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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 11 months

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Certain segment of the population givin off these weird vibes right about now [The Daily Don]

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

June 11, 2023

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JUN 12, 2023

All weekend, Trump supporters have flooded media channels with accusations that President Joe Biden has weaponized the Department of Justice to use as a political cudgel against former president Trump, whom they characterize as the front-runner for the 2024 Republican presidential nomination.

On Thursday the Department of Justice indicted Trump on 37 counts of hanging onto classified national security documents, deliberately hiding those documents from his lawyers and the government after a subpoena, lying about them, and showing them to people without security clearances and without any need to know about them.

Trump and his loyalists insist the indictment makes the United States a “banana republic,” by which they appear to mean a country with a corrupt ruling elite that uses the machinery of government against political opponents (though the historical meaning of that term actually is much more complicated). Sometimes in the same breath they call for arresting members of the Biden administration in retaliation; on the Fox News Channel on Friday, personality Greg Gutfield added First Lady Jill Biden as a potential target after Jesse Watters called for arresting “all of them, [former House speaker Nancy] Pelosi, too.”

There are a number of problems with their characterization of what is going on.

First of all, Biden’s Department of Justice has operated as it is supposed to: independently. While Trump apparently tried to use the department for his own political ends—we learned just last month, for example, that the Department of Justice kept an investigation of the Clinton Foundation open for almost Trump’s entire term, although prosecutors thought the rumors about the foundation were bogus from the start—Biden has gone out of his way to emphasize that he will not interfere with the Justice Department.

To underline that independence, after Trump announced his candidacy for president last November—an early announcement many thought was an attempt to avoid criminal prosecution—Attorney General Merrick Garland appointed a special counsel to oversee the two federal investigations that touched on the former president, thus deliberately moving those investigations outside the department. The special counsel is Jack Smith, and those investigations are the one into the attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 presidential election and the documents case currently in the news.

Still, the indictment came not from Smith, but from a federal grand jury of ordinary American citizens in Florida who reviewed evidence and determined that there was probable cause to believe that Trump committed crimes and should be tried for them. Trump’s defenders are trying to blur this reality by saying it was Biden who charged Trump, when it was really the members of a grand jury.

Trump supporters’ evidence for Biden’s corruption is that the Justice Department has indicted neither President Biden nor former secretary of state Hillary Clinton for what they claim are similar offenses. (It hasn’t charged Republican former vice president Mike Pence, either, but they are not talking about that.) The crucial difference in all three of those cases is that Biden, Clinton, and Pence did not try to hide the documents found in their possession and they cooperated fully with the Department of Justice to return them. (In addition, in Clinton’s case, most of the 110 emails that contained classified information did not bear classified markings.)

As Devlin Barrett of the Washington Post notes, Trump was not charged for illegally keeping any of the 197 documents he returned. He was charged only for ones he kept, lied about, showed to other people, and hid.

Republicans who are trying to pick up Trump’s voters, including Florida governor Ron DeSantis, are not defending Trump but are instead trying to argue that the Democrats are discriminating against Trump. “Is there a different standard for a Democrat secretary of state versus a former Republican president?” DeSantis asked.

That line of reasoning is swaying Republican primary voters, 88% of whom, according to a CBS News poll, say the indictment was politically motivated, although 24% of them agree that the loose handling of the documents was a national security risk. Trump and key supporters are playing to that base, using thinly veiled calls for violence. Meanwhile, Republicans who are likely hoping this will sink Trump are either dodging questions about the issue or, like Senate minority leader Mitch McConnell, remaining steadfastly silent.

But for all the focus on the politics of this moment and the apparent attempt to rally the Republican base to violence, this is a legal case. Trump is accused of serious crimes that endangered—and likely continue to endanger—our national security, which means the safety of every American.

His alleged criminal activity endangers the operations of the Central Intelligence Agency, the Department of Defense, the National Security Agency, the National Geospatial Intelligence Agency (in charge of imagery, maps, and intelligence concerning them), the National Reconnaissance Office (in charge of space-based surveillance and reconnaissance), the Department of Energy (nuclear weapons), and the Department of State and Bureau of Intelligence and Research.

It is notable that the two Republican presidential candidates who have served as U.S. attorneys—Chris Christie and Asa Hutchinson—have both spoken out against Trump over it. So has Trump’s former attorney general William Barr, who told Shannon Bream of the Fox News Channel today: “I think the counts under the Espionage Act, that he willfully retained those documents, are solid counts… I do think we have to wait and see what the defense says, and what proves to be true, but I do think that…if even half of it is true, then he’s toast. I mean, it’s a very detailed indictment, and it’s very, very damning.”

Trump is reportedly having trouble finding lawyers to represent him in this matter, with Marc Caputo of The Messenger reporting today that one federal criminal defense lawyer he contacted in the Southern District of Florida said: “The problem is none of us want to work for the guy…. He’s a nightmare client.”

While committed Republican partisans seem to believe Trump is a victim, according to the CBS News poll, 38% of likely Republican primary voters do, in fact, believe Trump endangered our security—and national security, after all, is the primary job of the president.

Smith said on Friday that the department would seek a “speedy trial,” and if that indeed happens, the American people will hear Trump’s own lawyers and aides—for all the witnesses are his own hand-picked team members—testify under oath about Trump’s behavior. Under similar conditions, the testimony of Trump’s people before the House Select Committee to Investigate the January 6th Attack on the U.S. Capitol effectively countered Trump’s propaganda. That Republican leaders see Trump as vulnerable is evidenced by how many candidates are already in the presidential race.

The question is how much damage the fight for control will do to the Republican Party, especially in light of the fact that Smith’s other investigation, the one into the attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 presidential election, has not yet been concluded. There is reason to suspect those congress members involved in that effort might have been spooked by just how thorough the investigation of the documents case turned out to be.

Guided by President Biden, the Democrats are refusing to comment on the indictment, likely in part to undermine the argument that it is about politics and also because they recognize that many Americans are just tired of drama.

Overall, though, they seem determined to redirect people’s attention to the reality that the Biden administration and the Democrats are actually governing according to the principles of a democracy. Frustrating as this tactic is to partisans, scholars who study how to restore democratic norms in a faltering democracy suggest that emphasizing those norms is crucial.

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#The Daily Don #Lock her up #TFG #political #Rule of Law #Equal under the law #whataboutism

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steelemunn44 · 24 days

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lovee-infected · 3 years

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Hello! Recently I've seen a lot of twst blogs arguing on how twst characters are mischaracterized, especially Malleus. So do you have any ideas on how he is mischaracterized? Also, is it okay to ask for your general opinion on questions like a short character analysis or how a healthy a relationship with each twdt guy might be? Hope it's okay to ask!

For your first question anon, it's a GREAT thing to ask and to be honest I've been waiting for a chance to talk about him! And for your second one, yes, of course! I just love writing character analyis and it's totally okay to ask for character/personality/relationship analysis here! I've got a lot to say about Malleus so this is going to a detailed analysis about his whole personality.

There are commonly two popular opinions on how Malleus is which divides the fandom into two groups:

Group A:

Those who consider him to be an absolutely soft, baby dragon who just wants to be invited and have a friend. They believe that Malleus needs more attention and can be quite affectionate at the time, he can also be sometimes idiotic toward simple stuff like working with a computer or trying to talk with others which makes him even more adorable. "Despite Malleus's harsh and emo appearance and terrifying powers, Malleus is just a small baby inside," is also a common belief of this group.

Group B:

Those who argue that group A is totally shading everything important about Malleus's personality and true self just because he looks cute and plays with a childish tamagotchi. These group also comes up with rather strong points about his personality such as his status as a crown prince, his naturally dark personality as not only a dark fae but also Maleficent's grandchild, his maturity and cold nature and also, the aspect of his hellish powers which can make him look like an absolute monster at the time.

I believe most of you are familiar with these points of view but the question is, which one of them is the real Malleus?

And the answer is: Neither of them; yet both of them do have a point.

The main problem is how the fandom portraits him as either an emotional tamagotchi baby or an absolutely cold and heartless mister of evil, while the true Malleus is far beyond than just being either good, or bad.

Now let's discuss some of the important facts and common mistakes about Malleus's personality:

(1) Malleus isn't a baby, but he isn't a monster either

This is supposedly the main idea here which will be continued to be discussed through the rest of this analysis. This is often how many end up mischaracterizing him because: the way the describe Malleus is either too dark or too childish. What we need here, is a balance. This is the grandson of one of the most important Disney villains that we are talking about, and don't forget that Maleficent herself was confirmed to consume the powers of Hell, as she was indeed the mistress of all evil. So this dragon boy here surely isn't one to underestimate, and he clearly has inherited that hellish power of her grandmother. It's obviously seen through the story as well, from the way he was presented in chapter 2 and beans day event to how terrified other students always are to even talk about him.

But the thing is, there are softer aspects of his personality as well which prove that Malleus isn't just designed to present an undefeatable force of evil, and this is exactly what makes his personality a lot more interesting.

(2) Malleus is actually hard to approach and talk to

Let's be honest, Malleus isn't as soft and easy to befriend as many fans consider him to be. He doesn't get too friendly or chill as he speaks, and even his close allies like Silver and Sebek fail to get close to him as much as they wish to. When we talk about his dark aura, we aren't just talking about his horns and fearsome magic, it's also because of his personality itself. His calm yet cold tone always remains still regardless of who he's talking to. No need to mention that he isn't an ordinary student either, he not only comes from a well-known family but is also the crown-prince of valley of thorns. Out of all twst characters Malleus is the only one who is directly connected to the great seven by being Maleficent's grandson. His family and people on the other hand are overly protective over him, to the point of not letting him to even have a fake proposal in the ghost marriage event which means that Malleus has also got each and every of his actions under watch.

(3) He's slowly getting used to isolating himself

In his ceremonial robes story, he's obviously upset that he never had a chance to wear his ceremonial robes because he never got invited, but when Lilia says he'd one day overcome his ill fate and gets to wear them as he always wanted to, he says that he's fine. Then again when Lilia tried to bring him to the singing test in chapter 5 he avoids showing up. In his voice lines he also said: "Are you as well scared of me?" which is clearly shouting that he's no longer surprised to see people being afraid of him, he's getting used to being feared and at some point, hated. That's probably one of the bitter sides of his personality which he's slowly giving up on trying to change it.

(4) Malleus has got a great confidence and isn't shy at all

There many fanfics in which Malleus is presented as a shy boy who's scared of confessing to his s/o or asking them out, while he's the total opposite in reality. Just like Maleficent herself, he speaks calmly and in a formal tone, is very respectful as he speaks, and isn't one to ever have problem while talking to others.

It's others who always avoid talking to him while Malleus himself isn't the least uncomfortable with presenting his ideas and asking others for help when he needs to.

He isn't ever shy over his lack of ability to work with machines or asking others for help for seemingly childish issues like having his tamagotchi fixed or finding a friend for the GaoGao dragon.

The only thing left is how Lilia described him as "Kind of shy" in chapter five, which is most likely because of another reason discussed in part (3)

(5) He doesn't eat ice cream and play with a tamagotchi for no reason

Malleus explained that everything is ran by magic back in the valley of thorns and no one really uses any machines there, that's how he's pretty new to both technology and complicated tools.

I believe that the tamagotchi part was given to him on purpose, because else than showing the fact that he's bad with tools, it's great contrast to the harsh picture that his power and personality gives him!

Admit it, it's a funny and somehow, adorable contrast to see one of the strongest magicians who can burn the room to ashes in just a matter pf second playing with a children's toy. And I believe that it was given to him on purpose. They meant to give him some soft and cute features as well instead of just presenting him as an evil fae. He is indeed evil and his powers are terrifying, and that's how watching him play with a tamagotchi is rather surprising to many. If you saw Ortho or Cheka playing with one it wouldn't have gone any further than a simple "Awww" or "How cute" because it's something you'd expect to see from a kid, but when you see Malleus of all people playing with it, you can't help but to fascinated and flustered over how cute this fae's habits can be.

Ice cream on the other hand doesn't really have to do with cuteness, it's something Yana Toboso discovered while doing her researches on fae mythology which discuses that Dark faes enjoy cold and sweet foods, especially cream. So it doesn't really have anything to do with him being either a soft or a cruel boy, it's just a normal part of his nature as a fae.

(6) He might be crazily old to humans, but he's still pretty young as a fae

This one has really been getting on my nerves, come on people! It's true that he's probably been living for decades and possibly, centuries but don't forget that it isn't that much compared to a normal fae! Even Sebek calls him 'Young master' which means that he's still a pretty young one, no need to mention that he hasn't yet became the king either so he's not much different from the rest of the students in NRC.

I've seen people saying: "No Malleus won't do that he's -too old-" and I've got to say: What?

Come on even someone like Lilia who's been living for over 5 centuries can act like a nasty 14 year old at the time, so for faes at least, age isn't a limitation.

Malleus on the other hand is still a teenage fae! He needs to discover new things and talk with more people, just like a normal human being does. So if he doesn't enjoy doing anything too silly or stupid, it's because of his 'personality', not because he's too old. Even when tells Lilia that he isn't a child anymore, it's like how an 18 year old says it to his father.

(7) Malleus won't take insult easily

He is polite and respectful in general, but when he's offended, he'd seriously respond to it. Remember that a single swipe of hand from him can set the whole room on fire.

Rook and Leona were probably one step away from being burnt and when Leona really got on Malleus's nerves by humiliating him, Malleus stopped respecting him as a prince of an ally kingdom and humiliated back.

He is calm but to a specific point, and you can make sure that he won't be any soft or forgiving if you offend him, and it'll probably end in no good if he gets mad. So better not think that Malleus is one to just keep it in and later cry in a room because he's sad baby when someone dares insult him.

(8) Angelina Jolie's Maleficent has nothing to do with his story!

Nope, Malleus never had a lover who cut off his wings and sent him to a hell of depression and loneliness, and no you cannot find those two wounds on his back regardless of how romantic it may seem.

I admit it, it's a lovely Au, but it's JUST AN AU! I can still see people saying stuff like "Ohh!! Will we discover if Malleus too had his wings cut off in chapter 7?" and the answer is NO. While Angelina Jolie's Maleficent is surely a great one on its own, it needs be understood that twst's source of main information and characters designs is nothing else than the original Disney villains.

Malleus cannot be associated with any Maleficents else than the version we saw in 1959's sleeping beauty and it's an important fact to look through.

(9) Malleus is NOT Maleficent!

While they are a lot more similar than you can imagine(in both power and personality), let's not forget that Malleus is NOT Maleficent! He's a total new character on his own, and is unique in his own way.

He is twisted from Maleficent which means that no matter how similar they are, Malleus is a new character with a new personality.

Saying that he isn't soft at all and the fandom will see his true face when he overblots ( It's supposed to mean that the real Malleus is an absolutely evil and destructive one, just like Maleficent) is nothing different from denying all of Yana's hard work on designing him and his personality!

Malleus himself said that his grandmother's skills were far greater than his and most importantly: Malleus still has chance to have a better fate than Maleficent did.

Once again: He's still young! He still has a chance to be saved from turning into a heartless and isolated creature like Maleficent. No matter how cold he is, he hasn't yet got to the point of hating the whole world and losing all of his emotions. And that's why it's totally wrong to deny all the good that he might still have inside by saying that he isn't soft at all. He isn't a baby, but he isn't a monster either. Not yet.

(10) Even Lilia agrees that Malleus is still learning and his personality is in development

Can't you see? Malleus isn't attending to this school for no reason. His magic is already top notch, and his knowledge goes far greater than anything they might teach in NRC.

If you take a look at the story, you'll see signs of Lilia indirectly giving us signs of why Malleus still needed to attend to this school. In Malleus's SR robes' story, Lilia told him that he still has a lot to learn and knowledge isn't everything. And what might he find in NRC which has nothing to do with knowledge? People.

Lilia is trying to hold him back from isolating himself like Maleficent did, and is indeed trying to help him make friends and learn to get along with people without thinking that it's useless because they'd fear him anyway.

Also, he clearly wants Malleus to learn and experience new things in NRC by taking part in activities. In Malleus's Halloween SR story Lilia, who was always the one to choose Diasomnia's Halloween costumes, asks Malleus to choose this year's costume instead of him. Lilia first says that he wants Malleus to do it but later tells him that he has other reasons as well, he was trying to put Malleus into trying something new therefore he can have something learn from the experiment! (What a cute papa he really is...)

This is another proof of him not having the cold and unapproachable picture some imagine him to have, he isn't against experiencing and trying new things.

(11) He's still looking for a true friend

Malleus needs a friend, that's a fact. During his chats he mentions how Maleficent always had her loyal pet crow by her side as the only reliable creature she could always trust, and how Malleus wonders if he can ever find such a worthy ally of his own.

Even as he has Lilia, Silver and Sebek by his side he doesn't feel like he has such a friend.

People have been avoiding him through his whole life, and you can see how excited he got when Cater asked him for a selfie as he was one of the very first people who ever tried to approach him.

While he's slowly getting used to being feared by everyone, he'd still appreciate a friend and he needs one. Not even Maleficent herself could've made it all on her own without a friend by her side.

(12) Malleus isn't heartless

While he won't easily fall for anything or anyone, it isn't impossible for him to love.

We haven't yet seen anything that directly gets us to the point of love in the story but it's something you can tell through his actions and words.

When he cares for something or someone, he'd be serious about it.

Two obvious examples would be his tamagotchi and the ramshackle dorm. He'd certainly get out of his way to find someone to fix his dear tamagotchi and as we saw in the Halloween event, he furiously stated that he'd burn anyone who tries to the ramshackle dorm any harm, because he likes that place.

There isn't much he holds dear in life, but when he does, he won't let a single soul to take it away from him.

When he can be this protective over something that just entertains him, just try to imagine how far he might go to protect the one he loves. He falls in love very slowly and it'll probably take him a while to realize it if he actually does. He can begin with small interests and repeated meetings but at some point, it'll turn into a routine, an obsession. He won't easily fall in love, but when he does, he won't be able to easily let go of it either.

(13) His relationship with MC is far more important than you're thinking

Just by going through his voice lines, you can tell how MC is effecting Malleus's personality and life. I'm not saying that it's love or anything but the thing is, MC is changing Malleus nonetheless.

Their relationship has been a totally new thing for Malleus to experience from the very beginning, because MC didn't know him. Malleus is obviously used to being well-known as the infamous prince of the Draconia family by almost everyone, but MC was an exception.

He asked MC to talk to him and tell him stories, it can be clearly see that he enjoys talking to them.

He also mentioned that MC has made him feeling lots of things he hadn't felt before, which can also be connected to part (10) where we discussed how he's still young and needs more of communication and friends because he needs to learn.

Some argue that Malleus couldn't care less about MC and the only reason he shows up around them is because of the ramshackle dorm, which can be easily proven wrong by two hints:

1) Malleus sent a Happy holiday card to MC after the winter holiday.

2)What Malleus told Lilia at the end of the Halloween event stories after all the troubles that was brought upon the ramshackle dorm: "I want that human to enjoy Halloween too"

While it isn't necessarily romance that we're talking about, his relationship with MC is clearly telling us that he's a lot more of emotions and humanity inside him than what we were expecting.

At this point, it's important to see that in spite of his cold nature and mature personality he is slowly beginning to feel more and more emotions as the result of meeting newer people in NRC, especially MC. Saying that he is nothing but a heartless fae who is wrongly thought to be a soft and emotional boy is nothing different from judging him the same way as most of the people in twisted wonderland itself judge Malleus, it's important to see that he's a lot more.

His personality itself is surely amazing and as a Malleus hoe stan myself I can't wait to get more of his background in chapter 7, although it's probably going to be dark as well. They really did give his design a twist and that's how he's a balance of and menacingly powerful magician and a young boy who's just learning to deal with emotions.

For now, that's all I had in mind! Hope that I didn't miss anything. This was a general character analysis which also discussed some of the common mistakes about Malleus's personality but-

In case that you're wondering how he's being mischaracterized in reader insert fics, that'll be a totally different issue to discuss which would also need another post to be discussed through.

Small note: Just saying that there's often a dark lore to twst x reader fics (Especially for Malleus/ Leona x reader) which is usually better to be ignored while reading/writing for them...

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #Twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #Character analysis #answered

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

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I know you’ve talked about how all the Cullen pairings are eventually going to implode - glad someone said it - but I was wondering if you wanted to talk a little bit about what you think Meyer INTENDED with the pairings - tropes and whatnot? And what you think would have to change in her narrative to make what was intended what we actually saw on the page? Or — what do you think each cullens’ Perfect Spouse would actually look like?

Anon is referring to this post.

And well, you've certainly given me quite the challenge.

Some Musing Ramblings Before We Begin

Sort of like asking me to make Dramione work, I'm not sure I'm the person to ask this. Anyone who reads my work knows that... well, that's a lie, every story I secretly write is a love story. But it's not Twilight in any way shape or form.

Twilight simply isn't a story I would set out to write. This isn't a good thing or a bad thing, it just is, which means that asking me to make Twilight work the way Meyer intended is probably not your best bet.

But I'll try regardless, it's what we're here for.

Bella/Edward

Meyer intended Bella Swan and Edward Cullen to be the best and brightest of all the pairings in Twilight. They have the love and devotion of Carlisle and Esme, the physicality and sexual attraction of Rosalie and Emmett, and are such a grand love that even depressed Marcus takes note. This is the love story that drives the entire series.

Edward is an improvement upon Carlisle, a Carlisle with even better control, and the most beautiful man you ever did see. He's also a gentleman, a man of his time and from an era where chivalry was alive and men courted women. Bella is one of those disturbingly altruistic people who makes you feel bad about yourself just by being in the same room. She's incredibly selfless, kind, and also quite brave.

Together, despite their ups and downs and the many obstacles in their way, they're disgustingly perfect.

However, that's not what we get. On Edward's end he's... Edward about loving Bella. On Bella's end, she has no idea who Edward even is but she does know he's beautiful and special.

And to get what Meyer actually wanted... Christ, Anon, I'll try.

So, the first problem, if Edward was truly a good person then Twilight would never happen.

Edward would have his first day of Biology, miraculously maintain control, and flee to Alaska as he does in canon. However, he would not return. Edward in canon returns due to his budding obsession as well as his wounded pride, in fleeing Forks he feels he has lost to Bella. When Carlisle later points out that a girl's life is on the line, that Edward is foolishly endangering this girl solely for his ego, Edward refuses to acknowledge this.

A good man would never have returned from Alaska, the Cullens would have moved in short order, and Bella may or may not have died in a parking lot or in Port Angeles.

That said, what if Bella is not, in fact, Edward's singer? Then there's not this constant debate of him eating her or his creepy, budding, obsession with his personal brand of heroin.

Well, the trouble with that is that Edward would then never notice her. Even were Edward not a colossal dismissive dick, required per this ask, Bella is one mortal out of many and someone he shouldn't grow close to. Associating with her just exposes her to unnecessary danger from him and his family. Edward is a guest in our world, nothing more, and a kind Edward might chit chat with her in Biology but even if he had a growing crush he'd keep his distance.

As he tried and failed to do in canon, actually.

Basically, change Edward alone, and it's not enough. The Edward Meyer wanted would never get together with Bella. At least, not without a lot of AU-sauce.

But let's look at Bella for a moment. Bella's character also has to be entirely stripped down. The Bella of the books is extremely depressed and her infatuation with Edward is fueled in part because of this. Edward's obsession with her gives her worth.

Obviously, in this new and improved edition of Twilight, Bella can't use either Edward or Jacob for validation. She has to be able to stand on her own two legs. If she does use either for validation, then the relationship must come to an end, as she and her significant other realize just what it is Bella's doing.

The trouble is, what does this not-depressed Bella have to fall in love with? Yes, Edward's beautiful, and that certainly goes a long way, but in canon he's a dick. Bella even thinks to herself that he's a complete dick (even when he's trying to be charming). Luckily for Edward she later decides that this is cryptic and therefore appealing.

Well, in AU land, Edward might be so damn charming that Bella likes him anyway but we come back to Edward keeping her at a polite distance.

So, what we need is a terrifying villain. Let's call him Angelus (though per Twilight this would probably be James). Angelus is a vampire that will force Edward's hand. For whatever reason, he decides to torment and ruin Bella's life, ending the hunt in either eating her or turning her into his bride. Angelus' existence forces Bella to be in the know and for Edward to have to take extreme action.

The pair become closer, grow through undoubtedly horrific trauma, and through said trauma Bella understands not only the pros of being a vampire but the terrifying cons.

Basically, it'd be this story. Just replace the name "Carlisle" with Edward and "Edward" with James.

Alice/Jasper

Alice and Jasper are supposed to have this ineffable, mystic, connection where they're together because... Alice saw them together. And in a way, that's true, but it's supposed to be a thing of beauty, soulmates if there ever were any, and instead it's this dumpster fire with nothing holding them together.

This one's easier in a way, well, sort of. Alice would have to be a completely different character and we'd have to see a lot more of Jasper.

Alice has a bad habit of treating those around her, even those she loves, as chess pieces. She'll put them in significant danger, court their misery, so long as it gets her the future she wants.

And she's extremely controlling.

Right away in the opening of Midnight Sun we see this and how it affects her and Jasper's relationship. The novel opens with Alice hovering, scanning the future for Japser fucking up, while Jasper just sits there in misery. Due to her obsession on making sure Jasper doesn't eat students, she actually misses Edward's plan to massacre Biology and his many plans to eat Bella Swan.

Even if she wasn't, this isn't good for anyone to live with. Jasper has very little concept of free will, whatever happens to him, whatever he'll do, Alice tells him and the worst possible option is always on the table.

For Jasper/Alice to work either Alice's gift needs to go (and that's... sort of all Alice is) or she has to tell no one any vision ever unless under extreme circumstances.

Which would be devastating for Alice. Rather than this mostly well-adjusted, perky, girl, Alice would be crippled by her gift. The weight of the world, everyone's free will, rests on her shoulders and she has to constantly avoid temptation to simply pick everyone's future for them.

Without the attitude Alice has in canon, I think she'd go mad with such a gift, or else be consumed by the responsibility of it.

Then we get to the mess that is Jasper. Jasper's complicated, and I don't want to get into it here, but his love story would have to be... too large to be put to the side like that. The redemption he'd need is not one that can be shoved into a few paragraphs told to Bella, it's frankly the kind of story that would drive an ordinary story.

So we'd have to see a lot of Jasper and Nouveau Alice. Which, of course, detracts from Bella/Edward which is the main point of the story.

Honestly, I take it back, there's no salvaging this relationship. They would have to be completely different people to the point where they're entirely different characters wearing nametags 'Alice' and 'Jasper'. Alice couldn't have her gift, which informs her entire character, and we'd have to see way too much of Jasper who is ultimately a tertiary character.

Carlisle/Esme

Thoughts on Carlisle/Esme.

Carlisle and Esme is a very 'spiritual' relationship per Meyer. They're... mom-bot and dad-bot. Alright, fine, they're the perfect parents with this deep love for each other and a very parental bond with Edward especially. It's the relationship Edward admires the most in his paired off family.

I don't even know how to fix this one.

Again, they'd have to be such different people. The trouble with Esme and Carlisle is that they share no values and are plagued by massive miscommunication. The Carlisle who is perfect for Esme... No, wait, this Carlisle is perfect for her, but that's because she's in Esme Land.

The Carlisle that would be perfect for a grounded Esme is not the one that exists. She'd want someone who would always put the family first, who would treasure her above all other things, that's not Carlisle.

Carlisle, similarly, would want someone that truly shares his ideals. That's not Esme.

So, we're back to nametag land, because one or both have to completely change for this to work. (Not to mention that Esme's probably not supposed to be Esme).

So, I've got nothing for this.

Rosalie/Emmett

I actually think these two are what Meyer intended. They love each other but are mostly held together by attraction. They're a very physical couple and good for the most part but inherently lesser than Bella/Edward.

Sure, I'd argue that they're the most put together couple in the house, but I think they're meant to have flaws. They work well together, but every other relationship in the Cullens has to be a step up or at least have something more to it.

Something Edward and Bella can be better than.

Conclusion

Dear god. Did I only manage to somewhat address Bella/Edward? Was that it? This was worse than I thought.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #twilight shipping #bella/edward #anti bella/edward #carlisle/esme #anti carlisle/esme #alice/jasper #anti alice/jasper #rosalie/emmett #anti rosalie/emmett #meta #headcanon #opinion #shipping

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theworldbrewery · 3 years

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3 NPC Models and How to Use Them

Many people have observed the differences between Actual Play DMs’ play-styles, and while there is endless room for variance here, we’re going to talk about the 3 main models of NPC use, and we’re going to do that by talking about attitudes. [full disclosure: this post was inspired by this post about NPCs and DMing in Critical Role, if you’re interested!]

In D&D 5e, there’s a concept that in an ordinary social encounter, PCs who want things from NPCs will try to convince them of their lies or get them to do something. To run these encounters, the DMG has provided a basic system to help DMs figure out how NPCs will react. Friendly NPCs will usually do what’s asked of them (the DC is fairly low), while Hostile NPCs take more effort to convince and Indifferent NPCs are somewhere in the middle--they’ll accept a request provided there’s no risk involved, for instance.

But this model of NPC interaction goes astray when your PCs have more complicated relationships with the NPCs. It’s easy enough to apply this system to an innkeeper or an old man whose goats you just killed. When you are engaging with, say, a Rival you met a few levels ago, that system starts to get confusing. The Rival isn’t indifferent, but they’re not exactly hostile, either. And what about when an NPC has a specific goal in mind?

All this gets complicated quickly, so we’re going to sort it out with 3 models of NPC use.

FIRST: The “NPC Typecast” Model. In this model, NPCs fall into certain typecast roles. Any friendly NPC will defer to the party’s desires and plans. They aren’t coming up with ideas of their own. An indifferent NPC is usually interacting with the party in a mercenary fashion--there’s an exchange necessary to get what you want (such as a shopkeeper or a spy who might turn on her employer). And a hostile NPC is usually a villainous character, with goals that work directly against the party’s goals. Rare is the occasion that they will work alongside the party--and if they do, expect them to be plotting a double-cross. This system is ideal for a straightforward campaign where most threats are External or Epic in nature, or where the lines of Good and Evil are pretty clear. Usually, the party will be Good-Aligned overall, and the friendly/indifferent/hostile dynamic corresponds to good/neutral/evil. This model is great for letting the party have agency--these NPCs are pretty much never going to tell the party what to do or have a secret agenda, unless they’re Evil. For an example of this, look at Critical Role, where DM Matt Mercer’s friendly NPCs tend to defer to the party members and typically have no interpersonal conflicts even as hostile NPCs might feign friendship to get what they want.

SECOND: The “NPCs Have Agendas” Model. When you’re running a campaign that is more roleplay-dependent, such as a mystery or political intrigue game, you’ll quickly find that the NPC Typecast model doesn’t meet your needs--it’s simple, but you are running a complicated game, and that calls for complicated NPCs. In these types of games, NPCs are going to have agendas that don’t align with the party. That doesn’t meant they aren’t friendly; it just means the NPCs have their own goals in mind. Under this model, friendly NPCs are more likely to compromise their own goals to help the party, while indifferent NPCs prefer a quid pro quo--if they help you, you must help them. Hostile NPCs, then, need more leverage or convincing--for example, you might need to blackmail them to get the job done. This is the type of campaign I run. Now, not all my NPCs are super complex, but the important ones usually have goals and ideas that don’t revolve around the party. The more morally complicated your campaign is, the more likely you’ll fall into this model: Because each NPC has personal wants and fears, it’s easier to portray them as fallible, as vulnerable to temptations and flexible with their morals.

THIRD: The “NPCs Are People Too” Model. In this system, NPCs act like, well, like people. They also have goals, wants, fears, etc., but the key difference is that in this model, the campaign itself tends to be extremely roleplay-heavy, if not entirely roleplay. There’s conflict, but it’s mainly interpersonal or inter-factional. NPCs each have feelings and reasons behind why they do what they do, and in this model, a savvy PC can capitalize on that and befriend someone who might have started out hostile. You might still use Good and Evil as factors, but in such a model, they’re mostly names for sides and priorities, not the definitive alignment system that’s often assumed in D&D. These campaigns sometimes even push into slice-of-life, but not always--they might be better described as Pacifist Campaigns. This model, in essence, assumes that most creatures that understand language can be reasoned with--and most of the time, the players will choose that route.

While none of these are bad models to use, issues can arise if there is a mismatch between what the DM is running and what the players want to see. If the players want to be in the third model, and the DM is going for the first, either the DM will be annoyed that no one is fighting the monsters or the party will become frustrated that every encounter ends in a fight. In fact, specific players who gravitate to a particular model of NPC might not enjoy the game as much if the rest of the group prefers a different version.

Issues can especially arise if, as a group, you have decided to play a game with a particular approach to morality. If everyone is strictly Good-aligned, having a series of complex moral encounters with NPCs that have agendas can leave the party feeling impotent. They can’t trust anyone, and difficult moral choices are just not what the group is looking for from this game. In the opposite direction, say you are running a morally complex campaign but your friendly NPCs are not as morally complex as your hostile ones. You might be hoping to avoid railroading by having NPCs making the decision, but if your NPCs are too forgiving of a morally gray party and don’t have personal wants, it will start to fray the suspension of disbelief--your friendly NPCs won’t feel as real and developed in comparison to your hostile ones, and the end result may be that your players don’t want to interact with their own allies. Players can sense an underdeveloped NPC as much as they can an overdeveloped one--and they tend to gravitate toward developed NPCs because that’s where interesting encounters tend to happen.

Of course, you might find you’re using a blend of different approaches in your own game, or even moving from one model to another depending on the current arc. In my own game, I usually use a blend of model 1 and 2. Because we’re in a strongly roleplay-focused arc with very complex characters, I’ve shifted to do mostly model 2 with some model 3 qualities! That’s perfectly fine, and as long as it doesn’t force NPCs to act inconsistently, using different models in the same game isn’t a problem either.

#d&d #dnd #npcs #dungeons and dragons #character building #alignment

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whiterosebrian · 3 years

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Letter To Democrats

I felt the need to do something besides raising awareness of environmental, indigenous, and socio-economic issues. I’ve decided to compose and then mail multiple printed copies of a letter to multiple politicians across the USA. I did wonder if I should copy-and-paste the letter to social media profiles like I did for the one that I wrote to President Biden. Ultimately, I decided that posting the letter would serve two purposes. First, I wanted to let indigenous activists know that they have another willing accomplice. Second, this could provide a decent template for anyone who also feels a need to write to political leaders and put pressure on them to take much-needed action. Without any further ado…

Greetings,

I am writing a generic letter to send to assorted politicians across the United States. For reasons that I will articulate over the course of this letter, I felt a serious need to address as many members of the American political leadership as possible. I do not intend to call you out personally. If you do take it as a personal callout, please consider why you feel that way.

The reports of wildfires, heat waves, and floods have filled many, many observers with existential terror. Some have even expressed utter despair over whether the world will be inhabitable by any form of life. At times I have been tempted to join the despair, to give up hope of ever leaving a beautiful legacy for future generations. For the sake of all the people of the world, I must fight that temptation. I need to do my part to fight for the future.

There are a large number of activists trying to protect the environment. However, they need help from people who have the power to make really concrete changes. That is why I am writing to you and other Democratic politicians. That does sound very partisan, but the sad fact is that the Republican party is almost a lost cause at this point. I wish to be proven wrong about that. The fact is that it already engaged in brutal obstruction during the Obama administration. A sinister side to the base already started emerging during that time as well. With the rise of Donald Trump, the much of its leadership and nearly all of its electoral base have become increasingly unwilling to offer the kind of compromise needed for a functional democracy.

The Democratic party as a whole has been criticized as very weak in opposing the radicalizing Republican Party. The current President has spoken of a desire for restoring national unity. That desire is certainly laudable in itself when Trump blatantly stoked resentment and division. Again, however, the Republican party and its core supporters have shown a complete unwillingness to work with any opponents in any way. They view their opponents as subversive enemies that need to be crushed underfoot. The Republican party has inched towards neo-fascism at a time when neo-fascism is mainstreaming around the world. The Republican party has also already been beholden to the selfish interests of major corporations for decades. It even seeks to magnify the already dire influence of corporations chiefly responsible for pollution. Its propaganda outlets outright deny pollution and mislead millions of people.

Some Democratic politicians have also been criticized as going along with corporate interests and watering down legislation meant to oppose corporate influence. By now it has become clear that corporate elites do not have the safety of the world and its human and nonhuman denizens in mind. By now it has become clear that they must be reined in for the greater good. The only language that major corporations even comprehend is money. Here I arrive at the first main point of this letter: I urge you to work with other Democratic leaders to divest from major corporations and their executives, especially those most directly responsible for polluting the Earth. I’ve also seen proposals that corporations be forced to contribute to removing as much pollution as possible. Quickening the transition away from fossil fuels is crucial.

However, alternate energy sources are not enough. Switching from gas-powered cars to electric cars is not enough. Building solar or wind farms in place of coal-burning power plants is not enough. Extraction and consumption cause their own serious problems. The problem of environmental degradation has roots that are far too deep and complicated to address here, though I will touch upon one later. Going hand-in-hand with corporate influence are the bad social and urban infrastructures that do not encourage sustainable lifestyles. I barely even know where to begin in this regard. Cities are too often built for cars and not people. Most people have to drive carbon-spewing cars to work at jobs that are not well-suited to their needs in order to pay their bills and feed their families. Too many people are left in poverty or near-poverty, some people are more-or-less isolated in suburbs, and a tiny handful are virtually untouchable in their wealth and privilege. Healthy food is not always accessible, and even when it is, it often has to be shipped very far from the source.

My second main point is this: in addition to transitioning to cleaner energy, the very infrastructure of our society needs to reformed. Local communities need to be lifted up so that they can better care for themselves without the need for distant figures constantly having to provide for them through convoluted supply chains. It’s true that right-wingers speak of “small government” with the unspoken agenda of leaving corporate oligarchs and ultra-conservative clergy to rule over ordinary human beings. Nonetheless, I believe that, at this point, government needs to assist in rebuilding communities so that they can eventually leave denizens to stand on their feet and care for each other. The pandemic, along with the poor responses of many local officials, has shown the need for communities to engage in mutual care.

I will confess that this exhortation is the vaguest one in this letter. I lack in-depth education on such matters. I bring it up in order to further nudge you in a direction that would be far better for the Earth and its people. I can offer one example of what must be done that is slightly clearer: helping communities establish gardens and small-scale farms to better feed themselves.

On a very important side note, this nation needs to divest from the military as well. The largest and most powerful military in history is known to be among the largest polluters on earth. Too many politicians seem to ignore how massive the military already is an insist on subsidizing it at the cost of actually building a peaceful and prosperous society.

I further wish to discuss the need to center indigenous peoples in renewing our society. No, I am no indigenous myself. I simply wish to point to their wisdom. Yes, the sagely magical Indian who is one with Mother Earth is a crude stereotype, and I have no intention of reinforcing it. With that said, I follow a number of indigenous writers, activists, spiritualists, and influencers on social media. I learned about how many indigenous people are attempting to reconnect to previously outlawed and hidden heritages. The stereotype could be rooted in reality.

In most cases, those heritages include animistic spiritualities, in which aspects of the natural world, from plants to animals to waters to stones, are seen as having spirits. Furthermore, these aspects of the natural world are seen as relatives to humans. I should note how some well-meaning white people, wishing to bond with the earth instead of submitting to organized religion, appropriate these indigenous spiritualties and associated practices. Indigenous writers will encourage such people to instead delve into their own pre-Christian heritages, which have similar animistic philosophies, however obscured by time they may be. I have actually been doing just that—though I won’t elaborate because I don’t want to center myself.

You may be asking, what is the relevance said common thread of the spiritualities of indigenous peoples? That animism seems to go hand-in-hand with methods of land care that developed over generations of trial and error, along with the principles behind those methods. With the subjugation and expulsion (and worse) of the land’s original caretakers, though, these practices fell into obscurity. The most dramatic example, perhaps, is the suppression of controlled burnings on the western coastline leading to the wildfires that we have seen in recent years. Indeed, the different lands of different indigenous nations need their own subtly distinct approaches, based on ecosystems, geographies, local histories, and general senses of place. Indigenous activists and figureheads are calling upon governments to heed their words on not only conservation but also regeneration.

One of the main demands that indigenous activists make is for the return of their lands, full sovereignty over them, and the facilitation of cultural revival. Yes, that is a very simple manner of justice and righting a historic wrong. It has become evident that their wisdom is a crucial piece of the puzzle of solving environmental problems as well. Simple “colorblind” or “globalized” liberalism won’t suffice when working for social or environmental justice. Indigenous activists argue that colonialism is at the root of so many of our world’s problems. Many of them even outright state that the “colonial state” in itself is a problem. I can see how colonialism has promoted the rise of an all-devouring capitalism and perpetuated it. The grim historical fact of how the enslavement of Black people and the elimination of indigenous peoples contributed to building this nation remains a grim historical fact.

I myself am figuring out the world and learning many truths, but I am sympathetic to people who have borne the brunt of colonialism. I welcome the humanistic achievements of modernity and utterly oppose fundamentalism and fascism, I assure you, but I’ve come to accept that the modern world is broken. Simple progress won’t heal the world. “Big government” certainly has a role to play in mobilizing the needed social changes, such as what I’ve alluded to above, but the “colonial state” needs to ultimately divest its own power.

I’ll try to summarize my points now. Major corporations and economic elites need to be drastically reined in and disempowered (along with the military). The transition to renewable energies needs to be quickened—but also needs to be accompanied by drastic changes to infrastructures and supply chains so as to result in less extraction and consumption. Localized communities need to be empowered so they can better care for themselves without much out faraway aid. Indigenous peoples need to be given their lands back, be elevated to leadership roles in caring for and regenerating said lands, and be empowered so they can rebuild their cultures. Settlers should learn from them as well. In the end, the state and the socio-economic system that it has upheld need to recede—not for billionaires or grand inquisitors or dictators, but for ordinary people and the earth. In truth, humans are meant to be a part of nature, and the generational challenge is for humanity to reconcile with the rest of nature.

This all may sound idealistic or radical. This past summer has shown us that we shouldn’t settle for anything less than radical social change. This nation, which has been a major world power for over a century, needs to be radically reimagined. This all may sound vague as well. I have little education in politics and governance apart from what I’ve tried to learn for myself across the internet. That is all the more reason for people like you—people with more real-world power than I—to push along radical social change. This letter is meant to raise awareness of your duty as a leader. A leader is meant to be a guide, not a dominator. There’s a chance that you could be recorded in history as a leader who did what was necessary to make the world’s healing and renewal possible.

Thank you.

You may call me Brian Solomon Whiterose.

#environment #environmentalism #indigenous rights #indigenous people #us politics #social justice #social reform #colonialism #capitalism #long text

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bloodbenderz · 4 years

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Can I ask what your season 1 Lok reboot looks like?

this is about 3k words i checked lmfao dont say i didnt warn u

a key part of the whole thing is that korra gets way more perspectives and more experiences representative of like, normal people in republic city bc i think something that really defined what a good avatar aang was was how many people he met and got to know and how he didnt exclusively or even mostly associate w cops and bureaucrats and leaders. so mako and bolin. well first of all their backstories are a little more fleshed out and we get a less black and white view of the “triads” (lol) and mako and bolin’s experiences w them. cuz the show very much does the whole thing of like Criminals Bad but dont worry even tho mako and bolin did commit crimes theyre not Criminals!! so just a little more nuance on the alleged gang problem and the poverty in the city

korra does start out very naive w very black and white ideas (ex. “you guys are CRIMINALS?”) i think a really good way of developing her away from her sheltered naive worldview is putting her in whats clearly an incredibly complicated city w an absolute cesspool of political conflicts, ethnic tensions, the lasting effects of colonization, etc and having her try and understand the needs of “the people” in a more complicated way than “i have to save the good guys from the bad guys” ykwim? and i think the absolute WORST way to do that is what they did. bc we get mako and bolin who could contribute genuinely compelling thematic elements to the story: one parent who was indigenous and one who was from a colonizer background in the decades directly following the end of the war, kids who grew up in poverty apparently without any familial support, and who now are trying to be “respectable” members of society (especially mako). and then most of that is pretty much tossed aside bc asami swoops in w her capitalist dad and her piles of money and the class issue is just never talked about again.

so the way i’d fix all that is like. introducing more, like, normal people. some nonbenders, more workers, more immigrants, etc, to show what daily life is actually like for people. because. we dont know! we dont have any context about whether the nonbender oppression thing is actually an issue bc we dont KNOW any nonbenders with normal lives! and spoiler: the nonbender oppression thing is not an issue. bc it doesnt make historical sense. lok is set 7 decades after the end of the war. that is not by ANY stretch of the imagination long enough to heal from the scars of imperialism, ESPECIALLY not when lok is also set in a settler colonial state. like that fact should have featured PROMINENTLY in the political and social setting! realistically, nonbenders arent an oppressed class, earth and water nation people are, regardless of bending status! as in all settler colonial states, the colonizers and their descendants (in this case fire nation people) retain most of the financial and political capital, leaving the colonized and racialized immigrants (in this case earth kingdom and water tribe people respectively) generally impoverished and politically suppressed. like aside from the fact that theres no way toph would have become a cop, it’s so ridiculous to think that an established privileged class of fire nation colonizers would EVER accept being policed by earthbenders!

imagine how much more nuanced and interesting it would be to set republic city as a remnant of a colonial past still fraught w the violence and tension that colonialism and the associated ideology imposed?? instead of some vague ideas of criminal who wear 1920s outfits and harass shopkeepers think about why extralegal and violent groups like that might form! earth kingdom people trying to push for the reclamation of their land? ethnic groups protecting themselves against corrupt cops? ESPECIALLY w the history that the fire nation has of SPECIFICALLY jailing and killing earthbenders and waterbenders BECAUSE of the potential they have to resist against fire nation imperialism like it just makes no sense at all that earthbenders would be privileged on land that, 70 years ago, they would have been imprisoned on! like these various paramilitary groups falling along these different ideological or ethnic lines, fire nation or earth kingdom or water tribe, pro colonization or anti colonization, pro cop or anti cop, pro immigrant or anti immigrant, and then you juxtapose that w depictions of a govt thats failing to keep this all under control w tenzin trying desperately to keep it together despite the fact that it’s becoming increasingly obvious that the state has no interest in taking the conflicts seriously and would rather just point vague fingers at criminals and gangs? and THEN you bring in korra, who has no idea about any of this and thinks that all its gonna take is kicking some ass every couple days, meeting normal people who offer all kinds of different opinions abt the efficacy of the state and the different violent or nonviolent groups and ideologies clashing in the city and the way all this shit is affecting people’s lives and livelihoods and relationships w other citizens??

theres so much good shit there so many incredible things u could do w that like Where do we go after colonial atrocities? is it possible for a settler colonial state to take revolutionary or indigenous ideas seriously? is liberal reform enough in a state like this? and then all the growth that korra could do going from a simple black and white life about mastering the elements to this messy complicated sociopolitical knot of a city? and all the different kinds of characters u could introduce in this city? like why would u EVER think that the most interesting characters that this story has to offer is a police chief a congressman and a billionaire????

but anyways. that’s what the Setting of my idealized version of lok is. as for the actual plot, it is as follows

it starts out similarly as the show. republic city is MUCH more fraught w political tension and violence and korra knows this but assumes that it’s just a matter of throwing a few gang leaders and corrupt officials in jail. tenzin manages to come see them in the south pole and intends give korra real lessons while he’s there but they receive news of a terrorist attack in republic city only a few days after he gets there so his family has to pack up and leave again.

korra stows away to republic city (katara catches her leaving and gives her blessing im a SUCKER for that moment). she does have a hard time adjusting but she doesn’t do what she did in the show lol the first person she meets in the city is this older woman who works on the docks, directs her to a place where she can eat and gives her a roof to sleep under for the first night. so korra’s first exposure to republic city is just about forming connections w ordinary people like ship workers and a family owned restaurant and people practicing their bending in the park. and by the time she reaches air temple island a day or so later her head is spinning w all this new information and the way that nothing is really what she expected it to be. tenzin gives her his own perspective on everything and pema gives her her own perspective on everything and even those two seem wildly different from all the people she’s already met. and so korra starts to get a kind of outline of the conflicts plaguing the city as extremely complex and a lot more influenced by older ideas of fire nation imperialism and earth kingdom land reclamation than she had any idea about.

mako and bolin are still pro benders but not like. super famous like they are in the show. korra’s picked up a couple friends by now and one of them takes her to a gym where a lot of amateur pro bending (is that an oxymoron? lol) matches happen and thats how she meets mako and bolin and joins their pro bending team. Unfortunately for korra, this gym is run by lin beifong, and also has the distinction of being one of the most notoriously anti settler state organizations in the country. lin beifong is NOT a cop but she runs this gym (and the pro bending league) as a way to offer support to local earth kingdom/water tribe youth, teach self defense skills, a center of community organizing, and sometimes to act as a front to hide revolutionary/combat organizing against the pro fire nation paramilitaries/police force. tenzin is DISTRAUGHT that korra does this and this is where the friction btwn them comes from bc (from tenzin’s perspective) she does things like this without thinking or even fully understanding the context behind them and tenzin will have to deal w the political fallout of the avatar openly aligning herself w a very divisive figure in the community and (from korra’s perspective) tenzin is too unwilling to take sides in a conflict that’s claiming lives and when the state is clearly not taking sufficient steps to protect people well then why the hell shouldnt she align herself w lin beifong, who IS taking steps to protect and support people?

as korra more fully integrates herself into the city and learns more abt how different people think abt everything going on this is where the real exposition abt the equalists begins. they’re a paramilitary group w an ideology thats gaining increasing support among middle/upper class fire nation people, esp nonbenders. on the face theyre abt putting checks on “bender oppression” but really it’s an excuse to persecute and surveil earthbenders waterbenders and airbenders, bc fire nation people have all this leftover fear about benders who arent fire nation Rising Up Against them and these people who r using their Savage Excuse for Bending to terrorize good innocent (fire nation) people. theres all too frequent terrorist attacks that the equalists claim credit for mostly against monuments to earth/water/air nation people and earth/water nation community centers (one like it was the event that forced tenzin back to republic city) but also like the govt doesnt take a lot of these seriously or if they do only a couple people are charged without doing damage to the entire organization

this is also around the time that they meet asami and she becomes part of their friend group. asami likes pro bending but her dad HATES it so she sneaks out to watch matches at lin beifong’s gym (korra says ironically like don’t u know how ~divisive~ that is and asami answers that the only reason its Not divisive is that gyms like beifongs are the only place where nobody recognizes her). and asami alongside korra is also kind of developing a more nuanced perspective on the city that she lives in cuz obviously the only worldview she’s ever been exposed to is her father’s right? and she keeps pushing it off making excuses not to bring mako and bolin and korra around to her house or even not to be seen w them in certain neighborhoods until they call her on it and she’s like Well honestly my dad might do something awful to u! and i dont wanna risk it!

and as time goes on we see more abt asami’s home life like her father’s hyper conservative politics and asami keeps these secrets abt her hobbies and her friends from him but she’s still clearly under his influence and mako bolin and korra r getting increasingly worried abt it cuz like...asami seems to tend to make excuses for him so that she wont have to be drawn into conflict and originally they think its just her being privileged and thats def part of it but the more they find out abt it the more they realize what a tight fucking grip he has on her and the way that like. asami sneaking out once or twice a week is the Only thing she does for herself. and it really starts freaking them out how influential this billionaire is and all the information theyre getting from asami abt what a piece of shit he clearly is. and so that whole plot thing comes about and shows us how deeply embedded these “equalist” ideas are in conservative republic city politics and how much influence theyre actually having in policy making and law enforcement.

asami suffers in the aftermath of this like being forced to truly confront the harm her father is doing both to the city and to herself. and she ends up leaving home when this discovery really breaks. but bc of the deep corruption in govt and police sato isn’t really....dealt with? like this big story breaks and everyones like Oh, My God! Hiroshi Sato Is Funding An Illegal Paramilitary Group! and theres all kinds of inane political discourse about it and he’s arrested but he bails himself out immediately and his finances are examined but he maintains control over them and after a few weeks the gang (bc they Have become close among all this w much less interpersonal drama lol) has to admit that this news story hasnt done what they thought it was going to it hasn’t dealt the equalists a real hit its just given them a very high profile ally

and this is when things really start to ramp up in terms of action like up until now korra’s daily activities are mostly like hanging around in the city w her friends (which in part entails doing little avatar stuff that people dont feel comfortable going to police with, like Can you help me my ex husband wont pay child support or Please help i got robbed and i really needed that money for rent next month or Help my son keeps skipping school can you talk to him cuz im worried abt him being safe and doing well in school) and pro bending and airbending lessons (which i know ive neglected this part of the story in terms of her whole spiritual/physical conflict but it’s more of a subtle thing like it’s one of tenzin and korra’s more frequent arguments like tenzin says she needs to focus on spirituality and korra asks why she even needs to bc republic city is a sociopolitical problem not a spiritual one) but now the equalist threat seems to really be looming on every level of society like the storyline of equalists preventing pro bending matches happens here and everyones just at a total loss of what to do next. plus increasing and scary rhetoric about tenzin and his family that destroying the last airbenders is necessary to preserving the integrity of the united republic

and so theres the equalist takeover of the city. the people who are mostly resisting this are lin and ragtag group of people who have been resisting colonial rule for a long time (including suyin, who is part of a communist anti colonial community outside the city, because i said so and i think it would be fun), people who have been visiting her gym for years, members of her amateur pro bending league, plus asami and korra and tenzin. korra and tenzin have a sweet moment (bc they do genuinely care abt each other a lot even if their relationship has been marked w a lot of tension and arguing) where tenzin says like you know i think that ive lost focus on the kind of spirituality that might actually help you. korra says what do you mean? and tenzin kind of gestures to where theyre sitting with people buzzing around organizing to take care of innocents and civilians and to fight the equalists and he says this is a kind of spiritual too, isnt it?

and something something plot plot blah blah i havent decided on the details of the plot climax yet but that’s the climax of korra’s character development and what helps her connect w her spiritual side in order to protect the city: the realization that community is its own kind of spirituality. and it kind of represents the real development that i want her to have going from somebody who thinks that the world is divided into criminals and victims and she has to save the victims Into the kind of avatar who understands the people that she’s bound to serve. she becomes an avatar of the people!

and then happy ending lol korra and asami get together lin and tenzin reconcile after years of being at odds the show ends on a hopeful note that the inhabitants of republic city and the united republic as a whole Can move on from the scars of colonialism by reckoning w the remnants of fire nation colonial ideology and reparations to the earth kingdom people whose land this is and destruction of colonial systems that have maintained and enforced colonial violence all these years

#the ending of this isnt as detailed as the beginning and middle bc ive drafted the first couple chapters but i havent thought out the #logistics and details of the climax lol #asks #lok

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kdramafeminist · 4 years

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Performative Badassery & Women in Kdramas

When I said I wrote an essay, I meant essay. This is a long one! Grab a snack and venture below the read more. I’ll see you at the end!

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You know the feeling. The drama begins. Our female main lead walks onto screen. She’s a successful businesswoman, a hotshot detective, clever lawyer, smartass retail worker, etc, etc. She stares down a random man to prove she’s the powerful one here. Or kicks some ass. Or rattles off a bunch of demands to her workers. Or talks fast to show off her intelligence.

Then she meets the male lead. There’re fireworks. Slowly we find our female lead has a softer side. Good to know. 3-dimensional and complex characters are important. It’s nice to see women on-screen who are both capable and emotional. Kick ass and feminine.

But slowly... something starts to go wrong. She seems to be crying more than showing literally any other kind of emotion. And is it just me or is she getting saved and manhandled and flustered quite a lot for a woman who we were told was so well put together? Sure, the circumstances are extreme. But they’re extreme for the male lead too and he seems to be managing just fine for some reason. Also, if both of them are ordinary people with no on-screen fighting experience, how come he’s so great at throwing fists out of nowhere and she’s busy keeping hidden or needing rescuing? Exactly how many times can one person just faint like that without anyone checking to see if she has a medical condition?

By the drama’s end our lead has gone through trials and tribulations. She’s fallen in love too, I’m happy for her. But... now that the story’s ending and she’s getting in one last chance to show us she’s a “badass”, why am I left feeling hollow? She’s showing us how tough she is but... we ALL spent this whole drama watching her have absolutely no agency or such a little amount that she might as well have been trying to put out a fire with a water-pistol. It’s almost like her previous badassery (in whatever form it may have been - I don’t mean badass only in terms of being able to throw a good punch) was just a façade. A way to hook in female viewers like me who want to see something more than a wilting wallflower or one-trick Cinderella. But the tiniest knock and the cardboard house collapses.

And no matter how many times we get throwaway lines about her being “the smartest/toughest/scariest/most capable one here” it doesn’t ring true compared to the actual character we’re watching.

Rom-coms, melos and sagueks especially (but many more genres besides), have a real problem when it comes to performative badassery in their female characters. The writers give us a female lead they claim is hyper competent, but the reality is totally different. Any plot that features romance, almost always features this. Honestly the way the start of the relationship in dramas actively MURDERS the female character’s agency could be its own essay so I won’t go deep, just know the two are 100% linked.

The “Faux Action Girl” Problem

A Faux Action Girl happens when a writer wants the popularity that comes with having a cool action girl character, or they want the praise that comes with writing a lead that breaks gender norms, or they want to be lauded for writing a FL whose more capable & progressive than the female kdrama lead we’d imagine, but they don’t end up actually giving us her. Instead we get the fake or faux version. The reasons are usually a combination of:

Relying on outdated tropes. Wrist grabs, damsels in distress, a girl fainting so she misses some vital plot related moment to increase runtime etc...

Sexist worldviews. As a by-product of being Korean which is still a heavily sexist country because of the holdover of Confucianism mixed in with the Christianity westerners brought over that leads many writers to (often without even realising) inserting moments that inadvertently reduce their female leads because they think that’s what correct or natural for the female character based on their opinion of women in general. Even if it doesn’t actually fit the type of character they’ve set out to create.

Executive meddling. Producers who think their demographic wouldn’t be able to handle a real badass but also know their female viewers want more complexity and agency in their FLs these days and so give us the paper-version instead of the 3D model.

This character’s more “badass” traits are nearly always just an Informed Ability (the writers tell us via other characters what she can do but never actually show us on-screen these same things) or we only ever see her utilise them once/twice at the beginning and maybe if we’re lucky once at the end, but never again.

It really hurts.

The “Badass Decay/Chickification” Problem

Sometimes she really is a legitimate action girl though. She’ll be a cop whose good at her job or an ordinary citizen whose well-versed in taekwondo. She has actual moments on-screen to prove herself.

Well. She has moments in episodes 1 and 2. Then she almost always goes through Badass Decay/Chickification. Which means that writers (& producers) believe that if we don’t see her having a softer side, she’ll become unrealistic or unlikeable.

They fix her. So she becomes more vulnerable. As the only girl on the team (usually), she becomes the one who ends up injured more often or needs rescuing most. Her life begins to revolve entirely around her romance and nothing else. (Meanwhile the male leads gets to have the romance and keep his side-quest - have you noticed that? If the FL is really lucky she gets to keep one side-quest too, maybe a dream job or solving some family mystery. Never more though.. only men get to be complicated here). Once she was competent... now it feels like she legitimately had a personality transplant.

Is this even the same person we began with?

The “Worf Effect” Problem

Worf Effect is when the danger/power level of a villain is shown to the audience by making him successfully attack/hurt/ruin the plans of someone that the audience knows is skilled. This isn’t a bad thing alone and writers use it all the time. We need to acknowledge the villain as a proper threat and this is a useful way to do it!

But in kdramas it’s something used almost always against the lead female character. The one we’ve seen is intelligent, or strong-willed or quick-witted.

And because it’s always her, this character begins to look weak. If this writing trope is abused, her reputation as the "biggest, toughest" etc. begins to look like it never existed and we’re back to her having an informed ability.

That this is something that happens to the female characters not only more often but almost exclusively is a sign of sexism. Plain and simple.

Competent, Real Badass Female Characters Aren’t Scary

If you’re going to sell me a capable woman, give me her.

Not someone who has one very unique, specialised skill but otherwise can do nothing else except for that one time when her one skill is useful.

Or has built up her own empire, implying a certain level of smarts, business ability or networking skills, but then once she’s removed from it she becomes so utterly useless it begs the question how she built that empire in the first place.

Or has a rep as the detective whose taken down the toughest guys off-screen, but whatever skills she used to do that seem to disappear the moment anything really challenging happens on-screen.

I’m not saying she needs to win all the time. Of course she doesn’t, how boring is that? All I’m asking is that when she loses, it’s in keeping with the character I’m supposedly watching. A woman that can kick ass can still be outwitted. A clever woman can be physically beaten. A street-smart girl can be foiled by rules and regulations. A leader-type can be beat by someone whose more unconventional.

It’s not difficult to write someone like this. I know the writers can do it because every male lead is written this way. I’ve never once, whilst watching a badass male lead lose, get beaten and cry, thought “oh no, his badassery was fake all along!”

Because when he loses it makes sense. It’s in character. There’s a solid plot reason behind why it happens.

Meanwhile my ladies who are meant to be able to kick ass and take names somehow just got kidnapped out of nowhere?

Make it make sense!

Consistent Characterisation is Good Writing

I get wanting moments where one is injured and the other fusses over them. I love those moments! All I ask is more imagination taken to get us to that point. Make it in-character. If my taekwondo black belt is kidnapped, I want to see her really fight. I want the kidnapping to be shown as genuinely tough on the people trying to nab her. Imagine how much more satisfying it would be to see her fight off all these bad guys, yet still end up losing? How much more heart-breaking?

We’d be so much more invested in the mind games or politics the villain is playing if the female lead we’ve been told is good at that stuff is playing the game just as hard. When she loses it’ll hurt more.

Writers need to stop being afraid that her remaining capable in some way diminishes the masculinity, attractiveness, prowess or “hero” status of the male lead. Trust me. It doesn’t. Ever.

It’s not a case of either/or. We don’t think less of the male lead because his partner is as capable as him in whatever way that may be. Instead, we think more of them both. Once a romance begins, the heightened worry both characters have for each other should only make both of them stronger in whatever area they’re skill lies in. Not just make the man a sudden defence wall and the woman a worrying mess.

I’m sure everyone who reads this can immediately think of at least one drama with a FL who is a Performative Badass. I know I had about ten in mind as I wrote this.

There are exceptions. Cases where the badass gets to stay a badass. Usually these cases happen in genres without romance because like I said above, those problems are linked. But I can think of a few romcoms/sageuks/melos where it happens too.

But those are the minority.

Women in kdramas. Give them agency. Make their characterisation genuine, not just a bit-part for the sake of a cool trailer. Not just one moment someone can edit into a “badass multifemale” video edit - only for us to watch the drama from the clip and discover we’ve been sold a lie.

How satisfied would we be?

Writers! Give us a story we enjoyed because of the excellent characterisation. A new female character we can add to our lists of faves. Women who proved themselves as consistently badass as their first scenes claimed. Women in kdramas who, no matter what problem they faced, don’t become echoes or paper-thin versions of who we were promised.

Actual, complex, layered, enjoyable, KICK-ASS AND BADASS female leads.

Wouldn’t that be a miracle.

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PS. This is an open notice that it’s OKAY to reblog with added commentary/thoughts/rambles of your own. I would *love* to see it if you have anything to add.

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(Disclaimer: This essay was written with a specific female character type in mind. I am not saying every FL needs to be a badass or hyper competent. Soft, shy, physically weak female characters exist and can be just as realistic and complex. There’s a few I can think of who I adore. Instead my essay is very specifically about characters who are *meant* to be badass from the start but then... don’t end up being. So, yeah, before anyone claims I’m some angry feminist who needs every FL to be some tough martial artist or something. Absolutely not! Diversity is amazing and interesting. All I ask is that when I am told I’ll be getting a badass in a drama I get her. Not have my heart broken by the fake wilting flower I find in her place. Ok. End disclaimer. ^^)

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Also I’m tagging a bunch of you because you reblogged my post saying you wanted this so here! TY for making it to the end ^^

@kdramaxoxo @islandsofchaos @storytellergirl @vernalagnia-blog @lostindramas @salaamdreamer @planb-is-in-effect

#kdrama #kdrama discourse #kdrama feminist #women in kdrama #badass women #strong female lead #though to be clear I am an angry feminist lmfao #how does a woman living in this world not be tbh

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hysteriapilled · 3 years

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- 𝙰 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙽 𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙽 𝙹𝙰𝙴𝙶𝙴𝚁'𝚂 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙱𝙴𝙲𝙰𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙸 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙴𝙻𝚂𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙾

Keep in mind that this might be inaccurate considering the information given is not canon, but from google. There will be no house readings since I can't even get a hold of his actual birth time so there is no rising sign (This is Eren's chart and how he would be if he were real, so don't take everything as factual)

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅

Big 5 Analysis

- SUN IN ARIES. Your sun defines your ego, core identity, your authentic self and in my personal opinion it's not really an important placement in the chart, and more of a title basically. People born into Aries are usually perceived as loud, impulsive, raging and aggressive by others— but they're very caring and protective to the ones they love, though sometimes they sure can have bursts of anger. Eren is stubborn, he can't be chained down and refuses to sit back and watch the people he cares about get tossed around. He is a firm person, quick on his feet and rather very rushing, he's like a puppy excited to get his owner running laps around him, he's hyper and motivating; a natural leader. - MOON IN PISCES. Your moon is your emotional side, how you feel, how you perceive feelings and how you process them. Eren with moon in Pisces is definitely not surprising to me— He is dreamy, intuitive, compassionate and he's either too dependable on others or just an overthinker. Though he may not seem like it Eren is very vulnerable and even prone to getting addicted to substances (alcohol, drugs, bad habits etc.) It's not the best placement in my standpoint, as he can get very affected by his surroundings and others. He can't turn a blind eye and NOT take shit to heart and rather stores it inside and holds onto it. He's very empathetic, he feels people's emotions and feels them well, to the point that he himself experiences what they are going through. - MERCURY IN PISCES. Eren has a LOT of Pisces placements so prepare to see a ton of empathy and psychic abilities in his aspects. Your Mercury is how you think, speak and learn. I sense that Eren has really great vulnerability which might not be a good thing, he trusts people too much and rather relies on them for heaps of things, he can be easily manipulated which is why he should refrain from letting everyone in. On the other hand, he is a very dreamy person and gets lost in his imagination at times. He sees the world in another, imaginative lens, and often could find himself daydreaming randomly. I can see that Eren has a hard time letting go of the past and he can even be linked to people in his life he hadn't seen in years. In terms of rational thinking he isn't the best, as he can't distinguish the logical from the emotional which is definitely something he should work on, he gets often blinded by the illusion of his overwhelming emotions toward others. He can also definitely have an eye to art since his imagination is extravagantly wide.

- VENUS IN TAURUS. Your mercury is your idea of love and how you give it and prefer to receive it— Eren's idea of romance is full of sensuality and gifts, he'll spoil you with his utter loyalty and generally with things too. Devotion is daily, he's extremely honest and would rather die than lie to you. Emphasis on sensuality, Eren craves touch and I could sense that his love language is physical touch, he will shower you with affection and fulfill your needs any time of the day. Taurus in Venus are all about comfort and coziness with their lover, so I can see that Eren loves cuddling, massages, food, sleepovers, intimate little things like that strike a chord in his heart. He can be possessive and jealous of times, he hates change specifically big ones in relationships—He can also take a long time to get to know you and prefers taking things slow and steady rather than rushing into it. I can also feel that he loves hard-workers, people who are dedicated and responsible (that's definitely his type). - MARS IN CAPRICORN. Two words. Goal driven. Your Mars is your approach towards anger and impulses as well as your sexuality aspects. Eren is self-controlled and refuses to take orders from others, he can't be chained down not because he's stubborn, but simply because he can't allow himself to stop. He has a tendency to shut out the world to pursue his objective— he moves forward (not a pun) and is willing to fight against everything and everyone to reach his goal, he isn't petty as he considers little quarrels a waste of time and energy. He likes to focus on the big problem at hand, not how to fight and win the battle but how to prepare for conquering the war once and for all. Eren with this placement knows that he is entitled to earn what he works hard for and will not let anything stop him. Mars signs can also affect appearance so I sense that Eren has very prominent and broad cheekbones, a serious face, and a very stiff, steady voice like he's about to command something. It can also be an intimate, velvety and cold voice and on the topic of intimacy— He usually prefers seeing you face to face and rather dislikes social media flings. He comes with a natural inclination to assume a dominant role in bed and he does what doesn't bother him (kink-wise) His temper is so icy, and he could definitely be on the sadomasochism spectrum. He's very soft in nature so if something was bothering you he'd instantly be turned off. Eren can be aggressive and intense but he may not specifically get off on pain (or he may) more like he finds the idea of being in control a very satisfying idea.

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅𝐅

2. Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune & Pluto Analysis

- JUPITER IN AQUARIUS. Your Jupiter is where you can receive the most luck and love, without you really doing much. It’s where you can catapult to happiness and success through quickest routes possible, within reason. I can tell from previous placements that Eren is a firm believer in standing for what you think is right. He is very opinionated and sometimes a bit too much— Some of his beliefs or theories can be brilliant and genius and others quite nonsensical and implausible, he rushes into throwing the first opinion just for the sake of throwing it first. Any analytical work about objective themes would come easily to him. Passion and enthusiasm will come astonishingly fast too as he can actually stun society with his innate knowledge with complicated subjects. Any scientific, technological, or perhaps just general abstract topics will benefit Eren greatly in subtle and/or unsubtle ways. He takes leaps of faith and believes what his eyes cannot see or what his mind cannot grasp. Simply what makes everything work out so well for him is the open minded love he puts into his theories. Sometimes though, he fears judgement people give to his methods as they are sometimes out of the box and peculiar. Eren would have to let go of his attachment to what other people think about his ways on solving or analyzing. - SATURN IN LIBRA. Your Saturn sign is your life’s obstacles and challenges, the rewards that come with time, and the discipline you need to achieve your goals. To start off with friendships, Eren cares about others and is tireless in serving others—he's also prone to putting others before him (others as in the people he cares about) And supporting his moon and mercury Pisces, he is very artistic and helps civilize those who need the lessons. The companionship he seeks can often give him solace and security, with his comrades support he feels a lot more powerful and in self-control. In relationships though Eren may tend to have a bit of an inferiority complex when it comes to relationships and is afraid of rejection & may try to shut himself away or run if the going gets tough. He is very drawn to mentor types, and may often be with someone older and wiser. Despite that he still finds a way to assume the dominant role in the relationship due to his cold nature. Eren commits to artful projects, making it possible to live his dreams by seeing them to completion, he finds it very gratifying and has mental discipline when he finds activities that matches his high ideals. His sense of social justice is heightened, that could get him into law, politics and activism—His firm belief in himself also plays a big role in this, his bravery allows himself to sacrifice whatever he has to, to get the job done. Chaos, crassness, and ugliness can cause him a lot of anxiety and fear, and with his persistence to right the wrong he gets really frustrated when people don't have an outlook to life the same as his. I sense that it may be hard for Eren to accept that only he is able to control himself, and it's a hard pill for him to swallow.

- URANUS IN PISCES. As I mentioned before Eren's chart is dominated with Pisces placements, his intuition works at another wavelength than that of the common people, and for this reason, he is in a much deeper connection to the spirit world. He can sense the occult and this acts as a form of guidance for him, an anchor to support his meanderings through life’s challenges. Pair that up with his splendid imagination and innovative spirit, and you get someone who’s afraid of failure even when he’s not doing anything out of the ordinary, the worst thing that could happen to Eren is failing and losing his sense of validation. He’s a negativist ( I can see Eren as a cynical person later on in life, a realist would fit his philosophical belief) but, he should let his intuition and connection to the spirit world heal this part of his, instead of allowing everything to work against him. He won’t let himself be fooled by naïve ideals, even though he likes believing in them. He can be quite realistic and logical when the situation calls for it and that's quite ironic considering he's indulged in his imagination most of the time. - NEPTUNE IN SAGITTARIUS. This is one hell of a placement. Experimentation with different beliefs, spiritual strands, and esoteric-based teachings are all things Eren finds interest in. He cannot deny the divine existence truly and indefinitely to himself- even if he does so to others, there is always the gnawing sense that ‘there is something more,’ and one day he may regret not finding out what that is. His gift is bringing the joy of shared faith and spirituality together, making the sect he resonates with part of his life’s philosophy. We can tell by now that Eren's purpose is seeking truth, absorbing information and looking at the world in a different lens. - PLUTO IN PISCES. Shawty Bae here can also can be more passive aggressive when trying to get what he wants. This means he can be manipulative at times. This is the only time he ever makes a power play. When he is struggling to achieve something for the greater good. (THIS ACTUALLY RESONATES WITH HIS PLAN) But this desire for control is never executed maliciously. He wants things to go his way so he doesn't disappoint those who are counting on him. Eren can be very sensitive, and it’s important to him that he doesn't let anyone down. He so desperately want to help people that he sometimes sacrifices his health and well being, and even somtimes the well being of others just for the outcome to turn out best.

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐘

3. Chiron (Scar)

- CHIRON IN PISCES. Your Chiron sign in astrology shows where you sustained your deepest wound, your scar— It can never be completely healed, but they can be worked with and transmuted. Eren with Chiron in Pisces, we've already talked about many Pisces qualities in him (empathy, psychic abilities, imagination etc.) But the Chiron has a lot more depth into it, Eren might have a deep fear of being hurt by the universe or the forces at play. He might feel that the world is unfair or merciless and doesn't have his back almost every time. He has a sense of betrayal, and that leads him into cynicism (mentioned before in his Uranus placement) He felt that nobody was there for him when he needed it the most and he also feels a sense of victimization. This placement has a lot to do with the idea of FATE. Even subconsciously Eren feels he was dealt an unfair life, I can also feel that his way of coping is feeling someones grief right alongside them. Sympathyzing is definitely his way of forgetting about his own problems. Even though Eren doesn't exactly victimize himself he still can't understand why the universe is set up this way— he feels that the world isn't fair to him and his loved ones. Although all this scarring shows when he indulges himself in an immense shell of cynicism, then he hops between two places; Not feeling empathy for others since nobody offered empathy to him - or sympathyzing greatly and putting others' needs before his. It is easy for him to shut his feelings out but only with the help of substances which makes him more prone to getting addicted. This placement was created at some point in the past when Eren needed something badly and didn’t get it (sometimes the wound stems from a past life, but this stemmed from his childhood) Maybe it's because he felt insignificant to someone he felt was an idol to him, maybe this figure or idol was never there to nurture him and the probability of him having a lost close one in early childhood days is a very probable cause in how this Chiron stemmed.

BONUS:

- I get massive ISFP vibes from early Eren and INTJ from late him.

- His Venus Taurus makes him very romantic, so I feel like this would be his favorite song to dance to

#erenjaeger #eren #jaeger #snk #aot #shingekinokyojin #attackontitan #astrology chart #chart reading #sun #moon #rising #aries #pisces

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max1461 · 3 years

Text

Just read Scott Alexander’s post on “conflict theorists” vs. “mistake theorists” and, hmm. I have several thoughts. First, to summarize the concept for anyone who hasn’t seen it before: Alexander links to a reddit post by user u/no_bear_so_low, who originated the idea, saying

There is a way of carving up politics in which there are two basic political meta-theories, that is to say theories about why different political ideologies and political conflict exist. The first theory is that political disagreements exist because politics is complex and people make mistakes, if we all understood the evidence better, we’d agree on a great deal more. We’ll call this the mistake theory of politics. For the mistake theorist, politics is not a zero-sum game, but a matter of growing the pie so there is more for everyone. The second theory is that political disagreements reflect differences in interests which are largely irreconcilable. We’ll call this the conflict theory of politics. According to the conflict theory of politics, politics is full of zero-sum games.

u/no_bear_so_low claims that both the far left and far right are more amenable to conflict theory than liberals are, who lean more towards mistake theory. Alexander seems to agree, though in his own post he’s speaking mainly about Marxists in particular. He summarizes the concept as follows:

To massively oversimplify:

Mistake theorists treat politics as science, engineering, or medicine. The State is diseased. We’re all doctors, standing around arguing over the best diagnosis and cure. Some of us have good ideas, others have bad ideas that wouldn’t help, or that would cause too many side effects.

Conflict theorists treat politics as war. Different blocs with different interests are forever fighting to determine whether the State exists to enrich the Elites or to help the People.

In addition, Alexander subdivides the categories further into “hard” and “soft” versions:

Consider a further distinction between easy and hard mistake theorists. Easy mistake theorists think that all our problems come from very stupid people making very simple mistakes; dumb people deny the evidence about global warming; smart people don’t. Hard mistake theorists think that the questions involved are really complicated and require more evidence than we’ve been able to collect so far [...]

Maybe there’s a further distinction between easy and hard conflict theorists. Easy conflict theorists think that all our problems come from cartoon-villain caricatures wanting very evil things; bad people want to kill brown people and steal their oil, good people want world peace and tolerance. Hard conflict theorists think that our problems come from clashes between differing but comprehensible worldviews.

So what do I think about all this?

Well, it seems to me that this framework is (a) a fairly reasonable descriptive dichotomy, in the sense that, yes, a lot of people do genuinely seem to fall into one of these two camps, and (b) a horrible dichotomy on which to base any prescriptions about political meta-theory, in that these are both awful (and obviously wrong) ways to think about the world. Now, Alexander doesn’t explicitly give any such prescriptions, but he does describe SCC as “hard mistake theorist central”, and generally speaks of mistake theory in approving terms, while speaking of conflict theory in disapproving ones. I think this is bad.

At a base level, my problem with both these “theories” is that they’re, in some sense, just too optimistic.

I agree, for example, with the hard mistake theorist sentiment that the world is full of extremely challenging technical problems, that these problems can be the source of real human suffering, and that the only way to address these problems is through data collection and empirical analysis and hard technical work. And I agree that this will often produce unintuitive conclusions, that run against people’s gut sense of what the right policy might look like. I agree that the state is diseased. I do not agree that “[w]e’re all doctors, standing around arguing over the best diagnosis and cure.” People, it turns out, often do have genuinely different and irreconcilable values, and genuinely do envision different ideal worlds. In addition to that fairly mundane observation, there genuinely are a lot of bad actors, who are just in the game for their own benefit. The world is full of grifters, schemers, and petty (or not so petty) tyrants; on an empirical level that’s just not something you can deny.

On the other hand, I agree with the easy conflict theorist sentiment that, e.g., “bad people want to kill brown people and steal their oil.” There’s plenty of pretty immediate proof of that to be found if you look into the history of colonialism¹, or the slave trade, or US foreign election interference in the twentieth century. Actually, just so I’m not pissing anybody off by only mentioning “western” examples, I’ll include the Khmer Rouge and the Holodomor and comfort women and uh, you get the picture. For god’s sake, the Nazis really existed, and yeah, they really believed all that Nazi shit. In retrospect they may seem like implausibly evil cartoon villains, but in fact they were real flesh and blood humans, just like the rest of us. You think that was just a one-off?

And on a much more mundane note, sometimes (actually, very very often), ordinary people just have incompatible ethical axioms. Sometimes people have genuinely different values, and there are no rational means to sort out which value-set to choose. I suspect this is at least part of the reason for the rationalist community’s skew towards mistake theorizers, in that their favored intellectual tool has more-or-less nothing to offer when it comes to selecting your values (=ethical axioms, =terminal goals, etc). I mean, of course rationality is good for diagnosing contradictions in your value set, but it can’t tell you how to resolve those contradictions. That’s the domain of intuition, empathy, and aesthetics, were data cannot light your way.

However, I do not agree with the conflict theorists’ underlying sentiment that if “the good people” were just in charge, everything would be better. After all, there are all those pesky technical problems with unintuitive solutions getting in the way, requiring all kinds of expertise and thorough empirical study and uh, plenty of them might not even be solvable.² This is a huge deal. It’s incredibly easy to have the best of intentions and still make horrible mistakes by virtue of just... happening to have the facts wrong. Not through malice, or self-interest, or even some nicely-explainable sociological bias like white fragility or whatever. Just because problems are hard, and sometime you will fail to solve them. Even when people’s lives and livelihoods are at stake.

Here’s a handy latex-formatted table for your comprehending pleasure:

lol, we live there.

So this all sounds a bit pessimistic and, well, I suppose it is. I think we have a responsibility to acknowledge the gravity of our situation. We could, conceivably, live in a world that was structured according to either the conflict theorist’s vision or the mistake theorist’s vision, but we don’t. We live in a much scarier world, and if we don’t face that terrifying reality head-on, we’re not going to be able to overcome it.

Now, in general, I’d say I spend a lot of my internet-argument-energy-allowance trying to persuade [what I perceive to be] overly conflict-theorizing leftists in the direction of a greater recognition of the genuine technical difficulty of the problems we face. It's probably worth making a separate post about why I think a “denial of unintuitive solutions” is so common on the left, but I’ll just mention here that I think it relates to what I once jokingly called the “Humanistic gaze”. That is, the bias to view everything quite narrowly through the lens of the humanities, and to view all problems as fundamentally sociological in nature. When the world is constructed entirely by humans and human social relations, there’s a level at which nothing can be unintuitive. After all, an intersubjective world must ultimately be grounded in subjective experience, and subjective experience is literally made of intuition.

I usually don’t spend much time pursuing the dual activity (trying to argue liberals out of [what I perceive to be] an overly mistake-theorizing perspective). This is largely because, well, I think the optimistic assumption that mistake theorists make —that most people have basically compatible goals, and that relatively few people are working out of abject self-interest or hatred or whatever— is so obviously false that it doesn’t warrant as much genuine critique as it warrants responding with memes about US war crimes. The principal of charity is best extended to ideas, not people or institutions. You can take the neocons’ arguments seriously without extending charity to the neocons as agents.

The post concludes with Alexander writing

But overall I’m less sure of myself than before and think this deserves more treatment as a hard case that needs to be argued in more specific situations. Certainly “everyone in government is already a good person, and just has to be convinced of the right facts” is looking less plausible these days.

And uh, yeah. Indeed.

So, in conclusion: is politics medicine, or is it war? No, it’s politics.

There are disagreements, and conflicts of interest, and coalition building, and policy-wonkery, and logistics. There is, as with anything involving the state, the implicit threat of violence. (That’s where the state’s power comes from, remember? Whether it’s their power to tax, or their power to enforce individual property rights to begin with. Their power to regulate or build infrastructure or legally construct corporate personhood or whatever. There’s more than a bit of game theory involved, sure, but the rules of the game are set through the armory.) Every scholarly technocrat with double-blind peer reviewed policy suggestions still ultimately just decides who the guns get pointed at, if at several layers of abstraction. Every righteous people’s vanguard is still bound by the mathematics of production and the dynamics of a chaotic world. There are no easy solution, not conceptually easy nor practically easy. And unless we recognize that on a very deep level, we have no chance of fixing anything.

[1] I’d quote my go-to example here, of the truly ghastly stories relayed to linguist R. M. Dixon by the Dyirbal people of Australia about their subjugation at the hands of white settlers, but unfortunately I don’t have his book with me at the moment. Also this post would require several additional trigger warnings.

[2] I mean, after all, there are only countably many Turing machines, and the set of all languages with finitely many symbols has cardinality 2^(aleph_0)!

#society #for posterity

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ibijau · 3 years

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chap 2 of the modern xisangyao, also on AO3

Against his better judgement, Meng Yao finds himself quite charmed by the too handsome researcher who wants to meet his employer

Mister Shanzi will be unhappy when he discovers that Meng Yao has agreed to meet with a researcher without first consulting him, but he is simply too curious. It is so odd for anyone to be so interested in that obscure painter, and so desperate to see more of his work. Of course, Mister Shanzi himself holds a clear interest in Nie Huaisang, one that he has unwillingly transmitted to Meng Yao… But mister Shanzi is an odd man, and ordinary people cannot be compared to him.

For this reason, Meng Yao's first instinct upon being contacted by Lan Xichen had been suspicion. Mister Shanzi has his enemies, as Meng Yao knows well, and they try to act clever sometimes.

His second instinct, after a quick internet search, had been amusement. Surely nobody expected him to believe that this man, handsome enough to play the lead in a drama, was a mere university teacher.

A more thorough search had confirmed it though. Meng Yao knew enough about running a con to spot modified photos and fake credentials, and he had found none of that. Digging further, Lan Xichen appeared in the background of photos and was referenced here and there on relatives' social media, with no incoherence to the presentation he'd given in his email.

So Meng Yao had found himself intrigued, and offered to meet and chat.

A decision he half regrets now, because somehow, Lan Xichen is even more handsome in person. He is, in fact, the single most beautiful person that Meng Yao has seen in his life, easily outranking mister Shanzi who had reigned there supreme since the day Meng Yao met him during a con gone wrong.

"I am so glad you offered to meet me," Lan Xichen says with a warm smile. "I am really sorry that I was so insistent, but it is so rare for several of Nie Huaisang’s works to be in a single place."

“I understand,” Meng Yao replies, trying to match the warmth of that smile when he can’t help being a little dazzled by that handsome stranger. “Though at the moment, my employer is a little wary of showing any of those paintings in his possession until he has inspected them all again. It is very embarrassing that several fakes fooled him, and mister Shanzi wants to restore his reputation. He is still getting used to modern technology, and how much it has changed the art market in recent decades.”

Mostly, mister Shanzi complains a lot on the matter, and keeps saying he’s going to have to change career soon. Apparently, back in the days, it was much easier to sell a decent fake as long as you also sold enough real things. But now with age testing of the paper and analysis of the ink, it’s nearly impossible to do a good enough job.

Of course mister Shanzi could quite easily make as much money only selling legitimate art, he has the connections, the collection, and impeccable taste. So Meng Yao suspects it’s not just about money, and more about the twisted joy of deceiving others. He can't fault him for that.

“Yes, that makes sense,” Lan Xichen sighs. “I was fooled as well, so I understand the feeling. It’s so disappointing, but not unexpected. Nie Huaisang attracts forgers like no other artists.”

Meng Yao nods sympathetically. He’s heard mister Shanzi boast that well over half of Nie Huaisang’s paintings in circulation are copies he made himself, and perfectly undetectable unless one runs those ‘damn new tests’ on them.

“If I may be so bold, why the interest in that particular painter?” Meng Yao asks. “Surely you could have found someone less complicated to study.”

Rather than to answer immediately, Lan Xichen considers the question. He takes a sip of tea with more elegance than this café deserves, and Meng Yao is struck once more with the idea that this man should be acting in drama, not writing essays nobody will ever read. It’s easy to imagine Lan Xichen playing the role of a noble prince, or even a god.

“He’s just a fascinating character I suppose,” Lan Xichen says at last. “Outside of his art, we know so little about him. We don’t even know his real name.”

“What?”

Lan Xichen smiles, clearly very pleased to have gotten that reaction.

“He wasn’t born Nie Huaisang,” he explains. “That’s only his courtesy name. You see, he belonged to that… well, they called themselves a sect, though at the end of the day they were closer to nobility, with the same inheritance problems and power struggles. Still, Qinghe Nie held a number of beliefs, and one of them was that the birth name of its members had to be kept a complete secret… and Nie Huaisang is among those who succeeded at obeying that rule. So we don’t know his name, we don’t know his date of birth, and we don’t know how he died or when.”

“Is there anything that is known about him?” Meng Yao teases, more endeared and intrigued than he would care to admit.

Lan Xichen must notice, because he smiles again, as if delighted to have found someone willing to listen to his impromptu lecture.

“We know he was raised by his brother because their father died when they were young,” Lan Xichen says. “Well, half-brother. Nie Huaisang was the child of a concubine, or even of a servant. His father recognised him, but his legitimacy was called in question a few times. We know he survived a local insurrection nicknamed the Sunshot Campaign, though it’s unclear if he was old enough to have taken part in any fighting. His brother did though, with great success, but died without heirs a few years later and Nie Huaisang found himself in charge of a fief.”

He pauses there, his expression turning sadder, as if he were talking of a personal friend rather than a long dead man. Meng Yao finds it ridiculous and a little endearing.

“A few anecdotes from the lives of contemporaries tell us that he must have had a rough time at first,” Lan Xichen continues, “and he was suspected for a while of being implicated in the murder of the head of the Jin clan, but nothing ever came out of that. He’s just thirty at that point, still fairly young, and he lives on for another fifty, maybe sixty years… and we don’t know anything about what he does during that time. Nobody really talks about Qinghe Nie again until his successor rises to power and brings the clan back into the political sphere. Nie Huaisang’s life is a mystery. What little we think we know comes from the few poems he left, and whatever clues we can gather from his numerous paintings. Isn’t that fascinating?”

What’s fascinating, Meng Yao thinks, is the way Lan Xichen’s eyes light up when talking about something he’s passionate about. If it’s an act, then it’s an excellent one… but Meng Yao finds himself hoping that it’s sincere, that Lan Xichen really is just an odd man who is apparently half in love with a painter who died a millennium and a half ago.

There is no way that mister Shanzi would ever let anyone see his private collection. Even Meng Yao is barely allowed to go to his employer’s house, to avoid attracting attention to the place. Lan Xichen’s request is never going to be granted.

But it has been a long while since Meng Yao has been so intrigued by someone, not since first meeting mister Shanzi in fact. And mister Shanzi, in spite of the mutual attraction that Meng Yao knows to be there, has made it quite clear that he isn’t interested in anything but a professional relationship. Meng Yao has satisfied himself with that so far, because his life really is pretty good as it currently is, but Lan Xichen changes that. Surely there’s no harm in pretending that there’s a chance he might get to see the painting, at least until Meng Yao can decide if that too handsome man is trustworthy or not, dateworthy or not…

“It does sound interesting,” Meng Yao admits. “I’m sure mister Shanzi would…”

His phone starts vibrating, interrupting him. Meng Yao can’t help a slight frown, which turns to a deeper one when he sees the message he’s just received.

“Well, I have to go,” he sighs. “I’m really sorry. But… mister Lan, if I may be so bold, would you agree to exchanging numbers? That way we can continue talking about this more easily.”

“Yes, of course,” Lan Xichen replies. There is a trace of pink on his cheeks as he takes out his own phone, which Meng Yao finds both very fetching and rather encouraging.

He’ll have to be careful, this could be a trap, Lan Xichen might be an excellent actor, part of a team skilled enough to have fooled Meng Yao, but… but he might not be, too, and it would be a shame to miss this chance.

After having exchanged numbers and promised to be in touch soon, Meng Yao quickly heads home. He lives on the edges of the city, in a building that already looked ancient when he was a kid. Today’s a good day, because the lift is, in fact, actually working for once.

Upon getting to his floor, Meng Yao goes to knock on the door next to his. It opens nearly immediately.

“Meng Yao, you’re saving my life,” the young woman who lives there greets him. “I’m really sorry, I’ve tried everyone else, but I’ve been called in for an extra shift and I need the money so bad, I’ve had to buy her new shoes this month, and…”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind at all.”

His neighbour thanks him again, and rushes inside. She’s back quickly, her daughter in her arms. The child nearly throws herself at Meng Yao, and her mother runs off to work, leaving them alone.

“Well, Beastie, it’s just you and me,” Meng Yao says, walking to his door. “What are we going to do tonight?”

“Watch fighting movies! Eat candies!”

“And what will we tell mama we did?”

“Watch documentaries and eat greens and I went to bed and I was good!” The little girl roars.

Meng Yao laughs, and puts her down while he unlocks his door. Beastie runs inside to check the tv, while Meng Yao makes sure they actually have something to eat. He tries to keep his fridge full and his cabinet fuller, especially since Beastie has become a regular at his place. Her mother is a hard working girl who, like Meng Yao’s mother, got pregnant too young from a man who didn’t stick around. He used to babysit Beastie for extra cash before meeting mister Shanzi, and for some reason he never really stopped, even if he refuses to take money for it now. He just likes Beastie and her mom, and he remembers how much his own mother used to rely on neighbours too, whenever things became rough.

As Beastie and him settle down for the night, ready to watch one of those cheesy, over the top old kung-fu movies that they both love, Meng Yao gets a text from Lan Xichen, thanking him again for meeting him. After only the briefest of hesitations, Meng Yao quickly answers that he’s sorry he had to leave so fast, because he loved chatting with Lan Xichen. This prompts another text from the handsome teacher, to which Meng Yao replies as well.

His phone doesn’t stop buzzing all nigh, and Meng Yao doesn't stop smiling.

In the days and weeks that follow, Meng Yao and Lan Xichen manage to meet in person a few more times, and text nearly constantly. At their second meeting they’re still pretending that this is only about Lan Xichen’s research, but by the third one they start openly chatting about other things.

Lan Xichen is very open about his life, and everything he says fits with what Meng Yao had found during his initial investigation. He has a little brother nearly fifteen years younger than him who lives with him, he enjoys teaching and researching equally, he has a pet rabbit called Liebing he dotes on, he can’t handle spice at all, he has, in fact, been asked more than once if he was interested in a modelling or acting career but always refused because academia is his calling.

Meng Yao is more careful with the information he shares. He admits to having worked for mister Shanzi for nearly five years, but doesn’t elaborate on how they meet because that's not a story for honest people. He confesses he didn’t have any particular interest in art until taking the job, though he has tried to educate himself on the subject since then (Lan Xichen offers to go to a museum together someday, and to his own surprise, Meng Yao agrees). He doesn’t have pets, but he does have Beastie and he’s pretty sure that counts.

The way Lan Xichen’s eyes go soft over that… it does things to Meng Yao’s poor heart.

As does almost everything Lan Xichen does or says, in fact.

Meng Yao is half appalled at himself for how fast he’s falling for Lan Xichen. He tries to resist it, tries to be reasonable, but Lan Xichen just has to smile the right way, and Meng Yao’s heart flutters in his chest. He feels like a teenager with a crush.

He starts thinking like one, too.

Ever since meeting mister Shanzi, Meng Yao has been loyal to his employer. There is something about the man that demands it, and though he has never made threats of any sorts, Meng Yao can feel that mister Shanzi is not a man who takes kindly to betrayal.

And yet, it would be so easy to arrange for Lan Xichen to come to mister Shanzi’s home without his knowledge. Meng Yao is in charge of his employer’s schedule, so he knows where he is at any given time. He also has the keys to that isolated house in the middle of nowhere. It would be so easy, and Meng Yao has never been too good at resisting temptation.

At this point, he knows that if he tells Lan Xichen he won't see the paintings, the other man will be disappointed but will ask if they can keep seeing each other anyway. This isn't about finding a way to keep his attention: Meng Yao knows he has it already.

It's about Meng Yao guessing how happy Lan Xichen will be to see those paintings, and deciding surely that's worth the risk.

That’s how Meng Yao and Lan Xichen find themselves in a car one day, heading out of the city together. Meng Yao feels his skin buzzing with nerves, though every time he takes his eyes from the road to glance at Lan Xichen and finds him glowing and as excited as a child, he knows it was the right choice. It takes them a few hours to get to the house, which they spend chatting about a number of things. About midway through the trip, when they take a break, Meng Yao announces that due to a last minute problem, mister Shanzi won’t be able to meet them at the house, but welcomes them to check the paintings without him. Lan Xichen is of course disappointed and offers to try again another time, but Meng Yao convinces him it’s more convenient to go that day.

The house, hidden in a bamboo forest, takes Lan Xichen’s breath away when he discovers it, just as it did for Meng Yao the first time. It’s not particularly big or extravagant, but there’s something about it that makes Meng Yao’s heart ache every time he sees it, as if he’s known it before. It’s ridiculous, of course. He’d never really left the city before starting to work for mister Shanzi.

“It looks like home,” Lan Xichen whispers as he exits the car.

“Does your family have a place like that?”

Lan Xichen frowns, and shakes his head. “No, not at all. But it still feels like home. I can’t explain why… Ah, don’t mind me. Let’s just go inside.”

Meng Yao hides a smile and goes to open the door. In truth, he’d like to get this over with as quickly as possible. Mister Shanzi has no reason to be back from his trip until tomorrow, but Meng Yao won’t feel safe until they’ve left. It really is stupid to have come here at all, and even Lan Xichen’s happiness is starting to not feel worth the risk.

The house is quiet when they go in, and a little cold, making them shiver. It’s always fresh in there, which Meng Yao assumes is why mister Shanzi has taken to calling his home the Hanshi.

“It’s not a very welcoming name for a home,” Lan Xichen says as he looks around, sounding a little distracted.

“It’s not much of a home anyway. He doesn’t live here most of the time,” Meng Yao explains as they head for the kitchen. “It has his private collection, a few personal belongings, and that’s it. He prefers to stay with friends or at hotels if he can. Check the fridge and you’ll see how bad it is.”

While Meng Yao pours himself a glass of water, Lan Xichen does check the fridge, and finds it predictably empty except for some forgotten leftovers. Sometimes, Meng Yao suspects that mister Shanzi doesn’t eat at all unless he has company.

After taking a moment to rest from the long trip, Meng Yao takes Lan Xichen toward the workshop in the basement, where he knows his employer usually keeps the best parts of his collection, fake and authentic paintings carefully divided according to a system he taught to Meng Yao.

It really feels more and more like a betrayal to be doing this, but Lan Xichen is glowing, and mister Shanzi will never know.

Meng Yao starts opening the door.

His blood turns to ice when he realises that there’s light inside the room.

He thinks, for a second, to stop and run away while he can, but it’s too late already. Lan Xichen would ask questions, and he wouldn’t like the answers. It could save him from also dealing with mister Shanzi’s fury at least, but even that won’t be afforded to him. When Meng Yao peaks inside, mister Shanzi’s swivel chair is turning toward the door, with mister Shanzi sitting crossed leg in it and looking curiously at the intruders.

It is painfully obvious that mister Shanzi isn’t expecting visitors. Instead of the polished outfits he favours in public, he’s wearing a pair of novelty boxers with emoji on them, and a hoodie two sizes too big with ink stains on the sleeves. His long hair isn’t in a neat braid, but in a messy bun held in place by some cheap chopsticks. In short, mister Shanzi doesn’t look like the refined young man he endeavours to be when he has to show his face somewhere, and more like a college student who has forgotten the taste of any food except instant noodle and energy drinks.

That impression is only made worse by the headphones he’s now lowering, and the game console on his lap. They must have caught him taking a break.

“Meng Yao, why are you…” mister Shanzi starts asking, unfolding his legs so he can stand up, only to interrupt himself when his gaze falls on Lan Xichen.

His hands start shaking, badly enough that his console falls from his grip and onto the floor, its screen cracking upon impact.

“You!” mister Shanzi gasps, eyes wide with terror.

#xisangyao #xiyao #lan xichen #jin guangyao #xisang #mostly just hinted but still #jau writes #counterfeit au #next chapter will probably be pretty short

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

The Night Oliver Branch Died

CW: Drowning, threats with a gun, discussed/referenced noncon of a minor, discussed pet whump/dehumanization, oliver branch is gross but hey he dies in this one so, related note: character death

Tagging Chris’s crew just because I feel like you’ll all appreciate this: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @stxckfxck , @slaintetowhump

READERS: Tell me if you guessed it before reading this!

TIMELINE: Takes place in the future of Chris’s timeline, when he has been free for years and has enrolled in college.

The night Oliver Branch died was absolutely ordinary.

He spent some time going over the notes for the trial, sitting in his nicely appointed but perfectly modest three-bedroom home, scanning his handwritten planned remarks for the press while he ate a light dinner of soup and salad. The cook left for the night, and Oliver was the only one in the house.

Well, or so he thought.

It used to bother him, but honestly he didn’t mind the solitude any longer. Years spent with a full staff, worries he had to constantly consider at all hours of the day and night, natural disasters and economic downturns and everything else. It was nice just to take a deep breath, smell the candle burning in the center of the table, a soft sweet magnolia smell that reminded him of his childhood home.

After the trial, perhaps he would move back home. He’d lived in this state for twenty-four years, was its governor for eight of them, but he felt… a bit tired of it all. He wanted to go back to a place where people moved more slowly, wandered the streets after church in pale linen suits in the summer with the ocean air a constant truth of everyday life.

They would know, of course, about his disgrace. But they would be polite about it, keep it to themselves. He had the sense that while the scandal would follow him, it would be easier to ignore in a place where people keep their secrets safely behind closed, locked doors.

Oliver had done the same, once upon a time, only to have the secret simply walk away when someone else opened the door.

He sighed, sitting back, looking at his half-finished soup with a wistful sort of sadness.

Honestly, he couldn’t complain. He was just grateful to be out of prison, living in his own house with his own cook and the cleaning woman who comes by twice per week. Almost back to normal. Once this trial was over, of course, he’d sell the house and move back home, and it would all be just fine.

He took a deep breath and picked up his notes, handwritten in a series of different ink colors to differentiate which part of the speech he was in. It helped him to memorize if he thought of the colors. The only one he didn’t like, but used, anyway, was a deep teal ink in the paragraph where he admitted to what he did to his beautiful boy.

His beautiful boy, who had ruined himself with freedom, just as Oliver had always known he would. Some people were meant to be kept, they could not be trusted to keep themselves. His Baldur had been one of those, he had known the moment he’d been shown the intake photo, of the pretty boy curled up in a corner of a plain white room, hands up over his face in some attempt to protect himself.

We believe this will suit your specifications, the email from Ms. Renfod had stated in flat, clean prose that could never have encompassed the perfect leap in Oliver’s heart at the sight, the excitement that ran through him from scalp to toes at the fear and tears in big green eyes. We have recently acquired this individual as a result of a deal involving a family member. No inconvenient missing persons report, Mr. Branch. Perfect confidentiality, no complications. We believe he will require three and one-half months of training, plus two weeks extra for final preparations. I have attached a price list for added fees.

God, what a sight, the pretty thing before they’d taken him from himself, before he’d been delivered smiling and silent and still in the dead of night to Oliver’s door.

Honestly, what a loss that he was roaming around like some wild animal now.

Some people needed a keeper, and every time he had seen his beautiful boy since his liberation it had only emphasized to Oliver how badly Baldur needed the right sort of keeper. This new one, the tall young man with his threats and curses, clearly wasn’t doing a very good job.

Well. That was fine. Not his problem any longer, and soon enough Oliver would stand up at a podium before the press, looking at all their little recorders, and he would tell everyone exactly who Christopher Stanton was and what he had been. Oliver’s disgrace would be total, but if he played this right, Baldur would never go anywhere again without no longer being able to hide behind his earrings and awful hair and the patch of scarred skin where his barcode once had been.

Baldur might have gotten away from him, all those years ago, but Oliver intended to ensure he could not get away from what he had been made to do, to be. One did not stop being a pet, once they were made into a thing to be used for pleasure, there was nothing else for them to be.

Baldur might have delusions otherwise, but Oliver could ruin those, for him, just like his boy had ruined himself.

Kicked out of his fancy little college for his fake identity, maybe even charged with it. All his new little friends would know who he was. It was the last bit of pettiness Oliver intended to allow himself to indulge in before he returned back to his hometown and let Baldur’s fragile new life come down around his ears.

Oliver smiled, trailing fingertips over the teal ink, the exact shade of Baldur’s hideous dye job. He still had a PI on retainer, taking pictures of his pretty boy out living his life. Oliver liked to keep tabs on his old flames, just to ensure they were keeping quiet, keeping to themselves, living nice respectable lives.

Lately, with his reduced income, he’d had to cut that down to tracking Baldur alone.

Christopher Stanton. Oliver snorted. Awful name. Hardly did any justice to the perfect line of his cheekbones, the still-gentle curve of his jaw, the nicely full lips that would no doubt still part just so with a press of the right fingertips-

“Daydreamin’, are we?” A strange male voice asked, and Oliver looked up to stare down the barrel of a gun.

His heart stopped, eyes caught by that circle of infinite black surrounded by unfeeling metal, and then he raised his eyes to see a man he had never seen before. He wasn’t very tall, draped in heavy clothing that disguised his body type, though he seemed a bit on the muscular side. Perfectly average face, difficult to describe to any law enforcement, blondish-red hair cut in a flattop, narrowed eyes, smattering of freckles. Too far to see the eye color.

Robbers, really? Tonight, of all nights?

Oliver put both palms carefully down on the table as his heart began to pound. “Can I help you?”

His voice was admirably steady, and he was more than a bit proud of himself for that. He did not visibly tremble or shake, but he was deeply, deeply aware of that gun. He could see the safety was off, the man’s finger resting lightly around the trigger.

“You can,” The man said, with a hint of amusement in the blocky lines of his face. It came out more like ye can, an accent Oliver couldn’t quite place. Irish, maybe? “Hearing some rumors, about someone planning to testify next week. I was hoping’ you’d be able to disabuse me of such a disturbin’ notion.”

Oliver blinked, caught off-guard by the man’s friendly, personable tone even as the gun never faltered but it’s position held pointed directly at him. “If you work for WRU-”

“Oh, I don’t. No, as heartbreaking as it is, lad, Rossi’s group got the WRU rejects pipeline all sewn up, don’t he? Clever fuck. And I am a good many things, but I’m not a man stupid enough to cross Giovanni Rossi. You don’t put that man in a bad mood and walk out alive, do you?” Once again, the word slipped into ye, and Oliver was sure now that the accent was Irish. Faded, with the local accent flattening the vowels and roughing up the consonants, but the Irish was there nonetheless.

It occurred to him that it didn’t really matter if he identified his accent, because he almost certainly wasn’t going to walk out of this alive if the man was so easily dropping names.

“I wouldn’t know. If you’re not with WRU, I don’t see why there’s-... there needs to be a problem,” Oliver said, without moving, barely even letting his lips form the wounds. His heart still pounded in his chest. His dreams of moving back home by the coast, to Charleston’s beauty and grandeur and age, were rapidly feeling like scraps of tissue paper dissolving in water.

“You’re not just testifyin’ about the company, now, are you?” The man sighed, pulling a chair out on the other end of the table, sitting down without lowering the gun, keeping it trained on Oliver, just shifting it slightly to aim directly into his chest.

Oliver had taken a few courses in self-defense, back in the day. Aim for the center mass, the easiest thing to hit. People in movies can nail an arm or a leg with accuracy but in real life it’s rarely so easy. Aim for something lethal.

“The trial is about the company,” Oliver said, voice shaking, his own genteel accent thickening the more the fear settled in.

“It is, at that,” The man said, nodding. “But it’s not only about that, either, is it?” He snapped the fingers on his other hand, and Oliver jumped nearly a foot in the air as he realized there were two other men standing behind him he hadn’t even noticed. They appeared on either side of him, one of them picking up the papers on the table and moving them over to the man, who gave a soft, polite thanks and looked them over.

Suddenly, Oliver’s different ink colors for different aspects of his speech seemed… superfluous. He was never going to give that speech.

“What else is it about?” Oliver asked, breathy. He was going to die, and he’d always hoped for one more chance to visit his parents’ graves. Spit on them once or twice, leave flowers, and go. He’d always hoped…

Something occurred to him.

“Is this about my Baldur?”

The man’s face twisted in an expression of utter, absolute disgust.

“Is that it? Did his new keeper send you to-”

“No. Oh no, fucknuts, no.” The man laughed, looking over the papers, flipping through them idly with one hand as his associate stepped back, one of them lurking on either side of Oliver, hands pressing steadily into his shoulders to keep him right where he was. “No, no. I’ve nothin’ to do with that young lib boy. Know of ‘im, though. We keep an eye out, on our own. It’s been a long, long time, but… I owe a debt.”

“A… A debt?” Oliver’s voice caught in his throat.

“Indeed.” The man set the papers down, and for a moment, Oliver could have sworn there were tears in his eyes, emotions that played openly across the man’s utterly nondescript face. Grief, anger, sadness all warred there.

The hands on his shoulders tightened.

“Long time ago now, but I don’t forget, do I? Ah, look, here ‘tis.” The man tapped his finger in the teal paragraph so carefully written on the third page of the speech. “Here’s our lad. Tristan.”

“Tristan-... are you talking about Baldur?”

The man snarled, and Oliver flinched back against the back of his chair, waiting for the burst of sound and the bullet and his own death. Nothing came, and after a moment he opened his eyes. The man had settled his expression, but it was with effort - the anger was still clearly visible. “I’m not talkin’ about your bullshite pet name in the slightest, you sack of shit. No, I’m talkin’ about my friend’s boy Tristan.”

Oliver swallowed, and offered, “I believe… I believe he goes by Christopher now. I could give you his address-”

“We know where he lives, gobshite.”

“Then why are you here-”

“I told you, my debt. You’re an awful thick, aren’t you? We’re not the type to abduct a wean, although that never gave your like a pause, did it?” The man tapped his gun on the table, the first time it had truly lowered since Oliver had first realized he was here. Oliver let out a breath of relief.

“What is your debt, exactly?” His voice was still airy, but he tried to sound calm, in control. Never moved his hands. “I still have some funds the courts are not aware of, perhaps we could work out a deal-.. I have a safe upstairs-”

“Not that kind of debt. I had to stand by when my mucker and his wife got his face shot in by our own boss, no less, but I’m the boss, now. Took a while, took too long. I’ve had to wait and wait and wait, but me and my lads here, we’ve all owed Paul Higgs a debt since, Lord, has it been nearly a decade now? And I intend to pay it tonight.”

The man smiled, briefly, at Oliver.

“Couldn’t stop Paul’s boy from the sufferin’ already inflicted, but I can ensure you don’t say a word about him ever again, can’t I? Ah, no, we can’t have that. He’s got a good life now. Nice boy, all grown up. Hair’s a bit bollocked but who are we to judge, hm? He’s got himself a nice life goin’ and I intend to ensure he does his da proud, just like he would’ve if he weren’t forced to fuck you, you depraved bit of dogshit on my shoe. Fucking a child. A boy. What’ve you got to say for yourself?”

Oliver didn’t even bother to open his mouth. He understood that any attempt at self-defense wasn’t needed or even wanted. He understood that probably there was absolutely nothing he needed to say, ever again. He closed his eyes, lips moving in some dim form of prayer.

“Ah. A man of God, then?” Oliver looked to see the man pull a rosary from underneath his shirt. “That’s a fuckin’ laugh, considering what you’ve done. But, hey, He’s forgiven worse, I imagine. Tristan might even forgive you, too, he was always too good a boy for it all. Too bad for you that I don’t forgive shite.”

“If you’re going to shoot me,” Oliver said, barely able to get his voice above a whisper, “then do it.”

“We’re not going to shoot you, idjit.” The man rolled his eyes, giving his companions an exasperated can you believe this? look. One of the men, the one on Oliver’s right, laughed. “They’d trace it, we’d have to deal with the law, and honestly I am just not in the mood to pay any cops off this week. I’ve already paid Rossi off to keep him from gettin’ pissed at me, although he’s a man who understands the value of family, I think he’d have let us anyway. Still, never hurts to grease a palm, does it? What we’re going to do, Mr. Branch, is drown you. Your bathtub’s chock full of river water.”

“What?” Oliver swallowed, jerking forward as if to push himself up, but the hands on his shoulders pushed him back down. “H-how-... why-”

“When we dump you in the Trelawney,” The man said, calm and easy, “your lungs’ll already be chock full of its water. Nothing unusual about that, hm? Just another child molester dumped in that chemical swamp where he belongs. My mucker’s boy-... I couldn’t help him. I’ve owed Paul for that, we all have. This is my organization, now, and I will ensure Paul’s boy’s name never leaves your lips again.” The man snapped his fingers and Oliver shouted as he was dragged to his feet by the other two, kicking out, knocking his chair over with a clatter.

Just beyond the window were a hundred other houses, lights on in some, families laughing in front of their televisions. Utterly unknowing as their neighbor was dragged upstairs to his own master bathroom, to a custom-made clawfoot tub absolutely full of disgusting, muddy river water dredged up and brought here and Oliver had never even known they were in the house.

They held his head over the water as he screamed for help.

The leader leaned back against the sink, lit a cigarette, took a long drag and let the smoke float over his face. His eyes were green, Oliver realized with a kind of hysterical panicked giggle. His eyes were green.

Like Baldur’s.

“W-wait-, wait-... one question, just one, one question-”

The leader held up his hand. They kept Oliver’s head a few inches above the brackish water in the tub.

“Paul Higgs-... Baldur’s-... the boy’s father.” Oliver could barely breathe, barely get out the words. He was going to die, why was this question so important? Still, he couldn’t stop himself from asking it. “The boy’s-... just a friend?”

The leader snorted, flicked his cigarette onto the bedroom carpet through the bathroom door. A trail of thin smoke began to rise. “Paul was my best friend, yes,” He said flatly. “His da and mine were cousins. The looks run in the family, don’t they?”

“Why… why now? Why not before? When he was-... why only now?”

The man’s lip pulled to the side in a sneer. “Had to wait ‘til the company couldn’t protect you, didn’t I? You’re not a client now, Mr. Branch. Just a bit of blood on Karen Renford’s shoes. Loose thread. You’re not the only one keeps tabs on runaways, you know.”

“What?” Oliver’s eyes widened, the muddy water giving him a strange, distorted, half-transparent view of his own reflection. “What, what are y-you-”

“Ah, it’s not worth explaining this shite to him, is it?” The man rolled his eyes. “Renford knew where he was. She knows where all the runners are. She’s not going to let you fuck the company just to get your fifteen minutes, gobshite. I hate that insufferable bitch and she’s the one who made Paul’s boy into a pet, but I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth even if the one given’ it should probably be shot herself.”

“Wh-why-”

“Shut your feckin’ hole. We may not have the pleasure of a regular contract, but I was happy to accept this little job free of charge. Everyone gets what they want, don’t they? Paul’s boy gets his nice little life for keeping, Renford gets the blood out, and I get to make up to Paul what I couldn’t do back then. Ah, Tristan was a sweet boy. Bit of a wild thing, but…” The man sighed mournfully. “Well. We all lose people, in this business, Mr. Branch. I’m sorry to’ve lost him but I’d never think to take him from what he’s got. I’m no monster.”

Laughter bubbled in Oliver’s throat, and he barely held it back. No monster, but you’ll kill me, will you?

“Tonight, everyone gets what they want.”

“I wanted Charleston,” Oliver said, staring into the brownish silt-soaked water, thinking of the blue of the ocean, the waves battering the shore, white-capped on rougher days, the salt-smell of the sea. His mother’s hands holding him, sitting on his father’s shoulders, before it had all changed. “I, I wanted Charleston.”

The words were more plaintive than he intended them to be.

“Sad for you,” The leader said without sympathy. “The heart bleeds. Perhaps you should’ve kept your wee dick in your pants and not touched our friend’s boy, then, hm? Bit late for that, though. Hope the Good Lord’s feelin’ His mercy today, pervy fuck, ‘cause you’ll see none from us.”

He snapped his calloused fingers, and Oliver’s head went under the water. He’d jerked in a final breath just before, and as he held it - lungs burning, time running out - Oliver had only a single remaining defiance. His last thought, before he had to pull water into his lungs, before the thrashing and the choking and the final blackness that pulled him under, wasn’t of Baldur at all.

He was found in the Trelawney River, the water in his lungs a perfect match for the water around him. His bathtub had been recently cleaned, but that wasn’t suspicious, as his cleaner had been there only the day before and Oliver rarely took baths. His dinner table was clean of any sign of his final meal.

There were no papers on the table, or anywhere in the house, detailing his intended speech to the press. Those papers were burned and the ashes spread on the graves of Paul and Veronica Higgs, along with a fresh spray of daisies, Ronnie’s favorite flower.

Oliver Branch’s testimony could no longer be given, due to his untimely death.

The suggestion that he had killed himself because of the shame of his own actions made the rounds in the press, followed by certainty in certain spaces that he had been murdered to protect WRU on Karen’s orders.

Perhaps a handler had done it, the rumors went, sent by the strange emotionless Karen Renford, who sat on the stand and spoke with perfect diction and a total lack of feeling on the particulars of her job, and who had never once set off a lie detector in her life. Perhaps a pet liberation member had finally snapped - there had been an incident years ago with someone who had beaten Oliver nearly to unconsciousness, maybe that person had hunted him down again.

Maybe Karen had killed him herself.

The rumors went in circles, but no one ever guessed the truth.

Oliver’s final defiance was known only to him, and went with him to the grave he was eventually buried in. His final thought was simply of the crash of a white-capped wave against the shore.

Oliver Branch died thinking not of his crimes, but with the ocean behind his eyes.

#death of a villain #original fiction #drowning tw #gun tw #threats with gun tw #chris the strawberry blond romantic #oliver branch is gross #but also very dead now #so that's nice #whump #character death tw #creepy whumper #villain death #did anyone guess 'paul's mob friends'?#karen renford #wru #box boy #box boy universe #box boy multiverse

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greenjudy · 3 years

Text

Inquisitor Ask Meme

Reposting this for fun.

Anyone else want to take a crack? What kind of Inky would you be?

@allsortsoflicorice? @tyramir ? Bueller?

1. Race:

Human.

2. Class/Specialization:

Rift mage.

3. Your homeland?

The Free Marches. Wycome, to be precise.

4. Your family?

Keep my family out of this; they have things to do besides die.

5. Who were you before?

A Circle Mage of some skill and much fear. Given my personality, the Circle would probably not cater to my strengths. It would make me more nervous and paranoid than I already am. The Inquisition would force me out of my comfort zone and give me some resilience I would never otherwise develop. Left to my own devices, I’d fall prey to obsession, and possibly possession by a Pride demon.

6. Would you be religious?

I’ve read a lot of books by Brother Genitivi and Philliam! A Bard; I’m actually using my clout as Inquisitor to gather whatever is known about the Black City. You might say I’m an originist, I want to know where we came from; Andraste is kind of late on the scene for my interests.

Post-Trespasser, this quest will more or less eat my brain.

Short answer: obsessed with “religious” subject matter, not religious per se.

7. Do you have a mabari?

Nope. But I spoil Cullen’s baby.

8. Your opinion on other races?

Raised to “not be racist” (as far as that goes) in cosmopolitan, edgy, free-wheeling Wycome; family with a ton of Dwarven trading connections. Angry about the elves. Knew loads of elven enchanters in the Circle, but I have awkward awareness of human privilege around the Dalish.

Fascinated by the Shaperate. Wish all Thedas had those. Can you imagine?

Worried about the Qun, but deeply impressed with the handful of Qunari I’ve met in person. Not mindless drones at all. Disciplined. Community first has some virtues, must say.

9. What would Varric’s nickname for you be?

Baffler.

10. What would your tarot card look like?

The High Priestess: an older, abbess-looking chick standing at a scriptorium, surrounded by magical paraphrenalia and a gorgeous view out my high window. Raven (with message) standing on the windowsill.

11. Where would you hang out in Skyhold?

My bespoke mage tower, if I’m not in the Undercroft picking Dagna’s brain. Do a little weeding in the herb garden from time to time; we’re growing some fascinating things in there.

After Solas leaves, I’d go spend time in the destroyed holding cells, watching the water fall.

12. What would you do for fun?

Study. Knit. Paint. Visit my horses; the smell of horses is very comforting.

I’d have highly technical arguments with Dorian and spend a lot, a lot, a lot of time talking to Solas.

13. What armor would you wear?

Cutting-edge tactical enchanted fabric. Light, layered, tweedy, enchanted.

I’d probably get sucked into magical materials research, specifically, making improvements to armor base-layers. I’m obsessed with armor. I have a whole research group (headed by Dagna, Cullen consulting) devoted to armor improvement.

14. What would your room look like?

Given the state of my current room, a chaotic mess of books, papers, research tools, letters from colleagues, blueprints, schematics, dirty dishes, orchids, and automata (Josie and I would be doll-geeks together).

15. Who would be your friends at Skyhold?

I try to make sure that the Inner Circle understands how much I appreciate them as a general rule.

As for friends:

Cassandra is one of the great ones. Just about the best person I know. Never met anyone so ready to acknowledge her mistakes. I’d trust her to be the next Divine.

Dorian is a dear. One of the best sounding-boards. Somebody peel that man a grape.

Cullen and Josephine are terrific advisors, couldn’t ask for better, their own problems of course, we’re all doing our best. I’d like to know Cullen better—suspect we have things, Circle things, to talk about. In another life, maybe.

I’d get on with Varric—everyone gets on with Varric, come on—but I find him ultimately very armored, hard to know. Hid his best friend, didn’t he? Never talks about the lady he loves.

Sera is actually easy to understand. Raw genius with a bow, one of the best to have along, out in the field. Not exactly my friend. So down on the Dalish. It’s her business, though. She and Dagna are adorable together. She makes Dagna happy, that’s good enough for me.

I have a bit of a GP for the Iron Bull. (He had me at “front-line bodyguard.”) Never acted on it, though.

Solas is my… see… well, see below.

16. Would you have any friends outside of the Inquisition?

I’d have the Thedas version of LinkedIn comrades in Antiva, Nevarra, and Orlais—researchers all. Plus one brilliant friend who’s a materials mage based out of Denerim, working with Sandal on woven metal enchantments; call her my “knitting buddy.”

17. Who wouldn’t you get along with?

Leliana would trouble me. Don’t like having someone this emotional and vindictive managing our intel networks. It’s bad juju, Ambassador; can’t trust her judgment, can you? And that feels like a loose end. Put us in a tight spot someday. Couldn’t we ask Varric…? No, I quite see that. Still.

I’d understand Vivienne, and try to maintain a cordial relationship because I think most of her head is in the right place, even though she is entirely too power-oriented for a real friendship.

Blackwall’s “find Darkspawn, kill them, repeat” approach would bother me. When I found out the truth about him, it would confirm my feeling that you need to lie to yourself, a lot, to just have enemies and kill them without compunction. I would also find myself highly influenced by Solas’s take on the Wardens.

18. Who would you romance?

I’m a Circle mage who’s watched close friends be tormented by romantic love. Demonic possession and Tranquility. Babies taken away. This is not the kind of conditioning that disappears just because you take me out of a Circle. In my youth I worked it out by restricting myself to impossible love objects—there was this one Templar, very stern, very disciplined…he’d barely speak to me… Well. That was many years ago.

That said, the best impossible love object I’ve ever encountered in my life is Solas.

What does it matter, really? Bonds of friendship, don’t you know; romantic love leads to envy demons. I’m old now, at any rate. Inquisigeezer not exactly a romanceable character.

19. Would you do pranks with Sera?

Probably not. Too busy. Too tired. Feel too much sympathy for her innocent victims.

But I would do operations with Sera, with pleasure.

20. Would you sleep with the Iron Bull (casually if not romance)?

My front-line bodyguard? Get on with you. It would get too complicated—for me, I mean, not him.

21. Would you keep Cole around?

Yes. And I’d agonize about what would be the best path for him to take, and probably make him a spirit.

22. Can you play the game (politics)?

Yes. I’m better at it the more distant it is. If you’re talking about what to say at a party, I’ve developed a persona for that sort of thing. Stakes are high. Can’t be fooling around. A mage, remember? This guard drops, I get possessed; lose my temper, might incinerate you, can’t have that.

23. What would be on your tombstone in the fade (What are you afraid of)?

“The world fell apart on my watch.”

24. Who would you recruit to seal the breach?

Mages. I understand mages. Their leadership’s been simply awful. Not sure what Fiona did with her spine. Without decent leadership, it’s mages running amok, trying to protect themselves, doing awful things out of fear; can’t have that, they’ll pull their own house down. Get them out of the weeds, stick ‘em in the Inquisition, give them a chance to show what they can do for the right cause.

25. Opinion on Mages versus Templars?

It’s all about training, though, isn’t it? Templars and mages both need much, much better training. Without training, without a penetrating education with a solid grasp of magical theory, history, ethics—co-train the mages and templars, make ‘em take core courses together. Make them work together in strike teams; I’ve been doing that since we recruited ‘em, they actually partner well, as long as you’re not, you know, mad.

I would become obsessed (do you see the recurrence of this word) with the idea that mages could be Seeker-trained to resist possession and mind control, obviating the need for Tranquility. These disciplined (another key word) and trustworthy mages could be placed in a position of joint authority with properly educated Templars to create a College of Magi with research cells all over Thedas…

Yeah. We’ll see how that works out.

26. Who would be put in charge of Orlais and why?

Celine and Briala. Celine is the one with the right temperament, and for some reason I viscerally understand Briala. I’m all about reparations and integrating elven populations and something something protect the Dalish (can’t we actually give them the Dirth?).

27. Would you sacrifice the Chargers?

I couldn’t.

28. Would you go after Blackwall?

Oh, yes. And I’d keep him on, as Thom Rainier.

29. Would you drink from the well?

Knowing me? Not knowing the implications except for those vague warnings? Yes, I would, and it would affect me for the rest of my life.

I’d spend what’s left of myself using whatever insight and connections the Well gave me to work on Solas.

30. Where would you go if the Inquisition was disbanded?

Under ordinary circumstances, the College. Daresay they’d want me to do something draining and administrative because of my being the (ex)Inquisitor; I’d look for a research niche but probably not get to keep it.

Solas is not ordinary circumstances. I’d dedicate the rest of my life to that problem.

31. How do you react to the egg telling you he is an elven god?

I’d naively and arrogantly imagine that I could—if we could just get enough time to sit down together—he must understand what he’s likely to bring about, he needs people to talk to, dammit—

He would be the death of me, I’m afraid.

#DA:I

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cinaja · 3 years

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Before the Wall Part 33

Masterlist

----

One week after their visit to the library, Miryam lies sprawled on her bed and glares at the spellbook she positioned on her pillow. Unlike her own, it contains no additional explanations to go with the spells. Which is truly unfortunate, since the spells noted down in this book surpass everything Miryam has ever seen. She understands the individual symbols, but their combination is where the problems come in.

“Damnit”, she mutters and rubs her temple.

Whatever these spells are, they are powerful. Powerful and complicated, and if Miryam ever learns to understand them, she might actually be able to stand a chance against the other witches.

“Trouble?”, Jurian asks from where he is sitting over his maps.

“Yes.” Miryam sighs. “This is too damned complicated for me.” She rereads the page for the eights time, still not understanding what exactly the spell is supposed to accomplish. “I just don’t have the necessary knowledge to understand it.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out”, Jurian mutters and moves a figure over his map.

If my power doesn’t rip me to shreds before I do, Miryam thinks, but she just nods and returns to her studies.

Half an hour later, all she has to show for her troubles is a pounding headache. When Drakon pokes his head through the tent’s entrance, Miryam is almost relived to have an excuse to stop her work. Jurian just briefly looks up, rolls his eyes and goes back to his work, but Miryam slams the book shut and swings her legs over the bed’s edge to sit up.

“Tell me you have some good news.”

Drakon’s answering wince tells her everything she needs to know about the nature of the news he brings. “The university wrote”, he says, “They…” He bites his lip. “They got contacted by the Guild. Apparently, Artax was very… persuasive. They want the book back, and politely decline any information you might have promised them in return.”

Miryam looks down at the book, then shrugs. “No one wants to pick a fight with the Guild.” She should have seen it coming. “What now?”

“You give the book back?”

Jurian snorts. “You can’t be serious.”

Drakon starts drumming a rhythm on his leg and shoots a nervous glance at Jurian. “The university has a considerable amount of influence on the Continent”, he says, “Several of the current Continental leaders are former students. I may be the least qualified person to give anyone advice on politics, but I don’t think this is a fight you want to pick.”

Miryam hesitates. Giving up the book would be the easy way. If she’s entirely honest, she doesn’t want to deal with it anyways, and this is the perfect solution. But if it does hold the key to the spell she’s been failing on, then it might mean the difference between life and death for millions of humans.

“Fine”, she says, “They want a book, they’ll get it.”

“Miryam –“, Jurian begins, but she shakes her head.

“A book”, she repeats, “warded so that only a witch might open it, with a couple of spells written inside. It just won’t be this one.”

Drakon looks genuinely shocked. “You are… you’re going to steal this book? From a library?”

“Maybe take a moment to remember we’re at war”, Jurian says and returns to his maps. “You’ll realize how stupid you just sounded.”

“Sorry.” Drakon flinches. “You’re right, that was…” He turns to Miryam. “If you want to forge the book, just give it to me when you’re done. I’ll see to it that it’s delivered.”

“Thank you.” Miryam considers telling him that the university won’t lose anything through the exchange. They lent her a spellbook they can neither open nor read, and that’s exactly what she’ll give them back. But somehow, she doesn’t think Drakon will be overly grateful if she returns this conversation to his concerns about the library. So instead, she changes the subject. “I won’t manage to get it done today, though”, she says, “I’ve got a council meeting this afternoon.”

One she really doesn’t feel like attending. The High Lord of the Night Court apparently has some information he deems important enough that he needs a full council meeting to share it. Arrogant bastard, stealing all of their time with his nonsense. Miryam rubs her head. She barely slept these past days, and her thoughts seem to be drifting apart. Is she just tired, or is she already beginning to lose her mind?

“If the two of you are smart”, she says, “you’ll stay here.”

----

Years ago, Miryam warned Jurian that if he continued meeting with Clythia, he would lose himself. At the time, Jurian brushed her off with a shrug. Now, he is beginning to think that she may have had a point after all. It’s like with each meeting with Clythia, he loses another part of himself – tiny bits and pieces, seemingly insignificant, but they add up over time.

At least this time, Clythia brought wine. The bottle is ten times as old as Jurian is, and costs enough to feed his entire army for a week. Sitting on a ground in the small forest they chose as their meeting place this time, he clings to his glass and tries to keep from downing it all at once. Being drunk might make this more bearable.

“Have you had any visions lately?”, he asks. He doesn’t even bother to hide his curiosity. Sometimes he feels like he could just ask Clythia for secret information and she would hand him the files without thought.

“Nothing notable”, Clythia says brightly, “Everything stayed more or less the same.”

Jurian’s grip on the glass tightens. So Miryam is still going to die. No matter how hard Jurian works, no matter how much of the lost ground the Alliance wins back, this one thing always stays the same. He tried asking Clythia about how it will happen once, hoping that if he knew, he might prevent it, but apparently, there’s no telling. Seers, Jurian decides, are no use at all if their visions only tell of a set future, but aren’t able to help change it.

“But that doesn’t matter”, Clythia says, “our future’s still the same. We’ll always be together.”

Jurian’s stomach tightens. “Is that a prophecy?”, he asks with a forced smile.

“No, but I just know it. It’s written in the stars.” Clythia refills both of their wine glasses and runs her fingers through the grass. “We’re like the Mother and Daín.”

“Who?”, Jurian asks.

Comparing them to several pairs of lovers throughout the entire history of the Fae is a particularly annoying habit of Clythia’s. But if Jurian isn’t mistaken, she just took things a step further by comparing herself to the Fae’s main goddess.

“But surely you know the story!”, Clythia exclaims. She sounds genuinely shocked.

“Humans don’t follow Fae religions”, Jurian reminds her. He doesn’t say that he knows the Fae use their religion to justify enslaving his people and that he never really had an interest in finding out more than that.

“Oh, of course. I always forget how uncultured you humans are”, Clythia says.

Jurian stifles a sigh. Sometimes, he wonders if she even realizes that he is human. But of course, she barely seems to understand that they are on opposite sides of a war, so there’s that.

“Well.” Clythia leans forward, clearly excited about being the one to tell him this bit of information he absolutely doesn’t care about. “You know how the Mother made the world, creating High Fae, lesser faeries, humans and animals to inhabit it.” She pauses, clearly waiting for a reaction.

“Yes”, Jurian says. If she starts going on about how superior Fae are compared to humans, he may just lose it.

“After that”, Clythia continues, “the Mother settled down in her seat of power, a magical island named Cretea. From there, she ruled over the world, her followers making pilgrimages there to ask her guidance. One of them was a High Fae male named Daín.” Clythia smiles at him. “The Mother chose him. Picked him out of all the others and made him her consort.”

Jurian doesn’t like the way she looks at him while she says this at all. Is she seriously making this comparison? Does she not understand how disturbing this is?

“Daín was just an ordinary Fae, but the Mother loved him, so she made him into something else. She gave him powers that allowed him to shape the world to his will, a smaller mirror of what she could do, and created a sword for him that made him undefeatable and immortal.”

“And then they lived happily ever after?”, Jurian asks with just a hint of sarcasm. He secretly hopes this Daín used the sword to stab the Mother.

“No.” Clythia tilts her head backwards to look up at the blue sky peeking through the leaves. “After centuries of peace under the Mother’s rule, a group of evil beings rose up against her to conquer the world for themselves. They were defeated, but Daín died in the final battle, slaughtered by the enemy leader. Unable to stand the grief of his death, the Mother vanished, never to be heard off again.”

Only Clythia would consider this to be romantic. “And what about the sword?”, he asks, coming back to the one subject out of this whole rant that actually interested him.

“It vanished”, Clythia says, “As did Cretea. No one heard of it in millennia.”

“A pity.” Having a sword like this might actually prove useful. Assuming, of course, that it even existed in the first place. Since Jurian, like most humans, doesn’t believe in Fae gods, he doesn’t think this is particularly likely.

Jurian takes another sip from his wine and changes the subject. What does he care about Fae myths? They won’t help him win this war.

----

“I have no idea why you came along”, Miryam whispers to Drakon as they take their seats at the council table. Usually, he only comes along when it absolutely can’t be avoided, and today is no such case.

“Why should you suffer alone?”, he whispers back, “Besides, my emissary’s wife is giving birth to their second child today, and I figured he wouldn’t want to spend the day stuck in a meeting.”

Miryam smiles and straightens her dress. “That’s wonderful news. It’s customary to have gifts for new parents, right? I need to think of something for them.”

“It’s something for the baby, usually.” Drakon looks around the table, his feathers ruffle nervously. “More of a symbolic gift, honestly.”

Miryam nods and smiles over at Zeku, who inclines his head in return. They arrived late enough that they didn’t have to join the general rounds of small talk and could take their seats right away. However, the High Lord who called the meeting still hasn’t turned up.

“Isn’t it just lovely”, Andromache says from her seat on Miryam’s other side. “We all have to play by the Continental rules, no matter what we think of them, but these High Lords get to shit on them as much as they like and no one gives a damn.”

Miryam nods, but before she can say anything, the doors burst open and the High Lord in question enters the room. He is followed by an Illyrian who Miryam recognizes as Mor’s shadowsinger-friend, Azriel. Miryam never had reason to know him well beyond what Mor told her about him – and, knowing his job-description, she never had much of an interest, either. She knew a few torturers in Ravenia’s court and all of them were wretched in one way or another.

As the High Lord takes his seat, Miryam smiles at him. “I’m glad you could make it, High Lord”, she says, pleasantness hiding the edge in her words. A few of the Continental royals look amused. “Now that we’re all here, perhaps we can begin.”

The High Lord gives her a smile that looks more like he’s baring his teeth. “I see your lover didn’t join us. A pity. I’m sure he would have enjoyed today’s conversation. Where is he, may I ask.”

“I’d prefer to move on to the subject you asked us here to discuss, actually”, Miryam says evenly. She has no idea what he’s getting at, and she doesn’t like it.

“But this is the subject I meant to discuss, Miryam dear.”

Miryam hides her confusion behind a carefully neutral expression. What is he planning? Jurian is on a patrol, nothing out of the ordinary. Drakon shoots her a questioning look, some of the other councilmembers frown at the High Lord.

“You call a council meeting”, Grand Duke Zeku asks with soft disbelief, “to ask Miryam about Jurian’s whereabouts?”

“No, I called a council meeting to discuss the matter of Jurian fucking an enemy commander.”

The words are like a slap to the face. For a heartbeat that seems to last an eternity, all Miryam can do is gape at him. Then, her mind springs back into motion and reminds her that she is in the middle of a council meeting and right now, most of the attendants are staring at her. She schools her face back into a carefully blank expression, controls her breathing and forces the shock down.

She wishes she could believe that the High Lord is lying. But his words add up, fall into place to finally form a picture Miryam should have seen months ago. Jurian’s strange solo patrols. His ever-changing moods. The new spy that supplied all this information on Amarantha’s movements. She must have been blind not to see it.

“Maybe Lady Miryam would like to explain”, the High Lord says. Everyone turns to look at her, but Miryam just stares stubbornly at a point in the centre of the table. “Or maybe not”, the High Lord adds with a smirk. Miryam balls her hands to fists. This must be his revenge for her embarrassing him and Keir months ago. “Azriel”, the High Lord adds, calling him forward.

The Illyrian doesn’t look at Miryam or anyone else as he steps forward. “General Jurian”, he says, “has been meeting with the Hybern commander Clythia. I haven’t been able to find out for how long, but apparently”, now, he does look at Miryam briefly, “they are engaged in a romantic relationship. At this very moment, they are meeting.”

Drakon shakes his head. “That’s impossible. Jurian would never…” He shakes his head and turns to look at Miryam, like he’s hoping for her to back him up.

She presses her lips together. As if to match her roaring emotions, her power flickers to life inside her, tugging for her attention. Miryam tries to breathe against the onslaught, but her mind keeps reminding her of the fact at this very moment, Jurian is meeting with Clythia.

“I find that very hard to believe”, Andromache says, “Jurian would never start a relationship with a Loyalist.”

Miryam’s magic spikes. She can’t afford to let it out here, so it simply rushes through her veins, burning like fire. Forcefully, she pushes the image of Jurian’s meeting with Clythia out of her mind. Only for it to unhelpfully be replaced by the memory of a line from that cursed book about the Shadowsinger whose powers killed him.

“It is true”, Azriel says simply.

Miryam digs her fingernails into her leg as hard as she can, and finally manages to focus on the subject at hand. She should have said something a minute ago already, and surely, her silence has been noticed by now. Only what can she say? This is a disaster – for her standing, for this Alliance, for the war effort. Damn Jurian, how could he keep this from her?

She needs to fix this. If she doesn’t, both her and Jurian will look bad in front of the entire Alliance leadership. She needs to set this right, now, before anyone can do any more damage.

Zeku turns to Miryam. “You didn’t know, did you?” He sounds tense, like he, too, knows how precarious this situation is.

“I knew”, she says and tries to ignore the shocked looks a few people give her. “We planned it together. Clythia has an interest in Jurian, and we chose to use it for our advantage. As her supposed lover, Jurian has access to some information.” She doesn’t dare to add that Jurian’s information was the reason behind some of their latest victories. If Clythia for some reason hasn’t figured it out herself, Miryam won’t be the idiot who makes it public. So she just shrugs a little. “I apologize for not being able to notify the council, but we thought due to the need for secrecy in this matter, it would be best to keep it private between us.” She gives the High Lord a half smile. “I would have, of course, explained it to you, my lord. It really wasn’t necessary to call an entire council meeting, you could just have asked me.”

The High Lord’s face turns an ugly shade of purple and he has to grip the chair’s armrests. But other than that, Miryam’s words don’t have the intended effect. Where people seemed confused earlier, they now look annoyed, some even angry. Even Zeku gives her a dissatisfied look.

“Well, I suppose that changes things”, Andromache says slowly. She turns to the High Lord and smiles a bit to sweetly. “So now that you’ve called us all here in vain and made a military secret public, was there anything else you wanted?”

The High Lord’s face has turned an ugly shade of purple. “No”, he snaps, glaring at Azriel, “That was everything.”

He is also the first to leave, storming out of the room like a child. Miryam chooses the more dignified approach and waits a moment before slowly rising. Drakon steps close to her.

“Back to the camp?”, he asks.

Miryam nods, but Zeku interrupts their conversation. “May I have a word, Miryam?”, he asks.

The only person Miryam wants to have a word with right now is Jurian. But a feeling tells her that she already messed up enough today. The last thing she needs right now is to offend her most important Fae ally.

“Of course”, she says, then turns to Drakon. “Do you mind waiting?”

Zeku adds, “It won’t take long.”

“No problem”, Drakon says and looks around the meeting room, seeming a little lost. “I’ll just talk to…” He hesitates, then smiles. “Andromache. We haven’t seen each other in a while.”

Miryam nods and allows Zeku to lead her away. He takes them to a smaller meeting room, closes the door, and sets up wards.

“What are you thinking?”, Zeku hisses as soon as the wards are up. “Why didn’t you just let it slide?”

“What?”, Miryam asks.

Now, she’s genuinely confused. She assumed Zeku might be angry because of the blow to her – and, by association, his – standing, or because she didn’t tell him about Jurian’s affair with Clythia. But none of what he said seems to indicate this.

“I don’t care if you knew or not! You should have said you had no idea, that Jurian went behind your back.”

Miryam shakes her head. “I would have looked stupid.”

“That would have been better than looking like you went behind the council’s back again!” Zeku’s voice rises towards the end of the sentence. He takes a deep breath, then continues. “Miryam”, he says more softly, “I think you still don’t understand the situation you’re in. Large parts of the council see you as a threat. In your position, you can take a blow to your standing far more easily than any actions that reinforce the impression that you’re dangerous to them.”

“This is ridiculous!” Miryam shakes her head. “Who would see me as a threat?”

“Lots of people”, Zeku says. “So keep your head down. Let someone else lead.”

Miryam stares at him. “But I can’t”, she says, “I’m not even leading, not really. But they need someone to stand at the front, and if I don’t do it, who will?”

“They’ll find someone.”

“No, they won’t. Because the humans will never allow a Fae to lead, and the only Fae I know who would accept a human leader is Drakon. If I step back, it will be the end of this Alliance and you know it.”

Zeku just watches her. His blue eyes are dark with sadness. “I don’t think you understand, Miryam”, he says softly. “This is your only chance. Keep your head down. Don’t make yourself into a threat, or you’ll have to pay the price.”

Miryam slowly shakes her head. Her fingers tremble, she forces them to stop. There are a million things she could say. That this is unfair. That all she wants is to free her people, and then she’ll disappear from politics. But what would her words count? What would they change? Her choice is already made either way.

“Then I’ll pay”, she says and lifts her chin, hoping that she sounds resolute instead of lost and desperate. But how could she stand back while her people bleed and die?

Zeku sighs. “I feared you would say that. You know you can’t win this, do you?”

Miryam shrugs. She doesn’t need to win. She just needs to draw things out until the war ends. Then, it will be alright. As soon as the Loyalists have been defeated and the human slaves freed, the Alliance can fall apart if it needs to. These Fae nobles can go back to quarrelling over power like wolves fighting over a carcass, and Miryam can try to sort out her life without the weight of thousands of lives on her shoulders.

“Thank you for the warning, though”, she says. “And for, you know. The general advice.”

She likes Zeku, after all. He’s her ally. Not quite her friend, perhaps, more like a mentor. She doesn’t want him to think she’s disregarding him.

Zeku waves her off. “I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you need to talk to Jurian.”

And what a talk that will be. With a quick goodbye, Miryam slips out of the meeting room. Drakon is still talking to Andromache, but quickly ends the conversation when he sees Miryam and walks over.

“Sorry for leaving you alone like this”, Miryam whispers.

Drakon shrugs. “Wasn’t so bad.” Together, they walk towards the gardens, the only place where you can winnow in and out of the palace. “What did Zeku want?”

“Discuss strategies. He didn’t like what happened with Jurian.”

Drakon nods. He keeps shooting her glances as they reach the gardens and winnow back to their camp. Finally, he breaks the silence.

“You didn’t know either”, he says, statement and question in one.

“No, I didn’t.” She doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Is there anything I can do?”, Drakon asks.

Miryam shakes her head. “Thank you”, she says, “But I think I need to be alone for a bit.”

She needs to make some sense of her racing thoughts. And then, her and Jurian will have a conversation.

----

Jurian returns to his camp when the sun is just setting behind the horizon and the world is coloured in orange and red. Tiredly, he slides out of the saddle and passes his horse on to one of his soldiers. Normally, he’d tend to it himself, but today, he’s too drained. The meeting was a waste. He endured hours of Clythia’s prattling, but has no information to show for it. Without stopping to chat with any of his soldiers, he trudges through the camp and pushes the entrance to his tent open.

Miryam sits on his bed.

“Hey”, Jurian says. He opens his weapon’s belt and lets it slide to the ground.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jurian freezes, fingers hovering over the jacket he was just opening. A knot forms in his stomach.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, he says as evenly as he can manage.

“Yes, you do.” Miryam doesn’t get up from the bed. She just keeps staring at him, expression completely unreadable. Locking him out, even with her expression. “How long?”

Jurian’s gaze flickers around the tent. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. Maybe a way out. Something that could save him from what he has done, or from what is about to come.

“It started the day Amarantha slaughtered our friends”, he says, eyes fixed on a point just above Miryam’s head.

He doesn’t dare to look into her eyes. Doesn’t want to know if she’ll stick to her mask of indifference, or if there will be an accusation written all over her face. Disgust. He wishes she would say something, anything, but she remains silent. Apparently, she doesn’t plan to make this easy on him.

“I never meant to keep this secret”, he whispers, “Truly. I had planned to tell you after… after that first time. But then…” He chokes on the words. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell you.”

“You promised”, Miryam says. Now, Jurian does look at her. She is still watching him with that guarded expression. “You promised you wouldn’t go see her again.”

“It has gotten us important information.” He doesn’t know if he’s talking to Miryam or himself. “All these victories in the past months… All because of the information I got from Clythia. All because of this.” He is shaking. “This is worth it, Miryam.”

She just shakes her head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Crushing shame turns to anger. Doesn’t she understand? He is talking about the war effort, about invaluable information, and she chooses to focus on this? She should get it. Why doesn’t she? They are at war, and the two of them have always been a unit, both of them understanding that they need to do whatever it takes to win this. Why is she backing out now?

“Are you jealous?”, he asks, “Is it that?”

Miryam shoots to her feet. “You-” Now, her faked indifference is entirely gone. Her eyes are positively burning. “This has nothing to do with Clythia!” She steps closer to Jurian until they are nearly toe to toe. “I am angry”, she hisses, each word more clipped than the last, “because you promised me not to meet with her again, and then went behind my back and did it anyways. For months, you lied to my face about it!”

“And you wonder why?”, Jurian snaps right back, “Maybe I knew how you’d react!”

He doesn’t know why he’s saying it. It’s like his mouth developed a life of its own and is moving without his permission. And Miryam may be angry, but he is, too. Even though he isn’t entirely sure why.

“My reaction has nothing to do with your actions, and everything with you not telling me!”, Miryam shots back, voice rising. The maps lying on the table ruffle as if caught in a breeze. “And maybe if I’d known, I would have been prepared when it came up in council today! Do you have any idea how stupid you made me look?”

“This isn’t about your stupid standing in the council! Wars aren’t won in council chambers; they are won on the battle field. What I did helped us win and if you can’t see that-“

“And when we lose our allies”, Miryam snaps back, “how well will your battles go then?”

“Oh, stop acting like this is what you’re mad about! You just can’t stand me putting anything before you. Even if it’s our people.”

Miryam takes a step back. She looks like he slapped her. “Do you even hear what you’re saying?”, she whispers, “This… I barely even recognize you, Jur.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Jurian’s anger crumbles in itself. What has he done? He didn’t mean to… He should have apologized. Instead, he…

“Miryam”, he whispers and reaches for her hand. She pulls it away and backs away another step.

“Don’t. Just…” She shakes her head, backing away further. “Just leave it.”

“Miryam, please.” He desperately wants to close the distance between them and reach for her hand. There is a gap opening between them like a ravine, and he knows that it’s his doing. He just doesn’t know how to make it right. “I’m sorry”, he whispers.

“I know”, Miryam replies. “And it will be fine in the morning. I just don’t want to be in the same room as you right now.”

With that, she stalks out of the tent.

Jurian stares after her for a few seconds. Then, he grabs a glass from the table and hurls it against the ground. It shatters with a very satisfying clink. He spends the next minutes systematically destroying everything he can get his hands on, sparing only the maps and the most vital bits of paperwork. The last thing Jurian shatters is a wine bottle – although not without draining it first.

Panting, he looks around the tent. His outburst hasn’t made him feel better. He just feels empty. Jurian lets himself fall backwards onto the bed and stares up at the ceiling. He wants to cry, but the tears won’t come.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been lying on the bed when the door flaps open. He doesn’t look up. From the pattern of the steps, he can tell it’s not Miryam, and he doesn’t care to see anyone else right now.

“Hey”, his visitor says.

Jurian groans. “Go away”, he says towards the ceiling.

“I brought you dinner”, Drakon says.

Jurian sits up in bed to look at Drakon, who indeed holds a plate in his hands. “You`re in the wrong tent. Miryam is the one who deserves to be brought dinner and comforted. I’m the asshole who lied to her and then yelled about it.”

“Mor is with Miryam”, Drakon explains. “And I though… well, I thought you might like some company as well.” He stares down at his feet. “Or would you rather be alone. I could leave.”

“Maybe it’s just you I don’t want to see”, Jurian mutters.

He only realizes he was hoping for Drakon to snap back at him and give him an excuse for an argument when he doesn’t. Drakon, damn him, just watches him. He even looks genuinely upset instead of angry.

“Have I done anything to offend you?”, Drakon asks softly. “Because I feel like there must have been something, I did, but I just don’t know what it is. If it was because I’m Fae, I’d understand, but I didn’t spontaneously grow a pair of pointy ears and wings, so it can’t be that, but I can’t think of anything else. But if I did something without noticing, I’m sorry.”

Jurian deflates. Trying to start an argument with Drakon is no fun, mostly because he does not argue. He just looks so obviously hurt that Jurian ends up feeling bad about himself for being an ass. And really, he already ruined his relationship with Miryam – the last thing he needs now is a fight with his best friend on top of that.

“No, you haven’t done anything”, he says with a sigh. “I’m just…”

Yes, what? He doesn’t even know what his problem is. It’s not necessarily that he has a problem with Fae, he’s just always so angry. These days, he can barely stand to be around people. Miryam is the only exception, but only because they have been a unit from the very beginning. And Drakon… Jurian can’t say why, but he annoys him even more than the others. Right now, though, that sentiment feels ridiculous.

He nods towards Drakon’s plate. “You brought food?”

“Yes.” Drakon looks relived as he looks down at the plate. “From the camp kitchen, but better than nothing.” He carefully steps over a few glass shards and sits down next to Jurian. “Oh, your hand.”

Jurian frowns down at his fingers. Only now does he notice that his left hand is covered in dried blood. “Oh.” He carefully opens the hand and looks at the deep cut in his palm.

“You got bandages anywhere here?”, Drakon asks.

He puts the plate on the bed next to Jurian and begins searching the destroyed tent for bandages. He finds some under a shattered piece of wood and begins to carefully bandage Jurian’s hand.

After that, they sit together on the bed in silence. Jurian picks around at his food, but can’t quite get himself to eat more than a few bites. Drakon, to his credit, doesn’t try to force a conversation on him.

It must have been hours when Jurian finally breaks the silence. “I should have apologized”, he says, “I don’t know why I didn’t. I just…” He runs his fingers through his hair. His hand is throbbing so badly that he doubts he’ll be able to hold a weapon tomorrow. “I’m so angry”, he says, “Always. I know I shouldn’t be, but I can’t stop it.”

“You have every right to that anger”, Drakon says softly, “Every human does, I think.” He looks down at his fingers. “I’m sure Miryam will understand.”

Jurian hopes she will. He hopes that his words didn’t break something between them beyond repair. They go back to sitting together in silence. Somehow, Drakon’s presence comforts him. This, he remembers, is why he became friends with Drakon in the first place.

Hours must have passed when the tent’s entrance flaps open and Miryam slips inside. Jurian freezes, staring at her. Miryam stares back. Slowly, precisely, Jurian sets down his plate. Drakon’s wings rustle as he shifts around uncomfortably. Miryam steps from one foot to the other. The silence stretches on and Jurian realizes that he has to be the first to speak.

“I’m sorry”, Jurian says. “About what I did, but also… I don’t know why I said all the things, I never meant…” He sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Jurian wishes she would yell at him. Or at least scold him. Then maybe, this matter might at least feel like it’s somewhat settled. He did something wrong. If she’d get angry at him, then they would at least come close to being even and they could go on from there.

“I understand”, Miryam adds, “Why you did it. I just wish you’d told me.”

“I should have”, Jurian agrees, “I meant to.”

Miryam nods. Looks down at her feet. Next to Jurian, Drakon seems to be doing his best to disappear into thin air.

“Then let’s move on from this. “I don’t want to argue about this anymore”, Miryam says softly, “This war is terrible enough as it is. I won’t allow it to…” She shakes her head. “I refuse to let this drive a rift between us.”

Jurian nods. “Yes. Yes, this is…”

He nods again and looks around, desperate to find a way to change the subject. Next to him, Drakon is now carefully inspecting a feather in his left wing. He looks up when he notices Jurian’s attention and smiles nervously. Jurian hesitates for a moment, then smiles back.

Miryam sits down on the bed between them. Slowly, carefully, Jurian reaches for her hand. She takes it.

“We’ll get through this”, she says. “The three of us together.”

They spend the entire night like this, huddled closely together on the small bed. None of them says a word, but they don’t need to. They just sit together. Trying to convince themselves that their friendship is still the same. Pretending that there aren’t cracks running through the very foundation of their friendship, that they aren’t drifting apart further each day.

It will be the last night they spent together like this.

----

A/N: I really hope Jurian's point of view comes accross in this chapter as well. His actions and reactions are a bit irrational at times, but I think with the situation he's in, that's understandable.

Tags: @croissantcitysucks @sjm-things @clolikescloquetas

#i want them to remain friends #so #badly #but this isn't how it goes #and we're unfortunately moving towards the end rather quickly #miryam #jurian #drakon #before the wall #i'm kind of breaking my own heart here

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fictionalplagueproductions · 4 years

Text

If The World Was Ending

Part 2 - It Didn’t Scare Me

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Story Summary: Gavin is on the hunt for his missing android when the U.S. Government announces the end of the world. The end of his world. A world without his precious Nines.

Chapter Summary: Connor has managed to escape the clutches of android genocide, but Gavin isn't sure if the same can be said for Nines.

Pairing: Reed900 (Gavin Reed x RK900)

Rating: Explicit

Notes:

Based on the song “If the World Was Ending” by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels.

Short Three-Part Story (so I can channel this desire to make Reed900 come alive)

The progress of Gavin’s relationship with Nines was practically nonexistent. Between a man who refused to admit to his faults and an android built without social protocols, it was near impossible to get anything to happen. Not to mention, android prejudice was becoming a real threat for androids and their sympathizers.

Jim Crow laws had nothing on the division that androids were undergoing now, being collected and forced into the entire state of Michigan, that is. The government called it a “remedial period” in order to adjust to android integration and develop the proper rights specific to robotic sentients. Humans were allowed to stay if they elected to; some left, most begrudgingly stayed due to the inconvenience of moving.

There had been a few brave souls to come out about their relationships with the opposing species during this time. Gavin and Nines weren’t one of them. Rather, Gavin had not been. Although fresh into deviation, Nines was willfully blind to the hatred that people inflicted upon androids (despite the illegality of it). He had been prepared to tell the entire precinct the day they first kissed but didn’t per Gavin’s request.

He wasn’t ready.

Setting aside political excuses, Gavin was his own relationship inhibitor. Commencing these romantic interests with Nines was refuting the false exterior he had displayed for so long. Coming out to the world would create problems he was dead set on carrying with him to the grave. He had upkept a heterosexual reputation for so long, he wasn’t sure how to be anything else around his family and coworkers without embarrassing himself by mocking silly stereotypes. It didn’t help that Gavin was notorious for being against androids – what insults would he be subject to if they all knew?

As anyone might guess, there was hardly a “honeymoon phase” for the private couple. What they considered “dates” would have been any ordinary lunch break or sleepover for the typical person. It’s not that they didn’t enjoy the time they spent together, but it was always anti-climactic and never much contributed to the progression of their relationship.

For several months, doubt stacked against them.

It became second nature to squabble with one another when they crossed paths merely to maintain utmost confidentiality. They had both agreed the effectiveness of this plan; it was the safest preventative measure to anyone discovering the truth. And besides, the feelings of hate for each other would always subside by the end of the day. As soon as the pair stepped into Gavin’s rust-bucket-on-wheels, Nines’ attitude melted like nothing offensive had transpired from his mouth in the last twelve hours.

Gavin could forget for a while. Especially when Nines stared at him in that special way… that pleading, merciful stare which signified he was about to kiss him. Yes, he could forget entirely.

Until one day he couldn’t: a day in which he had found himself lying on Hank Anderson’s living room sofa.

“You don’t have to sit all the way over there, you know? They’ll be out of town for the entire weekend,” Nines had said. “I have their GPS locations, too, in case any plans have been changed.”

Gavin believed his android. That’s not why he distanced himself. “I know,” he mumbled, slaving his eyes to the television.

Nines was silent for several minutes. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” came his contingent response.

The heartbeat indicating Gavin’s pressing existence quickened under the flatline of words. He was sure Nines could and had picked up on it. “Do what?” he snapped back, though his misleading disruptive tone did not match the building fear within him.

“I don’t want to keep pretending.” The android pierced him with a sharp glare. “I don’t like hating you. I was programmed to be emotionless in spite of personifying assimilations. Do you know how difficult it is to override such programs and to express emotions anyway? To feel emotions? Wasting my energy on an action that I have no desire to perform is exhaustive and it confuses my ability to love you.”

Gavin sputtered, “Did you just say ‘lo-’.”

“Please Gavin,” interrupted Nines. He was undeniably aggravated. “It’s put distance between us. I know I have little knowledge and experiences with ‘dating’, but I know that it’s typical to have a common goal of becoming familiar with a chosen partner and sharing such feelings with one another. As far as we’re concerned, we’ve hardly done anything of the sort. I mean, look at you, you’re sitting all the way over there…” Despite the stolidity in his demeanors, his voice cracked for the very first time Gavin had ever witnessed. “…and I want you over here.”

Gavin was no sympathy-cryer, but it was becoming apparent how little credit he gave Nines. He swallowed the building tears down to speak. “I…uh…I didn’t know you were feeling all of this.”

Nines scowled. “I may not be well-versed in the ways of acting the part of ‘boyfriend’, but I thought it was an obvious concept that lovers should want to enjoy their time with each other. I had hoped that this weekend we might have the opportunity to overcome some barriers, that you might be able to tell me you’re ready. I….I… never thought I would be the one stupidly pining over an emotional skin-sack to make some sort of romantic gesture.” He was raising his voice now. “I felt closer to you when you actually hated me before any of this.”

Gavin sunk into the cushions, absorbing the uncertainty his android was exuding all of a sudden. How had he not realized? Nines had always appeared so self-assured about everything. How was he supposed to have realized? His voice relinquished an untrying defeat, “I-I’m sorry. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I’ve always been so terrible…”

“At relationships or in general?” asked Nines, though his facial expression did not indicate a cynical undertone.

“Both,” he heaved. “Nines?”

“Hm?”

Gavin shifted uncomfortably under the burden of his thoughts. “Do you…ahem…uh, love me?”

“Of course, I do.” The android rolled his eyes as if the answer was an obvious one. “What’s this all been about if not for love?”

A growing pause erupted between them, then was broken by the anguished man. “H-How long?”

Nines, all of a sudden, seemed to comprehend the weight of his words and moved his lips apprehensively before speaking their contents. “Some time ago, I suppose. It wasn’t a concept I understood well until Connor pressed me to study and indulge in human culture. For a long time, until then, you were just Detective Reed. And then…”

He slowed to a stop, now staring through Gavin as if recalling the memory. His menacing ring spun red and Gavin half-expected for the android to blow a gasket at the bunched skin forming along his forehead. “…You told me to ‘go fuck myself’ for the one-hundred-and-twentieth time after I had informed you that patching my wounds with bandages and alcohol was futile. Your profane terms, I then realized, came from an endearing place… I found myself considering your actions, thereafter, studying you more than I typically would another human. It eventually led to my affections for you. Why do you ask?”

Gavin, himself, remembered that alarming day like it had happened just yesterday. It was the day he, too, realized he had grown to not regret the android’s presence. “The bullet didn’t hit a biocomponent, Detective Reed,” Nines had groaned. In that moment, the simulated pain erupting from his partner’s movements embodied that of a true human. It was more than convincing, so much so that Gavin was still very much convinced to this day that he was, in fact, human.

“That-That is a big word, Nines. It’s…not just ‘like’. It’s a complicated word.” He couldn’t bring himself to say it again. It was a word that burned his tongue every time it bugged up his throat; a humiliating form of gutting your innards and displaying them to the world.

His android considered this for a moment. “Love is described in several different ways, existing dependently on the perception of a person and what they value in another. I value your stubborn loyalty, Gavin, and the way you stupidly care for my wellbeing.” Another pause. “Do you love me, Gavin?”

That damned word roared through Gavin’s head, stirring in disbelief that someone had the ability to say it so confidently; and to have someone so perfect say it to him… Could he say it back? Could he even push the syllable through his lips? As bitter as it tasted, his response was not a matter of knowing the answer, but rather recognizing the consequences that accompanied his candor.

Could he say it?

“Yeah,” he exhaled, then corrected with a stronger “yes.” An immediate blush flushed from his ears to his toes. What an idiot, he had thought to himself immediately. Somehow, the admittance attracted more humility.

Nines smiled but made haste in his following words: “I’ve been an obedient android for most of my short life,” he spoke rigidly. “Now, I have to demand of you that things change if our relationship is to advance into more intimate parameters. You may have some time to figure out how you desire to go about it, but I require it to be within the next thirty days.” Regardless of his human’s wandering eyes, Nines coerced them to land safely on his own. “I love you, Gavin,” he said firmly, lulling into a softer tone. “I love you and I want more than this silly scheme you’re trying to conduct.”

“It’s not that eas-” Gavin tried, quickly cut off by his partner.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear a single word you say when you’re sitting all the way over there!”

The android smirked, knowing his partner was fully aware of his keen hearing abilities. Bullheadedly, Gavin remained glued to his spot. “Okay,” hummed Nines, shifting onto all fours and crawling overtop of his human’s sprawled body. He slipped a palm underneath the awaiting man’s chin and flickered a glance to his lips. “You know I always get my way, why do you beset me to this tactic every time?”

Gavin turned away, forcing himself not to fall for the android’s seductive touch.

“That’s never worked either.” Nines fixed the man’s gaze back onto him with a gentle press against his cheek. “Gavin? I’m not asking. I may be android, but my deviancy is as untame as your own human chaos. And you’re not alone. I will help you through this.”

Gavin bit at his lip, still attempting to avoid eye contact but ultimately unable to resist the reflective pools pouring infirmity into him. “All right,” he breathed. “I-I’ll do it.”

It was the right answer. Nines had never been the greatest at reading into signs, but he was sure now – without the aid of dubious internet forums – that he should kiss this man that he loved. And he reminded this man that he loved him as he planted his lips gently onto his taut skin. Afterwards, Nines leaned back, gazing at his boyfriend expectantly. “I love you, too,” said he finally, cracking a genuine smile for possibly the first time in days.

Clearly satisfied, Nines hooked around Gavin’s jawline and dove down to meet him hungrily, asking now for a more invigorating stimulation. He shivered when fingers snaked through his synthetic locks, returning the intimate gesture.

Making out was about as far as they had ever gone. Keeping things a secret on top of their natural boundaries made for uneventful cock-blocks. But after everything that had ensued, Gavin was ready to take it to the next level.

Everyone would know about them by the end of the week, anyway; he would tell them all. Nines, the “socially inept” android wanted to be his boyfriend publicly. How could Gavin say no to such requests when his partner had already overcome a great feat himself? It was his turn, now.

Shit, Nines loved him.

From below, he slipped a clutching hand beneath the android’s indigo turtleneck and sunk fingernails into plastic skin that felt so real. Nines copied the action from on top of him. They were mostly motionless save for their conjoined mouths, and the lack of bodily movement didn’t concern Gavin at first. But when his android let a grunt slip, there was no restraining the leg that mounted over Nines’ ass and the upward thrust that grew Gavin to the vastness of his length. He wasn’t sure if Nines knew how to properly reciprocate, though Gavin was more than happy to continue to oblige in the repetitive movements.

The body became stiff above him and it fell in response. Not quite what he was expecting.

Nines then dropped into dead weight altogether, halting Gavin’s accelerating speed. “I don’t know what you want.”

“What do you mean?” asked Gavin. He thought it had been more than obvious what he was trying to segue into. After the bathroom incident, Gavin had ignorantly assumed all androids were capable of “doing it”. Had he been wrong? “Can you not-?”

“I can perform sexual actions, if that’s what you mean. It’s just, I’m not yet equipped.”

“Oh.” His wonder did not end there, curious as to how the part would attach and what was in place of the regular male form. Gavin imagined a bare Ken Doll, nakedly plastic in all its glory, sporting a mere bulge with no real appendage to put on display. The fickle state his android appeared to be in, however, told him tonight wasn’t the night to pry about such curiosities. “That’s okay, I was feeling tired anyways. Let’s just finish this movie.”

The android hesitated before sliding off of him and positioning himself along the edge of the couch, allowing himself to be encompassed by Gavin’s smaller yet protective frame. Although Gavin had hoped for more after exchanging such heavy vows, having his boyfriend back in his arms was satisfying enough. He fastened himself tightly around Nines like he would dissipate into thin air and rested a chin neatly over his blue LED.

Moments passed, then it flickered red. “Gavin? I’m still aroused, you know? After all, endorphins – human and android – aren’t produced in the genitalia.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“I’m saying,” continued Nines with a growing devious grin, “that just because one of us doesn’t have the part, doesn’t mean we can’t still have a pleasing night.” The android looked over his shoulder at his human, feeling a lump beginning to swell against his backside.

Gavin felt his breath go hot as Nines shifted to face him, his expression spoiled with desire.

They had sex for the very first time on Hank Anderson’s couch.

A week later, Gavin was regretting the memory. Not because it wasn’t a pleasant one – in fact, it was so pleasant that, despite the harrowing circumstances, a warmth built in his groin when Connor invited him to take a seat in the exact spot that Nines had been bent over for him. But the feeling did not last long, soon replaced by a pang of melancholy.

Where was Nines now and why wasn’t he with Connor?

“I thought you knew?” asked the RK800. “He was with you last night when they broke the news…” He sat across from Gavin on the love seat.

“W-What? No he wasn’t-.”

Connor dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Nines isn’t that sneaky. Even in my stasis, I could hear him fumbling with the doorknob. ‘Faster, stronger, and more resilient’, sure, but not a single drop of stealth thirium in him,” he snickered as a side-note. “He also hates lying, so he had a shaky alibi at best when I questioned his whereabouts. I was able to eventually put two-and-two together when your bickering increased excessively, assisted by no considerable motive.” Through a heavy frown, the older android managed to yank a line into the end where his lips met and grinned at the reddening man. “Did I crack the case, Detective?”

Gavin moaned, “I didn’t come here to play games. Look, even if all that were true – which I’m not saying it is – I just want to know where he is.” Desperation edged into his voice. “O-Or to know that he’s safe.”

“I wish I could say that he is. He…He left a few hours ago.”

“What?” Gavin nearly jumped out of his seat. “Where did he go? It’s not safe for him out there right now!”

“I know that. He chose to leave on his own accord. We share many qualities, but while hiding out here, he came to this strange conclusion that androids weren’t meant to coexist with humans. He thinks androids are the reason the country has become divided.” After every word that fell from Connor’s mouth, Gavin’s hope strained like a game of Jenga; a slow removal, piece-by-piece, that would inevitably lead to a thundering tumble. “He said it was for the best that everything was happening the way it was…”

“Spit it out already, Tin Can. Where’d he go?”

Connor choked on his final sentence, somehow appearing shocked by the words ghosting in his throat. “Nines turned himself into the nearest camp.”

In all his years of detective work, Gavin would never have suspected an android such as Nines to act as a martyr for his entire race. No, scratch that; this wasn’t a martyr. How could that be so if Nines was against his own kind?

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Gavin entered into a growl, targeting Connor now. The android seemed torn up about it as much as he was, but his was the only face he could put forth blame.

“I tried, Gavin, but you know Nines as well as I do, if not better. When his mind is made up…well, I guess you guys really made quite the match.”

“Yeah…” was all he could manage in response. Images of a Nines stripped of all of his human clothing and skin pulsed afront the detective’s own eyes. Fear rung his heart like a punching bag. It was enough to cause him to lose his breath, enticing a sharp black movement across his sights, and suddenly the world was but a dream.

He woke up to Connor placing ice cubes over his wrists and speaking to him softly. “Nines loved you, you know? It was obvious to both Hank and I. Hank wasn’t too thrilled about it…but Nines seemed much happier for a long time after we figured it out. And really… how can we be mad when you showed him what makes deviation so remarkable? What makes… being human so remarkable?”

Gavin shot up from the floor, pushing the android’s helping hands out of the way. “Iye needta go find ‘im.” The older RK did not follow him out the door – he couldn’t have stopped him, anyway.

Nines was out there somewhere.

He wasn’t dead yet.

Gavin could feel it.

Even when he traversed the local camps that had already been put up in the last ten hours without any sign of the broad android, Gavin pushed on.

He pushed on, assuring himself that Nines was still present in this world.

Nines was here.

He had to be.

He had to be, didn’t he? After all, androids were built to endure for much longer than the fragile human life. It was humans that grew determinately, breaking back down into simple compounds and returning to the earth after just a few decades. Nines was supposed to watch him grow old.

No, Nines was not supposed to be the one to die.

Nines deserved to live more than any one of them, android or human.

It wasn’t supposed to be him.

When, finally, the sun was set far beyond its mantle, Gavin had to call it a night. And furthermore, painfully accept the mortality of his partner, of his boyfriend.

It wasn’t a fair conclusion. Androids were sentenced to death because the U.S. government couldn’t handle the thought of losing another source of enslavement. As selfish as Gavin was to journey only to save his android, his mind had developed change over just a few short months. It was hard to deny their sentience, since denying it would have meant that Gavin was falling for a toaster.

No, it was unfair and there was nothing he could do.

Nines was gone. The one good thing that had entered his life was gone.

And there was nothing he could do.

Anger boiled through his fingertips as he went to climb out of his car.

There was nothing he could do.

Gavin tossed his backpack onto the concrete ledge to retrieve later and faced the open car door. He clenched a fist around the handle and slammed it shut. Then he opened it again, shoving the damned metal with two hands now back into place. He did this several times, hastening his pace until he was sure the metal had forged a new crater.

Nines was gone.

Gavin thumped his head against the roof and angled an arm around himself protectively. That’s when the sobbing commenced. A few hot tears first burned in his sockets procured from the heat of the moment, then subsequently melted into a downpour of bitter release. Saltwater oozed past his cheeks, mingling with the slimy discharge that leaked from his nose, and adhering further down to the drool that he lacked even the simplest of strength to swallow.

With each internal repetition of his own mantra, he slammed his head harder into the rusted metal:

“He’s gone.”

Thump.

“He’s gone.”

Thump.

And there was nothing he could do.

Nothing.

Not a single goddamn thing.

Time was a mere subjective entity to the broken man. It wasn’t until the chilling air exhausted his exoskeleton of numbness that he realized his tears ducts were emptied and his feet ached for cushion. Gavin drudged up the staircase to his apartment, stumbling over every step and dragging his pack by the tips of two fingers. It reminded him of all the times he had needed Nines’ assistance through his drunken stupors. His now lost ability to climb during these muddled states came as a surprise to Gavin; he had become more dependent on the android than expected.

Eventually, Gavin achieved his minor plight, falling against his apartment door and gripping the handle for balance. It took several heaves to catch his breath and a few extra beats in between for courage before he could bind the lock with its respective key; a distinguishable challenge on its own through the bubble beginning to well from his bottom eyelids. When the door swung open, Gavin could do nothing more than to stumble inside and accept the turmoil his heart revved within him.

As he went to kick the door shut, however, a movement startled his quakes into stillness and he called out into the darkness. “Who’s there?”

Heavy stepping erupted from his room and Gavin was quick to reach for his concealed carry. Slowly, the light above him crawled along the body of a man with hands raised in surrender. A red circular blink raised high among the shadow identified him before the light could touch his face.

“Gavin,” lamented a voice, just above a whisper. Bright grey eyes reflected under the aged fluorescence, glimmering wistfully at him.

The bubbles swishing in Gavin’s sights finally popped, spilling over and singing his raw skin. His hands separated from each other and the gun went slack at his side, him ogling the floor while doing so – refusing to believe the illusion set in front of him. Then, without any preamble, he recoiled his arm and tossed the firearm recklessly into the wall beside of Nines.

The android did not move.

“You fuck-fucking shithead!”

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