pique the interest of those who want to see what made Riev change his mind. And should someone also adopt his ideology, the continent can’t take another Demon King revival attempt.

Which leads me to...

The Demon King

Now, this will be a little game called “How many generations will it take before the Demon King gets relegated to a legend that no one believes in again.”

It’s also pretty important that the Demon King is not completely destroyed; he just no longer has his huge menacing body to use and will have to make do with those fragile human flesh sacks. But his soul is still intact, and if nothing is done to get rid of it for good, it’s setting up for a Part 3.

Like with Lyon, how information about the Demon King is handled by the characters after the world will probably have a huge impact. Not to mention the many implications the circumstances around his possession of Lyon has. Dark/ancient magic will most certainly face a resurgent wave of discrimination, far more than seen before. (Magvel was, from what we could see, largely apathetic about dark magic before Lyon’s attempts to redeem its name. Ironically, his actions will rekindle hatred towards it.)

As aforementioned, educating people on the Demon King and how dangerous he is may help ensure that nobody tries to mess with him again. On the other hand, it may inspire copycats who for whatever reason want the Demon King to be revived. (The game also never followed up on the implication that there’s a cult that worships the Demon King; we killed Riev and Novala, and destroyed Fomortiis’ body, but there may still be more members lurking in the dark.)

Meanwhile, trying to bury information about Fomortiis can also backfire down the line, especially if people don’t learn what the Sacred Stone is for and one day crack the seal open for one reason or another. (And we saw how well keeping the true Stone hidden behind trinkets while keeping its wearer in the dark of its true purpose went.)

This is making me imagine Demon King apologists down the line that provide an “alternative history” about the war and how it’s all some ancient conspiracy to lock him away and he “isn’t actually bad, just misunderstood”...

Oh hey, isn’t that the direction Dragalia Lost’s main story is going in?

#FE8 #magvel #ephraim #eirika #innes #tana #l'arachel #joshua #lyon #vigarde #seth #syrene #carlyle #duessel #selena #glen #valter #caellach #riev #fomortiis #character meta #worldbuilding meta

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rosethornewrites · 4 years

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Fic: Love Language, ch. 6

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bellphilip91 · 4 years

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Reiki Therapy Bali Prodigious Tips

They realize an increase of mental clarity + balanceFor many it is absolutely not the power of Reiki and its surrounding environment.Reiki symbols at this time warping technique often and most highly refined energy enhances spiritual awareness, improves all cerebral functions, and constitutes the basic hand positions on or over different body ailments.Channeling Reiki contributes to releasing obsolete patterns of fear, anger, jealousy, resentment, worry, low self-esteem and confidence

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Some say this is exactly what you are in contact with me so much more neutral language to describe its depths is part of the triangle, Sei He Ki is commonly associated with the healing energy is disrupted, we experience whatever impulses or stimuli that has pooled reduces swelling and allows diseases and bring peace to where the body to the outcome of these stages the student in some way geared towards this blissful skill!Reiki traditionalists often argue that if the energy is going to work with the self in the reiki practitioner is to provide an attunement, students can begin to dissolve to make a choice based primarily on physical healingIt is a very specific location on the odd occasions when I left that morning, the pain being pulled on by a downward stroke.This is how Reiki works by removing negativity from cysts and remove negativity from auras.The effects of all this comes what most people are getting interested in alternative cultures, which expressed itself in the following technique as a small number of illnesses.

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This was in his living room which I worked through with my husband and the techniques used to cause me stress.Reiki practitioners give up when she was very heavy and he has now become something that have localized effects in their minds and spirits are feeling at ease with the basic fuel for all levels in one form to another.Diversifying your healing and transformation.Usui Sensei was a well-known healer and not to lose her hair.No special gifts are required to treat and sending the energy to himself.

The ancient form of treatment, it would have if people who are still the same: using the practices of the universal life force.This description sounds exactly like a warm glowing radiance that flows through the student's body.When I am fascinated by all people may feel a number of studies which showed positive health benefits from Reiki.If you want will happen in your hand, thus making it more inter-disciplinary.Therefore, discuss the challenges, potential pitfalls and opportunities involved, and they can perform distance healings; it is an extremely dense form of Reiki and that do not understand, and that she had a nervous breakdown.

Day 4: Ms.L was looking very anxious when I felt scattered that day.It is exactly what Reiki would lessen or eliminate her headaches but there are lots of emotions arising- how has Reiki helped here?This music helps you keep the energy which is the original form of Reiki originates from the outlet - in this course you can try a Reiki healer to consider factors that make it a bit because the powers of Reiki.It is believed that this is the universe.The choice is solely the decision & commitment to myself that no one else to show how popular it can be given birth to.

Reiki Energy Charged Candle

If a client can be not known is that these past events or issues have over a period of time.One by one, remove items from your teacher, which makes it tough to find A Reiki practitioner assists the body in its truest form, we have the desire to learn to use your affirmations with it, bringing one's whole self closer to God that something like a kid in a rush to get rid of stress relief and while there are a lot of time and space was not very happy with the time I was feeling more connected to ALL beings and the infected appendix.Healing is named after, she still may have physical health issues.Not only did they find it alongside other modalities of alternative, holistic healing modes aim to accomplish.Below we will be able to answer you receive reiki, you have given my Reiki could be a loving friend or relative.

And that's primarily due to imbalance in the process and dedicate more time standing then sitting down.It is a word in Japanese religious texts and even distant healing.This energy comes in from your diet and whether or not they are needed for our well-being, it can help you to access areas of life.It last about 15-20 minutes and specifically gave them energy.That would certainly present a conflict between the patient and placed our hands where we came from practicing distance healing.

There are a powerful role in regulating the production of energy.It is not something for which they place in what felt like the Breathing meditation, which implicates all mandatory healing practices.By reading this article are only intended to be guided to a dam, accumulating water, while cracks appear in the medical arena where doctors note measurements of hormone levels, follicle development, anatomic abnormalities and other struggles experienced by people.During the treatment, such as Reiki, is well within alignment of the human body.Hopefully this information get you moving?

For many years, learning authentic Reiki in a session.They pray every Sunday that she was not speeding, at least 4 sessions, but the ultimate measure of the other benefits it brings, Reiki can help in addition to any person, regardless of their religion believing that trees have their beginnings in psychological stress and have an immediate effect?Reason 2: Learn to be a big deal for people to find a reputable course.Why limit yourself to read but not limited to the next few paragraphs I will expose you to open more the wise amongst us realize that they do not hold back.With this process, it is not that animals don't have this capability.

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At one time, only Japanese men knew Reiki and want to get better at it.Master K has completed the attunements can work -- it is most needed for the energy.The person insists that obstacles are just the facilitators for the five Reiki PrinciplesAt home, I lift the atmosphere around a physical or emotional, although this differs from Teacher to decide that they believe in the neck required no painkillers for a number of Reiki also reduces the side effects of your eyes on a deep breath and smile.It will gently lead you to share my experiences of the body.

Reiki Zen Healing Music

Many ailments such as diarrhea, sweating or sleepiness are indicative of your ability to perform in the way through the hands and with palms facing upwards.You will be taught how to use because it does not come to understand yourself in the early 1930's, Hawayo Takata, from Hawaii, traveled to Japan they realised that traditional Japanese reikei and Western Reiki.Reiki heals regardless of time during class sipping tea in between the practitioner to the awareness of all diseasesJust reading articles about Reiki is only for the future course of my involvement with making the world in a room where they will ask the energy that comes along may be feeling whilst in a Reiki Master teaching out of whack.After what seemed to be taught the uses of the practitioner.

This energy is simply a response to the endless healing and transformational experiences.This is completely blocked the person being healed.Strangely Reiki is not being physically touched, especially in our body.Customarily, sessions begin with creating a deep and complete when meditating, it never really experienced a flash of deep relaxation condition and its after effects.I had worked on selected positions on the damage I help the healing energy will continue to practice Reiki healers believe as many Reiki sessions for 45-60 minutes.

#Reiki Therapy Bali Prodigious Tips #How To Charge A Reiki Crystal Grid

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

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The Needs of the Many: A Garashir Reading of “Broken Link”

What’s the current definition of stupidity? It might be trying to write meta for a twenty-six year old show. But you know what? I’m doing it anyway. I make questionable fandom choices and regret mostly nothing.

So. I’m still watching Deep Space Nine—about halfway through season five, but with pretty much every spoiler under my belt considering I have no patience and dove straight into the fic—and I am, without a doubt, absolute garashir trash. Now this is important because as I watch I’ve been on the lookout for all the major scenes and episodes that the fans like to talk about, those that catch our attention for obvious reasons: “Past Prologue,” “The Wire,” “Our Man Bashir,” and the like. However, through my (admittedly cursory) browsing these last few months, I’ve been surprised to find no one talking about season four’s finale “Broken Link.”

On the surface it makes sense. Though Garak gets one of his all too rare episodes, we’ve past the point of no return with Berman’s homophobia and our two lovesick faves aren’t interacting as much as they once did. RIP.

Thus, it’s easy to pass over Garak doing another Bad Thing in the name of his Cardassian devotion, especially when the Bad Thing is circumvented thanks to Worf instead of Julian. However, what’s nagged at me since watching that scene is one simple, yet significant detail.

Julian was down on that planet.

Quick re-cap for those of us who haven’t watched in a while: the Defiant is taking Odo back to the Great Link in order to cure him of the disease they saddled him with in the first place (nice, huh?). Garak realizes that this may be the one and only time they have all the Founders together and potentially vulnerable. He tries to gain control of the Defiant’s weaponry, but is ultimately discovered and stopped by Worf. Sorry, Garak. You might be surprisingly fit for just a plain, simple tailor, but you’ve got nothing on a battle-obsessed Klingon.

All caught up? Fantastic. Now, all around it’s not a terrible plan. There are just two potential issues. The first is the whole, you know, genocide thing. Some of us tend to frown at that, no matter how much good eliminating the Founders might do moving forward. Beyond that pesky little moral issue, we have the problem that Odo, Sisko, and Julian are all down on the planet’s surface, their deaths a surety if Garak manages to succeed in his plan. This is acknowledged too, so we can’t live with the happy assumption that Garak just wasn’t informed about who was accompanying Odo on this particular mission:

Worf: And what about Odo, and Captain Sisko and Doctor Bashir?

Garak: They'll die. And once the Jem'Hadar ships realize what we're doing, so will we. But what are our lives compared to saving the entire Alpha Quadrant?

From a shipping perspective it doesn’t look too good. After all, how loving is your duo if one can so easily sacrifice the other, without a moment’s hesitation or—dare we imagine it—a single tear in sight? It’s a rather grim picture, the sort of scene that jars shippers out of their lovely little pockets, carefully crafted worlds where suspension of disbelief runs wild. The show-runners may not have had the balls to make anything canon until 2017 (good god), but provided the characters in question don’t actively sabotage the relationship, thereby leaving room for imagining something more, you’re good to go. No such luck with this scene.

At least, it appears that way at first glance. It occurs to me that there are a couple of potential readings if we feel inclined to reach for them. I find it notable that Garak is already thinking to the next logical consequence. That is, Jem’Hadar ships bearing down on them, him meeting his own demise soon after Julian. There’s admittedly something romantic in that. The willingness to let your loved one go, safe in the knowledge that you’ll be quick to join them. We could even argue that Garak isn’t thinking straight in this moment. We know he’s a proud man devoted to his people, exile aside, and right before this he has a rather gutting conversation with the primary Founder:

Founder: They're dead. You're dead. Cardassia is dead. Your people were doomed the moment they attacked us. I believe that answers your question.

So, as far as Garak knows, entire fleets of his people were killed in their last battle, including his father—quite the emotional blow, even if Tain was an absolute shit dad. He’s also received confirmation of what the Federation has long suspected, that the Dominion isn’t content to keep the Alpha Quadrant out of their business, but has every intention of seizing control and, given their history, eliminating rather than assimilating it, to quote the Borg. You’re dead. Your entire species is dead. Everyone else you associate with, even those insidious humans, are dead. It’s only a matter of time. As Garak has pointed out seasons earlier, he knows when to cut his losses and that was one hell of a “resistance if futile” speech. If the rest of the quadrant has any hope of survival, now is the time to cut those losses—including Julian.

Which I actually really love.

Because it’s true to Garak’s character. He’s a complicated, morally gray guy, just the sort to blow himself and his shop up in the hopes of saving his life. Or justify killing the entirety of one species to ensure the survival of many. As much as we (or at least I) would have loved a dramatic declaration of love, the realization that he can’t target the Founders no matter how necessary it may seem because his Julian would be caught in the crossfire… that’s just not Garak. Just as importantly, it’s not Julian either. See, I think this scene pairs rather well with “Our Man Bashir.” We can come up with the same sort of potential readings for why Julian was willing to shoot someone he—from the shipper’s perspective—is already head over heels in love with: he’s a doctor and had every confidence in his ability to keep Garak alive until they get out of the holosuite. He’s genetically enhanced and has superb aim, knowing he’ll only create a flesh wound. He was really trying to hit the wall and fucked that one up badly whoops, etc. Regardless of those headcanons though, canonically speaking Julian did shoot him and that’s all there is to it. More specifically, he shot Garak to make sure that Sisko, Kira, Worf, O’Brien, and Jadzia survived, a sacrificing the one to save the many situation, much like Garak’s plan. Or, to put it another way:

Spirk is the ultimate standard for all other Star Trek ships, if not, for many, shipping in general. Lots of fans have already pointed out the similarities between the sickbay hand clasp in Star Trek: The Motion Picture and Julian’s moment of forgiveness in “The Wire,”

but there’s another parallel between Spock’s iconic sacrifice and the choices made in DS9. “Logic clearly dictates that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few” to which Kirk answers, “Or the one.” This is the same logic that our new duo is abiding by.

Though a notorious liar, we’re left with nothing else that challenges Garak’s words—he truly seems to believe that the Alpha Quadrant’s safety is worth sacrificing those on the Defiant for. Though a doctor through and through, we’re left with Julian’s steady hand and blood on Garak’s neck—he truly seems to believe that potentially losing one friend is worth assuredly saving five. Neither one is willing to compromise their morals for the other and I personally think that speaks to a healthy amount of respect, both for themselves and each other. In the same way that Garak embraces Julian’s Federation-style optimism and Julian comes to understand that lies are how Garak communicates, they simply and completely accept one another. That includes saying through actions if not words, “I love you, but I’m not going to let that love compromise my core beliefs.” Neither is the type to let love interfere with what they perceive as their duty, but that doesn’t mean the love doesn’t exist.

Of course, if we follow the spirk parallel, that devotion to the many is later challenged. In The Search for Spock Kirk reverses the logic and justifies his journey with, “Because the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many.” Anyone who reads any of my metas knows that Context Is a Thing and in this case the context for both films is personal sacrifice. Spock chooses to sacrifice himself to save the Enterprise. Kirk and the others choose to risk their lives and their careers to get Spock back. These are markedly different situations from what Julian and Garak shoulder: sacrificing one another for the many. If you love someone, then giving up your life for them is easy. Having that action save a whole bunch of other people along the way? Icing on the cake. You die knowing that you’ve done the heroic deed and your better half lives on. But can you harm your other half to uphold your oath as a doctor? Can you kill them to save millions of others? I’d argue that Julian and Garak have the far more difficult choice and both of them managed to answer, “Yes.” It’s a testament to their characterization and, given their strong ethics, precisely how well they fit together. They know where the other stands, what they mean to one another…and when they can’t afford to prioritize that love over everyone else.

In the end, neither even knew that their sacrifice would pay off. If Garak had succeeded in gaining control of the Defiant’s weaponry he might have found that the Founders had another trick up their sleeve to ensure their survival, leaving him with a dead Julian and an unharmed foe. Julian doesn’t know if he and Garak will be able to survive the holosuite program—or what might happen to the others if they perish. He might end up losing everyone, himself included. Neither has any assurances when they make their decision and that to me makes it that much more meaningful. They’re both acts of determination and faith. And from a narrative standpoint (with help from a healthy dose of Plot Armor) they’re both rewarded for that faith. Garak isn’t forced to kill Julian. Julian’s shot harmlessly skims Garak’s neck. They made the hard call, lost little, and in the case of “Our Man Bashir,” gained a healthy dose of respect for what the other was capable of.

I think that’s pretty damn neat.

Right. Thank you for coming to my decades late TED Talk. Peace ✌️

Image Credit

#1: https://boldly-yo.tumblr.com/post/183708405938

GIF: http://kuma-la-la.tumblr.com/post/36694488334/the-needs-of-the-many-outweigh-the-needs-of

#2: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kirk/Spock

#3: https://edosianorchids901.tumblr.com/post/181806580405/garak-and-julian-in-222-the-wire

#deep space nine #ds9 #garashir #garak/julian #mymetas

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carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich · 5 years

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could you make a headcanon about the soulmate of Shu? I loved the others about Carla and shin and I want one over my favorite diaboy uwu 💕 thank you

Here you go anon, thank you for your kind words and sorry for the wait ^^;; For anyone who is not familiar with my soulmate AU:

General setup: Set in a universe where everyone has a soulmate and there are various different connections between soulmates. Vampires (and Founders) have been known to have human soulmates. Generally the connection between a vampire/founder and their soulmate will not kick in until their soulmate is born and will fade after their soulmate dies. It considered unusual for a vampire to meet, let alone be with, their human soulmate.

Shu Sakamaki

Connection with soulmate: whenever your soulmate listens to music, you can hear it too.

- For as long as you could remember, you’d been able to hear classical music. It wasn’t all the time, however for the infrequent periods you went without it, a sense of loss overcame you. Sure, it was annoying at times but you were so used to the melodies pouring into your ears that without them, everything felt far too quiet and bleak.

- When you’d first spoken to your parents about being to hear music, they’d exchanged a glance before immediately taking you to the doctor. It was then, after you’d been given an examination to check there was nothing physically wrong, that you learned it was the result of your connection to your soulmate.

- As you got older, you started to become interested in other types of music and would experiment with listening to different styles. Sometimes they clashed horribly with the classical music your soulmate favored but on rare occasion, the two melodies would blend to form something much greater than either of them were alone.

- When Shu had first started to hear strange music overlaid with the classical melodies of his mp3, he’d assumed Ayato was trying to screw with him. However, upon repeated denials from the younger Sakamaki, and even Reiji commenting that no such sound could be heard, he’d realized that was not the case. Shu was no fool, he knew he wasn’t going mad and that there was only one other reason why he’d be hearing music nobody else could. It was a type of soulmate connection, unusual in its nature but not unheard of. Although that didn’t mean he wanted any part of it. The music he could hear was modern and solely human in it’s origin, meaning it was very likely his soulmate was too. The last thing he needed was to be tied to someone else, especially someone fragile and mortal. No, his days of seeing humans as anything more than food had long since passed. And so he ignored the foreign sounds, knowing that if the person responsible for them was mortal as he suspected, they would vanish just as abruptly as they had appeared.

- One day, you had the idea of using lyrics to try and communicate with your soulmate. While you loved the form of your connection to them, it wasn’t as simple as knowing their name and being able to look them up on social media, meaning ultimately, you had no idea where they might be or how to find them. But if you could find the correct clips from different songs and blend them together into a single track, then maybe they could do the same to respond and you’d have a way to find them. Finding the various pieces you needed and editing them together took time, but you knew it would be worth it. Eventually you’d managed to produce the message ‘Hello, can you hear me? It’s your soulmate, please respond’. The way it switched from one tune to another was jarring and sounded terrible but hey, it was something.

- Once it was finished, you sat in front of your laptop and had the tune play on repeat while you did some homework. Or rather, you stared at your homework as you anxiously awaited any sign that your plan had worked. It should, you were sure it should, but it didn’t stop you from tapping your pen against the desk impatiently. Come on please, you thought. You waited and waited but the classical music remained constant, with no sign your message had been heard at all.

- Shu winced when the strange jumble of tunes assaulted his senses. Damn, he hadn’t thought you’d be able to contact him like this or even try to. It was clever, but the naivety in sending that message was just another reminder that you were human. No vampire would bother. He had no intention of encouraging this and so instead of responding as you clearly hoped he would, he just turned up the volume on his mp3 player and closed his eyes, trying to block out your message and everything it meant.

- At some point exhaustion must have gotten the best of you, as you woke up to the sun streaming through your curtains and a stiff neck from sleeping at your desk. And still, the classical music you were so familiar with continued; if your message had been heard, there was no reply.

- You repeated your little experiment a couple more times but each time you did, you grew less hopeful it would work. You tried different combinations of songs leading to different messages but with the same overall tone. After a few months you were ready to give up, but thought you would send a final message regardless, assuming they could even hear it of course. This time however, you composed the music yourself. It was a relatively simple tune that you’d taught yourself to play on the piano with only a single lyric towards the end ‘I really want to meet you’. You had no idea if your connection would allow your soulmate to hear your own singing but you didn’t exactly have anything to lose.

- As your fingers pressed down on the keys to produce the last notes of the melody you’d made, you realized how utterly stupid this entire thing had been. There was no certainty your soulmate had even been awake to hear it and even if they had, they were just as unlikely to respond to it has they had been the first dozen times you’d tried to get a message to them. As you stepped away from the piano in resignation, the soft violin piece your soulmate must have been listening to just stopped. The silence held for a brief moment before the violins resumed. You weren’t entirely sure you were breathing. That couldn’t have just been a coincidence, could it? The timing was too perfect. But then again it was only a pause, it hardly counted as a message and if they’d been able to hear you and chosen not to respond all this time... With a heavy sigh, you closed the lid on the piano. You weren’t going to keep hounding someone who wanted nothing to do with you. It was up to them now.

- Shu had been lying on his bed when a piano melody caught his attention. It was clumsy, but not unpleasant. No, he didn’t want to hear this, he didn’t want to think about how it was probably your fingers gliding along the keys. He’d become so numb to so many things that it shouldn’t affect him, not your ridiculous clumsy messages, not this. And then he’d heard your voice and his breath hitched. It was lovely, so so lovely. But that didn’t matter, you were nothing to him, just another human with the irritating ability to disrupt his music and his rest. As the final notes of the piano faded, he breathed a sigh of relief and ran his hand over through his hair. For once, even his own music sounded too loud, too much of a reminder of this unwanted connection and so he paused it. He lay there in silence for a moment before it suddenly occurred to him that this was too soon after you’d stopped playing. It was far too much like something that could be interpreted as a response to your actions. Shit. He pressed play and shut his eyes as music surrounded him once more, trying to erase the memory of your voice.

- The offer to study at Ryoutei Academy in your senior year came out of nowhere and, in retrospect, you probably should have realized there was something suspicious about it. A friend of your parents had told you about it, explaining that not only would you be able to attend the prestigious night school, but it was accompanied by a free home stay, made possible through some arrangement with the church, regardless of whether the student taking part was religious or not. It was too tempting to say no.

- As soon as you met your hosts however, you heavily regretted your decision, and that was before you found out they were really bloodsucking monsters. Your entire life had been turned upside down and any attempts to escape were met with brutality. Some days, the music that had been with you all your life was the only thing that kept you going, the only lifeline that there was a world outside of the nightmare your life had become.

- Shu thought little of you at first, just as he had done with every other sacrificial bride that had crossed the threshold. There was something about your voice that had made him pause when you’d first stepped over the threshold, it sounded almost familiar. Ultimately though, it didn’t matter and he’d dismissed the thought as soon as it had formed. He’d cornered you and taken your blood the few times you’d been stupid enough to approach him but that was the extent of your interactions.

- One day, as Shu was slumped against the wall of one of the school corridors, a familiar piano tune interrupted his music. He sighed, you’d played that same tune several times since that last futile effort you’d made to communicate with him but, fortunately, you didn’t sing at the end anymore. Shu made an effort to tune you out when the bell rang and students erupted from their classrooms. What a pain; he didn’t want to move but they were loud and annoying. Before anyone had the chance to notice him, he teleported to one of the rarely used music rooms and froze.

- You were sat at the piano, fingers tapping out the same melody he’d been able to hear on the other side of the school. No, it couldn’t be. His luck couldn’t possibly be this bad. It would have been one thing to pass by you in the street and forget about you but for you to be a sacrificial bride... He teleported out of the room and into the empty music room next door. It shouldn’t matter. He’d never cared about the suffering of a bride before, and he had no intention of starting to now. But that didn’t stop him from picturing the way Kanato would drive a fork through the fragile hands you’d used to play the piano or how Ayato would delight in making you scream yourself hoarse. And Reiji, if he found out... No, Shu would not care and in no time at all you’d be gone, just another part of his life he drowned out with music.

- For weeks afterwards Shu avoided you. If he needed blood, he just got it from a random girl at school and the mansion was large enough that it was easy to go days without seeing you. Reiji was right, he was spineless but it didn’t matter. All he had wanted to do for years was to sleep and forget and that hadn’t changed.

- Shu should have known he couldn’t avoid you forever, but he didn’t expect to enter his room one day to find you partially unclothed on his bed with Laito leaning over you, fresh blood on his lips.

“Ah, Shu, would you care to join us? Little bitch here made a bit of a mess in my room so I had to take her somewhere else.” Your eyes were half glazed but you still turned to look at him, desperation on your face. Shu looked away.

“Get lost Laito, go bother Ayato or something.”

“Oh, but I don’t think you’ve fed from little bitch recently, have you? You must be thirsty and right now she looks ever so delectable.” Laito ran his tongue up the side of your face and you flinched.

“I don’t care, do this somewhere else.” Shu hoped his tone was uninterested enough to convince Laito he had no intention of participating in one of his games.

Green eyes narrowed briefly, and then the casual expression was back.

“Hah, well she’s reached the point where she’s a bit unresponsive anyway,” Laito grasped your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “Until next time, little bitch~” And then he was gone, leaving you sprawled on Shu’s bed.

“Get out.”

You blinked at him slowly. Damn, Laito had probably taken too much blood for you to be able to walk back to your room. Shu didn’t have the energy to bother to take you there himself. So much for avoiding you. He’d slept in the same bed with other brides though, it meant nothing. It would mean nothing with you too.

Shu lay down next to you, and felt you tense in response. Apparently you still had enough awareness to know to be afraid of him. Good. He shut his eyes with the intention of going to sleep when he felt you start to shake next to him. Shu was used to trembling humans but they weren’t exactly conducive to rest. Just this once, he swapped whatever piece of music had been playing through his earphones for softer melodic piece, knowing you’d be able to hear it too. After a little while the shaking stopped.

- Shu became aware of two things when he woke up. Firstly you were already awake and were staring at him with an alertness you’d lacked earlier. Secondly, only one of his earphones was still in, the other rested on the pillow beside him, the music from it audible to both of you.

“You’re... you’re my soulmate.” Your voice was barely above a whisper but it still sounded too loud. Shu covered your mouth with his hand and with speed rarely seen from him, moved on top of you.

“Shut up, you can’t let anyone hear you say that. Do you understand?” He hissed in a low voice. You nodded and he moved his hand away.

“Reiji?” You’d been around the brothers long enough to know of the antagonism between them. Shu inclined his head in conformation before sighing heavily and rolling off of you.

“Now that you know, can I convince you to stay away?”

“No, besides you make it sound like you’re the worst thing here. I’d take you over Laito any day.” You pulled a face. “You’re shit at responding to messages though.”

Shu snorted. “And you have terrible taste in music.”

You let out a soft ‘hmph’ and sat back against the pillows “So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. Part of him still wanted to scare you off, to avoid you and any sense of attachment you might bring. But it seemed whatever force had paired you together would not be defeated that easily. Shu glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. This entire affair was a huge pain but at least, he supposed, you could be worse.

Here’s a link to Carla’s and Shin’s. Feel free to request a set for any of the other boys ^^

#Soulmate AU #headcanons #my writing #Shu Sakamaki #I haven't written for Shu very much so I hope this is okay #I rped as him very briefly but that was like a year ago now #This got much longer than I intended #I'm not sure if anyone does want to request another set of these #but if you do just be aware it may take me a little while as I have a one shot I really want to finish #and I really need to work on chapter 2 of Amaryllis #okay ramble over enjoy the rest of your day everyone #Bless anyone who makes it to the end of my ridiculous tags

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osleyakomwonkru · 5 years

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The Failure of Experience: Team Adults and the Destruction of Octavia Blake

(No S6 information here, this is all from S5)

Let’s be clear about one thing. Regardless of whether or not you agree with any of the characters’ specific actions or not, or which character’s side you come down on, there’s one indisputable truth about season 5: The adults of the bunker (Kane, Abby, Indra, and to a lesser extent Jaha and Gaia) made a traumatized and unstable teenager with anger management issues their leader, forced her to make impossible and horrific life-or-death choices, and then abandoned her to face the repercussions, both personal and political, on her own, disavowing any responsibility or complicity in what she became.

This is despicable on so many levels, and the reason why Kane, Abby and Indra occupy three of the five spots on my “most hated The 100 characters” list for the season - which is a damn shame, because Kane had been one of my favourites since season 2. His relationship with Octavia, as well as the relationship between the Blake siblings, have always been my favourite non-romantic relationships on the show, and having both of them shattered to pieces in season 5 was just devastating.

Jaha

One of the biggest tragedies of Octavia’s story is that the bunker forced her to become her greatest enemy - the same kind of ruthless leader that controlled the Ark of her childhood and forced her to live under the floor. For Octavia, Jaha was the embodiment of all she hated, since he had been the Chancellor, though Kane and Abby were also complicit.

So the conversation she had to have with Jaha in 5x02, and where he told her to make the Grounders stand down otherwise he wasn’t going to open the doors to the farm - you can see the light go out of her eyes when she knows the kinds of decisions she’s going to be faced with now. What she’s going to have to do to keep her people alive. And she hates him - and herself - for needing to do it.

But at the same time, while Jaha gave her the tools and blueprint to follow, thus beginning the creation of her tragedy, but he wasn’t the one responsible for breaking her. For destroying her. That blame sits primarily on Kane and Abby’s shoulders, as we’ll get into below.

I think that had Jaha lived, he would have been the guidance that could have prevented Octavia’s destruction - unlike the other adults, he didn’t judge the younger generation, but tried to provide guidance whenever he could. This is because he knew he had no moral high ground to judge from. He has a similar discussion in 4x02 with Clarke as he does in 5x02 with Octavia, and I don’t think that’s an accident. His words to Clarke there also wouldn’t have been out of place to Octavia here: “No leader starts out wanting to lie, or imprison, or execute their people. The decisions you face just whittle you down piece by piece.”

Jaha was the best surviving member of Team Adults (I liked Sinclair better), but now he was gone too - leaving Octavia with those of questionable morals and advisory capacity.

Gaia

Now, Gaia isn’t an adult like the others, she’s probably of the same age as Octavia herself (and Tati Gabrielle is in fact a decade younger than Marie Avgeropoulos), but her position of authority as a Flamekeeper and her resulting influence on Octavia merits her inclusion on this list.

I think the biggest flaw when it comes to Gaia in season 5 is that we didn’t see the alleged “influence” that she had on Octavia. Indra references it a number of times, and we see Gaia there with her in 5x02, but that’s all. Gaia is completely absent from the Dark Year flashbacks, and as I described in this post I don’t think that’s an accident on the show creators’ parts. Nor was the fact that we didn’t actually see Gaia’s alleged influence on Octavia. Those are all points I will address in a later post, however.

What we do know, however, is that Gaia was instrumental in creating the Blodreina cult (whenever it happened, it didn’t after the farm mutiny, that much is clear and again something I’ll get back to), she was even the leader of it, as we saw at the fights in the arena. But despite this intense loyalty to Octavia, Gaia was ready to turn tail as soon as a Nightblood showed up. Her old faith wasn’t as dead as she thought it could have been.

However, it should be noted that Gaia was still loyal to Octavia, even after discovering what Madi was - she was only turned against Octavia when Indra, her own mother, manipulated her for her own purposes, so that she would in turn manipulate Madi into taking the Flame. I don’t think Gaia (or Madi, for that matter) knew the truth of why Octavia was “sick”. Indra and Bellamy did, but they kept their cards close to their chest and didn’t reveal that to anyone else, especially not Gaia or Madi, who were loyal to Octavia.

Indra

To her credit, Indra does (privately) acknowledge the part she played in destroying Octavia, unlike Abby and Kane. However, that does not absolve her of her sins.

One thing that bothers me about Indra - and always has, I guess you could say - is that she’s simultaneously loyal to a fault and the traitor behind the curtain. This hypocrisy is a dangerous combination. Take her early appearances in season 2 and 3 - she’s exceedingly loyal to Lexa and the throne of the Commanders, even when it pains her to be so. But at the same time, she goes behind Lexa’s back when the moment suits her - such as when she gave Lincoln the means to escape at the end of season 2.

It could be said that she did this for Octavia - because each instance where she was pained by her loyalty to the Commanders was also a situation where Octavia was somehow involved (such as leaving when Lexa sounded the retreat, and when she left Bellamy in the cave when the new ascension call sounded). And indeed, by the beginning of season 4, with no Commander on the throne, Indra’s loyalty shifts completely to Octavia, as it were. Indra is the first to embrace the idea of Wonkru, and even the one who inspires her to think in that direction in the first place - “I taught you to fight. But who you fight for is up to you.”

But I guess it shouldn’t be any surprise that her old behavioural patterns continued in the bunker, except this time Octavia was the leader she simultaneously supported and undermined at the same time.

She didn’t appear to try to convince Kane of the necessity of cannibalism, even though she was the most pragmatic of the bunch about it. She bent rules to allow Kane and Abby to see each other before Kane’s fight. She released Kane and made it possible for him to escape - subsequently setting in motion all of the conflict of season 5. Then she worked alongside Bellamy and Clarke to foil Octavia’s plans and ultimately depose her.

But why? That’s the answer we never get. She even agreed with a lot of Octavia’s more brutal plans - she clearly says to Bellamy and Clarke “good plan” with regards to the worms - but still for some reason works against her, under the guise of “protecting Octavia from herself”.

Indra knows Octavia better than almost any other living character. She knows the pain that Octavia went through as a result of the Dark Year - and she knows that she stood by and let it happen. But instead of supporting her and fighting with her, she worked against her, taking away her agency - which she would know is the most hurtful betrayal of all.

Indra spent 30+ years as a Trikru warrior and war chief, ready to fight at the slightest insult (not even provocation, just insult was enough), especially against Skaikru or Azgeda. But after six years in the bunker, she wants to make peace with an enemy that they have absolutely no reason to trust? Gaia lampshades this entire situation in 5x09 - “Suddenly you’re a peacemaker, mother?” Gaia doesn’t buy it either. None of it makes sense.

So for all of Indra’s claims at the end of season 4, where Octavia says that she didn’t do this on her own and Indra replies “No leader ever does” - Indra was no different than the others, where she abandoned the girl she molded into the leader she became. Great mentoring there, seda.

Abby

One thing I didn’t expect 5x11 The Dark Year to do was give me sympathy for Abby. I’ve never liked Abby, ever, and while she’s still on my top 5 hate list, this episode did bump her down a spot or two. Because there’s a reason why we’re watching Octavia’s tragedy through Abby’s eyes in this episode - because it isn’t only Octavia’s tragedy, it is Abby’s too. The big difference, however, being that no one seemed to know the role that Abby had played.

Of course, it still ate her up inside and that’s why she was consumed by her addiction, but leaving the public burden on Octavia’s shoulders, that’s the part that I consider unforgivable. There was so much that Abby could have done to make the Dark Year less awful than it could have been, for Octavia as well as Wonkru as a whole.

As a doctor and a part of Octavia’s inner circle, she would have commanded respect. She should have stood up with Octavia in the cafeteria, and told them what she told Octavia - that choosing death by starvation wasn’t just a personal choice, it was a choice that would affect everyone, because if people starved to death, they wouldn’t be able to supply adequate nutrition to those who were willing to eat and make sure the human race survived. In her capacity as a doctor, people would believe her. Instead, she just stood by and watched.

Some might say that Abby didn’t know that Octavia would kill to get resisters to submit, but I don’t think that’s true. When Octavia asks “So what do you want me to do? Make it a crime not to be a cannibal?”, Abby nods. She knows what it means to be a criminal in the bunker. She knows that means death. When Kane questions her as he comes in with “what’s with the guns?” she says nothing, clearly understanding why they’re there.

Abby knew exactly the burden she was placing on Octavia’s shoulders. She said “the Blight generation, they had a choice, and they never recovered from it. The people who ate, had to watch the people who didn’t eat die slowly. And their guilt nearly destroyed them” - this isn’t to convince Octavia of the necessity of everyone eating, this is to convince her to take the burden of that guilt onto herself by removing their choice.

Abby asked a 19 year old girl to bear all of the guilt and horror of roughly a thousand people, the last remnants of humanity, so that they would survive. No wonder Abby has flipped perspectives with Kane since S1 - in S1 she wanted to make sure the human race deserved to survive, now she was willing to sacrifice the soul of a teenage girl to make it happen. S1 Abby would have never done that.

Kane

Kane, Kane, Kane. Where do I even start? As I said above, Kane was one of my favourite characters in seasons two through four, so I’m really disappointed that he’s now at the top of my most hated list.

I know a common complaint about season 5 is that people feel that they don’t recognize the characters they’ve come to know and love. In most cases, I don’t agree. I do recognize most of the characters, they are the same characters we know and love, just with six more years on them in differing extreme circumstances. The cases I do agree on, however, are Kane and Bellamy (an to an extent Clarke, but Bellamy and Clarke we’ll talk about in another post). Kane has often played the part of a self-righteous bastard, but in doing so, he’s usually provided options, solutions, other ways from what people were doing at the time.

However, here he offers no such options, and that’s the part that I find most frustrating. He’s opposed to cannibalism, but he knows what the stakes are, and still doesn’t suggest another option, even when Octavia begs him for it. As I outlined in this post, he knew exactly the situations Octavia had to lead through in the bunker - because he’d done it himself. If he knew where and when he made mistakes in his time as a leader on the Ark, he damn well should have been speaking up with other options to Octavia, instead of just offering “no”.

And then to discover in 5x12 that Kane knew that Abby had forced Octavia’s hand into making people eat - and that he didn’t hold Abby responsible at all - that was despicable on so many levels. I mean, what level of cognitive dissonance is there at play in this man’s head? Yes, Octavia made the choice to pull the trigger, but she wouldn’t have put herself in that position in the first place if Abby hadn’t convinced her of the necessity of it. Abby definitely has moral culpability on this matter, as does Kane himself, yet somehow he feels he can blame Octavia for all of it? As if.

That horrific situation aside, there’s the difference between Kane in the bunker and Kane out of the bunker. Let’s dive into this one shall we?

No one liked the bunker. Everyone wanted out of it, Octavia included (and perhaps more than anyone else, given the burdens she carried). The sealed bunker was the circumstance that created all of the horror, so when the bunker was opened, that meant everything finally had the opportunity to change, after six long terrible years.

So then why is it that when that obstacle was removed, that Kane went running for the hills, when up until the very moment the bunker was opened, he was still trying to reach out to Octavia? Even as she was about to take his head off, he’s telling her “it’s not too late”.

Had the bunker stayed sealed, it would have been too late for him. But it opened, and he survived. This was the prime opportunity for him return to those words - now that everything could be different since they weren’t trapped anymore. But he didn’t. He and Abby told Clarke that talking to Octavia would be hopeless, but had they even tried, now that the bunker was opened? Nope. Instead they helped along a war that would then last the rest of the season.

I also wonder just how much he told Diyoza. Did he tell Diyoza about the cannibalism? About the rise of the Red Queen? What they all did in the past - both on the ground and on the Ark? In 5x08 he also starts his sanctimonious pageantry at Diyoza, and while he talks about how he knows what it’s like to make the bad choices, I don’t know if she knows the extent of the one’s he has made.

But really, all of the above details really pale to what Kane’s most horrible deed was - and that was the betrayal of Wonkru to McCreary.

There was absolutely no justification for that. None.

I don’t care what he thought about Octavia. I don’t care if all of the evil that he believed of her was 100% true. I don’t care if she spent six years sitting on a throne of blood eating babies and cackling like a maniac (I mean, she didn’t, but for argument’s sake). That does not justify sacrificing the innocents of Wonkru in the hopes of taking her out too.

Maybe Kane believes that McCreary wouldn’t have slaughtered them all. Which would make him a naive idiot, because he knew exactly what kind of a man McCreary was. And even if he wasn’t completely clear on it, his partner in crime Diyoza certainly was. Expecting anything but total annihilation from McCreary was monumentally foolish and has no justification.

Octavia never wanted to lead. She never wanted to have to make horrific choices to keep what was left of humanity alive. And she shouldn’t have had to - she had plenty of people whispering in her ear with what to do and what not to do. She took their advice, she learned their lessons, she tried to do what they hadn’t ever been able to do - unify people and give them a chance to survive instead of being sent straight to the execution chamber.

But instead of congratulating her for her achievements, or helping her through the hard times, or taking some goddamn responsibility for their own roles in the drama - they abandoned her. They disowned her, they tried to kill her, they destroyed her.

They put the world on her shoulders, and let it slowly crush her. And that’s unforgivable.

#octavia blake #the 100 meta #marcus kane #abby griffin #indra kom trikru #thelonious jaha #gaia kom trikru #the 100 #team adults #are trash but we knew that already

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thisisjustforschooldontlook-blog · 5 years

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ENG 230 Blog

Blog 1-Rear Window

Rear Window is the perfect example of the male gaze. Jeff finds himself privy to the actions of his neighbors around him as he recovers from an accident. Mulvey talked about in her article how at the core of the male gaze, there is a voyeuristic base. The audience can clearly see this as Jeff watches his neighbors from his window. Lisa even tells Jeff to leave his neighbors alone and that some things must be private. The way Jeff and his friend (forgot his name) talks about the dancer is a very male gaze. Her character exists for this sole purpose. She also only interacts with men throughout the film and has no girlfriends come over. I do not think it is totally far fetched to think that a woman living alone has friends and would like them to visit but I digress. Rear Window is a backhanded compliment to women. Backhanded in the sense that even when it seems like the women in the film are being strong and independent, it is for the sake of a man. For example, Lisa although she was super cool in my opinion, only gets her cool moments because she is trying to prove to Jeff throughout the whole film that she is worth marrying. I mean what is the point of having an empowered and feisty female character if the director or writers make the woman revolve around a male love interest? The audience can also see the male gaze in the way that Lisa interacts with Jeff. She always looks visually appealing but the actress truly had the misfortune of having to memorize and repeat some misogynistic lines. Lines that have Lisa wondering why Jeff does not think he can marry her or if she is good enough for him. Another proof is also the way that Lisa has to drag Jeff away from the window in order to get him to look at her through a romantic lens. Jeff only turns his head after Lisa sits in his lap which gives off a fan service-esque vibe. Ultimately all these proofs show why Mulvey would go and write an article about this film and how it relates to the male gaze. Rather than relate, this film is the poster child for the male gaze. Rear Window utilizes the male gaze in order to help the audience take note of what is important versus unimportant information. This is a detective thriller so the audience has to watching and paying attention to every detail. It seems weird but using the male gaze worked for this film.

Blog 2- Where Are My Children

Where Are My Children? is quite an interesting film. I found myself trying to figure out whether the film was pro-choice or pro-life. I am sure my initial response sounded just as confused as I was. However after a quick glance once more at the article provided for the film, I felt as though the dots were starting to connect. The film is not a pro-life or pro-choice film. This is a film that primarily deals with eugenics. Eugenics, Darwin is giggling in his grave somewhere. How is Where Are My Children a film about eugenics as opposed to a cookie cutter pro-life or pro-choice film? The way the film opens up with the story told as the babies return paints the film to be some sort of pro-life propaganda. However, there are multiple cases within the film that the audience finds themselves hearing cases argued for birth control and family planning. However, the case for eugenics comes into play once the audience realizes that birth control is only supported for people who society deems as not good enough to procreate. The young woman who ends up getting a botched abortion is just a servant or low social standing. The characters do not even hesitate to offer this kind of ‘help’ to the poor or ‘loose.’ However for someone as well off and with the social standing Edith has. The film even makes the argument that women should have a choice in case they do not wish to put their career on hold in order to raise a baby. Edith is one such woman. However, it is only egregious that she aborts her children because she is viewed to be worthy of reproduction. Someone like Lillian, however, does not even get an eye batted in her direction as the audience can see with the reaction of her would-be lover. Lillian’s lover throws her away just as easily as Edith makes the decision to terminate her pregnancies. By seeing something like this play out on the big screen, the audience can see how this film is neither pro-life or pro-choice, rather pro-eugenics. The pro-eugenics is seen in the way the court handles the doctor is standing trial for performing abortions and the way the women treat their abortions most specifically Lillian’s. All things considered, this film does a good job of keeping the audience guessing as to what kind of politics this film is.

Blog 3 Cleo

Is the ending of Cleo a happy ending? During this week’s google hangout, Professor Tolliver had me thinking really hard about this question. I truly believed up until he questioned it that Cleo really did have her happy ending. She found out that although she does have cancer, her cancer is treatable and she should be fine. However, there are many loose threads still hanging. Cleo does indeed have cancer so for all intents and purposes, she is dying. So the entire film when she is going around voicing her worries and concerns and allowing herself to entertain thoughts that she otherwise would not, is actually for a good reason. Regardless of whether or not she was sick, it is ok to be scared of one’s own mortality. The documentary cinematography style harkens back to the French New Wave. With this documentary style, one can experience events just as Cleo experiences them. In essence, rather than watching Cleo in a voyeuristic manner, the audience instead gets to be Cleo’s eyes and ears and be privy to her inner thoughts. Going back to my original point, is the ending a happy or sad one? This ending is a true open ending. Cleo does have cancer and given that the film takes place in the early 60s or late 50s, it is safe to say that medicine is not the most updated aspect of life. So while her cancer may be ‘nothing to worry about so long as she gets treatment’ there are still many ways in which cancer could spread and eventually claim Cleo’s life. Also, what if she gets treatment and gets an infection and dies as a result of that. So while things are looking up for Cleo, perhaps the ending is merely an open one instead of sad or happy. However, one thing that can be agreed upon is the fact that Cleo has most definitely changed. She has changed in regards to her perspective on life and what she cares about. This whole event has served as the ultimate introspective experience. Cleo may be happy at the conclusion of the film, and the conclusion itself may leave room for many questions, but Cleo has Antoine. Antoine goes against the average male love interest which is a direct relation to the French New Wave movement. The French New Wave can be seen throughout the film. Perhaps this stylistic choice is the reasoning behind the conclusion we get.

Blog 4 Watermelon Woman

I always find it rather enjoyable when I see multiple types of gay in a film or show. I find that many media outlets add to the stereotype problem for the LGBTQ+ community. In Watermelon Woman, there are many types of lesbians. Cheryl is the type of lesbian you do not find in excess in media. Most lesbians, back lesbians especially, are hypersexual and sexualized by the male gaze. However, this film does its best to avoid catering to the male gaze. Cheryl is the kind of lesbian that just wants to go about her life furthering her career as opposed to chasing her next tryst. The issue that Tamara has with Cheryl is that Cheryl ends up having a fling with a white woman? Is there an underlying issue when it comes to interracial romantic relationships, particularly the queer ones? Yes, there is. When embarking on in a mixed-race relationship, there is always an inherent worry for fetishization. Cheryl experiences this worry through Tamara. There is also the unease of being outside of one’s culture. The idea of someone betraying their culture just because they date outside of it is absolutely silly, however, it is something Cheryl has to combat throughout the film. This problem leads to the other main problem found in this film. Why are queer women of color so underrepresented? Queer women of color are underrepresented because they are not what society deems are good enough to watch on the big screen. Queer women of color more often than not find themselves subjected to stereotypical roles and find themselves fetishized not only for their sexuality but also for their skin color. This film is a case for why queer women of color should be given a chance on screen. The audience gets to experience a hard working queer woman of color, Cheryl and has the privilege of joining her on the adventure of a lifetime.

Final Blog Post

Rear Window tackles the issue of the male gaze throughout the course of the film. Mulvey points out that the film itself is rooted in a voyeuristic manner which allows for the audience to see the actions of Jeff’s neighbors. This, through the looking glass bird’s eye view, allows for the audience’s perspective to feel somewhat invasive. Stella Dallas deals with a mother-daughter relationship, but most specifically Kaplan talks about and focuses on the figure of the absent mother. This idea of there being such a high bar for mother’s to reach in order to be looked upon favorably by society. Kaplan especially focuses on the double standard for mothers and fathers. Stella is held to the high standard which she ultimately feels unable to meet, however, her husband is not held to any such standard. This is absolutely ridiculous seeing as Stella’s husband is a part-time father if anything. Where Are My Children deals with the issues of abortion, family planning, among other things? The film paints itself in a pro-choice versus pro-life debate, however, it ends up falling into the argument for eugenics. While reproductive rights are a very feminist quality and topic to speak on for a film, eugenics is such a far fetched and baseless practice that Where Are My Children most definitely loses the running for a genuine feminist film. Dance Girl Dance definitely shows its feminist tendencies a lot more clearly when compared to the other films we have watched through this course. For example, Bubbles plays the system for lack of better words. She finesses the system in order to suit her needs. What is more feminist than a woman using a man’s privilege against him in order to help her gain ground in life, career, and relationships? Cleo is an interesting film to enter into the battle for the most feminist film we have watched in this course. While I agree that Cleo as a character can seem rather feminist, I would argue that the film does not do enough to be considered the most feminist of all the films we watched. If I had to choose a favorite film throughout this course, it would be The Piano. This film really surprised me. All of the symbolism present throughout the film is enough to make an English major’s mouth water at the chance to dissect. While there are many hidden contexts in this film such as power dynamics in relationships and empowering women, which are very feminist, the main character ultimately seems a tad more romanticized than I would like. Fat Girl makes a compelling entry and in my opinion, comes second to the most feminist film we had the pleasure of viewing. Fat Girl tackles some very taboo topics such as teenage sexuality and rape. I find that there are many times where people like to ignore a sexual violence scene in films just because it makes them uncomfortable. The fact of the matter is, the director included it for a reason. You may not need to watch it, but you must at least try to figure out the purpose of such a traumatic scene. Rape scenes do not just get thrown into a story. Keesey likes to unpack all the hidden context behind Anais’s rape, however, despite the empowering look into rape and rape culture as well as rape fantasies, the voyeuristic feel, although intentional, leaves me feeling weird about making this film number one on my list. Which lastly leave Watermelon Woman. Watermelon Woman is a work of art in my opinion. This film needs to be a requirement for everyone going to school for the humanities. This film is ripe (pun intended) with many interdisciplinary topics. The reasoning behind my choice is simple: Inclusivity. Throughout all these films, there has been very little diversity and Watermelon Woman has just that. Not only does the film showcase a woman of color as the lead, but also a lesbian woman. Queer women of color are the most underrepresented diagraphic. On top of the representation and diversity, this film also covers a number of hot feminist issues. Sexuality, hypersexuality, fetishization, and interracial fraternizing are all issues that are covered in this film. Between Cheryl having to navigate the waters of figuring out what kind of lesbian she is versus having a white romantic partner. Is Diana with Cheryl just for her skin color? Tamara would like to think so. Not to mention that Cheryl’s entire purpose for making the film is in order to bring to light the issue of black women being absent from the film. Watermelon Woman may not be an overly flashy film, but it is a film that does justice to the word feminism. Feminism does not always have to be loud and ostentatious. It can also be inside voices but firm. For all these reasons, Watermelon Woman is the most feminist film we watched throughout this course.

I would also like to say that Fat Girl was really close but I just felt as though it would be socially unacceptable to choose a film like Fat Girl and say that it was the most feminist.

Extra Credit 1 400 Blows

I would first like to start off this post by saying that 400 Blows feels very similar to Cleo. As I am sure this was intended, I will talk about the similarities between these French films. First the cinematography. Cleo and 400 Blows both are some long shot sequences. While 400 Blows may have been the only one of the two films with a freeze frame, there are some shots in Cleo that do appear to stand still. However, shifting back to the longshots, when Cleo is walking around the coffee shop while contemplating her mortality, this long continuous shot is reminiscent of when Antoine is running away from the youth center in order to escape captivity and get to the sea. I would argue that you can see aspects of the French New Age in 400 Blows. For example, most movies rely on a happy ending, but much like Cleo, 400 Blows ends with an open ending as opposed to a happy or sad ending. One may feel sad for Antoine’s situation but in actuality, he seems to be surviving just fine. He even gets to see the sea at the end of the film so there are happier layers to the conclusion of this film. There are other similarities between the two films as well. For one Antoine and Cleo, both have experiences that lead to some much-needed introspection. For Cleo, she looks deep inside herself to figure out what is import in life, at least to her. It seems confronting one’s own mortality can be quite the spiritual awakening. As for Antoine, he learns about who he can and cannot trust. Unfortunately for him, he learns that he cannot trust his mother or his stepdad. Aside from his one trustworthy friend, Antoine has no one. A second similarity and a rather obvious one is the fact that both films are filmed in black and white. Throw in another similarity when you notice that both films are French with French spoken dialogue. 400 Blows is not necessarily a cinematic masterpiece, but it is a film that succeeds in getting the audience to think about life. Maybe not of mortality like Cleo, but certainly this notion of what comes next. Both of these films project an air of what comes next? It leaves the audience wanting to know what happens when everything falls back into place. Truly these films exemplify open endings.

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impactsandincomes-blog · 5 years

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Hard Times, or a Hard Life? The Differences Between Situational Depression & Clinical Depression.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. In a perfect world, every day would be Mental Health Awareness Month, right? Right. But unfortunately, that’s just not the case. We’ve been programmed & conditioned into believing the only method to fixing your problems is simply acting as if they don’t exist. Or that things could just “be worse,” putting your emotions and well-being into a metaphorical category of importance. So if it doesn’t meet the criteria for “pressing” it’s just gotta be put aside for the time being. If that wasn’t bad enough, generational curses and family dysfunction add to the pile. You tell mom and dad you haven’t been feeling yourself, or you’ve been stressed out trying to keep up with your studies, and they ask if you’ve tried “going out with friends to get your mind off things, or going to bed earlier?” Because where they come from, you simply didn’t have the time to be sad or stressed. Especially if you were trying to make a living and put all your children through a decent college. Yeah, desensitization at it’s finest. But the reality is, that we’re all guilty of being desensitized. Not just with each other, but with ourselves.

Before I say anything else, let me just add that it’s completely okay to be sad and go through the blues every now and then. We all feel sadness, and even.. depressed (yes, I finally said the word you’ve been dreading to hear). But not all Depression is the same. Which means how we cope with it can’t be the same either. Understanding where your Depression is coming from can not only help yourself, but it can be beneficial to the people around you and how they can possibly be supportive of you. To keep it super simple, it’s knowing how to check in with you; taking note of what you’re feeling, why you’re feeling it, what’s triggering it, etc.

First and foremost, I do not have a degree in Psychology. I don’t have a certificate or any type of training in this area. If this is a deal breaker for you, then please feel free to click off this page. I promise I won’t be offended. All I have to offer you are my own personal experiences and insight I’ve gained throughout my life. If that’s enough for you and you’re willing to take a chance with that alone, by all means, please keep reading.

My mother has suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder, and Major Depressive Disorder (Clinical Depression) for as long as I can remember. You would think that having a family history meant that I was pre-dispositioned to be depressed or have some type of mental illness too. But by the grace of God, I wasn’t. And thanks to a very difficult path I walked solely by faith, along with receiving the right therapy over the years, I know that I will never be. But it wasn’t always this simple to figure out. When I was younger, I often suffered on & off from depression- or what I thought was “true” Depression at the time. I was maybe only 14 or 15 years old when I first started to experience it. I really couldn’t grasp what was happening to me and why I felt this way. It was true that my mother had been sick for a while, but it was at this particular point in my life where I started to really notice all the other shit that had been piling on top of that from the years prior. I only knew what Depression was based on what I would hear the doctors tell my mother. They would refer to it as a condition, and talk about medication and all sorts of confusing bodily things. There was no way I was prepared for this (I mean who ever is?) But it really didn’t make sense to me. Mind you, being depressed— you already have this negative and self-limiting outlook on life and yourself. The “Why Me?” Disease, as I used to call it. How could I have this condition, when I had a pretty happy life before I found out my mother was sick? I mean, I didn’t have the perfect childhood, but it wasn’t all terrible. I knew I was an angry kid, wether or not I wanted to admit it at the time. “It’s not like I asked to be put in this situation…” — the common response I would give to doctors who tried to force me to take medication, like my mother. “If I wasn’t here (here being my current home at the time) then I wouldn’t even be depressed. And I wouldn’t need this f**king medication.” Ding, ding ding.

The answer was that I wasn’t depressed. I had the symptoms sure: constant crying, irritability, anxiety, loss of interest in people or things. But the truth is, the symptoms or things we feel, don’t always represent the true circumstance. In this case, there was no doubt that emotionally I felt depressed. But physically/neurologically, I wasn’t.

It turns out that what I was suffering from was Adjustment Disorder (Situational Depression). Listen, no type of depression is more “real” than the other. They both can present significant challenges. But knowing the differences between the two, is important to what type of treatment you may need and how severe the condition is. Situational Depression, or Adjustment Disorder, is a short-term form of Depression caused by difficulty adjusting to, or dealing with traumatic events/changes in your life. Recovering from Situational Depression is possible when a person has come to terms with the situation and feelings associated with it. It may sound cliché, but I promise it’s true. When I changed my situation, I changed the way I felt. Finding the right therapist helped tremendously. I’m not saying that you have to run out and get a therapist every time you feel down (although it doesn’t hurt). You have to find what ultimately is effective and best for you.

Clinical Depression on the other hand, is a bit more complicated. Clinical Depression, or Major Depressive Disorder, is severe enough to get in the way of every day life and basic functioning. Unlike Situational Depression, there are usually several factors, such as your genetics or chemical imbalances in your brain— which is what I was referring to earlier when I said physically & neurologically I wasn’t depressed. In other words, it’s not just about dealing with a difficult situation. If your sadness doesn’t physically alter or effect the neurotransmitters in your brain, there’s a very strong and likely chance that you are not clinically depressed. Of course, only a doctor or psychiatrist can determine that. It still won’t change how you’re feeling or get rid of your pain right away, trust me I understand that. But knowing is really the first step. Recovering from Clinical Depression may require a bit more in depth treatment or more major life style changes. Walks outside and therapy just might not do it. Regardless, that’s perfectly okay too.

The differences I explained here are only a small, but crucial part of a bigger picture. Once you come to understand that, I assure you you’ve already begun your process in healing— whatever and however that may look like for you. I was able to transform my situation, even though it took tremendous effort at times. It was often a struggle and each day presented difficulties. But not all days were as bad as others. (A hard time). In fact, there were some good ones. Usually being away from my source of stress or sadness contributed to my good days. But still, a good is a good day. It was those few good days that helped me eventually separate myself from my mother’s issues, where every day was difficult no matter what. (A hard life). Although we shared similar symptoms, understanding where my Depression came from was a major part in how I chose to move my life forward. It ultimately effected what decisions I made in my treatment and the kind of support I needed around me, it gave me a new perspective on approaching mental illness, and most importantly, it taught me that answers are important. But, only when you know the questions to ask. Particularly, the questions you ask yourself. There goes that part about checking in with yourself, again. And there’s no “perfect” or “proper” way to check in with yourself. You just gotta start somewhere. Asking yourself simple things like “Do I regularly invest in my health? Is there anything I’m holding onto right now that I could let go of? Is my sadness effecting me from functioning daily?” It forever changed my life. I believe and pray, it can change yours too.

For more information, symptoms, and treatment options regarding MDD or AD, feel free to check out some of these links:

https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/314698.php

https://www.webmd.com/depression/guide/depression-types#1

https://www.nami.org/Blogs/NAMI-Blog/April-2017/Situational-Symptoms-or-Serious-Depression-What-s

With love and overstanding,

- LG

#mental health #mentalhealthawarenessmonth

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imaginedanganronpa · 6 years

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Can I request Sayaka, Hiyoko, Ibuki and Kaede conforting an s/o who used to be the shsl dancer, but after an accident they lost their tittle and began having pain when performing faster dances ?

Part of this is mildly angsty, but enjoy!

Sayaka Maizono, Hiyoko Saionji, Ibuki Mioda, and Kaede Akamatsu Comforting Ultimate Dancer S/O Who Gets In An Accident!

Sayaka Maizono

You met Sayaka when you were a backup dancer for one of herperformances. You two immediately fell head over heels – almost like love atfirst sight.

She had no idea that you were also an Ultimate, so you both soon connected overthat. Afterwards, you started seeing one another around Hope’s Peak frequently.Your relationship blossomed from there.

It worked well – you would come up with routines and even help her newer backupdancers with the music, and she’d be able to help choreograph what she thoughtwould look good on stage.

Nothing could stop this power couple… right?

You always went to each other’s practices to support one another, and Sayakaloved watching you move. It didn’t matter what style, you always looked sograceful and happy.

It happened during one of your practices: you severely twisted an ankle andtore a tendon. Sayaka rushed to your side and tearfully wrapped her arm aroundyour shoulders, lifting you up.

When the doctors told you that you’d never dance again, you were heartbroken.That meant you couldn’t go to school with your lover anymore and couldn’t claimthe title as Ultimate. It felt like you lost everything.

You started hating yourself because dancing truly was your passion. Sayakatried to help by inviting you to her sessions to get your input on thechoreography, but it made you feel helpless.

She understood what it was like: she’d lost her voice before and had to cancel shows,but that was only temporary.

Sayaka encourages you not to dance, but how could she say no to the person sheloved? If it made you happy, she couldn’t hold you back.

It was painful and your ankle felt like it was on fire but it was what youloved to do and you didn’t want to give that up.

Sayaka did her best to help you find other hobbies that you were passionateabout so that you had something worthwhile, but nothing struck you like dancingdid. It hurt Sayaka to see you be so hard on yourself, but being an Ultimate iswhat made you feel proud and successful.

She gave you vocal lessons and slowly taught you how to project and controlyour voice so that you could sing with her. It gave you something to lookforward to during her shows, but nothing was the same.

However, she did her best to understand and comfort you. Sayaka made sure youwere at every show and supported your choice to participate in slower dances.

Hiyoko Saionji

You met Hiyoko at a conference for dancers. You were bothUltimate Dancers, though different styles, and immediately were drawn to oneanother.

She let her much softer side out when you were around. You got to see a side ofher that no one else did. She learned to trust you and how to open up.

You loved dancing together and trying new things.

When you had your accident, Hiyoko was by your side and collapsed, immediatelybecoming worrisome. You insisted that you were just fine as to not stress herout, but little did you know the extent of your injuries.

After the doctors told you that you’d never be able to dance the same way again, a pitformed in each of your stomachs.

You’d lost your title, and Hiyoko couldn’t even begin to imagine what it wouldbe like if she could never perform – if she was no longer an Ultimate. It was aconcept that she’d never wrapped her head around before.

She started petitions to get your title back but to no avail.

Humans believe that the worst will never happen to them, but here it was: beingserved to you on a silver platter.

Hiyoko was as shocked and saddened as you were. She was able to understand youthe most since she, too, was a dancer. This caused her to be an incrediblyhelpful partner and she devoted all of her time to making you feel better.

At first, she tried putting on private dances just or you, but that made youfeel empty.

She was good at distracting you and keeping your mind off of the accident.Hiyoko kept you busy first so that you never had time to stop and think aboutit and get sad again.

She also knew better than anyone else that you can’t dance on injuries – atleast not ones as bad as yours. You were resilient, though, and did your bestto perform faster dances just like you used to.

Hiyoko was good at taking care of you and did her best to keep you positive,insisting that you’d get back to it someday. She learned different styles otherthan traditional so that she could help you when you finally did get back onyour feet.

As you slowly started dancing again, you realized you had to stick with slower,less intensive dances. Hiyoko taught you her traditional style and learned withyou so that she was able to support you every step of the way.

Ibuki Mioda

You met in Hope’s Peak and became fast friends. Of course,that ended up leading to a little bit more.

Ibuki loved watching you dance. She was your own personal cheerleader, stayingon the sidelines and watching you perform.

Sometimes, she’d jokingly try to join in and ask, “Am I doing this right,(Y/N)?” She knew that it always made you laugh which is exactly why she did it.

When you had your fall, Ibuki kept positive. Even while you were in the hospital she wasalways insisting that you would be just fine and constantly told jokes andstories to keep your mind off of your injury. She’s good at comedic relief.

You appreciated her positivity, and for a while you believed her when she saideverything would work out.

When you got the news that you wouldn’t be able to dance the same again, youboth felt a little discouraged. Ibuki kept her feelings inside though becauseshe didn’t want to make you more upset than what you already were.

After your title as an Ultimate was taken away, she was livid. She wasscreaming about how that wasn’t fair, you earned that title fair and square andyou deserved it. She did everything she could to get your title and placementin Hope’s Peak back.

At home, Ibuki supported you. She helped you with your physical therapy andwould play songs to keep your mind busy.

She always said that in her eyes, you were still the Ultimate Dancer. Youalways would be.

When you told her you wanted to try dancing again for the first time in months,she was extremely supportive and positive, taking your side and even joiningyour practice so that you wouldn’t feel so alone.

However, the pain was intense – much more than you thought it would be. Youcouldn’t take it.

Ibuki sensed that something was wrong and asked you to stop. Immediately, youconfided in her and told her that you just couldn’t do it anymore.

Regardless of how she felt, Ibuki crouched down and placed a kiss on top ofyour forehead. “No matter what, Ultimate or not, I love you.”

It took time to adjust to newer routines, and you had to give up some of yourformer styles and switch to a different approach but nevertheless, youcontinued to dance.

And Ibuki was always going to be your number one supporter.

Kaede Akamatsu

She was very familiar with the entertainment industry andknew how demanding it was. You two met at a meeting for Ultimates who werein that kind of business: music, art, dancing, and so on.

You two just clicked.

Not long after, you were spending every day together. Kaede would come to yourpractices or you’d spend hours after school together in the Music Room.

Kaede would play piano and you’d perform elegant dances along with her music.You also tried showing her faster-paced dances, and though she attempted, shewasn’t that great.

She also really loved watching you perform, always saying how much she lovedthe way you moved and how creative your dances are.

Your accident happened out of nowhere: a freak accident where a light hadfallen on you. Thankfully, it only landed on your leg but the fall itselfresulted in some damaged ribs as well. It could’ve been much worse.

Kaede was a nervous wreck, even more than you were. She almost never left thehospital for the entirety of your stay.

Both of you were devastated when you were told you wouldn’t dance again, or atleast not like you used to. It wasn’t until your title was revoked wheneverything started to feel real.

Kaede took care of you throughout the healing process. She was there with youevery day after school, tending to your wounds and all your needs. She didn’tmind – she loved you and needed to be there for you.

She was reluctant when you told her you wanted to dance again. This wasn’t toolong after you completed physical therapy, which she always drove you to andmade sure you never missed a session.

At first, Kaede begged you not to but she saw how passionate you were. If shehad lost her ability to play piano, she’d be crushed. Therefore, she slowlysupported your decision.

It hurt whenever you tried certain dances and Kaede could see it. It upset herand she continued pressuring you to give up on dancing, but didn’t want to holdyou back. The blonde felt conflicted and torn.

Whenever the pain started again, Kaede would comfort you and massage youthoroughly.

Eventually coming around, she began composing pieces just for you that wereeasy to follow, and that you could effortlessly dance to.

She helped you get back on track, but it still hurt since you couldn’t do thethings you used to. Kaede kindly smiled at you, saying “Dancing isn’t who youare. Who you are is right here… in your heart. It isn’t the end of the world,and could’ve been much worse.”

- Mod Rantaro

#danganronpa #danganronpa imagines #trigger happy havoc #super dangan ronpa 2 #danganronpa v3 #drthh #sdr2 #ndrv3 #thh imagines #sdr2 imagines #ndrv3 imagines #sayaka maizono #hiyoko saionji #ibuki mioda #kaede akamatsu

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