#and i cannot begin to describe how sad and angry that makes me feel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkskinned · 2 years

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Genuine question, because I don't know a lot about the topic and you're:

If someone identifies as non-binary and genderfluid, which from what I've gathered means something like "human" instead of male or female, doesn't that imply that women are not humans , like whole complete people with richer inner lives? And why is a dislike for (performative) femininity combined with a preference for things that are stereotypically associated with maleness an indicator that one is genderfluid? Does that mean a woman is only a woman if she loves to do make-up, wants to be a mother, only wears skirts, dresses and high heels, shaves daily, is always kind and never angry, has long hair, hates to get dirty and so on? Because I have never met a woman who's exactly like that in my life, but plenty who liked gaming, sports, being loud, opposed to shaving & make-up, who wore pants every day.

I do not believe this is a genuine question, but I'll answer it as if it was, just in case other people have to deal with this, and would like someone who is patient enough to give them the words. The argument you're making here is something that already stems from a deep logical fallacy in the beginning argument. You assume "If you are neither A nor B, and instead C, you think that A cannot be C."

It is a logical fallacy to say "X implies Y" when it does not do so. By this logic, I also believe men are not human. By this logic, I believe only nb people are human.

Some - but not all - rectangles are squares. Some - but not all - animals are dogs. Some humans are nb.

I have given no information about how I present, nor my interests. I am not going to give you that information, because it's irrelevant. What I need you to understand is that, again, you are making the incorrect logical assumption that "If a person dislikes X and likes Y, they must be Z." For all you know, I dislike performative masculinity and like stereotypically feminine preferences.

You then assume your own statement is correct and move forward with your logic as if I had debated you. This is not a "genuine question" about how nb people work, this is assuming being nb is based on a series of preferences.

As a teacher, I do think it's important to tell you: even if this is coming from a genuinely confused place: you are conducting bad research. You begin with an inherently flawed question, as it biased and assumes a position I must defend against - "why don't you see women as people?" Then you make logical conclusions about my personhood and experiences and ask inflammatory questions as if you were debating me, which I am not interested in doing.

If you were my student, and genuinely curious about how nb people see gender, I'd have no trouble with you asking an out nb content creator. If you're really trying to collect information, ask honestly, without personal bias. Here's some examples of what a genuine question would have looked like: - Do your preferences play into your gender identity? - How has being nb informed how you see femininity and masculinity? - What tools do you use to express your gender?

You are mistaking gender expression and gender roles as being part of my identity.

You are most crucially mistaking being nonbinary as being part of the binary and having to exist "in opposition" to other genders in order for it to "make sense". One of the most freeing things about realizing I was nb is that I don't exist in opposition to anything - and also that all gender works similarly.

Gender is a describing word, and this can be confusing for some people. In general, we tend to learn describing words in binary - short/tall, old/young, kind/mean. Therefore, there are (many) people who think - feminine/masculine must be oppositional. Gender is also a feeling word - and again, these are words that can be taught in opposition to each other. Hungry/sated, happy/sad, feminine/masculine.

But because gender is such a rare type of word - feeling and describing - it exists outside of binary. It exists more like art exists.

Green can exist in opposition to red, but it also just exists as its own color. Blue is a part of green, but it is also a part of yellow - blue is still its own color, and yellow is still its own color, and green is still its own color. One painting titled "still-life with fruit" may be a series of vague colors and boxes. Another may be a hyper-realistic singular plum. They are both how the artist expresses their personal vision of the fruit. They might even be by the same artist! And although we may compare them, they are not opposites.

One song by Hozier is not in opposition to one song by Britney Spears. They are different styles, not oppositional styles. You may choose to see them as oppositional - but that is your personal opinion, and not fact. And some people may feel and experience those songs as being actually incredibly in-line with each other.

This is why we say: gender is a spectrum. That all gender roles are made up. Personality, interests, and experiences may shape how someone sees and feels their gender, but it does not define how they see and feel their gender.

When we question gender roles and gender expression like this, it tends to make people upset. People like me tend to make people upset. So much bigotry is based on the lie that "feminine" and "masculine" are oppositional. Opposition is rigid and important - it keeps white hegemonic structures in power. I don't have time or space in this post to talk about how rigid gender roles/enforced gender expression rules are not just sexist but also racist, classist, ableist, homophobic, and bigoted; but I really recommend you do the research on how disruption of the gender binary might put the patriarchy at risk.

The thing you feel trapped by - that "being a woman" is a complicated series of rules - is exactly the kind of thing a nonbinary person would agree with you about. We have to fight hard to be recognized for what is a basic truth about our identity - of course we don't believe that gender expression is equivalent to gender identity.

And truth be told... I think you kind of knew that. I think you kind of knew all of this. I am going to hope that you are young. I'll tell you this: I was raised by someone who was a far-right extremist catholic asshole. I certainly didn't have the research/knowledge/exposure to interrogate this stuff honestly until I was probably 23.

I am so much happier now. I hope one day you get the same opportunities as I had. I hope you choose to move away from bigotry.

love u anyway. all this in kindness only.

#to be deleted #do i accidentally give my short lesson on gender here? yeah #<3 in this u can tell exactly the age that i taught for 15 years lmao #but also like.#yeah you got me.... i have never met a woman before and i totally think women are only fembots #meanwhile every person who has ever read my writing:#every 3rd week this bitch is on her bullshit about how unfair gender rules for women are #this is actually more to help other nb people whom i KNOW get questions like this #than it is to inform the anon #who like v clearly is not doing this in good faith #this is just like the 10th one i got like this #that first logical jump of - you think ur not male or female but human so therefore #women aren't people #was just SO wild .... like #yeah!!! that's totally a normal thing to assume!#do you think people who are like ''well yeah im from america #but i wouldnt consider myself to be from any particular state''#are actually saying ''i don't think states are american''#hell when i say #im cuban but i obvi grew up in america im just the daughter of an immigrant #nobody is like -- well. raquel. that means u think no americans live in cuba huh #anyway love u bye #okay to reblog #!!#love u

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chryblossomjjk · 1 year

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bts fic recommendations | 01.10.23

→ hi friends! this is a little segment i do every tuesday (reviewsday get it, aren't i funny, pls tell me how funny i am) where i read and review two-three fics. as a content creator, i know how big of a role other creators play in your growth, therefore, i want to do my part in making sure everyone gets the recognition they deserve! so with that being said, please check out the amazing fics listed below. make sure to like, reblog, and leave feedback! ♡ #reviewsday #kikirecs

pina coladas (pt 1 + pt 2) - @han-nah-banana (jjk x reader | established relationship, smut, angst, fluff)

ok so um... the attention to detail is off the charts! like when the little things you mention about jungkook and oc, like them eating healthy foods, only having sex in the missionary position, etc. tells us so much about them and the status of their relationship. like you showed us that they were stuck in a boring, mundane relationship through little hints and i really love that. ALSO POV SHIFT IN PART ONE WAS SO GOOD! like the way their thoughts mirrored one another was such good storytelling ugh!!! also think you picked a great setting for this type of story, the 80s. it makes everything feel so real, like the sexual repression oof! so glad they got to bang it out in the sexiest way in pt 2! really really good for your first fanfic like WOW! loved it!

i can do better - @here4btsfics (pjm x reader | fwb, smut)

summary: your boyfriend of two years just dumped you and you’re angry and sad. so get hammered with your coworker at his place and eat bad food and watch trash tv which leads to some interesting conversations.

bro all you did is enforce my delusions that irl men cannot compete bc they are not park jimin. men should apologize for not being park jimin at this point. even kim taehyung... anywho lmao. DUDE and then oc listing all the things perfect about jimin. she is just like me fr!!! also like this is kind of how i picture jimin in real life ngl. THAT MAN IS A COCKY CONFIDENT DOM I WILL ARGUE THIS SHIT UNTIL IM BLUE IN THE FACE GTFO! and miss oc... no strings attached girl??? A WHOLE BLUFF. honestly, this entire fic is one of my daydreams when im in a lecture and i fucking loved every second of it bby! so so good. so glad you decided to start writing again, extremely proud of you.

darksided - @eoieopda (myg x reader | established relationship, smut)

summary: min yoongi adored you. he'd simply never hurt you.

i saw someone post about smut where the characters are so grossly in love is their fav genre. this is exactly that. this fic encompasses everything i love in fanfic. i felt like a fly on the wall, being dropped into the middle of the situation where i figure out who the characters are through their actions, words, etc. you do that so perfectly here. like the way i know everything i need to know about min yoongi through the FUCKING setting?? naur this is s tier writing right here. also there's just something you do with words thats v magical. can't put my finger on exactly what it is but here is an example:

"a quick survey of the landscape before you indicated that this was a criminal oversimplification."

LIKE IDK JUST SOMETHING ABOUT HOW YOU STRUCTURE SENTENCES IS GENIUS! like cannot even begin to describe how good this was. would die for this couple honestly. the smut had me clenching too OOF. so cool to see what you've accomplished on this platform in such a short period of time! it's so so deserved and i can't wait to see where you go from here. don't know how you can even get better than this like ur already at the moon um!!! but god it's only going to get better from here. like next thing u know u'll be a famous writer fr. wishing you nothing but the fucking best!!!!

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patrocles · 1 year

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*guy who knows fuck all about twilight voice* i cannot even begin to describe how interested i am in your extremely specific thoughts on twilight. especially in regard to its takes on classism

I appreciate you so much for saying that especially since everything following this will be so deeply incoherent.

This is mainly in regards to the films since I've seen them recently and I haven't read the books since I was like 14.

The thing about Twilight is that the two defining discourses that dominated this series were "Is Bella a bad Feminist" and "Team Edward vs Team Jacob".

The idea that Bella (aged 17), upon meeting Edward (aged 109) and begins dating him, is ready to give up everything in her life to marry him, die, and become a vampire and devoting her entire life to him; does this set back womanhood decades or is this simply Bella exercising her free will. And the other being which guy is better for Bella, the mega wealthy Edward who can provide everything for her or working class poor Jacob who's the childhood friend.

Twilight didnt define the tropes of love triangles or even the concept of the girl plucked from obscurity and given the fairytale life by someone so insanely rich who could have chosen anyone but still chooses her. It's not even an objectively bad fantasy to explore. But I think what's kinda unique to Twilight and I think what a lot of bad booktok romance novels can trace their tropes back to in Twilight, is this idea that wealth can excuse any wrong-doing.

Edward is deeply controlling of Bella, he's condescending and belittles her, he grooms her, he leaves her deeply traumatized when he randomly abandons her in the second book/novel to the point of near catatonic depression. But ultimately at the end of the day it's fine because what Edward can provide for Bella makes it all worth it! He can take her places and buy her things, of course she'll be humble but that's why she's so #real. Hell it doesn't even matter that we don't even know what they even like about each other beyond mutual obsession and possession in the general sense. And this is something that's so pervasive in the romance genre, it's what spawned 50 Shades specifically. Abuse, physical or emotional, is excused by obscene wealth because what's temporary discomfort and domineering misogyny to private jets and mansions.

If we're being honest, the question of whether or not Bella is a good or bad feminist character is sort of moot when what we're actually seeing is just a sad story of an emotionally isolated girl have her entire existence wrapped up in Edward and know that she's never going to have a come-to-Jesus moment and value her own self worth over Edward. There's a scene in Eclipse when she tells Jacob that immediately after graduation, she's going to marry Edward and become a vampire like him. Jacob is angry about this but it's not even a "pick him over me" moment, but as a friend who doesn't want to see his best friend give up her entire existence to this guy. Even says, "he's got his hooks in you so deep". There's another scene when her father, (the MVP), just wants her to see her other friends outside of Edward and have some sort of life outside of Edward and it's almost like a metatextual awareness that SOMEONE in this story recognizes that Bella is being groomed and that this is all really REALLY toxic. It's a horror story! But of course it immediately pivots back to star crossed lovers bullshit because LOOK, Edward took her to a private island and they can travel the world. But more than anything it feels like they’re trying to establish a sort or attempt at a balance but what’s scary is knowing that Jacob and Charlie’s concerns and reservations are essentially pointless and empty compared to Edward’s financial and physical capabilities and the depth of his grooming in Bella. It’s actually charming that Charlie thinks he can realistically stand a chance against Edward if he really wanted to establish true parental control over his child. Like it’s genuinely sad to watch, actually.

And sure, so much of that we can write off as just being dated at worst. But definitely not end of the world stuff especially considering where that kind of trope has grown into way more severe cases of straight of kidnap/rape fantasy in mafia romance erotica we see today. Which is kind of MAD when you think about what teen girls were reading in the 00s versus what the teens of today are reading. I guess thanks Steph for being Mormon and keeping it PG???

But for ME, PERSONALLY, what's been kinda itching my brain in relation to this is how this pertains to Jacob. It is hard to view Twilight as mere late 00s nostalgia campy mess when I think about how absolutely awful Jacob is treated by the narrative for the sole crime of not being Edward, and by extension, wealthy. This isn't even about which guy was better for Bella, but how the story decides it was necessary for the reader to know that Jacob was NOT the correct option. He goes from earnest good guy who genuinely cares for Bella's physical and emotional well being as just a friend to her when Edward abandoned her, to basically a fucking incel who can't respect boundaries, and then Edward and Bella's lapdog in their happily ever after for no other reason than the narrative demanding it happen for Bella and Edward to be together. And for you the reader to want that to happen.

I've never been able to divorce the racial and classist undertones to this narrative choice to this. In a lot of media that came after that deals with love triangles, the "Jacob archetype" eventually became the often times not white, best friend, good guy type who was never really The One, but just another option for our Main Girl to explore until she gets back to the The One.

But thing is, Jacob was never just random guy option 2. He was working class poor and indigenous. A lot of his character is defined by this and his culture. And this HONESTLY made the Cullens animosity towards Jacob and the Pack kind of actually ridiculous and racist. Like I get Steph was just using the trope of Vampires and Werewolves: eternal enemies, but that isn't really applicable here when the shapeshifting isn't an trait that can be passed on to anyone like vampirism, but something unique to these specific people whose land they're infringing upon. So the little side digs and remarks and the absolute audacity that the Quileutes are just being so unreasonable when the Cullens have the money and means to live anywhere, but choose this boundary of a poor people who're merely trying to keep what's theirs, and we're still supposed to root for the Cullens because they're the Good Ones is like........... girl okay.

And this is all completely secondary to the way Steph appropriated the Quileute tribe, fucked around with their cultural traditions to invent her own lore, never financially compensated the tribe despite her and the producers of the films making MILLIONS, and two of the actors featured in the first film were recast for New Moon because they wouldn't cut their hair. BUT I DIGRESS.

I watched the New Moon special features where Chaske Spencer (who plays Sam) talks about how Jacob's house was extremely authentic to places he lived on his reservation. I'm not indigenous, but I did grow up working class poor and I personally always loved that this was a factor to Jacob and the pack. It didn't define them as people, but provided a sort of grounding depth and relatability that makes you want to explore them more. It isn't a lot but it's something. And hell, even Bella comes from a working class background which I genuinely liked especially as a youth when I'm trying to find some way to connect to this perfectly pretty white character.

But what's kinda frustrating in so many ways is how despite the alleged importance of Jacob and the Pack to the overall story, they are shelved so much. So we really don't get to see them, explore them as characters, their dynamics, and the tribe much as much as they could have been except for the very few times it's relevant to Bella and Edward. And given that Breaking Dawn specifically was TWO FILMS, there was no excuse for it. And it feels insulting to have the concept of the Pack, but we have to save our precious screen time for Bella and Edward playing chess.

I don’t even think people really understand just how almost non existent it is to see authentic depictions of lower/working class people in these kinds of stories. If you’ve never grown up poor it’s probably not something you even notice, just how default upper middle class almost everything (especially in YA) actually is. I think it’s something people don’t want to have to tackle so it just gets avoided? Unless we specifically need the 1 side character who is The Poor Friend, we need to have characters be in financially comfortable positions so the Plot can happen without having to worry about pesky things like bills. And so again, in that sort of authenticity it’s a double edged sword because while that is great to have included in a series like this, the classist undertones are so pervasive in how so much of Edward’s allure to Bella is rooted in wealth. A sort of inherent superiority to her own simple, non important life because of the trappings of his dress, his car, his mansion. There’s an unearned moral goodness that’s applied to Edward because of how we as a society view wealthy people as being inherently good and well meaning despite their actions consistently contradicting this. And it isn’t hard to see the ways in which this grooms Bella and that we the viewer must applaud this, cheer this, and would be aghast and disgusted if Bella was put off by the grandeur and wealth and wanted nothing to do with it because why would you possibly give that up? Again she can have the allusion of financial independence with a cute little job, but we know it isn’t necessary. We arent really meant to support the Quileute’s animosity towards the Cullens because they’re being irrational despite having bigger stakes that are considered frivolous and irrelevant to the Cullens (like retaining land autonomy). The best that Jacob could ever achieve in this story is to be at service to the Cullens and that’s meant to be a happy ending for him. Whatever his hopes and dreams were are inherently inferior to how important being the guard dog to a half vampire miracle child.

So yeah. I get the whole Twilight Renaissance, I get why people go back to it especially as it pertains to girlhood nostalgia. The soundtracks remain in constant rotation. I get why people want to reclaim the thing that made them happy in their youth when society shamed them for it as being just Cringe Girl Stuff. But for ME, it is hard for me to watch these and not be icked with how a lot of things were portrayed especially when it could have been a better story.

#yeah idk #i dont even have a thesis here just a stream of consciousness #i cant even begin to think about the absolute shit show that the TV series is going to be #when i was in my sickbed like a year ago i wrote an outline of twilight as a psycho thriller horror series #then i thought-- why am i wasting my time on this #twilight

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overgrownmoon · 9 months

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haven’t doomposted in a while. time to fill the quota

yea i’m typing this right after i reblogged that climate crisis post.

where do i start? how do i describe how much i love plants and animals and fungi, how much i live to learn about them, rattle off facts and look at them in nature and admire how strong they are? how do i begin to describe the depth of my sadness that i don’t know how to take care of them, that i don’t know all their names, that i don’t know if i will be able to protect them from the horrors humans have created? i feel so guilty. i feel like i’ve failed them. that i cannot go outside and identify them as easily as my friends and tell them that everything will be okay, that i will nourish them and take care of them just like how my ancient ancestors once did, that i will shelter them from the horrors of consumerism and human greed- it feels like a moral failing. that i have failed my planet and myself.

here’s a great quote from a post i reblogged a while ago: “there’s a hole in my heart where my culture should be.” i feel that every day, growing larger. i want to have roots. i want to have folk knowledge and wisdom about the earth i walk on. i want to know how to use the wild things around me and how to take care of them and cultivate them and show them the proper respect. i’m so angry that i don’t have that. my ancestors, european ancestors, killed and raped the land of the united states and the indigenous people who lived off it. i’m so angry and disgusted that i came from that. that now, centuries later, i no longer have a culture to pass on. i have no songs, no stories, no wisdom. all of that was wiped out by capitalism and genocide. now all i a left with is pieces.

i want to be clear that i have no intention of appropriating indigenous culture. i am white and i will not go and take their culture and participate as if it’s my own. that’s wrong. their culture is not mine to take. all i wish is that i can learn about it, and learn from it, and try to do better than my ancestors did.

i’m just angry that i have to do better than them. that i have to talk this task on my shoulders and learn from what feels like scratch, instead of learning from a community that already understands. i’m. so fucking angry at the world. at everything modern society has taken away. at absolutely everything. it makes me want to shriek and cry. i can’t farm, handsew, dance, do medicine; all knowledge that humans had for thousands of years, shrinking down and away as the conscience of modernism takes over. i hate watching that knowledge slip away. i hate that i couldn’t possible learn about all of it, i’d have to spend a lifetime seeking it out and learning all there is! - and i still have to go work a job and pay taxes instead of dedicating myself to learning what i deem far more important work. aughhhhh.

doompost over. i’m angry and i need a shower.

#doomposting #clownponderings

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theboywhocriedinsilence · 5 months

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12/19/23

I'm not doing well, the past few weeks have been yet another dark period in my life. So much happening... most of which I can't bring myself to discuss even in an anonymous setting like this…it's not YOU… it’s me, and the fact that I can't seem to admit the truths to myself. I'm falling apart, I know it. I feel myself slipping. I am aware of the panic building deep inside of me. I know what the trigger is, but I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how to “fix” it and Everything feels like it’s upside down, I cry one minute and I laugh the next. Sometimes it starts as a laugh and ends as a cry. And I wonder how much strength and will power I really possess, taking a moral inventory, trying to figure out who the I am.

It's just not a good time;

I suppose I should just leave it at that.

I have good ideas,

but not enough heart to stick it out.

Or maybe I’m just not good enough, period?

That's how I feel... not good enough...

not smart enough, or pretty enough,

or thin enough,or rich enough,

or successful enough,

I’m not good enough.

Not Good Enough.

I long to be good enough,

yet that dream has not been realized,

and I wonder if it ever will be.

Lately, I feel nothing...

except emptiness, and hollow...

I can't for the life of me figure out what's wrong.

How did I get this way?

What led to this?

What's wrong with me?

Why can't I make sense of it all.

I think I'm broken.

I feel a heaviness in my heart

something is trying to happen far away

within a part of me I don't remember how to find.

I feel lost

I'm just wandering around within my mind, waiting.

Wishing for someone to tell me what to do and how

but there’s no one to help me.

I cannot allow myself to trust, to lean on anyone.

Been there, done that,

it only ends in more pain, more shame and hurt.

I am on my own with this.

So I write about it,

because that's what I know how to do

and the writing pacifies me

and teases me out of my own thoughts.

I have so much hurt and anger

it’s bubbling to the surface.

Everything around me, and the very fact that I have to go on in the midst of it, whispers to me of my own failure and horribleness as a human being. I know all that I tell myself is not true, but this is not the kind of thing I can just tell myself to stop and be happy.

I see myself as a child. I see a little boy sitting in a dark corner, hugging his knees and trying to be as small and "out of the way" as possible. When he looks at me, his eyes are full of a terrible anger- rage, sadness and pain. he is scared. I have never seen myself so dark. But he is undeniably me, and he must have existed during that time of my life. I have ignored him, I choose to ignore and neglect him, because he did not fit the image I held for others. he makes me think about everything that happened to me. So much anger, so much hurt. he was rejected, hated, abused; never good enough. he was insulted, ridiculed, heart broken, ignored, and left to the back of my mind. The pain from the aftermath is unspeakable. I try to list the things my father said to me- not to relive the memories but to seek guidance through the suffering I never could when I was actually going through it. I try to describe the pain and it's so overwhelming that no words will come. I don't know what to say to him this child . I don't know how to help him exist, how to let myself be angry and hurt, how to bring to life all of the things that I've repressed. I want to express it all, but I don't know where to begin. And I look for something anything, a book, a person, a therapist; anything to show me the way. I suppose there is no way, no road map, nothing but fumbling in the dark, at least that’s been my experience. I try to ignore him, but every night when I close my eyes and I see him, but I cannot sit with him or tell him I am here for him. I am unable to tell him that his pain is real and that he has every right to be angry. I cannot help him or stop his anger or pain. I don’t know how. No one has ever shown me how. And he wants, no he needs, something, and I don't know what to do, or how to help him. I am so tired of walking this road alone.

I am tired of the pain and anger,

but they are mine- a part of me.

And I don’t know where to go from here.

Or if there is anywhere to go from here.

I will never be good enough.

#depressing shit #ecsxpe #rage #dealing with depression

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amrago · 1 year

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Servant of Chaos - 11

So. I write a lot, and today I had a lot of anxiety for various reasons. Therefore I did good in writing today since my MC is an anxious wreck too.

I've decided to share the letter Rosaspina wrote to Felix where he tries to make his dad understand how he feels, what he is going through and the consequences of it on his life.

It's really hard to have a like 7000 year old dad I guess 🤷. Old guy is really trying, but he can't understand any of the things Rosaspina did or thinks. Remember that psychology hasn't been invented yet, and Felix definitely lack the experience to relate to him.

Well. Here is the excerpt.

_______

Father,

I want to start this letter by apologising for my behaviour of yesterday. After a bit of reflection, I came to the conclusion that it is better, for both of us, to clarify our feelings.

First, you noticed my blindness, but you refuse to acknowledge the hurt I feel in my hearts. I feel stabbed, out of breath, agitated, angry and sad a lot. I cry myself to sleep, if I can. Sometimes I cannot and I end up staying up all night only to quiet myself in the early morning when I hear the forest and I begin to feel safe again.

I do not know what this is, but surely, in all of your experience as a healer saw something like the illness I have just described. I do have a couple of medicines with me to ease my feelings, but sometimes it hurts too much and I can not move myself.

At this point I do not think I will ever feel good again, and you helped causing this. There is not an amount of "I'm sorry" that can give me back all the time I have spent living like this, and you should recognise that.You used to write me letters and continued to even when I decided to leave. I do not know the content of those as I never got around to read them. My friends did, on their own. I allowed them because, although I was and I still am angry, I knew it would have come a time where I would have regretted not to read them. If I know them well enough, they still might have them stored somewhere. I will ask someone to read them to me, once I feel better.

But, as I mentioned yesterday afternoon, I need time to process and to understand better what happened.

The fact that you and Mother kept a lot of information from me is making me feel more agitated. You trust the man I have become with a task yourself failed, but you don't know me. You knew, at best, a boy that fell in love with your pupil.

You have no right to put that expectation on myself and burden me with it. It is not my duty to save the world or to fix your mistakes. It is also not my duty to forgive you, no matter how much sympathy I can feel for your situation.

I wish I could forgive you, but deep down I know I cannot. Not now. I also need to understand what kind of agreement you had with Chaos, but how can I trust you? I realised that every answer you can give me, at this moment, will not believed by me. You will argue that you never lie. But you omitted so much information about myself, our existence, our species and ways to live that while not lying, it made me miserable.

And I have the feel that you are still witholding information to me and that there are things you are not going to admit to me. This is within your rights, of course, but you should be aware that for every thing you refuse to say, for every memory you choose to let die, I will be the one paying for it. I have heard many many times you saying that "a life lived in ignorance is not worth of living", how and why did you expected me to live in complete ignorance? I got myself laughed at because of how many things you or Mother did not say back at the Academy.

At the end, while it is still my choice to continue to have a relationship with you, I can confirm that you can help yourself in my decision.

Your son,

Rosaspina."

#writeblr #writing #wip #creative writing #servant of chaos #my writing

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valentina-writes · 3 years

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Craving

A/N: Sorry, that I haven't posted in quite a while! I was lacking motivation a little bit and had a ton of other stuff to do. This one here was not requested, but the idea for it was stuck in my head for a couple days now and I couldn't concentrate on writing anything else. I will probably write some of the open requests soon.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: light smut (only a few paragraphs)

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„Come on, Y/N, we‘re waiting for you!”. Cassian’s voice is calling out to you from the dance floor. Behind him, you spot Mor, looking seriously offended you’re leaving her alone and instead sitting in a corner of Rita’s with a not even half-finished drink in your hand. Rhys and Feyre must be here somewhere too.

Even Azriel is on the dance floor, a rare sight. You can’t help but stare at him, the way his wings glow faintly in the glimmering lights of the club. His body that moves so flawlessly to the rhythm, so unlike the movements you are used to see him perform when training.

Fingers entangled in your hair, the hot feeling of his lips on yours. His voice in your ear, telling you he would take you slowly.

You shake your head as if to get rid of the memory, but still blush as Azriel’s gaze meets yours for a second.

“I’m sorry guys, but I don’t feel like dancing today”, you excuse yourself. That being said, you set down your glass and quickly escape out into the night.

Inhaling the cold air slowly, you try to calm down. It’s not his fault, you remind yourself, that you can’t seem to get over him. That you start thinking in an inappropriate way as soon as your eyes meet.

His lips met your neck, kissing and sucking on it. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, your body begging for him to come closer. As his kisses travel downward you cannot help but moan out his name.

“Y/N is everything okay?”, Mor calls out to you. The fantasy in your head is gone, leaving you restless, yearning for him.

“Yes, I’m fine”, you say, not looking up.

“No, you’re not and you know that”. She’s close enough to see your face now. “What’s wrong?”, she asks. Her eyes soften as she hugs you. Mor must have seen your despair.

“I- it’s nothing, really”. At her strict look, you wince a little bit. You want to tell her. But it’s just so embarrassing.

“I had sex. With Azriel”, you start over, taking a deep breath. But before you can continue, she exclaims: “By the Mother, that’s awesome! When? Why didn’t you tell me?”.

A tear builds up in your eye and before you know it, you’re crying into her shoulder.

“It- it… it was a couple years ago”, you finally manage to say. By now all you can really feel is embarrassment. “And it’s not awesome. Well, it was. But-“. You start sobbing again.

“It was a one-night stand. He… acts as if nothing ever happened, but I can’t stop thinking about it and whenever he looks at me, I-“. You stop talking. It sounds absolutely idiotic, even to you.

But Mor doesn’t look bewildered. Instead, she hugs you even tighter, rubbing your back slightly.

“What happens then, sweetie?”, she asks.

Sighing, you gulp down your embarrassment: “I miss him. A lot. He’s still there, of course. But afterwards he stopped talking to me the way he did before. We’re not as close anymore. And above all I not only miss our friendship …”, your cheeks heat up again, “Since him I’ve never had sex THAT good again, so I stopped having any altogether. And now I’m not only missing him and kind of into him, I’m also sexually frustrated and lonely”.

You did have sex with other males in the succeeding weeks. But none of them had been able to give you the same feeling he did. That indescribable feeling of closure and … being loved. Even though he most likely didn’t love you, because it took him a month to even look at you again.

Mor’s face is a mix of amusement and empathy: “Like… no sex in years? For a guy who fucked you so good but then what? Ignored you? Even though there was this feeling that nobody else could give you?”. You nod, and she actually starts laughing. “Honey, if you weren’t that sad it would be hilarious, because it sure as hell sounds like he’s your mate”.

Your entire world shifts in that moment.

Your sweaty bodies are tangled in his sheets, gasping for air. Azriel’s shadows swirling around you, purring in your ears. With his final thrust, the world around you seems to fade away. There’s just him and you, for a second you don’t even know where his body ends and yours begins anymore.

Shocked, you look at her. “I… that kind of makes sense? But he would’ve talked to me then, wouldn’t he? I … I’m so confused right now”.

Your thoughts are running wild. Was this the reason he ignored you? Because he was overwhelmed? Was he waiting for you to make the first step? Or… Or was he not interested in the bond and wanted to reject it?

“Y/N? Mor? Is everything alright? Rhys told me to look after you, you’ve been gone for quite a while now”. You quickly wipe away your tears at Azriel’s voice. What should you tell him?

Mor winks at you, already making her way back towards the entrance: “Everything alright, shadowsinger. You might want to stay and talk to Y/N for a second though”.

And just like that, Mor vanishes, leaving me alone with Azriel. His wings are slightly shuffling behind his back and his gaze on me looks worried.

“So, uhm what did Mor mean?”. His shadows are coiling closely around his arms, showing how uncomfortable he is.

You inhale slowly, making sense of your thoughts. You find no good solution, so you just decide to start at the beginning.

“A couple of years ago we… after a celebration for you when you came home from a mission we had sex. Do you remember?”. It was almost painful to say this while watching him. Not only was the atmosphere incredibly tense, but also the possibility of him actually having forgotten about it made you sad.

He frowned a little, “I do remember, Y/N. Quite well, actually. But I don’t get what you’re trying to tell me”. For a second, you believe to see a certain hunger in his eyes. An expression you had only seen once on him before.

Nodding, you continue, “There was this… this feeling back then. Something I’ve never felt before. And nobody else has been able to make me feel the same way. I told Mor about it…”

You can’t finish your sentence, he cuts in sharply, “Why are you telling Mor this after years?”. And to himself, almost inaudible, he murmurs, “Don’t think about the other males”. The anger on his face is devastating.

You are absolutely terrified, but know you have to tell him. So, you muster up all of your courage and speek the words aloud that had been on your mind ever since, “Because I am in love with you. Because I don’t know what I should do about this, as you’re so distant all the time. And I cannot take this anymore, I miss you. I hate seeing you with other females. When I can’t fall asleep I think about this connection I felt that night”.

The pure shock on his face quickly gives way to a broad smile. “And what Mor meant is that… when I talked to her and described that feeling to her, she said we are most probably mates”. The last word is purely a whisper hanging in the air between you two. Mates.

And then, without hesitation, he begins to talk. “The first time I felt the bond was about two weeks before that night, when I said goodbye to you before that mission. It was so painful to leave you behind…”

“Hold up, you knew of the bond?”, you question him. Guilt creeps upon his face. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you ignore me for weeks after we had sex? Do you know what this did to me? All these years and you didn’t bother to just talk to me?”. Hot tears again spill over your cheeks.

He comes closer, as to wipe your tears away, but you back away.

“Y/N, I thought you didn’t want the bond. That you rejected it. Or worse, that it was only one-sided, because I couldn’t feel you across it. Rhys told me that the safest way to know was to just sleep with you, because then the bond normally clears up, but it didn’t work. At least I thought so”. The look on his face is pleading, but still, all you feel is anger and loneliness.

“So you only slept with me because Rhys told you so?”.

“No! I did it, because I love you and wanted you, truly. I still wished that the mating bond would reveal itself. And when I thought that it hadn’t worked, I couldn’t bear to be around you. I was so angry at the Cauldron, because I felt unworthy. Again. Imagine being in my situation. Having a mate, but the bond not working completely, the other person unaware of what’s going on! I did what I had to do to protect myself”.

The vulnerability in his statement catches you absolutely off guard. A small smile formed on your face, as you walk a few steps towards him.

“Maybe we weren’t ready back then. Maybe it kept us waiting, because it knew we would need the time to work things out”, you suggest, closing the distance between you and him.

His eyes twinkle in the starlight, as he lowers his head, “Well, there’s only one way of finding out”, he says as he cradles your head in his hands. Slowly, he comes closer and closer, until you can’t endure the tension anymore and slam your lips on his.

His lips are velvet on yours, only intensifying the kiss after a few seconds. He holds himself back, almost painfully so. But you are yearning for him, for his touch. And as you licked his lower lip and he grants you access to his mouth, you felt it again. The euphoria racing through your veins. And as you kept kissing, it was as if a fog lifts itself and all of a sudden you can feel him, not only against your body, but also against your soul, interlocking with it.

He must have felt the same thing, as we both gasp for air almost at the same time. Azriel’s mouth twists into a smile as he kisses me again. His wings are now wrapped around you, obscuring you from any passers-by.

“I’ve waited 500 years to find you, my mate”, he says. The word echoing through me. Mate. Mate. Mate. You still can’t believe this is actually happening, as you send a wave of love across the bond. “But I would have waited 500 more for you. For this moment alone”.

At this, you kiss him again, unable to express your emotions any other way. “Let’s end this journey how we began it, shall we? With me in your bed”.

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel smut #azriel angst #azriel x reader smut #azriel x reader fluff #azriel x reader angst #azriel acotar #acotar #azriel x reader one shot #azriel x reader imagine

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jemmo · 2 years

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I need us as a society to talk more about ohm's amazing acting choices for pat and I love all the posts I read this week and in particular the complexity he added to him. THE LAYERS. but you know the layer I love the most? His softness. Because oh god do I love getting lost in that amazing part of pat. The way he acts, the way he speaks and his mannerism in those moments are chef's kiss. You always talk about how pat is pure like he was never touched by the horrible world around him and that's such a perfect description. But he is also soft as hell. And isn't afraid to show it too. I was just watching the bus stop scene and the guitar one in ep3 and you can see I'm going through it. I love everything ohm gave to pat. That man is brilliant.

*rolls up sleeves* oh dear precious anon you have given me the chance to rant and rant i will. strap in.

ohm is something else. seriously. i cannot even begin to go about expressing how much adoration i have for this man and what he gave to us through pat. its astounding. im gonna reference what ohm said in the ep 12 reaction on jennie's yt channel just bc its fresh in my mind and bc it perfectly captures the things i wanna praise ohm for. he spoke about how pat is very much like him, we've heard him say this a billion times, and its very obvious they are similar types of people in the way they behave; playful, silly, tactile, but also very frank and honest and serious when its called for, when important things are happening or being discussed, or when they're sharing their emotions. but ohm also said two things i wanna focus in on; how pat can act like this given the background he has, a background very different to ohm's, and how ohm can make people think the person on screen is pat, not ohm. and its funny, bc i think these things feed into each other and made him successful in both.

i feel like pat's background is something ohm dug into a lot and really studied and considered and built up to deliver his performance. he wanted that through line so he could deliver a fully realised pat, he needed to figure out why, despite his upbringing and family situation and his father and the feud and so on, pat could be so cheerful and goofy and care-free on the surface. im not exactly sure what that through line is, but whats important is that i see it. i see that pat is not a bunch of separate people or personalities. there isn't the pat with pran, the pat with his friends and the pat with his father; they're all pat. yes his behaviour shifts but all his personality traits mix and affect each other. nothing is is simple, nothing is by the book, nothing is just as it seems on the cover. everything has this air of something else underlying it, bubbling under the surface. im not even sure how to perfectly describe it, its just there (i hope you know i actually just sat and cried for 5 mins bc i was just thinking about pat too much and it broke me but we continue).

you can see that pat is not just a one dimensional set of descriptors pilled into a body. he is a person, a living breathing human. you can see what his core personality traits are and how they have been altered by his childhood and his current environment, by the people he's known and knows now, and how they manifest differently in certain situations and around certain characters. its like... when he's with pran, hes adorable and smiley but that pang of pain and loneliness and hatred for the world and press of expectations never fully goes away. and even when he's at his saddest or angriest, that innate kindness and care and goodness in his heart is still present. sometimes you look at him and just see a kid that wanted a friend, but instead was moulded into something he didnt want to be, and yet he still holds on to the warmth and want for happiness thats so integral to him. and i think its so incredible that we see him in so many ways, in so many different lights; happy, sad, angry, cheeky, horny, hurt, jealous, excited, in love etc, and they're all pat. none of them are shocking, none of the ways he acts when feeling these emotions feel un-pat-like. i rlly dont know how he does it, but its just like pat will do something, react a certain way in a new situation and i'll just be like 'yeah, ofc he'd act like that, he's pat, thats what pat would do'. nothing is out of character, everything makes sense!! its so well thought out and crafted, but you can tell all that work was done beforehand so it could be ingrained into the performance, which allowed ohm to act so naturally and impulsively, bc he was living that character. he wasnt thinking 'what would pat do?' bc he already knew. he is pat and this is what pat does. its just AMAZING.

and as for his softness, i rlly rllyyyyy RLLLYYYYY adore this aspect of pat. it would've been so easy, given the kind of role he's fulfilling, to make pat very trope-ey. he could've been a jock/boy's boy/hot-head that is only softened by love, who only reveals that side to his lover, bc its his lover that brings it out of him. very much a man's man that will only act cute with his boyfriend much to his own embarrassment and at the sacrifice of manliness. but pat is so so soooooo far from this. his cute and soft demeanour is just pat. yes he's like it the most around pran, but you see him be goofy and sweet and kind with pa and his mom, he's like it when he goes home in ep 12 much to the annoyance of his father. he's dumb and playful with his friends in similar ways he is with pran and it shows us that this is pat, not just pat with pran, it’s who he always is, it’s just he shines brightest with pran. and i love that this softness is so integral and central to a character who is also very manly. i spoke before about how I don’t pats ‘manly’ aspects are just present bc of his fathers expectations, I think that rlly is pat, and I love that he can be all those typically manly things while also being so cute and adorable, and also while being caring and thoughtful and emotional and open. toxic masculinity is all about men feeling like they can’t open up, can’t be vulnerable, can’t be soft, they must be strong and stable 24/7. pat shows us that that’s just not true.

you are not any more of a man bc you hold your feelings in. christ, pat’s whole thing is that he can’t sit with his emotions, he has to be open and honest, it’s like a compulsion. and he doesn’t see being vulnerable and honest as a weakness or a sacrifice, he sees as something he needs in order to live fully. he truly wears his heart on his sleeve, but in a way where he’s almost adamant that he will feel and think and live how he wants. all his emotions are right there and he will feel them and share them bc otherwise he feels like he’s living half a life, and as someone who probably had to hide so much as a child, I can so see where that desire and will comes from. and that kind of resilience matched with his cuteness is perfection. bc it’s like his softness is defiant, his adorableness is an unconscious statement that he will live every moment with pure joy. he will not hide, he will not restrict, he will not pretend. that does not make him the man he is. he will play stupid games and pull cute faces and say his cheesy one liners bc for him, being a man is about sharing the kindness and happiness in his heart with the world, creating a warmer and brighter place for the people around him, and I just find that so admirable.

we go on and on about pat being best boy, but it’s so overwhelmingly true, bc i sincerely believe he’s such a great role model for how to just live. live happy and and honest and whole. and i think if we all just lived a little bit more like pat the world would be such a kinder place, and that’s something i can’t thank ohm enough for.

#bad buddy #this was written in two very hazy and emotional early mornings #i feel like I should always compose these answers better #but anons need to know that they shouldn’t come to me for composure or structure #it’s just stream of consciousness rambling #and honestly honestly ohm and pat give me so many feelings I couldn’t even get out everything I wanna say in my entire lifetime #and even after that I’d think of something more #they just mean the world to me #they have such a special place in my heart #bc everything they are is just beautiful #beautiful in every way #my beloveds #i will never never ever shut up about how much I adore you #ohm pawat #made by jemmo

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overkill-max · 3 years

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Wedding mini-fic

A mini-fic of what happens during and after the wedding. From the perspective of Maya’s mom.

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Looking back at the wedding pictures, she thinks she looks out of place. She sees herself without makeup, in a plaid shirt. Having left her husband that same day. He was on a rant about Maya and her “lifestyle choices.” Katherine was cowering, just as her daughter described her. Feeling suffocated. She looked at Lane, all the anger directed towards her daughter, that would soon turn to her, and she felt herself turn into the husk she was before she left.

For an instant, she thought about Maya.

“I have to go pick up ice.” Katherine whispered. Lane did not hear her. He never heard her. Or Maya. Or Mason. Or anyone else.

She grabbed her purse and her mask and left.

She did not pick up ice.

Maya’s house was empty.

Katherine didn’t know where to go. The only other place familiar to her was the fire station.

She walked in not knowing her daughter would be admitting she forgot to write her vows. Carina mentioned that it did not matter, that it was sweet and perfect that Maya, someone who was overprepared and had lists and clipboards, had forgotten to write down a list. She was too excited to start their lives together.

“I love you, and I choose you. Forever.” Hearing her daughter say that with such joy, made her cry. Interrupting their vows. She apologized but the way that her daughter and her soon to be bride looked at her, both lighting up, let her know she made the right choice.

Maya and Carina were happy for most of their wedding.

Then they realized that another firefighter had taken her job. Or cost her the job. Katherine was still confused about how a person can get fired so casually.

She thought she would need to hold her breath. Whenever Lane was upset, she would walk on eggshells to avoid setting him off.

Maya looked betrayed and sad. But not devastated. She was not angry. Her wife excused them with a polite smile, then took her outside.

Katherine did not know if she was allowed to follow or not. She wanted to comfort her daughter. Yet it had always been hard. Maya was so much like Lane. Hiding everything away until it exploded in unhealthy ways. Lashing out. Wanting to keep everyone from seeing her in pain.

She worried about Carina.

It was a lovely wedding.

She should not have followed them, but she did.

“Maya, it’s okay.” It was soft. “Bambina, you are a fighter and so smart and strong. If this captain job is what you want, you can get it back or get another captain.”

Maya said something too soft for her to hear through the door.

“No, you are an amazing good captain. This is just them punishing you for supporting your fire fighters and not the administration… remember what you told me? Why they were afraid to do what you did?”

Katherine went back to the party.

She does not remember the rest of the party. Only what the pictures tell her.

The thing she does remember is how her daughter interrupted her own wedding to ask her friends to help her move in with them.

Even fire fighters from the other shifts helped. Five men stayed outside with Lane. The rest carried things she pointed to from inside the home she used to call hers. Packed her bags. “Mama B, you need your passport.” Carina… her new daughter in-law said.

It made the room feel smaller. Lane controlled that. He had all of that in his gun safe. In the office he kept locked up.

“Maya.” Her daughter nodded.

They were alone in the room where before she had always been too scared to move. Constantly drowning. No wonder her daughter chose to be a fire fighter. She was used to the feeling of having to work hard to breathe.

Carina talked at her. Katherine did not have the mental capacity to forms sentences or words. Still feeling on edge. Never safe. Never safe in this house.

She appreciated how at ease the other woman was. How kindly she smiled. Not in that ugly way others did. Where they pitied her. Seeing her as both a victim but also deserving of Lane’s anger for not standing up for herself. For going back.

Carina was just as she remembered her at the spaghetti dinner. Genuinely excited to spend time with her.

It made her feel uncomfortable and happy at the same time.

Even Maya’s patience with her ran thin. Often lashing out in anger. Raising her voice. Narrowing her eyes the way her father did. She was so much like him. It broke her heart to see it.

Yet, Katherine understood that. She was comfortable in that. Had lived with that.

Carina was unexpected.

Maya returned with a stack of folders and a gun.

Katherine flinched.

“Maya, no.” Her daughter-in-law commanded.

“But…” Maya tried to argue. “No. Bambina, look at your mother… look at this country… Look at what happens when you have so many guns in the house and so many fears… I don’t want that in my house.”

Maya mentioned her father. It struck a new type of fear in Katherine.

“What makes you think he cannot buy another gun if you take this one? How much angrier is he going to be if that happens?”

Katherine swallows. She hated that Lane had a gun. Feared that he would use it against her. Or worse, the kids. Maya knew that. If he was angry, he might.

Carina understood anger. Escalation. Violence. She saw blood and death. The result of things like this.

“You take your papa’s gun and you have to be ready to shoot him with it. This thing, it will not end well. Leave the gun… this is only about your mama… you take that thing into our lives and you make it about something he thinks is his. You make it into a fight.”

Maya leaves in a huff.

“You are not his. You are yours.” Carina tells her. Firm voice. Needing to be heard. Soft hands. Wanting to comfort.

She nods.

They leave.

Everyone that helps set up her room stays at their house.

“It’s the after party.” Carina shouts happily. She puts on music and begins making pasta in her wedding dress.

Warren and Bailey come from the fire station with the men and women that stayed behind to clean up.

Cases of alcohol get brought into the house and people keep drinking and dancing. Victoria sings. Maya comes out in a sleeveless shirt and sweatpants. She kisses Carina and takes the knife from her. Telling her to get comfortable.

“Please don’t angry chop my pasta.” Her daughter-in-law begs. Maya shrugs. Pretending she’s not listening. Mimicking angry chopping.

“Mama B, make sure she separates the pasta and hang it to dry.” Carina shouts, laughing as she leaves the kitchen and bumps into Andy.

The whole night was chaotic and filled with laughter and love.

Katherine wakes up early the next day. Not knowing what to do without Lane dictating every minute of her life, she lays there. Unsure of what she is allowed here. This place has her things, but it doesn’t feel like hers. It feels borrowed. Like last time.

She gets up and heads for the kitchen. Tip toeing around the place. Unsure of how quiet Maya and Carina need her to be. She is a guest.

“Suocera!” Carina enthusiastically greets her from the stove. Katherine nods. Confused. “Buongiorno.” She tries. It’s the only word she knows in Italian.

Carina laughs as she shakes her head. “Right... It… it is… you are the mother of the wife?” She asks. Not knowing the word.

“Oh. Mother-in-law” Katherine quickly fills in.

“Yes, suocera.” Carina repeats and smiles. Flipping over the French toast in the pan. Katherine stands there and Carina waves the spatula around. “I made espresso, but if it’s not your thing, you can add the water. Cups are there. Explore.”

“Can you grab me the thing?” Carina asks. Pointing vaguely behind her.

Katherine smiles. Uncomfortable. She likes the house. It is lovely. But Lane liked things to be a certain way. To stay there. For cabinets not to be opened unnecessarily.

“Uh.” Katherine stops. Looking at the counter.

“Maya, the thing! You know, the thing.” Carina says louder. Katherine freezes. Carina turns around, smiling and her face drops. She turns pale. Katherine waits for the explosion.

“I’m sorry.” Carina tells her. Voice softer. Hands moving wildly as she tries to find the words. “I’m sorry, suocera. I know when I get excited it seems like I am yelling. But I am not yelling at you. Or at Maya. I… I am not yelling.”

Katherine feels the tension in herself. In the other woman. As Carina wants to comfort her but does not step closer. She waits. Looking torn. “Boundaries.” Her therapist’s voice says inside her.

Katherine tilts her head down. Looking at the floor. She barely nods.

A small invitation is all it takes to be swept up in a tight hug. Carina pats down her hair and kisses it. “I’m sorry, suocera. I’m learning too.” Is all she says.

She cries and she is held.

The French toast burns, and Maya runs in to witness her wife running with a flaming pan, heading outside. Her mother is coughing. The water is on in the sink. Putting nothing out.

“Carina!” Maya shouts as she stares at her mom. Instead of finding the cold, angry blue she is used to, she finds worry. There is no blame. It feels like no time has passed but her daughter is different. This is not the same woman that told her she needed therapy for thinking what they went through together was abuse. For knowing it was wrong.

She runs out and takes command of the situation. Taking the hose from her wife and making sure there are no flames before heading back inside with a waterlogged piece of bread. Black from the flames. The kitchen is filled with smoke but there is no fire or damage.

Maya hugs her mother and Katherine feels like she can breathe. Even with the smoke. She cries. Her daughter had never been soft. But she changed for love. Katherine never felt strong. But she learned from her daughter. For her daughter.

She wonders what will happen if she stays. If this place becomes her home.

Katherine thinks she looks out of place. When the pictures come back.

She does not feel out of place.

Not then. Not now.

Carina is laughing beside her. Pointing out all the pictures that make her smile.

Three months feel a world away.

Katherine was worried about Maya. The offer came from Carina.

She did not want to overstay her invitation. But finding a job as a home maker that was scared of men shouting or froze at every loud noise, meant her prospects were limited. Especially in a pandemic.

She wanted to find her own place. Or even a shelter. To let her daughter build a new life without the old once holding her back. But Carina was so nice. So welcoming. She was so soft and safe that it was hard to feel bad about not trying hard enough.

Maya was different too. She was still reserved. But she was brighter. In a way she never thought Maya could be. The last time she visited there was so much anger. Denial. She was closed off and lashed out when people got too close to the core of who she was. So much like Lane that it hurt to look at her and see nothing but steel staring back. Cold. Lifeless.

Now she was nothing but awe and love.

Katherine liked it. She liked knowing who her daughter had become without all that pain. Without the constant pressure to achieve. To make Lane proud.

She asked, once. When Maya was not home.

Carina was direct. She never made them guess. She never hid her feelings or what she wanted. She was stubborn. And she always answered. Even when she could not find the words. She would answer. Because Carina liked clarity.

Katherine understood.

Walking on eggshells while not knowing what would set Lane off made her appreciate Carina’s openness. Even when it made her uncomfortable. Or mad at herself for not being able to reciprocate. She still liked who Carina was.

“I get to have a family again.” Carina shrugged. Passing the sheet of pasta through the metal press.

Katherine waited. Carina was the daughter that she always imagined other parents had. She giggled easily and gossiped. Filled the silences with laughter and words.

“I did have a family. But it was before. Then mama left and I stayed so Andrea could go. And it was just papa and me. He was so angry, and their marriage was so terrible that I hated the idea of family… but then…” She smiled softly.

“Then Maya became my home and family was something I missed… I… in Italy… you are expected to move with your husband’s family. To have your suocera and their nonna and all these people constantly in your life… I wanted to have that…” Katherine nods.

“I know it’s selfish to want you to stay. Americans, you like your life to be individual and separate and borders and very yourselves. But… I feel like a momma chicken. I like all of the people I love in my house. In my roof. Happy and in each other’s life… it feels… warm. Like a home.” Carina shrugs. Cutting the pasta into small sheets.

Katherine smiles. Liking the idea that family, home, could be something other than what both her and her daughter have known. What her daughter-in-law has known. That it could be built on new traditions. Starting with a wedding she was underdressed for but still belonged in.

#station 19 #carina x maya #carina deluca #maya bishop #katherine bishop #my fanfic #my drabbles #short character study #I am excited for mama b living with carina and maya #marina #yes the firehouse is taking place of the restaurant #just go with it

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rolorules · 3 years

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How Rolo Rolls Part 12.5: The Calm Before the Storm

When the Code Geass R2 Blu-Ray Collection was released in 2014, the box featured a new picture drama called Last Moratorium, "numbered" Turn 12.06, which means it follows the ass-hats episode Love Attack! and is about Milly's graduation party and the big question: where do we go from here?

Of course I ordered the box right away back in the day, but being the nerdy collector that I am, I did not want to open it (you know, mint condition and all that), instead, I decided to wait for the drama to turn up on the internet. For a while I had completely forgotten about it, but a few days ago I looked for it and - lo and behold! - some kind soul had uploaded it on YouTube (years ago, in fact, but without subtitles), some other kind soul has provided a transcript of the Funimation subs (on which I have to rely) and another kind soul (bless them all!) has provided this information on Reddit.

So now, finally, there is new material for another part of How Rolo Rolls. As I consider the picture dramas to be canon, I have decided not to make this a special, but a "regular" instalment placed where it belongs in the course of events.

Milly's graduation is being celebrated in the brightly-lit student-council building of Ashford Academy. Milly and Rivalz are apparently hosting the event and Milly encourages the crowd to praise her, which Lelouch finds rather questionable. And yet he seems to be sad to see Milly leaving. Whent he says something along those lines, Milly shows up next to him and incidentally forces him to wear his (actually Shirley's) red ass hat - not just for the evening, but for the entire week, or so she thinks.

Meanwhile, Rivalz has started a self-made film about Milly's career as student-council president, beginning with elementary school (nepotism, anyone?!). This is news to Lelouch, who explains that he only started attending Ashford in middle school (another interesting snippet of information, I always figured that Ashford Academy was just a high school). Milly muses about this and wonders whether someone else was there, too, back then (referring to Nunnally, obviously), but states that she cannot remember who it was. This is the cue for a certain boy with tousled light-brown hair (which is the first thing you see of him, surrounded by what looks like a halo) to chime in and declare, "It was me, of course!", firmly grabbing Lelouch's arm.

This is remarkable inasmuch as Rolo usually does not seem to initiate physical contact with Lelouch (Lelouch does it at least once to manipulate Rolo), and can be explained in two ways. One: Rolo has begun to feel really at ease in the presence of the student council members and believes that he and Lelouch have become really close (there is certainly something to it, his entire behaviour during the episode is not awkward or shy at all). Two: He is staking his claim (or marking his territory, whichever you prefer, which is definitely the case).

Lelouch's emotional could be described as shocked and (slightly) appalled, but it does not seem to be a hate-filled "How dare you take Nunnally's place, you impostor?!", Turn19-style, but more like a "Could you please stop being so clingy?" (But maybe that is just wishful thinking on my part.) It is no use anyway, Rolo will stay glued to him like that for quite a while. Rolo goes on to say "Who other than me would be by my brothers's side?", adding a fake-friendly "Right, Shirley?!" in the girl's direction, which she answers with a sincere "Right, Rolo!", totally oblivious to what Rolo is hinting at.

The events of Cupid Day have not failed to give Rolo a lot of food for thought, to say the least, and now his friendly, laughing face (yes, he actually laughed, even though it was fake!), turns into an angry/devious one. He thinks to himself:

"Shirley Fenette. I'll give you credit for taking advantage of the event. Well, if it has come to this, then I'll have to get her on my side here. I'll have her slave under Villetta and pull her off Brother someday."

These words imply that Rolo thinks some scheming on Shirley's part enabled her to swap hats with Lelouch and become his one-week girlfriend. Who can blame him? Having been surrounded by notorious schemers all his life, he probably thinks every single person is as calculating and manipulative as, let's say, way too many members of the Britannian Royal Family. His answer is to do some plotting and planning of his own (I wonder who he got that from). His ideas are still very vague, though. The "having to get her on my side" explains his friendliness, but how does he want to "have her slave under Villetta"? Does that not mean they would have to tell her the truth?

The important thing here is that his plans are not murderous, at least not yet. Even the "pull her off Brother someday" does not necessarily sound violent, more like "I'll make her let go of him", whatever that means. So how can we plausibly explain the fact that Rolo is going to kill her in the next episode? One possible explanation would be that Rolo lives two different lives in two different worlds: the highschool student life in the Ashford Academy world and the assassin life in the Geass world. Right now, he is dealing with Shirley within the Ashford framework, using the means that belong to his student world, but when Shirley tells him she knows about Geass and offers her help, she crosses the line between the two worlds and Rolo switches to assassin mode to deal with her (which is very unfortunate for the poor girl, I'm not being sarcastic).

But what this scene tells us is that Shirley's fate was not cast in stone, not even in the canon of the series (she survives in the recap films, as probably everybody knows by now), and that Rolo might have acted differently under different circumstances. This entire episode once more leads me to the conclusion that Rolo might have lived to become a fine, or at least relatively balanced and socially functional, young man, had Lelouch treated him as he had promised he would. Alas, he did not encourage and reinforce Rolo's student side enough and exploited his assassin side instead.

At any rate, the picture drama is probably called Last Moratorium because it gives the characters a short break and a chance to (re)consider how they want to go on with their lives. Milly is the best example here because she decides that she wants to delay her marriage with Lloyd (indefinitely). Rivalz is overjoyed, of course, but, embarrassed by his own overreaction, asks Shirley whether this is actually alright. Shirley shirks the responsibilty by passing the question on to Rolo, who passes it on to Lelouch, who apparently wonders how he is supposed to know. It does not mean much, it's just a funny, friendly little scene that shows the chemistry between the student council members, even between Shirley and Rolo.

They start talking about Nina and her work in the Homeland, and Milly states that it is the fact that people develop and move forward which makes them interesting, telling Lelouch that "You can't always be brother-this, brother-that." or so the official sub says. The Japanese audio has, I think, something about "brothers [being] so cute" (knowing some Japanese would really pay, learn Japanese, people!), so what she implies, I think that Lelouch cannot spend the rest of his life playing the doting elder brother. Milly adds that it is one of Lelouch's flaws is that his feelings about people never change and that he always keeps them at the same distance (likely implying that he should decrease his distance to Shirley, she has been working hard on that, after all).

Lelouch, surprised by Rivalz' and Shirley's obvious agreement, asks Rolo if he feels the same. The boy's answer is hesitant and evasive: "Um, if you think it's true, then maybe it is." Which is not really an answer at all, but it shows that this is a delicate issue for Rolo as well. He has probably begun to realize that they cannot live their life as Ashford students forever, but does not know what any other life (with Lelouch) might look like. A life that he desires, at any rate, probably not one with the Black Knights, but one as an ordinary young man, one would assume. Lelouch, as this story once more tells us, has a very similar problem, and given the fact that the future he will choose for himself consists of subduing the world to be ultimately skewered by Suzaku, we cannot blame Rolo for a lack of vision.

The next part is a bit more light-hearted: Milly expresses her thanks to everyone with a lavish, home-cooked buffet served by the school's maid club (yes, they have all sorts of clubs at Ashford). The mere sight makes Rolo almost squeal "Amazing, Big Brother!" Lelouch tells him that Milly is actually good at showing her gratitude to the people who deserve it. Suddenly C.C. shows up, disguised (?) as a maid, and comments that Lelouch/Zero might do well to thank her resp. the Black Knights, too. Rolo tries to imagine this (he actually does, with Lelouch/Zero expressing his thanks in his usual pompous manner) and concludes that "No, no, no, no. There's no way." (This is, to the best of my knowledge, the first and only example of Rolo and C.C. interacting with each other, albeit a rather minute one. At any rate, Rolo seems to be fine with having her around.)

Lelouch figures him out a second time (he also guessed correctly that Rolo was thinking about how to deal with Shirley) and wants to know what he was thinking. Rolo tells him he was wondering how long he would wear the ass hat, and Lelouch hands it to C.C., telling her that Sayoko is to wear it for a week, disguised as Lelouch, which C.C. intentionally mistakes for a kind of fetish (while eating pizza). (Lelouch seems to be the butt of many jokes in this drama, but that is fine with me.) When he delivers a speech as "Eternal Vice President", pre-written by Milly, he switches to his Zero voice. Fortunately, his speech is interrupted by the fireworks, accompanied by a speech delivered by Rivalz.

He is so good at this that Milly tells Lelouch that he could take a cue from him as far as making speeches is concerned. This makes Rolo snicker (in fact, it is more like a soft laugh), and of course Lelouch tells him not to, so of course he duly apologises. (Apparently, he is not convinced of Lelouch's rhetorical qualities either.) Is this really the boy who wears this face of sad, angry or cold lunacy when he is in assassin mode? Well, (un)fortunately, he is, but it is great that he has come to cultivate some positive feelings and is willing to let his guard down and show them. He is also not blind (as one might have expected) to Lelouch's flaws and shortcomings, and is even willing to make fun of them.

During the fireworks, Lelouch becomes nostalgic, and C.C. reminds him that people are always changing, to which Lelouch responds that he believes that people "need a place to go back to", in other words: a home, which is something I would not have expected to hear from Lelouch, to be honest. Now C.C. asks: "Where is your home? With the Black Knights? With your sister? Or— " A pity she does not continue. At Ashford? With Shirley? With Rolo? (Probably not, but at least the instrumental version of If I Were a Bird is played in the background. With C.C.? (Like in the new film?) Maybe she wants Lelouch to figure it out by himself, but it sounds more as if Lelouch is cutting her short, calling this a foolish question (which he apparently cannot or does not want to answer), before he is in for more humiliation when he has to finish his speech wearing his red ass hat.

All in all, this picture drama is a little breather both for the protagonists and for the viewers before things keep going south in the following episodes. It does not turn the Geass world upside-down, but it is a nice addition to the canon and adds some more depth to our favourite characters. (By which I mean Milly and Rivalz, of course. No, I don't.)

So, dear readers, please watch the picture drama and read the transcript, and then add your thoughts to mine. I have one question in particular: Is the laughter (at 10:44) before Lelouch says "Why am I being humiliated...?" Lelouch's or Rolo's? I'd say Rolo's, but the transcript says Lelouch's. What do you say?

#lelouch lamperouge #rolo lamperouge #shirley fenette #c.c.#rivalz cardemonde #Milly Ashford #Code Geass #How Rolo Rolls

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redxblueihateloveyou · 3 years

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Hiiii!!! 💫💕🌸🥳

Can I bother with a question... I was (re)watching that zhang qiling edit (not today) - 'cause it's so cool, btw- and I wondered if Reboot Xiaoge’s your favourite one...? And if you're up to answering, what do you think about the other adaptations? Especially (our small bean) xiao yuliang's interpretation of xiaoge?

🤗🌺💐🐰💕

Hey, my precious patootie hehe ILY it always makes me very happy knowing that you rewatch my vids <3

lol dang it, I was kinda hoping to avoid this question, just because I feel like I'd find it hella hard to explain some things, but I'll try my best and hopefully it'll make some sense xD

I'll start from afar bc I wanna try to explain my reasonings, since I don't want to go without arguments into such highly debated question lolz. I talked about this a bit in my previous asks somewhere, but not broadly as to why that one guy hit all the right spots.

So throughout the books Wu Xie always does this wonderful thing, where he very tangibly describes the feeling he gets when Xiaoge is near, I mean like the aura around him. And he always somehow does it so colorful, that this mix of safety, assurance, calmness, composure and some things I can't quite put into one noun, that he brings to him, I think everyone who've read the books can recognize as this almost magical "Xiaoge feeling". It's not just the way he acts in some dangerous situations or smth like that. It's just everything. You either have it or you don't. And here goes my first argument... to me none of them, except for Huang Junjie and Yuliang have it.

I mean it's not even the obvious stuff, it's like the way they move during the action scenes, the way they even stand and hold themselves, the way they touch Wu Xie, the tone of their voices (both of which are like soothing as fuck), little things you'd think wouldn't matter, but when you watch it and all the puzzle pieces are together, you're like... fuck yeah, thats him.

Also not really that weighty of a point, but to me there's always a joy to see that the actor who plays the character not only gets what's he's playing, but also loves it, bc it's always seen on screen. Usually when some asked about the character they play and what they have in common for example they answer with obvious things like if some character is introverted they're like "well I also don't talk very much" or smth like that, you know what I mean. When I was watching interviews of Yuliang and Huang Junjie I was just smiling so much, bc they've said such things that made me go "yeah, Qiling is safe in their hands".

In Reboot case working in such close proximity with the author definitely also played a huge role here. Bc it kinda gets complicated in some aspects since the books are written from Wu Xie's point of view and you can't only base your picture on his perspective, just bc it's coming from a person who after being basically told "you're my whole world" goes "I'm just a person he randomly passes by in his long life" in his thoughts. Not only he's utterly clueless and dumb when it comes to all this, that he wouldn't notice the way Qiling looks at him and other things, its also not that kind of book, that would go "I suddenly caught poker face looking at me like I'm his whole existence" (and I honestly don't want it to be that book lmao). So you have to take into the account here stuff like what author says to get the whole picture, bc if you look at that from the point of Qiling's view for example, this shit takes a whole wild turn. So I really loved that in UN and Reboot ways of showing Qiling's feelings were well thought out and fit the timeline.

Bc it also works both ways, when it comes to other adaptations. Like Qiling is very and I mean ETREMELY hard to win over. We all know that it was a very long process of gaining his trust and even longer for him to fall for Wu Xie to the point of him being his everything. So what I want in those interpretations is for them to get at which point of their relationships what Xiaoge's behavior makes sense. I do not need any fanservice if it ruins the character, I'll just hate it. The thing that their feelings didn't come out of nowhere is what I LOVE about this ship, bc I'm not the kind of person who believes in "we love for nothing" thing and love at first sight thing (only "got hots for each other" at first sight), bc thats bull. Wu Xie became his everything after a long LONG process of getting to know each other. At the beginning tho he was the same stranger to him as everyone else. So what Reboot Qiling feels for Wu Xie is not what UN's Qiling feels for Wu Xie yet and what UN's Qiling feels for Wu Xie is not what Lost Tomb's Qiling feels for Wu Xie (which at that point was nothing). And I feel like not everyone gets the fact that you can totally wreck the character if you make him behave not the way he behaved in that particular time. Like for example, if someone would make a MDZS adaptation where at the very beginning of their relationships LZ treats WWX the way he treated him after the reincarnation just because "who cares, it's still LZ", that would be dumb af, see what I mean. So Xiaoge having a weakness for Wu Xie in part one is automatically not a Xiaoge to me, bc a huge part of his character and the thing NPSS speaks a lot about is just how IMPOSSIBLE it is for someone to catch his attention and how long it took Wu Xie to get there. So let's just say to me UN and Reboot Qilings for the first time didn't feel like some mashup or character summary/parody, they were Qilings the way they are supposed to be in that part of the story, bc it was the only times someone actually bothered to coordinate it.

Now as to why I prefer one to another. Xiaoge has this thing... the way he holds himself with other people, that is sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally suppressing.

Like everyone knows that if you're a passerby, Qiling genuinely doesn't fucking care and would in fact be pretty harsh about it in terms of treating people like they do not deserve their attention. He won't be like "please, don't bother me", he simply ignored them like an empty space. He is also like that with acquaintances who in his opinion do not deserve his respect like that girl who went hysterical, bc she was upset that he was the only one who wasn't drooling on her like all other men on the crew, Chen Wenjin, Wu Xie's uncles and etc. He's not openly disrespectful unless they trigger him in some way (usually by trying to act superior or later on for not treating Wu Xie right), but if they do, he will in fact remind them their place in sometimes a very rude way, at times humiliating them in front of ppl bc he looks younger than them and talking starts.

He's always doing things on his own terms and hates being told what to do. Like he legit scared Chen Wenjin just with a look and the tone of his voice when he said "let go", when she tried to command him on the mission and grabbed him trying to lecture him about what he should or shouldn't do. That's why Wu Erbai didn't even try anything like this and let him do whatever he needed to do and equally lead the mission in Reboot. And why the scene where Wu Xie 'commands' "Xiaoge, come back" and he immediately listens holds another special place in my heart. Bc he NEVER and I mean NEVER allows such things to ANYONE.

So here I came to a point of why despite loving them both dearly, my favorite Xiaoge is Huang Junjie.

I have this dissonance with Yuliang's version when to me in many scenes it felt like he and Wu Xie are the same age. Like if he was Xiaoge, but in his 20s. In his interactions with Chen Wenjin the dynamics was turned upside down, with him being okay with her telling him what to do and just in general the way she behaved with him. Same as like I didn't always quite believe him to be on par with older generation or even Pangzi, it just felt like he was truly younger than them. Some scenes that I do find extremely cute just don't fit book Xiaoge at all, I'm talking about some moments like his face when Wu Xie gave him food, or him pouting and many things he's done, when you were going "uwu he's a baby". He just never gives me this feeling in the books ever, not just bc he's 100 years old, but sad fact here.. bc he's simply unable to behave that way. Like in the books you'll desperately want to shower him with love, but he's just... I can't quite explain, it's very sad.

I guess it's just you know these characters, who are like hundreds years old, but look like they're 18? I think you have to be very careful with how you write those, so you could deliver that. And in UN because of some changed dynamics and scenes I straight up forgot about it, until Wu Xie threw some joke like "he's an old man" in front of a restaurant.

In Reboot Xiaoge could make Wu Erbai stutter with one move, put Yuliang's version in the same scene, I just don't think it would've worked. Like I'm trying to imagine him telling UN's Wu Erbai what to do and having troubles already haha. Same as I don't think he's capable to be genuinely mad at Wu Xie, and HJJ nailed it esp in one of my fav when Wu Xie was laughing at Pangzi's joke about him catching cold. The look he gave him and how ZYL just retreated was priceless xD. And boy could Qiling get angry with him in the books!

Otherwise I didn't have any drastic fall outs there, like with Joseph's Wu Xie and Ah Ning's death, because that was just too much of a difference, but there were still moments where it was once again this the same scene completely different emotion thing. He was more tolerable to ppl in general here, more pliable. And 50% of the time he gave me the cute lost kitten type, which I just cannot connect with the feeling he gave me in the books. His personality is a cat type 100%, but like seriously "cute baby" is the last word combination I would ever apply to book Xiaoge, but with Yuliang's version it's easily applied. So small bean he is indeed. With Joseph and in UN it works incredibly perfect to me, but the way he is in UN is at times too gentle. And there are lots of scenes where Joseph himself looked at him in a way "you're too cute, let me pinch your cheeks" kind of way, or the way he like sat down next to him on the coast, he was a bit babying him at times. I can't imagine book pingxie doing that. It's just a whole different vibe, the way he takes care of him, the way he lets him take care of him... it's...uuuuuuuuu another vibe (see, I'm so good at explaining lmao).

It's also kinda funny to me, bc HJJ who's the smallest and who irl truly a kitten never once gave me that feeling on screen for some reason. The one babied and loved by every crew and old ppl, who was cutely hiding behind ZYL's back on set, who won't sue an ex who almost ruined his career bc of how stupid she is, bc he "didn't want to hurt her", who according to staff can't even step on a fly, whom CMH was petting for several minutes after he had to hit him with a prop brick bc he didn't wanna do it lmao. I was just like.. ok, this is hilarious, bc I in fact didn't expect him to be a small bean, so watching all the bts made me go LOOOOL. Probably ZYL acting like a 3 year old helped him transform and the age difference problem got lost lmao

As for other adaptations. You know I can't watch seriously "Lost Tomb", I think some ppl probably have some nostalgic feeling about it, but I'm sorry, to me it's fucking hilarious. Like I've already said it looks like some type of twilight parody thing or smth. Soft damselle Wu Xie esp killed me, bc 1st when he ever was that, 2nd in the first book he's salty af, I don't even know this dude in this interpretation, I was like who's this. YangYang I know him from other things, I really don't think it's his role. I know the script and everything is bad. I know the costume and hair are horrendously funny, but it's just I was watching him in those action scenes and was like no... just I'm sorry but I'm not feeling it. I simply just don't know what to say about the whole thing seriously, bc I don't even know where to start. 10 episodes of some salad finished with one mutilated scene from book 6 for no reason the fact that characters are weird themselves also I can't quite tell, did they really just meet or they imply smth else lmao.. I'm sorry, but I do not get it.

I've given LT2 another try after finishing all the books and I've dropped it half way through, Cheng Yi wasn't even close to how I pictured Xiaoge in any aspect. He in fact didn't do anything OOC or off the book or anything, I just was like "not my Qiling". Happens sometimes.

Explore with the note you already know how I feel about this lol let's just forget.

P.S. To be fair here also maybe we should take into account the fact that some got luckier than other with "at which point" Xiaoge they're playing. Like for example, "Wrath of the Sea" and "Qingling Tree" books which is LT2 is not exactly you can say much about Qiling there, he trolls them there in the beginning (in a brilliant way that was totally lost in the adaptation) and he is there in "Wrath of Sea", but it's not the part that can make his character shine in any way, there's not much things happening there that would make you fall for him or get to know him; Yuliang grabbed the fattest piece bc it's middle several books, when they're always together and his character shines the most in terms of clues about past, opening up to Wu Xie and Pangzi, and there are many many events where you can get the picture of what kind of man he is; Huang Junjie grabbed my fav piece of utter devotion, where he's already fully and wholeheartedly belongs to Wu Xie, that I'm just weak for. So like... there's also that I guess xD.

#answered #jaecomments #zhang qiling #daomu biji #dmbj #lost tomb reboot #i still feel like i couldn't quite explain stuff lol #its a complicated question xD #do not kill me for my i guess weird opinions haha #huang junjie #xiao yuliang #lost tomb #pingxie

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

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The Servant and The Prince | Two

Description: This is very much a Cinderella trope because I cannot help myself and I am in love with Loki, chapter two

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader, third person as I may adapt eventually with an OC

Warnings: LMAO kinda smut? No- I don’t know how I managed to do this in the second chapter but I did and I don’t care, they’re soulmates, sue me- it is not graphic and it is important for the plot I swear

Tags: Fluff, again kinda smut but in the least graphic way, a touch of angst near the end

Word count: 5.2k (why can’t I write essays this fast?)

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Master List

The ride to the capitol takes three gruelling days. Each night is spent at a different tavern. It is the same story each time; Estrid and Anna spend the night in a lavish bed and Y/n is left with the horses, curled under her thankfully baggy cloak. It is neither warm nor comfortable, sleeping on the bench seat of the carriage. She never really falls asleep, she only dozes in and out of consciousness. It is almost always interrupted by footsteps or the murmurs of animals or her own mostly empty stomach growling into the night. That one is twofold- usually her stomach is in so much nauseating pain that she cannot sleep but, on the off occasion she can, she is then awoken by the loud roars it makes.

When she does sleep her dreams are plagued by nightmares of drowning in water that tastes of salt. It is always the same, her body sinking slowly to the bottom of what she can only assume is the sea, her lung filling with more and more of the saline water. She has never been to the sea but she has heard stories. She always wanted to go but now she is not so sure.

Each morning she wakes at the crack of dawn, sneaking out of the carriage like a mouse scampering away from the booming footsteps of a prowling cat. Of course she is not allowed to be sleeping in the carriage but it is a liability she must take. She would much rather be punished by Estrid than found by a drunken stable boy. Who would have thought she would miss her simple bed so much. It is just a worn mattress and the last of her mother’s quilts but she longs for it more than anything. She longs for a lot of things in the passing days.

With everyday that passes the anger grows stronger too. She has never been a restless girl but in less than three days it feels like everything she thought she was is wrong. Even while sitting still she feels as though she is pacing in a room that she is completely unfamiliar with. Granted it could be the rocking of the carriage- three days is a long time to be shaken up so- but still it feels different. When she squeezes her eyes closed hard enough she can see those differences. A bed with emerald sheets and a desk pushed against a window. And a man. A tall man who is shrouded in darkness. No matter how hard she squeezes her eyes she cannot make out his features.

She can see what he does sometimes though. He likes to sit at the desk and let the sunlight pour over him. That is the only time she does not feel the overwhelming anger, like daggers, slicing down the insides of her throat. She feels peace in those moments- almost like she is with him, her skin absorbing the sunshine as well. If only it was sunny during the night then maybe she could get a proper night's sleep.

The sunshine is not the only time she feels him, though. It is the best but not all. She can also feel when he digs his fingers through his hair, pulling so hard on the invisible strands that her scalp begins aching as well. She can feel it when he throws his head back, the soundless roar bubbling in her throat. His voice is a mystery to her. Somewhere deep inside her she knows what he sounds like, she just cannot describe it. It is there though, ingrained into parts of her that she also cannot describe. In those moments, if she could scream and know that her voice would sound exactly like his she would do it, if only to truly remember. That is what it feels like- forgetting. She is forgetting something gravely important.

Or she is just losing her everloving mind.

She cannot explain it, whatever it is; all she knows is that she does not understand. The anger is hers but not. The pacing and hair tugging are hers but not. The twinge of familiarity in everything that she sees in her mind. It is all both her own and not hers at all and it is infuriating. What is even more infuriating is to be so angry without reason. If she is to be angry all the time then at least she should know why. She would chalk it up to her situation- there is more than enough in her life to be angry about- but she had never really been angry before. Achingly desperate and mournful, yes. But angry? Before these past few days she never really understood the word.

The anger, then, must be his. But, if it is his, why then is it also hers? This time it is her who slams her hands against her head, digging in desperately. Why does none of it make any sense at all? She squeezes her eyes shut, so hard she sees that little spark of white that must mean her eyes are not supposed to be used so carelessly. She pushes past it- right now it does not matter. She is on a mission to find something out- to find anything out.

Only seconds later does the blackness behind her eyelids shift and she is no longer on the back of the carriage but rather back in his bedroom. The sunlight is pouring in through the window again and she sighs. Thank Odin. The last of her remaining senses that anchor her to the real world fizzle away as she scampers towards the desk where a figure cloaked in all black sits in a wooden chair. One of his shadowy hands is propped up on the desk, his fingers twisting through the rays. For a moment it feels like he is beckoning her to him, curling his fingers like an invitation meant only for her.

Of course she goes to him.

She barely registers the feeling of her feet hitting the stone below her- probably because she is not actually in the room walking towards him. That does not stop her from pretending like she is, gliding to meet him in the sunshine. She stands next to him for a moment, her heart galloping steadily. For once it is not from fear; there is nothing about him that she is afraid of. She wants nothing more than to climb onto his lap and let her body soak in the sunshine as well. It is not fear that makes her heart pound; it is anticipation. It is the looming sadness. She will try to climb into the sunshine- just as she has tried for each of the two days prior- and she will feel nothing. She never feels the warmth of the sun or the warmth of his darkened body. Still, she will try- it is all she can do to try.

She takes a deep breath, the faintest- almost nonexistent- aroma of pine trees and salt tickling her nose. The carriage must be close to the sea. She tosses the thought aside, bracing her hands on the side of the desk. Her fingers land how they are supposed to, splayed against the top, but she cannot feel the smooth plains of the mahogany. Her fingers stop with resistance but it is not tangible. Like every day before, she lifts herself up, placing her knees on either side of his dark lap. She braces for the same easy resistance of air to keep her hovering steadily above him. It will feel almost like nothingness- like only the memory of him is there instead of a real man. It is blissful, like coming home, and devastating, like being barred from entering said home, all at the same time.

She holds herself for a moment longer, not quite ready to feel nothing at all, and that is when it happens- his shadowy face snaps up and she can make out the faintest hint of icy blue in his otherwise misty eyes. She gasps, her heart beating even faster. Can he see her? Can he feel her? It is as though his eyes are boring into hers through her little daydream. It feels so real- like he is actually there and not just a figment of her imagination.

Her hands slip from the edge of the table, her knees jolting against the wooden chair almost painfully. There is a dull thud as she sinks down. That has not happened before. She snaps her gaze down to her legs, her mouth falling open at the sensation of her thighs spreading and pressing against leather. Yes, not the air that she has grown so used to but buttery leather and two warm legs that are covered by the folds of her dress. She could moan from how delicious it feels against her skin- both the supple leather and the feeling of finally being allowed back into her home- but of course she does not. Both because she does not want to risk the man hearing her wanton breaths and because he beats her to it.

Shadowy hands curl over her simple dress, fingers squeezing against her hips. She pulls her gaze back to the man's face, stifling another moan when he does again, almost as if testing the newness of being able to feel her. She supposes that is the answer she is looking for- he can definitely feel her. She watches as his lips- still shrouded in darkness like the rest of him- move frantically. No words form, not even hisses of air. She cannot hear anything he is saying. She can only feel him and his hands as he pulls her higher onto his lap, spreading her thighs even further until she is pressed harder into him. Her body molds into his with each shift, matching each dip and curve with her own, like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.

His mouth keeps moving, his faint icy eyes flicking across her face. Can he see her or does she appear like he does to her- a black mass of nothingness? She tests it the extent of her presence, placing her hands on his chest. Her heart is in her throat as her fingers smooth against the same supple leather, feeling the warm plains of armour and the way his chest heaves when she presses harder. His face tilts down, towards where she touches him, before snapping up to gaze at her. Again he tries to speak, his hands crawling up her back. His touch is heavenly- blissfully gentle against her injured spine- and she sinks back into him. She may as well soak in her daydream to its full extent.

She slides her fingers up to cup his cheeks. She cannot cannot make out the color of his skin but she can feel the heat rolling off him. His stubble bites at her palms, scratching her softly. She giggles, running her forefingers over it, exploring the contours of his face. Her thumbs drag over his cheekbones and he says something again, turning his face into her palm. His lips move against her skin and she wishes more than anything she could hear him. She wants to hear everything he is saying.

She draws his eyes back to hers, shaking her head slightly. He stops talking, his head cocking to the side. She cannot see it but she is almost certain his brows knit together. She is also certain that this man is beautiful, despite having only seen his eyes. If only her imagination were strong enough to fill in the blanks. Perhaps she is damaged- why else would she not be able to fill in a man of her making? His mouth opens again.

Y/n taps two fingers to her mouth and then to her ears, shaking her head. “I cannot hear you.”

She doubts that he will be able to hear her as well but she tries anyway. Her voice comes out soft, jarring against the silence. It is quieter here that she realizes. As expected, his eyes fill with confusion, narrowing slightly. One of his hands moves from her back and she swallows a whines at the rush of cool air that meets the place he had been holding her, immediately longing for the lost contact. Her bottom lip puckers out without her consent. Perhaps he notices, his gaze dropping low. Perhaps his eyes fall past her lips as well, though.

His other arm, the one still around her waist, tightens, sliding until his fingers curl around her opposing hip. Her knees slide even further forward with his actions, knocking into the back of the chair as her chest bumps into his. She shoots her hands out again, grasping onto his sturdy shoulders to keep from toppling off his lap, her thighs squeezing harder around him. Her skin drinks in the buttery material once more and this time she cannot stop the moan from rolling off her tongue, pleasure spiking up her spine. It is like nothing she has never felt before; a bolt of lightning striking right between her legs where her body nestles into his. It zaps her from the inside out, the most blissful heat pooling in the pit of her belly. Gods, the things she would do to hang on to that feeling forever.

He freezes under her, his shadowy arm around her hips stilling. Their faces are inches apart and it is as though she can almost feel his breaths against her lips. That is impossible but still the strange memory of his breath tickles, her mind filling in the blanks with what she assumes it would feel like. She can just barely taste the peppermint, somehow sharp through her dream.

Her hands squeeze harder against his shoulders as she sinks further onto him, her soft body molding again to fit against his hard one. The feeling repeats itself as she does- that wonderful bolt of pleasure- and her eyes flutter closed for a moment, her head falling back. Her mouth draws open as she clings to the growing heat between her legs. She has no idea why it is building or what will happen when it finally overflows but she is more than willing to find out.

His hand finally skims across her cheek, his fingers dipping behind her neck and curling, locking her in place against him. His hand is just as warm as the rest of him, adding a certain heaviness to her eyelids, one that she had been missing for days. He nudges her face gently and she pushes past the sleep and pleasure to meet his stare. He does not speak this time; he must have learned that it would not work. Instead he squeezes her hip, his icy eyes glancing down to where her legs are wrapped around him, before boring back into hers. He shifts again, pressing up and against her, sparking another round of that marvellous lightning in her belly, this time even stronger.

Her veins fill with fire and for a moment she can feel the sunshine on her back and hear the creaking of the chair underneath them as if she were actually in the room with him and not just locked in her own imagination. It does not last long, her newly unlocked senses, and as he relaxes back into his seat the fire in her blood mingles with desperation. She slides her fingers up his neck, tangling them in his soft hair. There is no hint of color, only the same shadows. She needs to see more- feel more.

“Please,” she draws his face up towards her, furiously pulling his darkened body towards hers. The contrast of her skin against his shadowed cheeks increases her drive- she has to see him. “Please do it again. I need more.”

It is futile, her little cries. She knows they will fall soundless on his ears. She can only hope that her actions, choked and frantic as she clings to him, can convey everything her lips cannot. He stares down, his crystal eyes locked on hers, his lips pressed together. His stillness makes her heart hammer rapidly against her ribcage. Please, by Odin, understand; I need you.

She pulls him even closer to her, falling until her back hits the edge of the desk and she is caged between it and him, still perched on his lap. Her dress bunches around her hips, her bare legs secured around his waist and squeezing him to her. Still he does not move, his eyes dragging down until his head is bowed between them, gaze locked on where their hips meet. His hand around her neck tightens, his eyes snapping back to hers, the blue visibly more brilliant. Glowing. He raises a shadowy brow, nodding slowly. Yes you oaf, yes! She would have screamed at him if she knew it would not be pointless. Instead she nods back at him, tugging gently on his hair. When he still does not move she finally snaps.

She springs forward, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, her face pressed against the crook of his neck. She really has no clue what she is doing- at this point she only knows one thing; she wants to be here with him and will do whatever she has to in order to make it happen. She gently runs her nose along the side of his neck, soaking in his warmth, her fingers twisting once more in his silky hair. His chest heaves against hers again and she smiles. That must mean something good, right?

She starts slow, her lips barely glimpsing his skin, testing his reactions to her.

She presses a soft kiss below his jaw.

He wraps his other hand back around her hip.

She brushes her lips lower, harder, kissing his throat.

He squeezes her softly, rolling his head back and revealing more of his neck to her.

She sucks some of his skin into her mouth, letting it go with a pop that sounds as though it echoes through an actual room and not just through her mind.

He pulls her flush against his chest with a groan that just barely grazes her ears, sparking the jagged pieces of her memory to fill in his luscious voice.

She tugs his earlobe into her mouth, biting down a little less gently.

He stands with her still wrapped around him and presses her back against a now fully formed tabletop.

She gasps again, not expecting the vast switch but not angry about it either. In fact this is the first time she is not unreasonably angry and she wishes she could hold onto this feeling. This happiness. She giggles up at him as her skirt pools higher around her hips, her body no longer upright and squished between the desk and him. One of his dark arms lands next to her, sliding under her head. The other hand slips under her skirt, his rough fingers a delicious contrast against her smooth skin. He presses down, his thumb circling her hip bone softly, holding her against him. She sinks her head back into his hand, unable to tear the smile from her lips. This must be what home feels like.

She squeezes her thighs, connecting their bodies. He rolls his hip against her, finally giving her the pressure she has been craving, and the building inferno inside her roars back to life. She arches her back off the desk, trying to get even closer to him, and he leans down to meet her, pressing his stomach against hers. He bucks against her again and she can taste the peppermint for real this time- the salt and the pine so sharp that there is no way she can be imagining it.

The lightning spikes through her each time he juts against her. It crackles through her nervous system, flashing in her eyes. With every spark the colors around her become more vibrant, her senses overflowing. She catches glimpses of the emerald bed behind him and some jade strips of leather in his armour. She can hear the steady rocking of the desk, the scraping of the leather against her thighs. Her little sighs are clear, she no longer has to wonder if they are only in her head. She still cannot hear him but she can see the pink in his lips as they form around his words. They look soft and capable and it is all she can do to roll her head back into his hand and pray that he understands the invitation.

He does.

Unlike her he does not start slow. He leans down immediately, pulling her skin into his mouth feverishly and biting down. Her eyes slam shut as he does so, one of her hands falling to the arm anchored beside her. She curls his fingers around his bicep, forcing herself to remain still in the face of one of the most intense experiences she has ever had. She did not know that a mans lips on her skin could feel this way. The sensation is completely foreign- otherworldly. So is the moan that carves its way out of her throat, filling the space between them. It is loud and aching- much like the rest of her- and it rewards her with something that she is not expecting in the slightest. A laugh.

His laugh.

She pushes herself up as soon as the small sound falls against her ears, musical and elegant, her eyes peeling open to the sight of sharp green leather and raven black hair. His skin is still cloaked in the darkness, his hands two shadowy masses as they snake to her thighs, but she relishes in the details that her mind grants her. Her mother’s words ring through her ears. You are so powerful, little dove. That is exactly how she feels right now; powerful. She will pull him through the darkness, little by little, until she can hear the air in his lungs and see the blush in his face. She will do it if it is the last thing she ever does.

He goes to pull away from her, his face dropping and hands releasing. His icy eyes a tinged with worry. As he takes a step back the color in his lips begins to fade, the pink dulling to a soft grey. No! She uses her legs to drag him back against her, hard enough to make him slam his hands onto the desk next to her hips. The sound thunders through the room and she smiles, the whoosh of air that accompanies his movements like a warm summer breeze chasing away the cold spring. The fire in her belly drinks it in, layering it on top of the lightning like a blanket. She wraps her arms around his shoulders again, clinging to him completely.

“Stay please.” She holds his gaze as she pleads with him, every word making the blue in his eyes brighten even more. “Please-” She does not know what to call him, he has no name that she can recall. Only one word sparks in her mind- an old word she used to hear her mother use occasionally- “Surtr.”

Dark one.

His back straightens as the word slips from her tongue, pulling her up with him until he is standing. It is like something inside him snaps- much like it had earlier in her- and he presses her against the stone wall, using his hips to hold her in place as he all but rips the straps off her arms. His mouth finds her skin again, feathering kisses down her shoulders and over the tops of her breasts where they spill out of her loosened dress.

She digs her heels into his back, encouraging him to press harder against her. He obliges, sparking the fire once more. This time, when the lightning strikes she can taste the smoke in her throat. She is so close to overflowing; right there on the edge. The smell of pine trees is overwhelming now- like she is in a forest surrounded by them. The salt is almost as strong. She licks her lips, drinking in as much of it as she can as she meets his thrusts. The only thing she can think is that the feel of the leather between her thighs is her new favourite thing.

“You are the one who must stay.”

His voice is like honey, dripping slowly down her skin. It is utter perfection; sweet and low. Everything she had been imagining and so much more. He lifts his face, now only thinly veiled by the shadows. She can see bits of his skin, flushed but rosy, peaking through. His raven hair falls forward, tickling her cheeks and nose. She drags her fingers through it again, pushing it away from his face. Something inside her roars to life at the sight- at the sounds. His groans and the hitch in his chest and the little slap he gives her thigh that makes her giggle again. All of it combines with the final jut of his hips against hers and then next thing she knows she is falling, like a star from the sky, spiraling straight into the sweetest oblivion anyone has ever known.

The pleasure that fills her body is like nothing she could have ever imagined. That is how she knows it is real. She is not creative enough to manufacture the desperate sounds he makes against her skin nor the feeling of them both sinking slowly down the wall into a pile of woozy limbs and panting breaths. She does not influence the way he curls around her, shielding her as she muffles her screams into his chest- no dream could feel as strong and soft as his arms as he glues their shaking bodies together. No; this is real.

He is real.

But for how long?

“How do I stay?” She intwines her body with his, wrapping around him once more as the pleasure begins to wane. “Please tell me.”

Even as she speaks she can hear her voice fading, losing the sharp edge it had moments ago. The warmth of his body begins to lessen as well, even as she fights to bring herself as close to him as she can. She pulls her face out of his neck, meeting only the faintest of blue in his eyes this time. They dart over her face, his hands fisting in her dress, tugging her closer too. He is fighting as well. She opens her mouth again but no sound comes out, only a hiss of air as she tries to scream. Do not leave me! Tears pour down her cheeks and for once she does not try to stop them. For once there are more important things.

The room around her begins to blur, hazing in and out of focus. Her fingers slip against his hair, no longer able to hold onto him as he, too, fades. That does not stop her from trying to dig her way through the darkness to get him back. Even as the room begins spinning she keeps clawing at his body, searching for anything that she can latch onto. Any little bit of him that she has left. Her fingers catch on something cold and she wraps her fingers around it, saving it from the disintegrating world. She squeezes her eyes shut when everything blurs so fast that bile rises in her throat, the nausea being too much.

“I will find you.” It is the last she hears of his honey voice and, like everything else, she holds onto it, hoping it will be enough to permanently sear him into her memory.

When Y/n cracks her eyes open she is no longer in the room- she is on the back of Estrid’s carriage. She is shaking still, the last dregs of pleasure- the last reminder that it was real- fizzling out and mingling with the motion sickness. The rocking of the carriage does nothing to stave it, she has to rest her head against the metal to keep from wobbling off.

She blinks a few times, clearing the haze from her bones and the blinding light from her return to reality. When she does, she is almost as breathless as she was moments ago. Instead of the usual meadows that she has gotten used to seeing in the last few days, she is greeted with glittering golden towers. They rise all around her, reaching towards the sky like flowers reach for the sun. She has to hold her breath as she her eyes trace up their iridescent stems, dizzy at the mere thought of being at the very top. She has never been that high before. Well, besides this today. That can only mean one thing- she is in the capitol!

She cranes her neck, trying to absorb as much as it as she can. All around her are other carriages. For miles it had been only Estrid’s but now there are dozens, each one just as ornately decorated. Even more so. They are drawn by white stallions that huff at her when they pass, their muzzles ruffling like they have never smelt a servant before. She does not blame their caution- by the looks of things they are probably used to the finer things. She is quite the opposite. If she was a horse perhaps she would huff at herself as well.

The streets are immaculately decorated for the upcoming festivities. The pillars that line the streets are strung with scarlet and jade banners, the railings roped with gold silks. There are little stands selling candied fruits and chocolate. Along the festive streets people mingle in and out of the towers, dressed in fabric more colorful than she has ever seen before. It is the same golds and scarlets and jades that make up the decorations. It looks velvety and luxurious to the touch- perhaps almost as soft as his hair had felt in her hands.

She squeezes her fist at the thought, something hard biting into her palm. Her heart stops. The slight pain draws her focus away from the crowds- most of which she has noticed are comprised mainly of young women. It is incredible how many girls are trying their luck the same way Anna is. That is a thought for another time though, one when she is not preoccupied by magical phenomenon. She glances down at her palm. There is no way. She peels her fingers open slowly- anticipating the let down. She must be dreaming this- she must have dreamt it all.

But no, there it is, a little gold band with a deep set green emerald sitting atop her palm like a little reminder. Like a plea. It sparkles in the brilliant sun, warming on her skin. It calls to her in a voice so honeyed she flinches.

Come find me.

She peers back up at the towering city, her heart clenching. She wants to more than anything and she will do it- she knows she will. There is only one problem.

Where does she even begin to search?

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki x y/n #loki x reader #Loki fic #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson imagine #loki imagine #mcu #mcu fic #mcu imagine #prince of asgard

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insomniac-arrest · 3 years

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how NOT to do a tournament arc

It’s kind of sad, I really enjoyed the first book in the “Darker Shade of Magic” series by VE Schwab, I even rated it 4 stars on my Goodreads! People told me that the second book, A Gathering of Shadows, was even better and I was pretty excited.

However, I cannot get myself to finish the last 80 pages or so. I am really close to the end, but I just Do Not Care. I have stopped caring about these characters or what happens to them. I think the main problem is that I actually really love “tournament arcs,” they are literally always my favorite arcs in Shonen manga.

the tournament arc in the Naruto series?? life-changing. the tournament arc in My Hero Academia? literally the only full arc I’ve seen of that show. The tournament arc in Yu Yu Hakusho? so much fun. even outside of manga, the second Hunger Games book is my favorite of the three because I think the arena/game itself is really interesting and I’m a shallow bitch.

Lee vs Gaara?? 😩👌

I think it’s this love of the trope that kind of ruined the book for me because Schwab fundamentally mishandles why audiences care about our heroes joining or winning these things. *SPOILERS AHEAD*

So I literally hated the reason for every single character joining the tournament. Not only are most of them way too OP to be joining this tournament (it’s like the reverse underdog trope and I hate it), but the reasons they join are generally weak and actively make me want them to lose.

Why does Naruto do the tournament arc? He wants to go up in the ninja hierarchy and it’s a stepping stone to his overall goal of becoming a hokage. And, as always, he’s trying to prove his self worth as a person by punching people real good. He is an underdog and seeing him win is thus satisfying. You want him to win for practical, emotional, and cathartic reasons. It’s not that complex.

None of the heroes in A Gathering of Shadows want to join the tournament for practical reasons and seeing them win achieves no catharsis. They do have emotional reasons for joining it, but their emotional reasons actively make me want to bully them. Let’s get into it.

Lila wants to join the tournament to test her magic and also run away from her cool pirate life she always wanted because of Issues I guess. I found her reasons for joining the most acceptable of the 3, but also frankly vague and boring. She kind of just has this sense she has to join. The thing that really got me is how she goes out of her way to kidnap and replace this rando in the competition.

She is technically an underdog here, but having guessed by this point she is a *SPOILERS* Antari, I already know she is super powerful and is way too magically gifted for being in this normal-people magic Olympics. I don’t watch Haikyuu for the tall people dunking on other teams! I watch it for the short king overcoming height-ism! Your stories about genetically superior magic people suck!!

If she had like, an actually compelling reason to insert herself into the competition-- such as being in poverty and needing prize money or seeking revenge or political sabotage or wanting to win the heart of a girl, I might be more forgiving. But the fact she just kinda wants to . . test herself, and fucks up someone else’s life to do that, just made me angry. I get that’s she’s a spunky, wild-card, the author describes her as a “self-serving badass,” but she was just so weakly motivated that the self-serving part made me root against her. She’s out there messing with someone’s entire profession just to “test her abilities.” This is some villainy shit.

This and the fact her “not-like-other-girls” fuckery was all over the place in this book (one of her love interests literally says “you’re not like other girls”) rubbed me the wrong way.*

*Note: the first book also had this problem too, but I was kind of willing to forgive it bc I was interested in the magic stuff going on. But Schwab did NOT course correct and I had to have this whole do-I-dislike-Lila-bc-of-internalized-misogyny debate with myself. Luckily, I discovered that the only character I really liked in this book was Rhy regardless of gender.

Alucard is also there. I don’t clearly remember his motivation for joining, but he is already wealthy and has status and allies and doesn’t really need to join this tournament so I also did not particularly care if he won or lost. He’s also just, very pompous. Which, yeah, made him likable enough, but again, pompous characters in tournament arcs are not the ones you’re rooting for. That’s not why you watch.

Finally, Kell, king of the Over Powered angst trope, wants to join the tournament because he dreams of violence. He wants to fight other people. He has some bloodlust which he feels real bad about, but also damn does he want to use his magic powers to punch people. Like, dummies and training are not enough, it has to be real flesh and blood people to pummel.

I can’t emphasize how thoroughly this turned me off. Characters who join tournaments literally just for the purpose of smacking other people around are villains in these type of stories. They aren’t doing it for the prize or redemption or self-worth shit or love. And I wanted Kell to lose so bad!! I wanted him to get water-slapped across the stage! Not only was he way too overpowered in this tournament for me to care, but the reasons he’s in the tournament actively pissed me off. You want to find freedom in violence Kell? :( absolutely not.

And like, he does lose, but it’s only because he lets Lila win. No struggle. No gay little speeches. No random heartfelt trauma reveal or character development.

I hate it here.

Naturally, a western book does not have to follow random anime tropes, but shouldn’t readers be a bit invested in this staging since it takes up a large part of the book?

None of these characters are in the tournament for interesting reasons that make me want to root for them. Some characters who I was neutral on to begin with, literally made that Sims relationship thing pop up above my head when I read this

I know what you’re thinking: But Insomniac! The book isn’t about the tournament! It’s just the set-dressing! You must have noticed, the tournament fight scenes were really brief and boring. The main conflict is between the real villain and the main characters.

And I’m like . . . then why were the magic olympics there? Also, the fact all these characters were joining this important sports event for shallow reasons really did a number on my perception of them. None of them even want to be Hokage. This is ridiculous.

Anyway, as a side note I was interested in the Rhy/Alucard interaction, but I’ll probably never finish this book so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#IA talks #IA reads #am reading #a darker shade of magic #a gathering of shadows #ve shwab #here are my thoughts you must all suffer through #long post cw #lol

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joachimnapoleon · 3 years

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"Everything captures the imagination"

Two letters from Caroline Murat, newly-crowned Queen of Naples; the first to her uncle, Cardinal Fesch; the second, to her sister-in-law/friend/rival Hortense de Beauharnais, Queen of Holland. Caroline has only recently arrived in Naples, and is not quite adjusted to her new home yet; her accommodations are dreadful and she already feels forgotten by her friends and family back in Paris; but it's obvious as she gets further into the second letter that she's already beginning to be charmed by what Naples has to offer.

[Both letters are translated from Lettres et documents pour servir à l'histoire de Joachim Murat, Vol 6]

***

Queen Caroline to Cardinal Fesch Naples, 13 October 1808

You must permit me, my dear uncle, to make you some reproaches; you have not yet written me a word since I left you, I do not have your news, or Mama's, it seems that the whole family wants to forget about me. I am still suffering, I have not yet been able to occupy myself with either the arts or antiquities this city contains.

I'm arranging at this moment another apartment than the one in which I'm living; I am lodged in the sky, I have to go up two hundred and sixteen steps to arrive at my place. You see that without going out, I can get a lot of exercise. I do not go up this stairway a single time without thinking how amused you would be at my expense if you could see me.

I cannot sleep, because the arsenal is below my room. In short, my uncle, I am very badly lodged and I'm going to try to parry these inconveniences. My children are doing well, they offer you their respectful homages. The King is always working so much, I hardly see him.

Adieu, my dear uncle, give me your news and that of all the family, because I have none of it here.

Caroline

***

Queen Caroline to Queen Hortense Naples, 16 October 1808

I am angry with you, my dear Hortense; in the more than a month since I left Paris, you haven't written one word to me, I am sensitive to this forgetfulness, I would have never thought that you, who are so good to everyone, would not have been so to me. I've received a letter from Eugène, you see how better cared for one is by new friends than by old ones. Eugène was very charming to me on my passage through Milan, caring, gallant, all that one could desire to find in a kind prince; I told him about what we had agreed upon, he did not evince too much curiosity, he was very fine and he promised me everything. If ever you see him, I'm counting on you to talk to him about this matter.

I am sad here, you can conceive it, my dear Hortense, I am still not lodged, I have no apartment, my room has the air of a furniture storage: hats, jewelry, cows,

... It literally says cows (vaches). I'm assuming Caroline is just being wry. Unless there is a translation for vaches I'm unaware of; if so, somebody please tell me, because so far I’ve found nothing else.

everything is in my midst. My writing desk was broken en route. When I need something, everything has to be turned upside down. It's like I'm still on a trip. M. de Westerholt will tell you all this.

I hope in fifteen or twenty days to be better established in another apartment, then I'll write you in more detail. I'm still not accustomed to the air of this country; it is necessary, when arriving here, to pay a tribute to the climate. I have refused the balls, the fêtes, because of my health, and I've been too ill to go out much.

It's hard to tell how much of the rest of this is Caroline just trying to rub in how beautiful Naples is (she was undoubtedly aware of how generally unimpressed Hortense was with Holland). Regardless, Caroline, like Joachim, definitely falls in love with Naples in short order, especially its scenery and ancient ruins.

I've seen Portici, the park of Capo di Monte which is beautiful, large, and well covered, it dominates Naples, the sea, and the delightful countryside. The most frequented promenade of the city is the beautiful quay of Chiaia, at the end of which is the tomb of Virgil, on the mountain of Pausilipe. The Palace of Naples is built on the edge of the sea, facing Vesuvius, which, in a quarter of an hour, buried Pompeii and Herculaneum. I will see what is left of those two cities with interest. This country is rich in souvenirs and curious objects.

It is here especially that one can say that to the very stones, everything captures the imagination.

Capri has just capitulated. The King has been in Castellamare for several days, he is well and works a lot. My children embrace you tenderly, they speak to me of you often. Achille and Letitia want to write to you. Adieu, my dear Hortense, give me your news and tell me if you've absolutely forgotten me. I embrace you.

And now we embark on a postscript that is roughly as long as the preceding text.

P.S. I haven't written in my hand because I'm angry with you and I've written at least fifteen letters today. It's during my toilette that I dictate, because I must receive the deputations of the provinces. I'm sending you the views of Naples and its environs that I've made right now, I've worked day and night to send them to you. It suffers a little from the haste put into it, because all the royal houses which are charming, appear ugly on the engraving. Caserta, for example, cannot be described, it is more beautiful than anything one can imagine. Versailles is nothing near it. I'm going to give you an idea, there is only a small wing inhabited and in this small body of buildings, there are lodged five thousand people. The chapel is bigger than the Room of the Marshals.

(A massive chamber in the Tuileries Palace, lined with portraits of Napoleon's marshals.)

The Queen's apartment has fifty salons, its library alone is composed of six rooms lined with bookcases, but no books.

It is the promised land here. In the country, one sees festoons of vines attached to the trees, of fat clusters of grapes more beautiful than those the Israelites brought to Moses. The apartment being prepared for me will be superb, not by the beauty of the furniture, but by the manner in which it is situated, I'm making a little drawing that I will send you.

I hope that everything I tell you makes you want to come and visit this country, it is well worth the trouble of taking five hundred leagues to see.

You must be very sad at the Emperor's absence. When he returns, you will be very kind, my dear Hortense, to remind him that he promised me his portrait, that I've made Letitia and Louise hope for it and that we are awaiting it very impatiently.

Best wishes on my part to M. de Lavallette. You see how much I chatter. I hope that you will show the engravings to the people who show you such pretty English engravings, that you will speak of me sometimes and that you will make beautiful plans to come see me.

M. de Ségur has been very kind, he writes to me often. The archchancellor also, but the Queen of Holland not at all. She is not kind, the Queen of Holland. However, I prefer to believe that her letters are lost.

[Autograph in Caroline's hand] I kiss you and I love you.

Caroline

If you have some news of General Excelmans, give it to me, because I am very anxious.

***

[Cross-posted to my Project Murat blog.]

#Caroline Bonaparte #Caroline Murat #Joachim Murat #Hortense de Beauharnais #Eugène de Beauharnais #Joseph Fesch #Naples #1808 #letters #translations

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doomstypewriter · 3 years

Text

Excuse me while I panic

Hello, and welcome back to the sh1tshow. Today's chapter is about betrayal. Actually yes but no, it's about misunderstandings and Roman and Janus kind of talking about the issues between them. Does anything get fully resolved? Of course not. But it's a start.

Also, some quality Janus for all of you moceit shippers.

Word count: 1194 | AO3 | <<Previous

Summary: After seeing Virgil so distraught, Roman decides to confront Janus.

CW: Angst, angry crying, Roman and Janus' issues, screaming, arguing, unsympathetic Janus (from Roman's point of view though, and just at the beginning), unsympathetic Roman (same as before, this is from Janus' point of view), swearing.

Let's accuse the snake of committing heinous crimes

Like a very organised opera dressing room.

That’s how Roman would describe Janus’ room once he rose inside.

“It’d be a pity if you knocked, Roman” Janus acknowledged him without bothering to look.

He was applying some heavy moisturizer to his reptile side. The creme made his scales looked kind of fuzzy and dull. Odd choice.

Janus went still.

“Okay, guess you won’t be leaving”, he said. “What can I be so pleased to help you with, Roman?” Janus finally stared at him.

“Ew, what’s up with your eye?”

His left eye looked glazed over. The pupil a hazy shade of blue, just like the iris. It was as if a semi-opaque layer of greyish blue had been laid onto the cornea.

“I’m shedding. Thanks for asking. I love to show it off. That’s exactly why I keep to myself when it happens. But enough about me, what do you want?”

Roman frowned.

“What are you playing at?”

“I AM shedding. It happens every now and then”.

“No. With Virgil”.

“Ah. Well, you see, I am actually trying to murder him. He spends so much time at those stairs that it’s almost like he’s asking for it”.

For a microsecond, Roman had the nerve to be horrified. Janus rolled his eyes at it.

“I know I’m an excellent liar Roman, but even someone as dim as you cannot believe that I honestly intend to kill Virgil. Among other things, we cannot be killed. Remember how much Remus tries? If it were possible I’d say, by this time, you’d be dead”.

“Then what are you plotting?”

Roman wanted to punch Janus when he heard him laugh. Still, he had sort of promised Virgil not to, so he had to make do by glaring at him and hoping he would magically be set on fire.

“My, my… one wouldn’t tell if you hold me to a high standard or a really low one” Janus wiped the tears from his eyes theatrically. After that, his tone darkened. “Being me, I guess the bar must be on the floor. You make it so easy to step over it to taunt you, dear”.

His fists tightened.

‘Do not punch him’, Roman had to mentally repeat to himself.

He felt mortified when he realised that a part of him felt so angry it made him want to cry. In an attempt to maintain his barely convincing menacing aura, Roman sucked up the tears and tried to sound detached.

“How--How can you be…” so much for keeping his tone unaffected.

The reaction from Janus was hardly distinguishable from surprise, amusement or… yes, guilt, not too much, but present.

“So evil?”

“I’m not” Janus replied categorically, his mocking tone gone.

“Really? Then why do you always have to play with everyone? Why do you always have some secret agenda?”

“I do--”

“Yes you do!” Roman interrupted him, finally tearing up. “Have you any idea what you’re making him go through? Why are you so selfish?!”

Janus tensed up, letting some of the hurt show on his face.

“Being selfish isn’t bad and--”

“It IS bad when you use it as an excuse to ignore that you’re hurting people. Which is exactly what you’re doing right now! No one is asking you to stop thinking about yourself”, Roman began to laugh bitterly, “I don’t even know if you can!

“Oh, right! That’s exactly why I helped you in the first place, Roman! Because I only care about myself! Have you forgotten who was the one who tried to convince everyone to choose the… what was it? Oh, the callback you desperately wanted to go to. After wasting away in a wedding anyone would think you’d see who had your best interests in mind. But I guess--”

“Shut up! I don’t care about the callback! Not… not anymore. At least this isn’t why I came here”.

“Then what do you want from me, Roman? Did you just want to feel morally superior and gloat?”

“I want you to tell me the truth. I’m so tired. Why did you even tell me to pursue Virgil if you hate me? Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”

After one exasperated sigh, Janus put the creme down.

Meanwhile, Roman massaged his temples.

Seeing Virgil turning into a ball because of how confused and terrified he felt had gotten to him like no other thing.

The circling motions of his fingers came to a sudden halt.

“Patton. Does he know what you’re doing? I-- he trusts you! It’s one thing to have it out for me or be all weird with Virge, but if you even think about hurting him--”

Janus smashed his hands on the dresser.

“I’d never hurt Patton!”

“How can anyone believe what you would or wouldn’t do?!” he mirrored Virgil’s earlier words.

“Let me ask you this instead, how can you be so fucking stupid to think I’d ever do something to harm him?!”

“Because Virgil thought you cared about him and you stabbed him in the back, because I thought you liked me and then you used me! You’re using me right now and I don’t know what for, how can I put it past you to have Patton--”

“I’m not using you! I’m trying to be better because I want Patton to be happy!”

Roman quieted, fully taken aback.

“Wha...what?”

Janus huffed.

“Do you need me to also spell it out for you? I love him”.

His head lowered. Janus clasped his hands together, squeezing, as he brought them to his chest in a gesture that looked almost vulnerable, as if he was trying to push every feeling out of sight.

“He wanted me to apologise. But I don’t feel like I owe you that. After mocking me as you did, I think we’re even. Still… I understood that he wanted us to get along, so I decided I could do something nice for you. But I suppose wanting to fix one of your many oversights”, Janus looked up, “is my most diabolical plan yet. Right?”

“Umm… but you could just use it to get to Virgil…” Roman began to lose his resolve.

“Or I could be using it to also do something for him”, Janus began to say as if talking to a child, “because I never stopped caring about him, and things aren’t black or white as you seem to think, and I want to make Virgil happy too. I know, groundbreaking”.

The prince froze in place.

“But why would it make Virgil happy?”

Janus half-sighed, half-laughed in disbelief.

“For fuck’s sake, Roman. Why do you think?”

“Emm… oh”.

“Why are you still here? Go and talk to him”.

Roman started to head for the door, feeling like bursting at the seams.

“Before you leave, don’t get up to any of your usual nonsense. Use your pretty mouth and talk like an actual human being”.

“Will do!”

The door bashed against the frame as Roman ran out like a headless chicken. Janus ran his hands over his face.

“Now what?” he looked at Roman peeking in again.

“Hmm… thank you, Janus”.

“Love to help, now leave!”

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#prinxiety #moceit #roman sanders #ts roman #ts janus #sanders sides #prinxiety fanfiction #doomywrites #doomstypewriter #angst

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