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vindelllas · 3 years

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the beauty of jyeshta 🐇🏹:

🐇 alexa demie: jyeshta surya

*TW// i do discuss a few triggering topics i.e. abuse and drugs. some of the jyeshta natives i exhibit and talk about are known for terrible behavior and scandals. i do not condone their offensive and ignorant behavior. they are simply being shown to solidify my opinions on the nature of this nakshatra*

as you read this post, please listen to this jyeshta playlist i made for the full experience: https://open.spotify.com/user/a95141rv0vjdg8lqcggilvcxm/playlist/3gzS9sXWs71yb2i9EiBhSY?si=xtP4mnRnR7ahXfN09KwiRw

🏹 they key to unearthing the energies of jyeshta lie in studying it’s associative deities. before we dive down the rabbit hole of the jyeshta nakshatra, let us understand the representative mahavidya of buddha. it is traditionally believed that the tantric goddess tripura sundari is associated with buddha. tripura sundari is also known as the goddess shodashi. the goddess shodashi is said to be the most beautiful in all three worlds. the goddess shodashi is also known as lalita and rajarajeshwari. lalita means “the one who plays” and rajarajeshwari means “queen of queens”. the tantric goddess tripura sundari is a form of mahalakshmi and, therefore, symbolizes wealth and abundance. according to tripura sundari’s dhyana mantra, her complexion radiates with the light of the rising sun. she emanates a rosy color which is representative of her joy, compassion, and illumination.

🌌 tripura sundari is depicted with four arms and holds five arrows of flowers (remember this number for later), a noose, a goad and sugarcane for the use of a bow. her holding a noose represents attachment, the goad represents repulsion, the sugarcane bow represents the mind, and the arrows are the five sense objects. in the sakta tantra, she is depicted as the supreme mother who uses the gods as her instruments of passion. with the aid of the instruments of passion, she presides over the creation, sustainability, and destruction of the universe—the three phases of life. she overlooks the layers of our shadow states, self-concealment and self-revelation, that lie in-between these three phases of life (bhoo, bhuva, and swa). self-concealment is the predisposition to actively conceal from others personal information that one perceives as distressing or negative. self-revelation revelation of one's own thoughts, feelings, and attitudes especially without deliberate intent.

🔥tripura sundari represents the state of awareness that is called “sadasivatattva”. this state of sadasivatattva is said to be based on the belief that “i am this” (aham idam). that, as we evolve through our cosmic destinies, we have an outward flow of consciousness, or pravritti. spiritual practice reverses our state of physical consciousness and cause us to revert to our true being. the action of coming back to our origin and finding attainment within, is a theme of jyeshta’s scorpio rashi itself, the sign of realization. it is the divine understanding that our experiences in this universe lie within the unity of consciousness itself.

🌳many believe that tripura sundari is the beauty that precedes the three worlds. that she is divinity in its infinite meanings, embodying the different aspects of the phenomenal world. tripura sundari is the beauty that we see in the world around us. she is the beauty we find in everywhere we look. modeling the captivating beauty of tripura sundari, jyeshtas naturally are externally perceived as beautiful beings who, solely with their appearances, draw the collective desires of hearts deep within. this is the essence of jyeshta’s features. they enshroud you with an abundance of beauty and over-stimulate your senses to near exhaustion. because jyeshta is symbolized by the jewel or earrings, they adorn their features with jewels and sparkling products to appear otherworldly. most notably, jyeshta natives seem to pay great attention to the forehead, neck, skin, and tongue (as buddha is said to rule these facial features). jyeshtas love to particularly adorn themselves in gold chains (i.e. jyeshta native nicki minaj and her extensive gold chain collection). remember that scorpio is co-ruled by ketu, which is remedied by brihaspati (who is remedied by gold). so the adornment of gold will be very prevalent and calming to these natives.

🐇 fka twigs: jyeshta chandra

👅another interesting characteristic of jyeshta is tongue piercings. because buddha rules the tongue and scorpio rules the blood, we see these natives naturally have quite a great deal of emphasis in their tongue area. they are inclined to/consider piercing their tongues. some examples of this are, willow smith (jyeshta shukra atmakaraka) who infamously got a tongue piercing at eleven-years-old. christina aguilera (jyeshta buddha atmakaraka) had a tongue piercing during her most notably “promiscuous” time frame in her career (aka her “dirrty” years). in the movie “thirteen”, evan rachel wood (jyeshta shani 1H) plays a young girl who gets her tongue pierced as a sign of rebellion. one thing you will notice about these jyeshta natives is that they are always under scrutiny for the changes they make to their body. however, the vimshottari buddha-ruled nakshatras embrace rebellion in the gandanta knot of deadly restriction. after all, mercury was named “the trickster” himself. this correlates back to the trickster archetype of poking out your tongue to make fun of another person. jyeshta natives most frequently pierce their tongues as a clap back to societal standards or parental authority. in this sense, they are quite literally sticking out their tongue for the purpose of mockery. these natives also prefer sticking out their tongues in photography. examine the common photos of jyeshta natives like princess nokia, nicki minaj, and rosalía (jyeshta lagna). you will notice they prefer to playfully stick out their tongue when around others. in the bible, it states “death and life are in the power of the tongue” (proverbs 18:21). meaning the tongue can either be used as a weapon to harm and destroy others or as a tool to build and heal. this is the common unraveling of jyeshta...

♏️ jyeshta lies in the final portion of scorpio. scorpio’s ruling planet is kuja, the mahavidya associated with kuja is bagalamukhi. bagalamukhi is commonly referred to as “the goddess who seizes the tongue”. once, a demon named madan undertook austerities and won the boon of vak siddhi. anything the demon said came to be true. the demon abused this power and killed many people. the gods were enraged by the demon’s wrongdoings, so they began to worship bagalamukhi to invoke her help. baglamukhi stopped the demon by taking hold of his tongue, which was the source of all mischief, and silenced his words. however, she did not kill the demon, because he asked to be worshipped with her and she agreed. this is why the demon is depicted with her. she is repeatedly portrayed with holding the demon’s tongue with a club in her other hand. by stopping the demon's tamasic tongue, she exercised her power over speech and her power to freeze, stun, or paralyze others.

🔪 bagalamukhi is also associated with magical powers, which can sometimes be referred to as siddhis, "accomplishments" or "perfections." among her epithets in her hymn of a thousand names are she who gives the eight siddhis. the invocation written around the edge of an amulet containing her yantra in the tantrasara states: "o bagalamukhi, please arrest the speech of wicked people, paralyze their faces, fix their tongues and destroy their intellect."

⚫️while jyeshtas are fond of displaying and emphasizing their tongues from a physical standpoint, this emphasis does not stop here. as you may have noticed, most of the jyeshtas featured in this thread have gotten into some serious scandals and allegations. for example, jyeshta natives like nicki minaj who married a s*xual abuser/predator, tyra banks (jyeshta surya) and her many blackface scandals, sabrina claudio who has said many offensive racial slurs, brigitte bardot who was known to be heavily racist and abusive to her child, naomi campbell who has been linked to epstein, etc.. their interviews and words are often misconstrued and taken to the extreme, as the public takes every word of their’s as the truth, much like madan (who had the power to speak things into existence). because every word these natives say is treated as the truth, they become either hindered or freed by this power. jyeshta’s have the ability to thrive in the dark abyss of scorpio and yield their words to sway the minds of others.

💎we see the public grasping jyeshtas by the tongue, much like the tantric goddess baglamukhi, and holding on to every word they say. valuing the belief that the powers of life and death lie within the words we speak. once the dark abyss consumes a jyeshta native and they no longer rely on the glamour of the tongue, we truly see how flawed and sorrowful their lives can be (despite their abundant beauty).

🐇 sabrina claudio: jyeshta chandra

💔 jyeshta means “the eldest" or "the elder". she is the goddess of inauspicious happenings and misfortune. as her sanskrit name suggests, she is regarded as the elder sister of lakshmi (the goddess of good fortune and beauty). unfortunately, jyeshta is frequently associated with sinning, laziness, poverty, sorrow, ugliness and the crow. because of her inauspiciousness and crow symbolism, she is sometimes associated with alakshmi. due to jyeshta representing the bad wife and lakshmi representing the good wife, jyeshta is often worshiped for women who wish to keep her away from their homes, as she is said to cause marital disturbances.

🌊 most astrologers agree that jyestha's birth took place during the churning of the cosmic ocean. she was said to be born when the poison, halala, flows from the ocean, while her sister, lakshmi, is born when the elixer of life emerges. symbolic of jyeshta being in the debilitation rashi of chandra, modeling the shadow state of the new moon. whereas, lakshmi is symbolic of the plump, elxir-like full moon that lies in the exaltation rashi of chandra: taurus.

🌀 based on the linga purana, vishnu divided the world into the good and the bad. he created lakshmi and jyestha, both born from the same origin of the cosmic ocean churning. lakshmi marries vishnu, but jyestha is married to the sage dussaha. dussaha soon discovers that his jyeshta (described as his “ugly wife”) cannot bear her senses being exposed to any auspicious things. he then complained to vishnu or the sage markendeya (depending on the version). vishnu (or markendeya) recommended he take jyestha only to inauspicious places. jyestha is told to stay away from religious people. it is at this point, jyeshta became described as the "one who is inauspicious". dussaha became tired of her anti-social nature and abandoned jyestha in a place where heretical rituals are performed. jyeshta then sought out vishnu for relief. vishnu decreed that jyestha would be sustained by offerings of women who wish to keep jyeshta’s presence from homes.

⚔️ like the goddess jyeshta, jyeshta natives spend life lost and surrounded by inauspicious people and environments. they stick out like the symbolic jewel they are, moving around from one place to another. while we see jyeshta natives being intrinsic and extremely self-focused and determined, much like the antisocial jyeshta goddess, they feel at home in their wanderlust lifestyle. as their nakshatra yoni is the hare, an animal who is always on the run and quick-footed. the hare is always prepared to run from dangerous environments, which they frequently find themselves entangled in. they can quickly become surrounded by harmful environments like drugs, unhealthy relationships, and demonic presences. for example, jim morrison (jyeshta surya) was infamous for his hard partying lifestyle, filled with fast money, sexual pursuits, and hard drugs, as the bunny always craves more stimulation. but jyeshtas know how to use their gifts, their charming words and beauty, to their total advantage. buddha is considered to be the quick, discriminating intellect. this is why buddha’s overruler is vishnu (“the maintainer”). vishnu maintained a source for jyeshta to channel and tried to solve her marital issues. buddha needs the sandpaper-like energy of vishnu to buff out and refine the rigid nature of buddha. with buddha’s intellectual mastery and scorpio being symbolic of the motivation and ability to work on ourselves and to help transform others, we see these natives eventually learning from the unfortunate circumstances of jyeshta and growing to surpass even the three worlds (like tripura sundari).

🐇 sevdaliza: jyeshta chandra

⛓because jyeshta is described as the “bad wife” and scorpio is associated with the dusthana house of obstacles (eighth house), we frequently see jyeshta natives personify their issues with love and self-perception in their songs. in the chorus of “girl like me” by alexa demie (jyeshta surya), she sings: i think i need a present, man. i’m just out here doin' the best i can. you think a girl like me gon' be single for long. your wrong. you think a girl like me gon' be trippin' for long. dead wrong. you think a girl like me, goddess like me, gon' be trippin', you'll see with a girl like me.”. demie’s song describes a woman who was once mistreated in her past relationships and learned to embody the natural goddess she is and not settle for the inadequacies of her past lovers. she learned from her sorrowful and toxic past relationships (like the goddess jyeshta) and recognized her worth (the evolved state of the eighth house). this is similar to the character alexa played in “euphoria”. she played a teen in a broken and abusive relationship who continuously kept perpetuating the cycle of inauspiciousness and eventually learned to step back and realize the amount of harm she has experienced. in the song, “ego death” (starring skrillex, possibly jyeshta chandra) we hear fka twigs (jyeshta chandra) sing: i let my ego down and then I rise back up. i let my ego down and then I'll be stronger. i’m armed, to let a sucker step up and get bombed. by a beat created by my producer, i am losin' my mind 'cause your heart's so blind. when you left me outside, i’d be losin' my mind. i am losin' my mind 'cause your heart's so blind. when you left me outside, i'd be losin' my mind. it’s gonna cost you to be great. you will have to sacrifice something to be great.”. again, we see the jyeshta native falling into the cycle of mistreatment and harm and learning her worth. she eventually grasps the concept of sacrifice and realization. she thrusts herself into the purifying abyss of scorpio and hopes to never turn back. recently, fka twigs came forward and discussed the abuse she faced at the hands of her ex partner. in a recent interview with “elle”, fka twigs strongly told her story to the reporter and spoke with passion and truth. in the song “human” by sevdaliza (jyeshta chandra), she sings “been in and out. and in front of my judgmental eyes, my precious disguise. business so cold. can’t cope with my own. how to not fail.”. in the entire song, sevdaliza realizes the cold disguise she once possessed, only to peel back the layers to find a mere human. a flawed being predestined for a life of more flaws. she finds artful peace in knowing this. in the music video for “human”, she is depicted as a temptress who lures men. she embodies the conscious choice of mastering buddha’s trickery. instead of breaking away from the cycle, sevdaliza finds enjoyment in inauspiciousness. this correlates to the dull state of the new moon.

☂ the umbrella is said to represent jyeshta. it is reflective of jyeshta’s state of reflecting what other’s project onto them. the full moon is associated with receptivity and harnessing light/energy. scorpio is the debilitation of chandra, as is cancer is the debilitation of kuja, because the energies of kuja and chandra oppose each other. kuja is rigid, hard, powerful, and tamasic. chandra is fluid, malleable, inward, and auspicious. with scorpio’s kuja rulership, we see jyeshtas acting cold and distant when they become used to harmful environments and develop the coping mechanism of allowing other’s energies to bounce off of them, much like how an umbrella protects you from the rain. rain is also symbolic of nourishment and bountiful energy, as it nourishes all the beings on this planet. this is why water is linked to feminine energy. in scorpio, a water sign, we see kuja blocking the receptivity associated with water and jyeshta bestowing this receptivity when it’s time. only when the jyeshta native distances themselves from a life of strife and never-ending cycles of abuse, may they learn to close their figurative umbrella and swim in the rain of multiple emotions and influences. an example of the symbolism of the umbrella is elle driver (played by jyeshta native daryl hannah) in “kill bill”. as she walks down the hospital hallway to kill the bride, she is adorned in a nurse costume and has an unopened red umbrella in her hand. the unopened umbrella represents her allowing the floodgates of outer influences to open. she no longer cares about her perception and is shown in her rawest form. she is no longer the illusionary and illusive character who hides in scorpio’s mystery. she is now revealed to be an evil cut throat being. the umbrella’s red color is symbolic of kuja and denotes her revealing her true tamasic nature and her carrying the collective blood of her enemies.

🐇 nicki minaj: jyeshta surya

🌩 the deity who rules the jyeshta nakshatra is indra. he is the deity of lightning, thunder, and rain. he is considered to be the king of all gods and heaven. indra rules the sky and and wields the power of rain as his weapon. he is also considered to be the god of battle. prior to each of his battles, he drank a vast amounts of soma. soma is a divine juice that strengthens him to accomplish his deeds in combat. it is he who defeated the serpent vritra who had swallowed all the waters of the world spurring a tumultuous drought. indra split the belly of the serpent with his thunderbolt, releasing the waters and generating life. by killing the serpent, indra separated land from ocean, and caused the sun to rise (this act of land separation is comparable to the god zeus and the christian god). indra slicing the belly of the serpent, recalls how jyeshtas must retire their umbrella to generate life in their lives. however, there is another item they will find to be particularly important during their journey in this lifetime.

🧿 every jyeshta i have ever met holds at least some significance for a form of the talisman. this is because jyeshta is also symbolized by the talisman/evil eye. this all correlates to jyeshta being the cosmic jewel, the shiny emerald who captivates their truest beauty. it’s green color honors the symbolism of buddha and is reminiscent of the blue or green evil eye. the concept of the evil eye exists in many cultures from hinduism to islam to turkey.

🔮 the overall concept of the talisman is called "apotropaic" (which is greek for "turns away"). talismans are believed to turn away or turn back harm, like an umbrella, bouncing off the influencing waters. disks or balls, consisting of concentric blue and white circles are generally representative of the evil eye in common talismans in west asia. however, this emblem is most commonly found in turkish cultures. this blue or green eye can also be found on some forms of the hamsa hand (which is also known to ward the evil eye of others). The word hamsa, also spelled as khamsa and hamesh, means "five" which refers to the fingers of the hand.

🤚🏽 in jewish culture, the hamsa is called the hand of miriam/mary and, in some muslim cultures, the “the hand of fatima” (fatima being the daughter of the prophet muhammad). it is primarily the muslims in the near east and mediterranean regions that believe envious looks can contain destructive power. the talismanic power of the nazar defends against this destructive energy. this is why the pure virgin mary or fatima is said to ward off these negative influences, recalling baglamukhi who was called to aid the other deities in the slaying of the demon.

🥚 the evil eye also heavily exists in hispanic and latinx cultures. it is referred to as the 'mal de ojo' and it is very prevalent in spanish culture throughout history. in most of mexico and central america, infants are considered at special risk for the mal de ojo and are often given an amulet bracelet as protection. this amulet bracelet typically contains an eye-like dot painted on the amulet. to also ward against the mal de ojo, it is customary to allow admirers to touch the infant or child. one popular traditional cure in my old hometown and in parts of central or south america involves a curandero (otherwise known as a folk healer). the curandero sweeps a raw chicken egg over the body of a victim to absorb the power of the person with the evil eye. once this is finished, the egg is later broken into a glass with water and placed under the bed of the patient near the head. it is usually checked immediately to see if the broken egg appears cooked. if this happens, it means that the patient did have the mal de ojo. after this ritual is completed, any pains or sickness from the mal de ojo is ceased. the concept of the egg is also closely linked to the bunny (jyeshta’s yoni) in some european cultures. most notably, the easter bunny.

🐰 easter is a religious holiday, but a great deal of its american customs are linked to pagan traditions. the egg itself is an ancient symbol of new life/re-birth. it has been associated with pagan festivals celebrating spring. many christians view easter eggs as a representation of jesus’ emergence from the tomb and resurrection. in orthodox christianity, it is traditional to have ‘the octave of easter’, essentially an eight day celebration of easter. during this celebration, the surya usually moves from revati (the final nakshatra) to ashwini (the first nakshatra). before i continue any further, i am not the first one to find this correlation, i believe the lovely @/shravishtamoo and @/365chimera were the first to talk about this on twitter. out of respect for not taking credit for their work, i will only lightly graze over this topic and solely share my opinion on this.

🌸 revati is under the vimshottari dasha rulership of buddha and the aries rashi of ashwini is ruled by kuja. kuja is overruled by bhumi, the cosmic mother or earth goddess. bhumi is usually depicted with four arms, holding a pomegranate, a water vessel, a bowl containing healing herbs, and another bowl containing vegetables. she is sometimes depicted with two hands, the right hand holding a blue lotus known as kumuda or utpala, the night lotus, while the left hand may be in the abhayamudra, this is a pose meant to mimic the tail of a horse. bhumi is symbolic of the cosmic flourishment. her pomegranate, healing herbs, and water vessel are symbolic of the fruitful tides and nature of the cosmic mother. much like how easter is linked to the pagan festival/celebration of the spring equinox (the day the surya enters into tropical aries). ashwini is the birth of the nakshatras, but bharani is considered to be the cosmic yoni. bhumi’s stance represents the horse ashwini and the cosmic egg. as bharani represents inward fertility, like the ripe pomegranate and cooling, feminine waters of the yoni. whereas, jyeshta, who is also ruled by kuja (rashi-wise), models this seemingly fertile abundance on the surface. like how the octave of easter combines the energy of buddha and kuja, we see this internal need to ascend their constant negativity, like how jesus died and arose from the death. jesus was betrayed and beaten brutally, similar to how many jyeshtas will find themselves continuously hurt by others. i understand this may sound redundant but look at the jyeshta goddess, baglamukhi, indra, tripura sundari, the octave of easter, and bhumi. they all required ascension, forgiveness or rebirth, which are necessary when such a tamasic planet like kuja and poltergeist-like spirit of buddha operate in their shadow state.

even bunny-like formations have been known to pop up on the planet mars itself: https://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/mars/images/odyssey-image_feature_295.html

🐇 naomi campbell: jyeshta chandra

5️⃣ the number 5 is very important and reoccurring in the lives of jyeshta natives. the number five is said to be representative of buddha. as you have read through this post, you will notice the number five has reoccurred constantly. such as, tripura sundari’s five bows, the five-finger hamsa symbol, jyeshta natives like mick jagger and jay-z who are both life path 5s, and even some of the jyeshta names i have included in this thread total to the number five (such as, nicki/onika = 5 and tyra lynne banks = 14 = 1+4 = 5). because this number is symbolic of buddha, this number is said to denote intelligence, constant changes, and business success. however, the number five primarily shows a free-spirited and lucky nature. this is why the number sequence of five is said to be incredibly auspicious. i would like to focus on the fifth book of the bible: deuteronomy, a book filled with rebellion and imposing laws. a quote i think particularly describes jyeshta is deuteronomy 28-14: “If you fully obey the lord your god and carefully follow all his commands I give you today, the lord your god will set you high above all the nations on earth. all these blessings will come upon you and accompany you if you obey the lord your god: you will be blessed in the city and blessed in the country. the fruit of your womb will be blessed, and the crops of your land and the young of your livestock – the calves of your herds and the lambs of your flocks. your basket and your kneading trough will be blessed. you will be blessed when you come in and blessed when you go out. the lord will grant that the enemies who rise up against you will be defeated before you. they will come at you from one direction but flee from you in seven. the lord will send a blessing on your barns and on everything you put your hand to. the lord your god will bless you in the land he is giving you. the lord will establish you as his holy people, as he promised you on oath, if you keep the commands of the lord your god and walk in his ways. then all the peoples on earth will see that you are called by the name of the lord, and they will fear you. the lord will grant you abundant prosperity – in the fruit of your womb, the young of your livestock and the crops of your ground – in the land he swore to your forefathers to give you. the lord will open the heavens, the storehouse of his bounty, to send rain on your land in season and to bless all the work of your hands. you will lend to many nations but will borrow from none. the lord will make you the head, not the tail. if you pay attention to the commands of the lord your god that I give you this day and carefully follow them, you will always be at the top, never at the bottom. do not turn aside from any of the commands i give you today, to the right or to the left, following other gods and serving them.”. essentially, if you follow the teachings of your deity (operating in your light state), you will reap the bountiful crops of spiritual abundance and find freedom within (the theme of 5 in vedic teachings). the outer influences of others will no longer affect your inner being. jyeshta becomes the flowing waters of indra and bhumi, abundant in the freedom these natives onced crave. while jyeshtas appear to have an abundance of freedom, as they continuously bounce from one situation to another, it is insincere if they do not learn how to alter their surroundings, set boundaries, and learn to love again, reminiscent of the number four.

4️⃣ another number jyeshtas see quite frequently is the number four. the number four is said to be ruled by rahu, the head of the serpent god. recall in the aforementioned bible quote, “the lord will make you the head, not the tail”. this is the essence of the number four. it symbolizes the need for/ability of staying grounded, stability, worldly achievements, and secrecy. buddha was said to be one of the only deities to tame rahu. when a number of the nature of four occurs in a jyeshta’s life, it means the native must learn to tame their inner being and focus on staying grounded and not share their accomplishments with others. as discussed previously, buddha-ruled natives struggle with the immense power of their tongues. because they are able to have their words believed by the masses, if they say they will do something and it does not happen it brings a great deal of distrust around them. the art of secrecy is said to be something rahu thrives in, due to his natural illusionary background. embracing the illusion will help them ward the evil eye, with or without an amulet or talisman. if these natives do not share their plans or accomplishments, others cannot impose their hatred or jealousy against that native.

9️⃣ it is interesting to note that once the number of freedom (5) and secrecy/achievements (4) come together, they make 9. nine is the number representative of kuja. nine denotes strength, leadership, knowledge, and fire. it is a number described as “a man who walks with the torch of intelligence [buddha], in a road full of blood stains [kuja], not seeing the snake below his feet [rahu].”. modeling the fiery and strong spirit of indra, slaying great beasts in battle, much like how the owl is one of the only animals to beat the snake into submission (rahu).

🐇 mädchen amick: jyeshta surya

🦉 recall from the earlier paragraphs, jyeshta is considered to be linked to the goddess lakshmi (the sister of jysheta’s comparative goddess: alakshmi). lakshmi is depicted as sitting on an owl. this owl is why jyeshta is associated with the supernatural owl. owls are said to symbolize knowledge, wisdom, and dread. the owl is also closely linked to the dawn of death and misery. the differences of the spiritual associations of the owl is symbolic of the axis of jyeshta/alakshmi and lakshmi. due to their rare and majestic nature, many cultural myths associate owls with the presence of a higher being, such as guardians, spiritual guides, and vahanas. their ominous hoot is an anamnesis of being lost in a dark forest reeking of danger and the scent of pine. the owl may either be your beacon of light, carrying the auspicious powers of lakshmi into your life, or bringing detrimental, loss and death to your dearest beloved.

🐦 the name of lakshmi’s vahana owl is known as uluka. uluka is considered to be another name for lord indra (the deity ruling jyeshta). the combination of the goddess of wealth (lakshmi) and the king of heaven (indra) personifies the auspicious, wealthy, and powerful spirit linked to the owl. because the owl dwells in the night, it is also a symbol of the darkness of ignorance (avidya). the owl’s aversion towards the daytime is indicative of turning away from the solar path to embrace the feminine forestry of the night. the is why lakshmi is said to guide one to open the eyes to the light of wisdom residing within themselves. she is said to guide you to the goddess saraswati, who is said to rule our knowledge, alphabet, and the tongue (recall jyeshtas penchant for the tongue). uluka becomes lakshmi’s vahana when she blesses wealth and prosperity. the owl asks of lakshmi’s devotees to not be trapped by the illusions of wealth (444), warning against the dangers of arrogance and stressing discipline. when her wealth is used by humans for inauspicious activities, one is said to be blinded, like owl who can longer tolerate the bright rays of surya. it is then uluka embraces the antithesis of the axis and becomes a bird of ill omen flying the goddess of alakshmi around to your door-step, bringing darkness, disgrace, inauspiciousness and misfortune.

🏔 the show “twin peaks” is heavily influenced by the jyeshta nakshatra, as approximately 25% of it’s cast and four directors have prominent jyeshta placements (surya, chandra, lagna, or atmakarala). it centers around a small logging town filled with murder. in this show, nothing is as it seems, intuition is valued, and your dreams guide you. a common phrase in the show is: “the owls are not what they seem”. in the show, there appears to be two paranormal realms, the black lodge and the white lodge. these realms correlate to the lodge spirits, who are unable have physical bodies. because of this, they are limited in the ways they can travel outside the lodges and usually require a host/vessel. while other spirits exist in various mediums, like wood, electricity, and running water.

⛰ the owls are said to be a physical medium of the watchful eyes of the lodge spirits. the owls are theorized to control the entire narrative of the story, invoking harm or bliss. they serve as a barrier and channel between the illusionary twin peaks and the deeply uneasy spiritual lodge realms. in the show, they literally serve as a mask to cover the face of a harmful spirit. thus, the owls are not what they seem. they may channel the deity they please and bring the essence of lakshmi or alakshmi to your door.

♟the owls are reminiscent of the nature of scorpio. scorpio is representative of the eighth house of the zodiac. with kuja being it’s rashi lord, we see a strong amount of strength, energy, achievements and inheritance in the lives of these natives. because scorpio is the watery dusthana, they have a strong intuitive nature when they let their guard down. in twin peaks, you will see many characters try to appear strong when, in reality, they are some of the weakest and sensitive characters in the whole show. an example of this is shelly (played by jyeshta native mädchen amick). shelly married an abusive man who expected her to only do domestic chores and be subservient. she tries to appear fine and cover the bruises to protect her other lover, but quickly her illusion is shattered. she becomes lost and scared, only to regain her confidence via her other partner. another possible jyeshta co-star, kimmy robertson (who played lucy), struggles with handling her romantic endeavors and is quite stubborn. once she feels she has met the right partner, her stubborn nature corrodes like a boulder chipping away from a cliff, only to reveal a sweet, pleasant waterfall of love. due to the scorpio rashi’s strong intuition, they generally have fixed ideas and tend to relentlessly follow them out of faith in their perception of the unknown. the deputy chief (played by jyeshta buddha atmakaraka native michael horse) is known for following his intuition and, due to this, he eventually ends up saving the lives of many others. scorpios also tend to value a small, close-knit friend group. we see the small town of twin peaks frequently coming together to help each other in need.

🌟 the eighth house is associated with the unveiling of deep secrets. this is why scorpios feel the immense need to get to the state of raw purity (the cosmic egg) to examine the situation in it’s purest form. throughout the entire series, mysteries are repeatedly being discovered and solved. however, these mysteries do not solely require the analytical mind. they also require the help and guidance of outside and unexplainable sources. in order to solve these mysteries, you must channel the nature of the owl to evaluate both sides. the eighth house/scorpio is also said to rule the genitals, whereas, kuja is said to heavily influence the sexual organs. in the entire show, sexual pursuits, pr*stitution, and kundalini energy is rampant. sexual energy abundance and accumulation is the cause of adoration. this is why we see jyeshta natives, like the fictional character holli would, nicki minaj, or fka twigs, exciting the sexual passion within others and enticing the masses with their trickster nature. you will often notice many jyeshta (and other buddha/kuja natives) natives create a great deal of sexualized content to express their untamable and playful skill. they embody indra in combat and wield their bodies like a cosmic sword, exciting the virility in others with their sharp nature. however, jyeshta natives do not care for pleasing the average partner, they wish to dominate them with their seemingly submissive nature. they thrive in an environment of underestimation and want you to assume they are a surreal illusion. much like the ashlesha nakshatra, jyeshtas are either tamed or dominated, but—more frequently—they are the one’s to dominate, as many people do not know to handle such icy, hot energy and are simply in mere awe of their beauty. this issue with knowing how to work along with jyeshtas and rise to their level is something many people struggle with. instead of wishing to see the jyeshta flourish and glow with passion, they will try to drag them down to their own low vibrational level, reminding jyeshtas of their original gandanta point of sorrow.

🐇 princess nokia: jyeshta chandra

💧water and, thus, the color blue holds great power in the lives of jyeshta. the jyeshta goddess herself was adorned with blue-black garments and is said to hold a blue lotus in her right hand. the color blue is said to be associated with shani and the lotus is representative of the vimshottari evolution of shani. the many shades of blue are reminiscent of the azure of a clear sky. shani is the planet of hard work, determination, and respect. if you honor shani, you will likely be at the zenith of life. shani is debilitated in the bharani nakshatra (representative of the famale yoni). bhumi is said to mount the elephant and jyeshta’s nature is often compared to the elephant (the yoni of bharani). we see water personifying their internal struggle of diligence and sexuality. the element of water itself flows and crashes with it’s feminine luster. it denotes cleansing, rebirth, and vital energy. the practice of swimming and watery movement is said to excite the feminine spirit and remove all negative energies that encompass the individual. think of how you take a refreshing bath or wash your face. the act of cleansing and the alignment with the water element is energizing and refreshing. recall the christian practice of baptism. baptism is said to be a christian rite of admission. it uses the rejuvenating power of sprinkling, pouring, or entrenching the devotee with water to wash away their sins. this behavior parallels to the churning of the cosmic ocean to produce the elixir of youth, as christians believe baptism saves the youth/innocence of your soul.

🌿 jyeshtas are often forced to grow up quite early in their lives. the often harsh and toxic environments they are surrounded by do not yield a balanced and cleansed individual. it is destined for them to put on a mask or illusion cope with this (recall the demonic spirit who used the owl mask in “twin peaks”). it allows them to feel protected, as how harnessing their sexuality brings them great power. but deep down, they are innocent and youthful spirits. paralleling the goddesses jyeshta and alakshmi who lived lives of great strife but had a kind soul. their aversions to auspiciousness is something they could not control. it was their destiny. the life of jyeshtas are said to be incredibly karmic and destined. they cannot control the terrible and harsh energies of those who may come and go in their lives, but they can choose to walk through the smoky abyss or deep, cleansing waters to see if there is light on the other side of life.

🐇 brigitte bardot (left): jyeshta lagna

🐇 jane birkin (right): jyeshta surya

🚬 it is not uncommon to see jyeshta natives enjoying a good cigarette or cigar. as i once discussed in my magha exploration, natives of the gandanta points enjoy the symbolism and release smoke brings. this is because gandanta points are where the water and fire elements meet and cross. water is symbolic of the divine feminine (4H, 8H, 12H) and fire is symbolic of the divine masculine (1H, 5H, 9H). these elements are complete opposites. when water and fire collide, the water subdues the fire and we are only left with smoke. in the song “smoke on water” by deep purple (who has five members with prominent jyeshta placements), we see the nature of this smoky elemental intermingling under the co-rulership of ketu. the promiscuity of water and purification of fire combines and forms the infinite knot. ketu is the south node, representing our past lives and karma. whereas, buddha is the planet of awakening the discriminating intellect between benefic and malefic actions, essentially good and evil. the harsh, polar forces of water and fire (rashi elements) coupled with past lives and karma (ketu) and knowledge (buddha), create this need for escapism. the need for stimulation to calm the ever-present sense of anxiety or physical ailments gandanta natives are prone to. the use of cigars, cigarettes, or cylinder-shaped products of other smoky varieties (🌿) as a way to ease their anxious nature. as the dusthana houses are uneasy, ketu is unstable, and buddha plays tricks on the mind.

🌫 the cylinder shape of these smoky, stress-relieving products is symbolic of yang energy (the phallus). while this may sound odd, the intoxicating (yin) energy of tobacco and the yang shape of these products creates the perfect balance of water and fire to attract these natives. this is reminiscent of the nineveh cylinder. this cylinder is designed to be a message to the universal one and directs the eyes are set upon it. it is only the eyes that contain an energetic consciousness who will be able to understand the cylinder’s message. you must be able to feel and think to be integrated into the powers of the cylinder and hence the have the power to ascend. one’s energetic signature then changes and only then may the individual have the ability to receive it’s messages or symbols. this acts as a cosmic safety valve to prevent the duality of the lower dimensional worlds from contaminating the higher dimensions that reside in cosmic unity (indra). it represents achieving the human ability to go within your self and untie the knot/noose of tripura sundari within to balance one’s intention, focus and willpower. the symbol of latter is an upward or downward pointed triangle. this triangular figure is symbolic of completion, the three worlds tripura sundari transcends. the journey for jyeshtas is long and hard, filled with fire and water, smoke and mirrors, and lightness and darkness. the cylinder of nineveh invites jyeshtas to walk through the smoky abyss, through the yang passage of the cylinder to untie their inner knot of restriction to be finally free from the harsh realities of this world.

🐇 ‘holli would’ as played by jyeshta surya kim basinger in “cool world”

💋 as always, i am open to any constructive criticism! i tried to touch on the deities’ involvement in the appearances, manifestations, and symbolism of jyeshta. to be quite frank, studying the story of jyeshta brought me to tears. it’s unfair the amount of harm and difficulty they experience in their lifetimes, but their determination and wit pulls them through. studying these many deities, symbolism, cultures, and religions for this post has been so honoring and humbling. as i was making this post, a bunny approached my window and i do not live in an area where rabbits are common. i just thought that was a lovely sign, i’d be a fool to think this is merely a coincidence. if you are looking for more information about jyeshta, get to know the overrulers and supreme deities of kuja, bhumi (the earth goddess) and skanda (the war god), and buddha, vishnu (the maintainer) and narayana (the cosmic person). also—and i cannot stress this enough—familiarize yourself with the deity of this nakshatra: indra. if any of my placements or information are incorrect please feel free to let me know! also, i am fully aware of the origins of vedic astrology and if i was in anyway disrespectful to hindu culture, i will take down this post immediately. i am incredibly honored to know such lovely vedic astrology enthusiasts. you all mean so much to me xx

**all of these placements were found using astrotheme/.com and/or astro-charts/.com. it is important to note that some chandra (moon) placements may be off by up to 6 degrees and lagnas (risings) as well, due to the fact that many websites do not have 100% accurate birth times for the given celebrities.

**i take absolutely no credit for the invention of vedic astrology-based appearance profiles. please watch claire nakti on youtube or look into @/cn0bles, @/lovejustlied, @/dh4nishta, and @/vanillemercure on twitter for more in-depth analysis on vedic astrology xx

#vedicastrology #astrology #moon #nakshatras #budha #rahu ketu #mercury planet #scorpio #scorpio aesthetic #scorpio moon #jyestha #mars planet

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wastedwastelandme · 2 years

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Black Sails: Madi and Eleanor

Guess what? I’m feeling like being wordy about my feelings on fiction again. And surprisingly for my first one focusing on Black Sails it’s going to be my feelings about Madi and Eleanor, a pair that are not the first that come to mind when I think of this show, but when I do focus on them I have a surprisingly large amount to say.

Looong meta and pretty heavy spoilers for the show under the cut for politeness.

The thing that fascinates me most is that I am most affected by these two in the events after Eleanor’s death.

Madi and Eleanor’s relationship as a thing to notice was not really there before 4x06, their only episode of interaction. Before that in Season 3, Madi addressed how both her and Eleanor possibly both fill the role of ‘daughters’ to Mr. Scott (Madi being his actual daughter, Eleanor being the woman he had the main responsibility of raising) on different sides of the war, but does not bring up her own feelings on Eleanor or their past relationship, only with the possible lamenting to be read into her statement over Eleanor being on the opposing side.

For Eleanor’s part, we don’t get a sense from her about how she feels about Madi beforehand because she only finds out that Madi and her mother are still alive in 4x05, having been one of the ones deliberately deceived into thinking them killed when she was younger, along with her own mother. She does appear to be greatly affected by this, though gets sidetracked by the deception itself.

So we open with our main characters back in 4x06, and we get our first conversation and sense of dynamic between these two. Their conversation is tense, distant, and slightly pointed, but them having a conversation at all is of note since they seem to be having it just for the sake of talking to each other. The focus is once again on Mr. Scott and how he might feel about Madi’s actions, which is a natural starting point since even dead he is still their only remaining connection to each other, but Madi does provide insight into how she and Eleanor were together as children. She says they were sisters (emphasis on were). They were both incredibly young so the memories are few, but she still remembers revering Eleanor as the older one, and if she does remember correctly she has to imagine that their supposed deaths caused Eleanor pain because Madi and her mother were seen as family too (and you can see Eleanor give the slightest nod when Madi says this).

Later in the episode in Miranda’s house Eleanor confides in Madi on how she wants to leave all of their situation behind, wanting reassurance that such a life is worth it as long as it is with someone you love. Madi gives them privacy in this moment, and as they sit together and build a fire in the hearth together there is this bittersweet sense that their past bond is gone and they know they can’t and won’t go back to it, but these moments are them both validating and giving a fond nod to the sisters they once were. And had that been it they likely would’ve gone their separate ways and only thought of each other in passing.

But then Eleanor dies.

In that same episode they get attacked by one of the Spanish raiders that Woodes Rogers invited in, and he fatally wounds Eleanor and knocks Madi unconscious in a burning building. Even bleeding out, Eleanor tries to get Madi out of the flames but fails. And while her last moment is mainly dedicated to the lie of her husband, who doesn’t deserve it, her last words are “I tried to save her. Madi. I tried to save her.”

There are two scenes that Madi talks about Eleanor after this, both shared with Woodes Rogers, and this is where things get interesting (over 500 words in, why am I like this).

I have a whole other thing on the insidiousness of Woodes Rogers and Eleanor’s relationship despite their love, and how it is almost entirely because of Woodes Rogers, and the way that he mutilates her image and memory in his mind. What’s important for this post is that in the face of that after Eleanor’s death, there is a layer of Woodes and Madi’s interactions that are almost her defending Eleanor’s memory against this false image of her perpetuated by Woodes Rogers. It’s small, but it’s a reading I see.

Madi has A LOT of reasons to hate Woodes Rogers, and I have no trouble believing that this added to it just a little. That Madi knows that this was Eleanor’s husband, the man that Eleanor confided in her about wanting to leave everything behind for just hours before her death, and that he is the one who’s actions killed Eleanor in the exact way that Madi would know traumatized Eleanor and quite possibly herself when they were young. And that this man now has the audacity to not only ask after Eleanor as she was in her final moments but to deny his own part in her death. Yeah I could hate that guy a little more after that.

In their scene in the cell Woodes asks Madi as someone who was there if Eleanor died fighting, and with the way his image of her is so warped sometimes I actually can’t be 100% sure that he would take that as a good thing. Madi refuses him any mercy, answering in kind to his treatment of herself, and only says as he’s leaving that “Eleanor died fighting. As will I.” This is not only a firm refusal of Woodes’ “”offer”” to Madi and her people, but the structure of this line aligns Eleanor with Madi and against Woodes Rogers. It’s a very pointed way of saying it as he leaves, almost like an unspoken “She died fighting, no thanks to you.”

Then there is their scene in episode 9, where Woodes places the blame for Eleanor’s death on Madi and their revolution, as “the man responsible for the death of my wife and those that would follow him,” fully denying his involvement or guilt towards it. And throughout their conversation there is his vision of Eleanor sitting quietly in the corner, knitting. This is so antithetical to the Eleanor everyone else and the audience knew, the Eleanor who was terrible at and hated embroidery and only did it as a deliberately false image for Woodes Rogers’ sake, and now it’s all he remembers her as. But as Madi refuses Woodes Rogers once again, Eleanor’s knitting needles start clacking in rhythm and punctuation to Madi’s words, and Madi finishes with the fact that not she, not Flint, not any of the pirates, or even that Spanish raider were the ones to kill Eleanor. Just point blank leaving no room for delusion stating that “You killed her. She’s dead because of you.” And the vision of Eleanor stops knitting and is just sitting in accusation at Woodes Rogers, once again through Madi’s words the memory of her aligning herself with Madi against him. To me there is just this sense that who Eleanor actually was continues to exist through Madi’s perception of her, that Madi is defending her sister against this man who does not even see her anymore.

This could just be me imposing my own reading on things, but it’s just something that really hits me that Madi is in a way reclaiming Eleanor as her sister after her death, and that a truer memory of her lives on through Madi in opposition to Woodes Rogers (and a fonder memory than that of her enemies).

#black sails #madi #eleanor guthrie #black sails meta #there is no way this will be my last meta on this show #my post

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butwhatifidothis · 3 years

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So. Took a look into that fic @nilsh13 is going through the comments of. Dunno if I’ll actually go through the entire thing - 300k words is certainly a lot of words to read through, especially with it still updating, but I’ve read through/am reading through longer ones - but I jumped to the latest chapter to get a feel for where the fic’s at now.

I’m not halfway through the chapter and I have Words To Say lmao, under the cut

This is going to be as serious a critique about the sections I’ve selected as possible - I want to be clear why I think what is being written is not of high quality, pointing out specifically what I have wrong with it.

Here are some snippets of the fic (boldened), and following those snippets are my thoughts on them:

“My actions have caused immense turmoil, pitting friend against friend, mother against daughter, and brother against sister*,” muttered Edelgard, desperately trying to drive any hint of self-pity (emphasis mine) from her voice. “My best friend has been disowned by her family, Hubert and Ferdinand’s fathers are dead or imprisoned, and the woman I love is now deemed a heretic by the Church that once offered her shelter. The weight of my decisions seems to pull down all who are caught in the shadow of the Imperial crown.” The Flame Emperor gave Professor Hanneman a wan smile. “Whatever imagined slights you believe you have committed against me, they pale in comparison to the carnage my own words and deeds have unleashed.”

""I made my choice, the only choice I could make, and dragged this continent down to hell with me. It makes me a poor ruler, and an even baser person, but that was the path I knew I must take.""

“"It is funny you use the word ‘choice’, Miss Edelgard. When I resigned my title to study at Garreg Mach, I lost marriage prospects, became penniless outside of a small stipend…I even renounced the opportunity to have a family.” Hanneman smiled, his whole body suffused with melancholy. “Really, how could I dare to dream of bringing a daughter into a world this senseless and cruel, knowing that someday, she too, could be hurt in such a way? I…I would not survive it.” The man’s body shook. “I sacrificed those things, things I desperately wanted, because the chance to allow my sister to rest in peace was more important. And I would make that choice again, despite all that it has cost me. You are much the same.”"

"“But your sacrifices were your own,” protested the Emperor of Adrestia. “Thousands bleed for the choices that I have made, and sacrifice themselves for the cause that I have placed before them. There is a profound difference-“"

"“We are both wise enough to know a painful truth,” said the scholar with a melancholy smile. “No matter how grave the sins, no matter how many innocents suffer…there will be countless individuals who will defend the law not because it is just, or righteous, but because it is the law. They will permit a hundred Abysses, and a thousand women to be raped, and a million dead children, as long as such actions do not disturb their order.” He placed a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. “To stand against such moral rot, knowing that the world will despise and vilify you for it, is the truest sign of not only a just ruler, but a good woman.”"

"The academic’s words blazed with the passion of both a scholar and a man who had watched his world crumble to ash. A man who had been forced to live in the remnants of a life forever altered by the cruelty of both society and of humanity. And yet he had fought, the only way he could, to make the world better. It gave the Flame Emperor new resolve."

"“I…” He turned and looked away. “I believe in you, Miss Edelgard. When I see you, and your determination, your spirit, your bravery in choosing not what is easy, but what is right…it reminds me of her.” Fingers clenched around his locket. “I will fight for you, in the way I should have fought for my sister, long ago. My strength is meagre, and my courage more meagre still. However, all of it is yours.”"

The author writes Edelgard as one trying to give pity onto herself for her actions, despite how negatively they affect her, due to the immense ramifications those actions have had on those both around her and those under her care. This is the appropriate response to someone who has done as morally dubious an action as starting and spearheading a war that has led to the deaths and suffering of countless innocent people, some of whom were undoubtedly already going through immense suffering without war compounding itself onto their already existing pain. She - rightfully - points as, as a negative towards herself, that she has forced thousands of people to sacrifice their lives, livelihoods, friends, family, homes, etc. in order to continue with her war. Edelgard's canonical self-justification - that she had no other choice to do this - is properly utilized, and further characterization is given to her when she herself recognizes that performing such horrendous actions on the people under her care makes her a poor ruler and terrible person. This is, in truth, a decent set-up for her to go onto a possible path of redemption or self-realization.

However, that progress is forcibly stopped and reverted by Hanneman justifying her actions and recontextualizing them in a morally good light. In fact, the entire story does this, as characters act wildly out of character in order for Edelgard to be seen as good in comparison to them. Focusing on the quoted lines, however, Hanneman relating him giving up nobility and going into momentary poverty - whether true to canon or not - to Edelgard's war actively paints her actions as something that she had a right to be making, which she does not, as they force others to make sacrifices for her cause. When she herself rightfully points this discrepancy out, Hanneman excuses her actions by pointing to another - supposed - source of turmoil and essentially saying "You are more right than x, therefore your y actions are not only better, but objectively good, and make you a good person." He says nothing of the inherent injustice of taking away the choice of the people to live as they want and fight for who they want as well as deliberately taking away any semblance of safety from them, and makes objective statements about Edelgard's moral righteousness despite her taking actions that would, by definition, make her moral righteousness a subjective matter at minimum.

Hanneman is projecting the image of his sister and his own personal sense of justice onto Edelgard, and thus sees her as just as much a victim of the war and society as everyone else. Edelgard is a young woman who has gone through trauma due to Crests, as was his sister, and he himself (in this story, though not within the quoted lines) wanted to beat the man who abused his sister to death, and so he sees Edelgard using violence as a means to achieve justice as not only not questionable, but morally good and brave, as he felt he was not brave enough to enact "justice" onto the man that caused his sister's death. Instead of this being settled, focused on, or even mentioned, despite its obvious nature due to deliberate connections Hanneman himself makes, it is used as a means to showcase that Hanneman is a, for lack of a better term, "expert" on what he is saying when speaking to Edelgard. He knows what it's like to want to force change, he has by-proxy experienced the apparent injustice of the Church - not human society, not his family's decision to allow his sister to be married off, not the man who caused her death's decision to discard her, but strictly the Church and only the Church - and so he can "rightfully" justify and excuse Edelgard's morally questionable actions and paint them in a solely positive light, with no nuance or gray whatsoever.

Edelgard, in the first quote, attempts to say her actions without a tone of self-pity, and yet the narrative itself pities Edelgard. She should be allowed to feel bad about her actions - not because they are causing unfathomable suffering on people who were underserving, but because they’re just hard decisions that she was good and brave to make and maybe she can feel a little bad for herself for making them. She shouldn't feel responsible for choosing to start the war - in fact, did she really have a choice, or did everyone else in society force her to? She shouldn't question whether she's a good person or not, because she simply is - no debate, no question. She is - “justly” - standing up against "moral rot"; that she does so with even more moral rot is irrelevant, because, according to the story, it is not as rotten as that she's up against, therefore it is no longer rotten in the first place. War has been completely justified, as it is now not the last resort of desperation that could only ever be morally grey at its absolute best, but an objectively morally white decision of an objectively morally white person who is facing an objectively morally black opponent.

The actions of other characters attempt to paint Edelgard as someone closer to the former, but I will - maybe - eventually go over how those characters are extremely mischaracterized in order to prop Edelgard as their moral superior.

#anti edelgard #Anti-edelgard #Edelgard critical #o captain my captain #<- borrowing nilsh's tag for this lmao in case I do end up continuing this #but yeah from just the latest chapter there are characters that 100% cheerlead for the pure righteousness that is Edelgard #so yeah that's... gonna be fun lmao

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inktog · 3 years

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Marcy’s home life was probably exceptionally awful, a fact best evidenced by her own behavior. On Earth, she seems to have existed in a nigh-constant state of dissociation and escapism (206, 214); this has all but ceased by the time Anne encounters her in Newtopia (206). Even more telling, Marcy doesn’t show an ounce of regret or remorse over leaving her parents (220).

By contrast, her outlook on school seems largely positive. She proudly cites her straight-A-except-gym report card (214); she keeps taking classes in Amphibia and is surprised that Anne doesn’t do the same (215.1).

These facts complement each other neatly. School can be, for some, a safe haven from mistreatment suffered at home—a regularly scheduled respite from hell.

Newtopia is thoroughly characterized as a realm of scholarship. The city is first mentioned in the context of Newtopia University, a college good enough to risk leaving the Valley for (117.2, 208.2), and is then formally introduced as “the beating heart of Amphibia—a bustling metropolis full of ancient knowledge, run by the wisest of newts” (201.1). Newts are painted as a race of intelligent scholars even by other newts who don’t fit the stereotype, like Gertie (207.1).

And the city allows Marcy to flourish. Here, her needs and desires are taken seriously. Here, she’s encouraged to cultivate her skills, to challenge herself in new and exciting ways, to apply her intelligence toward practical ends.

By the show’s dream logic, Newtopia represents school—not a literal reflection of Saint James, but Marcy’s idealized fantasy. Her “perfect record” on missions (206) mirrors her perfect report card.

Hence the scattered references to Harry Potter (214, 216.2), a story about a child in a bad home who escapes to a fantastical school.

While engrossed in study for the PSAT (a practice college-entrance exam that Marcy won’t take for at least three years), Marcy gets a text from Sasha reminding her of Anne’s birthday. She then immediately learns about the Calamity Box from Dr. P’s book, with the tagline “Travel to other worlds” (220). The reveal of the Box at this exact moment is telling. It implies that Marcy often fantasizes about the trio moving out of L.A. together: The merest reminder of her friends triggers the appearance of a magical travel brochure.

And Marcy really wants her friend group to stick together, even after high school. She implores Anne and Sasha to stop fighting because “We’re supposed to be friends for life. We don’t split up” (219.1, emphasis Marcy’s), and she views Amphibia as “a place where we’d never have to grow apart, where the three of us could be friends forever together” (220). Given Marcy’s difficulty connecting with people (207.1), it’s quite possible that Anne and Sasha weren’t just her best friends on Earth, but her only friends.

So I’d guess that Newtopia represents not just school in general, but specifically college. While Anne’s view of postsecondary ed is skewed by film (208.2), Marcy’s perception seems more in line with how universities market themselves: bastions of culture and scholarship, where young aspiring minds grow and thrive as they never have before—a fantasy utterly realized by Marcy’s Newtopian adventures.

Middle school might provide Marcy some modest protection, but she’s really anticipating the stage of her life when she can move away forever. And when that happens, she wants Anne and Sasha to stay by her side.

King Andrias is the other side of the coin: the anxiety beneath the fantasy.

He’s big. He’s old (207.2, 220). He makes robots (220)—which are babies, as per Frobo (215.2, 220). He cracks bad jokes (208.1). He dabbles awkwardly in youth culture, from fist bumps (207.2) to slang (220). He is, in a word, dad-coded.

And he has a vendetta against friendship: He deliberately drives a wedge between Marcy and her friends, then tries to kill Sprig just to make a point about how love invites pain (220). This, too, is parent-like behavior in Marcy’s schema: “They were making me move away,” she tells Sasha and Anne. “They were gonna tear us apart!” (220).

Marcy views her dad as a supervillain hell-bent on destroying friendships and ruining her life, so Amphibia presents her with exactly that: King Andrias is a mythic exaggeration of Mr. Wu. And given the over-the-top, almost gleeful malice that Andrias directs at Marcy, I suspect that her dad actively abused her (rather than, say, being passively neglectful).

Even after Marcy escapes her father, the trauma he inflicted doesn’t vanish. It resurfaces at her lowest moment, crashing into her with all the subtlety of a giant flaming sword.

Citations are SEE.G, where S is season, EE is episode, and G is segment. 102.1 is Cane Crazy, 202.2 is Anne Hunter.

Thank you very much to @argentconflagration for helping to generate and refine this idea!

#amphibia #marcy wu #meta #mine

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: Copycat

Summary:

""Shitty four eyes and clean freak? Would you know what those words mean?" The teacher asked.

Hange and Levi exchanged knowing glances. A parent teacher conference wasn't at all the right place to explain nicknames. Really though, when would it ever be the appropriate time to explain them?"

Levi and Hange learn the hard way that children like to imitate.

Link: AO3

Notes: This has been on my WIPs for a while and I have a few other prompts for domestic verse pieces so will probably focus on them first hehe. Anyway, feedback is very much appreciated!

“Levi Ackerman and Hange Zoe…”

The teacher was looking through what could have been the class list. No, it definitely was a class list. They were in a parent teacher meeting, what else could it be.

With the way she was holding it though, it was difficult for Levi to sneak a peek at its contents. Eventually, he gave up and let his mind wander, his eyes soon followed. He spared a glance at Hange to see she had cocked her head just a little bit to the side. She was definitely as curious if not more curious about the contents of the piles of paper.

The teacher, Ms. Wilde had a smile on her face and it had been that way since Luke had started school. Her expression then wasn't too far from her usual smile but her eyes were too wide, her mouth too flat of a line especially when she bit her lips. And when she ran her eyes over documents, she seemed…. Stiff.

Uncomfortable? DIsturbed maybe? Levi was expecting the worst.

“Commander Hange Zoe and Retired Captain Levi Ackerman…” Ms. Wilde corrected, clearing her throat.

“No need for any formalities. I mean you have been taking care of our son…” Hange held one hand out for a hand shake, obviously trying to ease the tension in the room.

“Yes, he’s a pleasant kid,” Ms. Wilde added, nodding her head. The discomfort on her face still did not waver.

He is a pleasant kid. Levi was with that kid 24/7. He brought the kid to school and back home, he cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner and he taught him all chores possible at the ripe age of two. Levi was almost certain that along with it, he had taught the kid basic manners.

Levi had to admit though, he himself wasn’t the most diplomatic either. The kid though was glaringly much nicer than Levi was and on top of that, he had picked up some of his other quirks from Hange. The boy didn’t have to be exceptional though. At the least, Luke should have been a functioning member of the kindergarten.

Not enough to make a teacher squirm as she spoke about him. Right?

Most days… And as Levi reflected on it, he started to dig deeper into the past few years, the almost negligible cracks in between their routine. Was there anything he failed to teach Luke? Hange could have been asking the same thing, she looked at Levi questioningly.

Ms. Wilde cleared her throat and in her own way, she had broken some of the residual tension. “Apologies… I’ve been stalling.” She turned to Hange. “Commander Zoe…”

“Retired… Commander Zoe,” Hange corrected.

Was Hange stalling? Or just deliberately looking for a way to alleviate whatever tension had blanketed the room. Hange’s own corrections though were only delaying the inevitable, stretching the tension for longer than necessary.

“I wanted to talk to you about your son," Ms. Wilde started.

No shit. “Go on….” Levi said softly, not loud enough for her maybe. He subtly moved his hands in some signal to continue, as if that could have been communication enough.

Ms. Wilde stared for a bit longer and when Levi squinted, focusing on the paper underneath, he could tell it was a drawing, the crayon ink, visible from just behind the paper. She then put that same crayon art on the top of that stack of papers. “Shitty four eyes… and Clean freak?”

The words sounded strange from anybody else’s mouth, particularly a teacher who had attempted to say it with so professional of a tone and with emphasis on syllables and on words which made it sound unintelligible to anyone less familiar.

“Excuse me?” Hange asked. She had said those words a little too fast. With Levi thinking the same thing though, it had sounded clear enough.

Ms. Wilde flipped the paper open and down on the table.

There were two stick drawings, one with glasses and brown hair, definitely Hange and one with an apron and a bandana over his head and an unimpressed look on his face. That second one was definitely Levi.

Just below it, a caption which Levi had to squint twice to read

Shut tea for ice clean freek. It was straight out gibberish.

Ms. Wilde preempted it. “Would you know what this means?” She looked back up at them expectantly. “Your son… he tried to explain it to me and he said, you two would say… Shut tea for ice and clean freek.” She had said it with unexpected emphasis on some syllables and it was starting to sound like a glaringly familiar cluster of phrases.

Enough for Levi to freeze in his seat and start to dig for some sense in his speculations.

“Don’t get me wrong… Your child being able to spell at this age… It’s admirable, remarkable really,” Ms. Wilde continued. Was she consoling them or admiring them? With that soft and gentle of a voice, it was difficult to tell.

If Levi hadn’t been too busy trying to make sense of that last phrase maybe he would have at least attempted to read through her body language. The teacher had already presented a problem though and naturally, he found himself attempting to get to the bottom of that initial issue.

Luke had Hange’s brain. With Levi on top of that child most of the day, he was perfectly aware of what Luke would usually be playing with. He had gifted Luke letter tiles and had played with him multiple times, at Hange's suggestion of 'something more educational.'

He could have sworn the other times Hange had gotten off work and had played with those tiles with him before dinner, she had been teaching him herself. Although, some words were strange and unfamiliar, she never thought him any of those words. Never.

Levi looked back up at the teacher, forcing himself to meet her eyes. What was the best thing to say?

These are our nicknames. Nope. Should they be divulging something so personal in a professional meeting?

Maybe he could break that awkwardness by complimenting Luke’s work. For a three year old, Luke did a good job with the coloring. Or maybe Levi was just hyperaware about his dad status and somehow everything their little human made seemed almost surreal, almost beautiful even if it was just a bunch of stick figures.

Hange held the drawing between her fingers, her eyes wide with what looked to be the same wonder Levi was holding in. “We’ve been teaching him how to read,” Hange said. “Read and write.”

“But, would you know what ‘shut tea for ice’ means?” The teacher asked.

“Levi here… He really likes tea,” Hange said calmly. “And he likes it with ice.”

“What about clean freak?”

“He cleans with me a lot…” Levi said.

The teacher sighed. “Apologies for the misunderstanding but those words…” She leaned over, cupping her mouth, to soften to a whisper just for the three of them. “It sounds pretty vulgar to me. If you could talk to your son about it, so he could stop calling the other kids names… That would be very much appreciated.”

“Wait, our son, he’s calling people names?”

The teacher shrugged. “I heard him talking to one of the kids just recently… He kept calling her ‘shut tea for eyes.’ and just the other day, when we were cleaning up the locker… then he called her a cleen freek.” She sighed. “It might be just my imagination but it sounds to me like bullying if you know what I mean?”

“Bullying? How?” Hange asked. The knowing look in her face betrayed such a question.

“Well you see, Sarah wears glasses and she likes keeping her cubbyhole neat so… I can’t help but think he might actually be saying….”

“Shitty four eyes?” Levi repeated it again, with a familiar manner, all the emphasis on the right tones. He could almost taste the sweet venom that laced it every other time he said it before.

“And clean freak?” Hange repeated.

The teacher put her hands up in defense. “But that might just be my wild imagination. If ‘shut tea for ice’ is really code in your family, maybe you could spend some time explaining to your son what it actually sounds like?”

***

Shut tea for ice.

Levi could have been in denial. The first plan of action as soon as he got home was to open and close the cupboard a few times over and stare at the box of tea bags every single time. He was deep in thought, still trying to come up with any other reason for those words to roll so easily out of his son’s mouth.

“You want me to make dinner?” Hange called out from the living room.

Levi instinctively turned behind him and towards the voice, craning his neck to look past the kitchen counter. Hange was sitting cross legged on the floor, a toddler Luke right next to her.

The letter tiles Hange had scattered on the floor were an eye sore.

An eyesore which Levi tolerated. After all, Hange had done amazingly at making Luke one of the smarter toddlers in his class.

Experiment… Titan… Omnivore...Carnivore… Whether the child needed to know how to spell those words at that young of an age, Levi wasn’t too certain. At least if ever the classes shifted to topics on history or science, Luke would have the upper hand.

Or so, that was what Levi consoled himself with as he looked back at the cupboard, trying to erase that picture of a mess in the living room. His own experiences with playing with those blocks had been teaching Luke words like clean, broom, breakfast, lunch, dinner. For a second, he wondered which Luke enjoyed more.

“I’ll make it,” Levi said. “You’re at work most days. I’d rather you spent your free time bonding with Luke.”

Hange didn’t respond and the next few minutes passed with the clacking of the wooden letter tiles on the floor. And then an exchange which Levi felt almost compelled to insert himself in.

“When the creature eats both vegetables and meat…” Hange started.

“Omnivore,” Luke answered.

“And meat only?”

“Carnivore.” He had learned to repeat those words clearly very quickly. Levi had to note as he tipped the tea, Luke had always learned to pronounce the more complex words within a few repeats.

The inquisitiveness and the natural genius came from Hange for sure. And Hange was only nurturing them. Soon, the conversation shifted to animals, and then to titans and why the fuck was she talking about her goddamn experiments?

Even when half listening, Levi never understood what the hell that one experiment after capturing the titan and burning through its hair actually did but Hange was suddenly talking about follicles, roots and some catalytic reaction.

Would Luke know what a catalytic reaction is? Levi attempted to answer it for himself by first asking, what the hell a catalytic reaction was. Whatever slate that had appeared in his mind remained blank and he asked another question. Should a child really be learning those words?

“And you know what a dinosaur looks like?” Hange asked.

“Dinosaur!”

A rustle of papers. Hange muttered something about a pencil.

Found one! Then the sound of scribbling on paper.

Levi was only starting to boil the soup, when whatever conversation on whether dinosaurs were omnivores or carnivores slipped one ear and out the other.

The padding of socks on the carpeted floor, Hange’s hums and just Luke’s high pitched voice lisping at some words, saying lines which could have started with Rs or Ws were faint and Levi found himself passing the time just listening to them as he stirred the soup.

He bent over, pulling out the tray of baked chicken from the oven. “Hange,” he called out.

Hange took a second longer than necessary to respond. “Hm?”

“Set the table,” Levi said. “It’s almost dinner time.”

No response. No clicking of plates, no slamming of utensils on the table.

“Hange?” Levi asked.

“Wait, just this last page,’ Hange said louder.

Levi closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Hange was murmuring, words Levi couldn’t make sense of. And the lisping words, the mispronounced Rs and Ws and garbled syllables were telling. Luke was reading something out loud.

“That’s right! So, the plants eat through photosynthesis," Hange said.

“Hange, set the table,” Levi said.

Hange sighed in response. There were footsteps then the clack of plates.

Levi soon confirmed for himself that Hange had stood up, tiptoed and pulled a serving plate and a bowl from the upper cupboard. He transferred the roast chicken and the soup onto the plates. While it cooled, he took the bread basket and dropped it on the table, raising one eye at the view in front of him.

“Hange,” Levi said, louder this time.

Hange was back in the living room, cross legged once again, an open picture book in front of her. Luke had shifted to half lying down position, stomach down on the floor, propped up by the elbows.

“Are dinosaurs real?” Lukei asked.

Hange nodded. “They were alive a long time ago,” she said.

“Hey, you two. I said, let’s eat.” Levi found himself looking away as he noticed Luke’s mouth twist into a pout.

Hange sighed in disappointment. “Alright Luke, let’s stand up.” She carefully pulled her son up and guided him back to the table. She moved sluggishly towards the dining room table and it looked very much like Levi had virtually twisted her arm just to get her up.

To make things clear though, he didn’t. There were more pressing things at that moment than making sure the food he worked so hard on was eaten. Levi stared at them then back at the scattered letter tiles on the floor. Then back at Hange again.

The years might have just made it easier for Hange to pick up the silent question just with a few glances. “We’re gonna go back after we eat,” she answered,

“And you’re fine leaving a mess like that there,” Levi said. “What if someone trips on that?”

“Well, we won’t. Luke and I know that it’s there and you can just watch where you’re going right?”

“It’s still a hazard,” Levi argued.

“A negligible hazard.”

“Can’t you just clean it up then bring it out again later?”

“It takes time,” Hange answered nonchalantly as she walked past Levi.

For a retired commander with a full-time job rebuilding Paradis, time felt like a luxury more than disposable income did and Levi had only ever silently acknowledged that. The moment he looked back, he realized there wasn’t much he could have argued about. Hange guided Luke to his chair, and she started to pour the soup into his bowl.

Levi sat next to Hange and served Hange first then himself, a pressing distraction, long enough for Levi to need not look back at the mess on the floor.

“Luke, chickens look a little bit like dinosaurs,” Hange said.

Levi rolled his eyes. Most of their meals usually ended up as a science lesson.

Luke seemed to be enjoying it though. He clapped his hands excitedly. “We’re eating dinosaurs?”

In response to that, Levi shoveled more of the soup into his mouth, enough to give any excuse not to speak up. That wasn’t his conversation. It was Hange’s and Luke’s.

“Technically yes,” Hange said.

What the fuck is she researching this time? Hange did too many jobs at once that Levi never could catch up to her theory or vernacular wise.

“Like the book! The dinosaur looked like the book!” Luke said excitedly.

“Yes! You remember!” Hange mirrored that same excitement.

“Are dinosaurs like titans?”

“Technically no… They can be the same size... “

“Are titans omnivores?”

Hange hummed. She dropped her spoon and put one finger to her chin, a very climactic sequence of motions that could have meant she had something interesting to say. To the disappointment of everyone in the family, she returned the question with one word. “Maybe.”

They don’t eat. Levi added to himself silently.

“Do titans poo?” Luke pressed.

Hange opened her mouth to speak. “They don’t…”

And Levi only had a split second to note the glimmer in her eyes, then the wonder that could have come from reminiscing nights worth of experiments. Then the familiar excitement and passion he had seen so many times before in the barracks over tea.

Oh no. He looked back at the soup, a mixture of beans and tomatoes, the green of the vegetables sticking out at very strategic places.

What the fuck.

And Hange’s tirade only continued, and naturally Levi’s mind made sense of the words having had too many direct experiences with titans to last a lifetime. If he looked at his own soup from the right angle, with the right vegetable bits in the right places and the right lighting from just above them, he realized it looked just like vomit.

He was in a frustrating position, hungry but with no more appetite. He pushed himself up. “You two just keep talking. I’m gonna clean up.”

Hange stood up. “Wait, Levi where you going?”

Everything was just suddenly pissing Levi off at that moment. “I’m cleaning up your fucking mess.”

“That’s not a mess!” Hange retorted, an incredulous look on her face.

“I told you, just bring it out after if you wanna play again!” Levi bent over, and started to mix the blocks amongst one another. Words like carnivore, omnivore, photosynthesis, follicle suddenly mixed among one another. The tiles were suddenly gibberish, letter soup. And the more he mixed, the worse it became.

It became easier to put them into the basket.

“We were planning to go back to it after dinner. You didn’t have to clean it up,” Hange chided.

“Well, you two might step on it,” Levi said.

“Really?” Hange raised one eyebrow. “You can’t watch where you’re going?”

“Listen Hange, I’m the one who cleans this house ninety percent--- hell, a hundred percent of the time. I decide what messes we can leave around.”

“Well, it takes a kid a while to pick up the words, we were supposed to practice reading.”

“Hange a three year old does not need to know what photosynthesis means.”

“Three and a half,” Hange clarified. “A child his age does not need to live in an immaculate environment.” Clean. Hange definitely meant clean. The way she had said the word ‘immaculate,' the fact that she had chosen such a heavenly word, an almost self righteous sounding word felt almost mocking. “Why do you have to be such a clean freak about this?”

“Why do you have to be such a nerd about this. He’ll learn how to read big words at his own fucking time,” Levi said. He noted the way Hange had put one hand to her chest, seeming scandalized at whatever insinuation Levi had brought up.

When he was dealing with the someone who couldn’t bat an eye at hygiene and clutter, who suddenly thought the pursuit of knowledge was a must have for a poor four year old, Levi wasn’t feeling too guilty at offending her, at least not too much. He opened his mouth, only intending to let it out as a release born from quiet anger. And during moments of heightened emotions, sometimes he lost a little control, and sometimes, he’d fall back to very familiar habits.

Shitty four eyes.

Hange could have heard it, but they had said it so many times before, that she didn’t open her mouth to speak. He couldn’t be too sure either that he had said it out loud.

“Daddy? You want tea with ice?”

Levi only realized then, when the silence broke and a young Luke went in between them a mug in hand.

No hot water, no tea bag. A look of confusion on Luke’s face. ‘Daddy, shut tea for ice?” The words were stilted, the syllables garbled against one another.

Levi and Hange had both looked at Luke with the same surprised look, surprised but very very understanding of the current situation.

***

Shitty four eyes.

Luke didn’t have a potty mouth. Or at least, he wasn’t supposed to.

Levi was with Luke the most among everyone. The heavy responsibility of 'main provider' on his back, he found himself thinking back to every single ‘alone time,’ the two of them had since Luke had been old enough to talk. It had been a year at least since Luke had started to seem more like a companion than a responsibility. When Levi looked back at it though, he thought the moments to be countless and consequently, he had found it difficult to point out the exact point in time where Luke had thought it a good idea to blurt out the words ‘shitty four eyes.’

Coming up with no conclusion, he desperately grasped for a glimmer of an explanation. “Luke’s a nice kid, he wouldn’t call people names,”

“I don’t doubt that,” Hange responded, seeming not at all bothered by the chain of events.

“Hey, we’re still gonna have to explain that to Luke?”

“You tried a while ago, right?” Hange asked “What did Luke say?”

“He just kept repeating it… Shut tea for ice. Shut tea for ice.” Levi whispered in response, letting it get softer and softer on his tongue. It had been just an hour before they had put their son to bed. The conference, the incident just a while ago suddenly had self conscious about how loud they were talking and how close the bedroom door was to the living room. He turned to the sofa and sat a few more feet away from the door, as if that could have done anything to make their conversation more private.

“So Levi, what do you think that means?” Hange asked. She had moved next to him, as if she understood Levi’s intention with switching seats.

“He didn’t seem hostile,” Levi said.

“So he doesn’t think what he’s saying is bad right?”

“He called you shitty four eyes too.” Levi turned to Hange.

“And shitty four eyes has never been an insult to me. You’ve been calling him that since before,” Hange said.

“So what do you suggest?” Levi asked.

Hange was in deep thought for a second, one hand to her chin. She turned to the phone on the kitchen counter. “Calling someone more experienced maybe.”

***

Historia had a child, a good few years past the terrible twos and threes. Naturally, she seemed almost nonchalant about that problem.

“Imitation,” Hange said so confidently, yet so abruptly that morning as she sipped her coffee. She turned to Levi and grinned in the same exact way she would have dropped a research-backed theory many years ago when she was still a titan researcher.

“Titans used to imitate right?” Levi said. Mentioning the magic word ‘titans’ could be enough to pull any good ideas out of her.

“Yes, I know,” Hange said matter-of-factly. “And titans and humans are a little different… It would be easier to have a peaceful conversation with titans. Luke understands me almost perfectly. And you too. I think we can talk to him first about why using nicknames is bad.”

“You think a three year old can understand a convoluted explanation by Hange Zoe?”

“Three and a half,” Hange clarified again. If he can tell omnivores and carnivores apart, I’m sure he can tell the difference between calling people names and respecting people right?” She propped her mug on the dining room table and looked expectantly at Levi.

Levi averted his gaze. “Hange, do you think a three and a half year old will get it?” He dropped the tea bag into the mug and watched as the darker liquid consumed the water, touching the rims of the mug. He walked back to the dining table, settling himself on the chair right in front of Hange.

Hange chuckled. “Worth a try right?”

“Daddy! Shoes!” Luke was painfully demanding. And of all moments, it had been then that Levi noticed that Luke had picked up some of their attitude.

Right. Although Luke could easily get ready for school himself, tying shoes was still something Levi had been in the process of teaching him. “I’ll just help him tie his shoes first.”

“I’ll go ahead.” Hange gulped the last few drops of coffee. “Gonna be late for work. You think you can handle this?”

“Talk to Luke right?” Levi asked. “About the importance of respect?” He had put emphasis on those last three words, as if to hint to Hange that introducing such an abstract idea to a three year old seemed like not so good of an idea.

“Worth a try right?” Hange responded as she stood up and slung her back over her shoulder.

“And if it doesn’t work?” Levi pressed.

By then, Hange was already closer to the door than the dining table, far from hearing range of Levi’s naturally soft voice. Levi felt it pointless to say it louder, especially since by then, Hange had already slammed the door behind her.

And he had bigger fish to deal with, like a frustrated son, who had knotted the laces of his shoes enough times that Levi struggled to find the tips. “Luke… Why… Did you do it like this?” Levi had to resist the sweet temptation of inserting a ‘fuck’ somewhere on that question. After all, it wasn’t Luke’s fault he was just a three year old who was still learning the ropes.

The process of unknotting a very tight knot though was painful, frustrating enough for Levi to sit down crosslegged in front of his son. It was taking longer than a few seconds, enough to have a conversation.

“Luke… The school told me about ‘shut tea for ice’”Levi started and when he started to pull at the top most knot, he felt some sort of release with it, some extra reserves of patience he could easily tap at.

“Shitty four eyes! Clean Freak!” Luke responded happily.

When Levi looked up and met his son’s eyes, he couldn’t help but be somewhat bothered by the knowing and confident look. “You shouldn’t call people names Luke.” He put one finger right in front of Luke’s face.

Was that how to tell a kid off? Levi had been working with Luke long enough though to know, Luke didn’t understand what he was saying. Or maybe he didn’t understand what Levi meant.

What would Hange say? When Levi reflected on that though, the only thing he could salvage were her rants on photosynthesis and titan experiments. If their son understood those, he should understand a lecture on respect right?

“No.” One word Levi had learned as a parent. “No calling people names,” he added, his voice softer that time.

Luke pouted.

Levi had a soft spot for his son’s pout and consequently, he did what any sane parent would have done in that situation. He stared at the clock. Fifteen minutes before class starts. He stood up and took his son by the hand. “Come on Luke, let’s go to school.”

On the way to school, he allowed himself another session for self reflection. Imitation huh? Levi thought to himself. He had to admit, he may have called Hange ‘shitty four eyes’ more often than not and in return, he may have brushed off a few ‘clean freaks’ from Hange as well.

They could try to wean Luke out of it right or at least find out why Luke had been using it at school? He could leave that to Hange though, and maybe consult a bit with their teacher.

Levi took a deep breath, a loud one, particularly when they passed through one of the less saturated parts of town on the way to school. He was sure he had enough reserves at his already scarce social battery to deal with asking advice from teachers.

***

Same advice as Historia.

Children were master imitators. And whether a three year old (or a three and a half year old according to Hange) would understand such an abstract concept as respect, that was one thing they weren’t sure of.

So when dealing with a toddler, play with their imitator side, not this belief that they might actually understand an abstract concept.

Levi had repeated those same words to Hange. By that evening though, he had forgotten half of it, and he had hoped that was the message she got.

“So, we should change how we talk to each other then…” Hange leaned back on the sofa. “But when do you think Luke heard us say it?”

Levi shrugged. “When do you say it?”

In return, Hange shrugged and let out a short laugh. “To be honest, I don’t remember calling you a clean freak either.”

“When we fight?” Levi suggested.

“Or when we don’t?” Hange put her hands up. “Anyway, the important thing is, he hears us say it. That kid won’t get shitty four eyes or clean freak out of anywhere. So we watch ourselves okay? No using bad words in front of our son.”

“That’s easy.” Levi narrowed his eyes at Hange and sat back on the sofa. “I’ve been doing that ever since Luke was born.”

***

With a little more self-introspection and blatant awareness of his surroundings, Levi started to realize it wasn’t as easy as he had expected it to be. He had stopped himself enough times that his throat had been sore from the many times he concealed his own penchant for vulgarity with a dry cough.

“Luke, make sure to put your bag back in the room,” Levi said from the kitchen as he pulled an apple from the fruit basket. It was just like every other day before, pick Luke up, prepare an afternoon snack. Very routine, very predictable and the only thing that made it a challenge had been the heavy awareness that Levi did curse on a regular basis.

Or maybe just the fact that he had to watch himself, had him very very heavy, as if every move had to be cold and calculated.H e was a little more careful than usual with cutting the apple. And he was terribly terribly slow. By the time, he turned back to the kitchen counter, sliced apples arranged neatly on the plate, Luke had already settled on the seat in front of him, looking expectantly at the plate on Levi’s hands.

How long he had been there? Levi didn’t want to ask. “Are you hungry?” he asked instead.

Luke nodded. It was a stupid question, but at least his son was too young to judge his ineloquence.

He dropped the pile of apples in front of him and made himself comfortable on the seat next to his son. “After this, you wanna play with the tiles?” Levi offered.

But never freak. Levi told himself as even the prospect of teaching his kid was starting to weigh on him.

“Let’s play with the tiles!” Luke clapped one hand on the table, and he shoved one of the apples into his mouth.

“Okay, I’ll bring it out later,” Levi said. He took one apple from the plate and started to munch on it, only interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing a few seconds later.

Most days, the phone ringing was a nuisance, peppered with conversations with salesmen, customer service. Having grown up with a place with no phone, but too many scams, it was only natural that Levi would detect the opportunity for scams in that new fangled piece of technology.

There was one voice which always made the process of using the phone though, bearable, if not pleasurable.

“Levi! What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Four eyes, you’re out from work early.”

There was a pause, a pregnant and awkward pause. Then Hange spoke up. “Is Luke with you?”

The silence and that one question spoke for him. Levi spun around to see Luke, staring right at him. “Four eyes… Shitty...Four eyes?” The young boy repeated. It sounded rehearsed the first time around, then confident the second time.

There was a lot he had to teach the kid.

“Just take out food for dinner. Luke and I will have a long talk,” Levi said.

***

Levi’s mind was a blank slate. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing though.

Whatever he was supposed to say to lecture Luke on proper respect lasted at the most, a few seconds in his muddled brain. It went into one ear and quickly out the other.

Somewhere along the way, Levi had given up. He had mentioned words like ‘respect,’ ‘not nice.’ When he didn’t even believe half of what he had spewing out of his mouth, he ended up unable to blame Luke for wearing such a blank expression.

Would Hange have done a better job at teaching Luke? Maybe.

Levi had never been the most diplomatic person, having sat at the sidelines every time Hange had been negotiating trade contracts and war treaties. Besides, he didn’t believe it completely necessary either to teach children not to curse.

There were bigger fish to fry, like rebuilding a war torn country, eradicating poverty and starvation, income inequality and terrorism.

Having lived like a soldier his whole life, dealing with something so mundane as a teacher’s request to teach his child not to curse, seemed almost mundanely unnecessary.

When his son was insulting other children, when a teacher was telling his son off for it, Levi didn’t necessarily find it horrifying. School rules were school rules though and their new society made compliance for three year olds a big issue. Maybe he could leave that educating to Hange though, and just focus maybe on teaching the young boy how to read.

He rearranged the letters and a few times, he gave free rein to his son to form words himself.

There were easy words like ‘dog,’ ‘cat,’ and ‘cow.’ Although Levi had been surprised that Luke had independently put together more complex words like ‘broom’ and ‘clean,’ he started to accept anyway, that it was only natural that the young boy would know them. After all, Hange had been teaching him more complex words like ‘photosynthesis,’ ‘omnivore’ and ‘carnivore.’

Luke had been spelling all those words on his own while Levi watched silently. And when Levi started to scramble the pieces again, just to watch what his son would create, he started to notice some pattern.

Shut

“Shut!” Luke screamed. He didn’t completely open his mouth though, and it started to sound more like another cursed word. Levi wasn’t going to mention that though.

“Shut…” Levi explained. Like ‘Shut up.’ ‘Shut up’ wasn’t the most diplomatic expression and it was probably better not to teach his son that at such a young age. “Like shut the door,” Levi added a second later. He mimed the act of slamming a door closed, suddenly self conscious of how rude it probably would be to slam a door. Was Luke going to start slamming doors if he made his movements too forceful?

Ice

“Ice!” Luke read aloud.

“Ice…” Levi paused for a second, racking his brain for the best way to explain it without having to go for the refrigerator and risk making a mess on their matted living room floor. “The cold thing…”

Four

“Four!”

“The number,” Technically there were two words ‘four’ and ‘for.’ What do you call those filler words? How do you define the word for? Levi realized then, there were only too many ways he could explain what words like ‘for,’ ‘to,’ were used for. He could just leave that to the school to explain.

Tea

“Tea!”

“Te---”

“Daddy likes tea!” Luke started. His face fell. “Right?”

In shock, Levi didn’t even notice he had frozen still, his hand dropping the tile. He nodded. “Yeah I like tea.” He allowed himself a tight lipped grin as he adjusted the letters just to make his son’s final product a little neater. “I really like tea.”

“Shitty four eyes?” His son said again, his excitable tone from a while ago unwavering.

That’s a bad word. Levi wanted to say. That’s disrespectful. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else though. After all, his son was a bundle of innocence, a bundle of excitement. Did Luke even know what the hell he had been saying?

Levi was pathetic. He was weakshit. And he couldn’t even bring himself to disciplining his child on something he personally didn’t even believe in. He continued to reflect on it as he rearranged the letters again. Then he further wallowed in whatever guilt settled in him as he stood up and walked towards the kitchen. As he prepared dinner, then washed the dishes.

When Hange came home, he at least had been ready enough to speak. “I think he’s too young to understand,” Levi said.

“Well a three and a half year old would have a hard time understanding abstract ideas right?”

“Says the parent who’s teaching a three year old science.”

Hange pouted. “Science is not an abstract concept.”

“That’s not the point,” Levi said firmly. He knew if he didn’t interrupt Hange there, she probably would have gone on another tirade. “Do you have any ideas? On how to deal with this?”

“I have one,” Hange said. “I was talking to Historia just today, and some other parents…” She propped her chin on the palm of her hand. “Have you considered… Aside from just laying off, the shitty four eyes first? And I’ll lay off the clean freak? I mean, the kids apparently, at this age, they like to imitate and if we just be more careful about what we’re saying and try to say something nicer, more positive as nicknames. He should stop right?”

“We’ve been calling each other for years,” Levi commented.

“But, not in public right?” Hange said. “You never really said it during meetings.”

“Well those were meetings.”

“Think of this as a meeting, except this time, our son is probably listening to us every single time.” She frowned, wrinkled her nose and looked behind her. Just on the other side of the wall was Luke’s bedroom. It was late at night and he probably was asleep.

But with their conversations and Luke's tendency to pick things up, it only proved that the walls may have been too thin and their son may have been very observant.

Levi raised his eyebrows. “So you’re saying…”

Hange nodded. No clean freak. No shitty four eyes. AT ALL. She spelled out those nicknames slowly and carefully, just so their son wouldn't’ pick the words up, taking in the small possibility that he was awake.

Levi sighed. “Fine.” He wasn’t fine. Their home was supposed to be their private space. Luke would be a sponge for information but a stranger to logic and abstract concepts for the next two years.

Letting go of such an intimate habit born through years in the survey corps just to please the teachers and to make it easier for their son fit in, seemed almost unfair. He sought solace at least in Hange’s forced grin. She didn’t want to do it either.

We suffer together. Levi thought to himself. With a quick glance at her, Levi was sure Hange understood. Making it an issue of pride and misery made it all together a more bearable challenge.

***

It was bearable at least. And it took a little more careful introspection to pick up those few moments he had called Hange 'shitty four eyes' or ‘four eyes’ and he started to realize, it had been more difficult to point out than his own abrasive choice of words and his own vulgarity.

Shitty four eyes after all, never seemed like a string of curse words or insults. It was a pet name, so invisibly embedded in conversations that Levi felt strangely incomplete not peppering his dialogue with it.

Hange seemed to struggle as well. Clean freak. She used to say. She had started to replace it with something more diplomatic. “You really like cleaning huh?” A few syllables longer but it felt terribly, terribly unnatural. And Hange always accompanied it with the widest and most cringe inducing grin.

Every single time, Levi would look away, to stop himself from laughing or grimacing, one of those. Hange must have been doing the same though.

Shitty four eyes.

He had replaced ‘shitty four eyes’ with the closest thing he could come up with. It had taken some strict observation from other couples to pick up the best one. “Yes honey, I really love cleaning,” Levi admitted. He put enough emphasis on the pet name, hoping that would at least teach their child about proper pet naming conventions, the importance of ‘not cursing’ and just conventional diplomacy.

Hange was only making it harder to take the challenge seriously, a sardonic grin constantly plastered on her face. Every single time, he had called her honey, she looked away and cleared her throat, or let out a wracked cough, a good disguise for what he guessed had been a laugh.

A shoddy disguise but somehow, it seemed to work. Luke would watch them every time, his stare far from blank. He had on the same face he made every single time he would form those words with the blocks. Luke was deep in thought. “Shitty four eyes! Clean freak!” He said a second later.

Luke would then repeat that many few times over dinner or breakfast.

Imitation. Levi would tell himself, will himself to ignore Luke’s words. As painfully uncharacteristic as it was. Levi would trod on with his mission. “Honey, you want more bread?” Levi tried to make that one word seem as sweet as it sounded. He never got the practice though, so he wondered if he ever had the innate ability to make any words sound sweet.

“Thank you honey,” Hange responded, her grin much wider. A split second later, she looked away, seeming ashamed with herself.

Levi couldn’t blame Hange. It was a painful rendition, her tone seemed very much rehearsed. And when it was common knowledge between them that she was naturally more eloquent than he was, Levi found himself wondering how bad he sounded.

As long as Luke learns. Levi willed himself to swallow whatever embarrassment and stifling sensation came with the slow and excruciating weaning process from very intimate habits.

Luke eventually picked it up. “Ho...ney?” he repeated as his eyes darted between his two parents.

Yes. Honey. Levi nodded.

Luke’s face fell, his expression shifted from something curious, then something confused. Ending with something that could have been a hint of crestfallenness.

Levi couldn’t be too sure though. The boy looked down at his food and Levi couldn’t bring himself to crane his neck and sneak a glance to confirm it. The drooping shoulders of his son was enough to get his stomach turning though.

How long would it take for him to get used to it? Three weeks? Months? Eventually Luke should get used to it… Right?

It was one of those rare days where Hange had decided to work from home. Her piles of paperwork took up more than half their dining table and food would seem more like a hazard than a necessity.

When Hange was only present during weekends, Levi at the least, tolerated it.

On one condition, he was allowed to straighten out the almost two foot tall pile everytime he passed by the dining room in between household chores. When Hange was deep into hundreds of pages worth of reports though, she didn’t look like she minded Levi’s silent interruptions.

“What time are you picking Luke up from school?” Hange asked.

Levi looked at the clock. “He gets out of school at two today,” he answered. It was eleven, and half his mind was already looking into planning lunch.

“Okay,” Hange said, her focus fell back to the paperwork.

It wasn’t anything new, even on weekends or any other day Hange was home, Levi did most of the cooking and cleaning. Hange’s presence did manage to take some of the load off household management off of his shoulders.

Answering the phone was no exception.

Most days, Levi was capable of doing it on his own. When the vegetables were boiling on a pot, the pasta heating in the oven just below it, Hange offered to answer the phone.

“Zoe residence… Speaking…” Hange had always been better at answering the phone anyway. “Luke?”

Levi’s ears perked up at that. He lowered the heat of the stove, as if that would have done anything to make the conversation clear.

“What? Why? No… We’re not.” Hange’s voice was racked with surprise. “....You’re right. We’ll get there soon… We can leave now… We’re not too busy….”

Hange? Not busy? Levi had turned off the stove. Lunch never was the most urgent thing. “You’re going to school?”

“It’s about Luke.”

No shit. “I can tell that much from the conversation,” Levi said. “What happened?”

“He just started crying apparently…” Hange said.

Levi sensed the urgency in the speed at which she pulled her coat over her and retied her hair. “Crying over?” Levi pressed. Luke rarely cried and just that thought had Levi’s heart pounding.

“When the teachers were explaining… Luke was crying about… his parents… About us?”

“Your son said, you two ‘’didn’t love each other anymore’” the headmaster explained. It had been just them in the office but with the way the headmaster had explained it, it looked like she could have been quoting Luke word per word.

Levi surreptitiously flashed Hange a look of confusion, a glance just to see if she knew anything.

She seemed as lost as he was. “Can we talk to our son?” Hange asked.

“Before that, I just wanted to discuss the family situation first… See if we could do anything to support Luke through this?”

“Through what?”

“Through your ‘separation?’”

Levi turned to Hange, his eyes wide. We’re separating?

Hange furrowed her brows at him, an incredulous look. She turned abruptly back at the principal. “Who told you we’re separating?”

“Your son said you two have been fighting a lot. And he seemed very affected...”

“Fighting?” Levi asked. Are we?

No we aren’t. Hange’s expression said it all. “If there’s any misunderstanding, we can explain it to Luke ourselves.”

“You have to understand. We have our students welfare in mind. If we believe that your son is being raised in an unsuitable environment…”

“Excuse me?” Hange put one hand to her chest. Her tone was slipping to something with more emotion than any attempt at compromise.

“Just let us talk to our son,” Levi said. The echo of his own voice sounded unfamiliar in that small voice, especially since Hange had done the talking the whole time.

“We’ve been hearing as well about the vulgarities your son has been spouting...” the headmaster said.

“Yes, we’ve been working on it,” Levi said firmly, with every intention to interrupt the old lady.

“I’d like first some verbal commitment from both of you at least to work on this? We treat every child here like part of the family. With the case on Luke’s word usage and his suddenly bursting into tears in school… It looks like his home environment might not be ideal.”

“Can you let us talk to our son please?” Levi said. He turned to Hange. The brunette had fallen silent yet she seemed very much deep in thought.

“Could you please explain though from your end the debacle about the ‘shitty four eyes’ and the ‘clean freak?”

“We’re working on it,” Levi repeated. Somehow, it was getting harder and harder to sit still.

The condescending look in the woman’s face, the accusing glare wasn’t making it any easier. “But have you been working hard on it? Can I ask what is causing you to employ such vulgarity in your own home, in an environment for children?”

Since when did schools in Paradis get this vigilant about children’s home lives? It was a welcome change at least but Levi was in no mood to ponder the benefits of such an arrangement. “With all due respect ma’am, that’s none of your goddamn business.”

Levi could have just made it worse. And Hange said so herself, in between a stifled grin and a stifled chuckle.

If his own treatment of the very snobby principal could have done anything to convince the whole school that they were shitty parents. He was confident at least, Luke would defend them.

I mean a three year old should be capable of defending their parents right?

A three and a half year old. Hange’s words echoed in his head. If the ‘half year’ of living did anything to make Luke anymore aware of what exactly was going on, he prayed it did work.

Whether it was because he was three and a half or he was merely three, he seemed to have understood. A flash of recognition as they locked eyes along the hallways, Luke still let go of the Ms. Wilde's hand and ran towards them.

By some instinctive need to prove something maybe, Levi clutched Hange’s hand. She gripped back.

Luke seemed to have noticed it. “No fighting?”

“Fighting? Who said we’re fighting?” Hange bent down and patted her son on the head with her free hand.

A wide grin on his face, Luke turned to Hange. “Shitty four eyes.” Then to Levi. “Clean freak.”

Levi bent down, right next to Hange. “Yes, this is my shitty four eyes,” Levi said as he put one hand on Hange’s head, pulling her close.

“And this is my clean freak,” Hange pointed a finger to her left, towards Levi.

Something felt natural and intimate and something tasted sweeter than honey when he was saying those words again, words he had kept nill for months.

The grin in Luke’s face only made the release all the sweeter. “Shitty four eyes and clean freak!” Soon, he was running back to the teacher that had called out to him. He still had a few more hours of school.

“I guess we’ve been pretty careless about the nicknames huh?” Hange whispered wryly. “He’s probably just too young to understand what ‘shitty’ or what ‘freak’ could imply in any other situation.”

Levi stared ahead, at the young boy who was talking to the teacher in whatever childish babble the three year old could manage. “You know, the nicknames never felt like an insult to me.”

“I mean, we have been using them since we’ve met right? It just slips off our tongue every now and then,” Hange said as she let out a soft chuckle.

Every now and then. No a lot more often, than every now and then. To the point that Levi never felt it when it happened. Yet the absence of such words were painfully glaring.

“What are we going to do now about Luke’s language?” Levi averted his gaze, perfectly aware that if Luke had learned anything, it had probably been from his father.

“Have you ever taught him what the words ‘shitty’ or ‘freak’ meant?”

“Never,” Levi said.

“Then maybe we don’t have to think too much about it?” Hange suggested.

But it continued to nag. After all, the teachers continued to stare, probably whispering. Levi and Hange spent the last few hours before school ended just sitting by the courtyard of the school and they had more than enough evidence by then to be sure, teachers were talking.

When the bell rang, they found themselves attempting to brush away whispers and glares from the teacher, instead focusing on the hallways which were starting to fill with toddlers and kids.

And eventually, they found Luke, next to him a young girl in pig tails, with glasses. She wore a blouse and a skirt without a single crease on them. “This is my shitty four eyes… And my Clean freak!” Luke said. The girl next to him waved her hand, a wide grin on her face, not at all fazed by the words ‘shitty’ or ‘freak.’

Levi exchanged a knowing glance with Hange. No other words were shared between them but somehow they both understood. Maybe adults were just overthinking that very simple thing called language.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #fanfic

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butterflydm · 2 years

Text

wot reread: the fires of heaven (chap 41-chap 42)

spoilers through the fires of heaven; minor further spoilers about how two characters will part ways next book and not see each other for a very long time after that

1. The Maidens are all keeping the secret of Rand and Aviendha hooking up pretty close to their hearts, it sounds like? Rand is pretty sure that Egwene hasn’t found out, anyway. Of course, the Maidens think that Rand and Aviendha have slept together A LOT more times than the actual one (1) time that they have, lol.

2. Apparently, “Min was the only woman who had not made him feel as if he were standing on his head half the time” (emphasis from the text). This is, of course, not something we’ve gotten to witness on-page yet, lol. But at least we know some things about MIN that RAND likes, anyway, even if Min doesn’t seem to like anything about him (except his ‘silky hair’ and that he’s not completely hideous to her sight). Anyway, once they are finally in the same place again, I will note whether or not Min ever confuses him, as he claims here that she does not.

3. Aw, he thinks if he could be friends with the Aiel chiefs, it would ‘especially’ be Mangin, because Mangin’s sense of humor reminds him of Mat. (once again, Perrin is the Other Friend lol). Rand likes Mat’s sense of humor (I figure if I’m going to keep track of Things People Like, I might as well add Mat to the list of people I’m tracking). And he’s worrying about Mat. :-(

4. Egwene hesitating to use the One Power as a weapon... I wish I could see inside her head. Is it because she’s afraid it might make the Wise Ones realize she’s not a real Aes Sedai? Is she worried about Moiraine’s disapproval? We know she currently has no issue breaking the ‘lying’ one of the Three Oaths. I’m as perplexed about her feelings here as Rand is. Rand senses eyes on him, feeling like they’re Moiraine’s, but it’s Egwene. He feels like there’s very little difference between them right now.

5. Rand’s got a big tower with a big ol’ spyglass on top so that he can take a peek at the situation ahead in Cairhien! I love Rand financing tech upgrades for Randland. Though he and I both like it best when they don’t have to be battle-related. But also: still very cool. Rand, Mat, and Elayne are all experimental sorts and would be very cute engineers together. Rand is more of the philosophical ‘what if’ sort, Elayne wants to be the hands-on inventor, and Mat can figure out the logistics.

6. It still throws Rand off, to see young men a couple of years older than him bowing and scraping to him. But he’s learned how not to let it show. He doesn’t make his discomfort their problem.

7. Couladin has Cairhien under siege. Rand notes that Cairhien flies his Dragon banner and the banner of some Tairen High Lords, but none of Cairhien’s own Rising Sun banner. Is this the first place we learn that Asmodean put the Dragons on Couladin’s arms? Did Rand find that out off-screen or am I just not remembering it lol?

8. Rand also sometimes gets battle memories (but his are all from LLT and not a whole bunch of people, like Mat’s) but he tries not to think about them.

9. Oh, this whole goodbye set-up between Rand and Mat is so sad, even though I know it isn’t actually the final goodbye before the Great Cauthor Drought. The way that Mat talks himself up into it, the way he had to keep talking himself into it, even as he insists that he doesn’t feel the ta’veren pull anymore. And Rand deliberately setting something of a trap to try to figure out if Mat’s secret really battle-related, like he suspects he is, which is sad on Rand’s part because he wanted so much earlier in the book for Mat to trust him with his trauma and now he’s tricking it out of him in order to potentially use him in the future.

10. “Always leave a way out, unless you really want to find out how hard a man can fight when he has nothing left to lose.” He is able to, single-handedly, come up with a battle plan that is basically what Lan plus several experienced Aiel clan chiefs came up with. “There was no such thing as fairness in war. You took your enemy from behind, when he least expected it, when and where he was weakest.”

... I am having ‘viper in the bosom’ thoughts about post-canon Mat right now. Oh, wow, I think that might be a fic idea. I’m gonna write that down and be right back. I probably won’t finish/post the story until after I finish my reread but... yeah. Having A Thought right now.

“Victory settles a lot of arguments in most men’s heads.”

11. Rand’s resignation to Mat leaving is also Real Sad. Ugh. I’m so sad because this feels like a preview of the actual time they split up and then we get the Drought except I’m pretty sure that time will be worse because I think that one wasn’t even meant as a goodbye, it was a ‘see you soon’ and then they didn’t and I’m sad

It’s also sad that both Mat and Rand feel like Egwene isn’t on their side and that telling her anything is the same as telling Moiraine and the Wise Ones. And it;s also again funny/sad how completely Rand and Mat are on the same page about this and yet how they can’t share their trauma with each other.

About leaving Rand behind: “he felt a little sad about that, and a little foolish for feeling sad, yet a man had to look after himself.” and “if he could forget that Rand could channel -- and he had not thought of it once in days; days! -- then it was far past time to be gone.” Just getting to witness how Mat processed Rand being a man who could channel has been such a fascinating treat during this reread.

12. Mat considers just sneaking out without telling Melindhra, since she did basically just claim him as hers without ever actually asking him and he’s not sure how willing she would be to accept a goodbye.

13. The goodbye is so reluctant and awkward, with Mat basically memorizing the way Rand’s hand feels in his (very evocatively too, noting the roughness of the calluses and the distinct ridges of the heron brand in his palm) - “Rand half-stepped around actually putting an end to it” -- I am IN PAIN. All seven clan chiefs and three Tairen lords, btw, were forced to wait outside Rand’s tent for the entire time that he was saying goodbye to Mat, lol, yeah, Rand has priorities thanks.

14. Mat whistles a song about dancing with death as he leaves, and Rand will soon order Asmodean to play him a song about death. The boys are so sad about their separation and so repressed about it. Rand literally orders Asmodean to play him the saddest song that he knows.

15. Anyway, then we get the reveal that Rand did deliberately send Lan into the tent first to try to scope out Mat’s battle-knowledge and confirm his suspicions about Mat’s memories. “with only a few minutes to study the maps, he laid out close to the battle plan that Rhuarc and the others made. He saw the difficulties and the dangers, and how to meet them. He knows about miners and siege engines, and using light cavalry to harry a defeated foe.” Lan doesn’t try to question Rand on why Mat might know those things, but Rand wouldn’t have answered him anyway, as he feels he doesn’t have the right to share “what little answer he had”.

16. He’s so bitter and self-hating about realizing that he’s capable of using the knowledge in Mat’s head for his own advantage. He has been so so protective of Mat over the course of the books so far, so this really is a very big breach against his own boundaries. He’s so disgusted with himself for it that he unfavorably compares himself to the Seanchan. Oh, and Lan bows to Rand for the first time. He doesn’t see a sheepherder anymore.

17. “I’ve planned a hundred battle this size or more and given orders that led to ten times as many” -- LTT thought that Rand doesn’t want to claim as his own. He wants to believe that he’s only in on the battle planning as a ‘polite fiction’ and doesn’t actually understand any of it. So, you know. Just like Mat.

18. Rand already misses having Mat there. It’s been five minutes. He hasn’t even left the camp yet.

19. lolz more pipe smoking. literally everyone in this war meeting is smoking a pipe.

20. “Tears were a luxury he could no longer afford, not even inside.” BABY.

#wot #wheel of time #wot reread #the fires of heaven #wot book spoilers #wot spoilers #cauthor

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sunnysviolin · 3 years

Text

Omotober Day Five- Photograph

“That's the thing about trust. It's like broken glass. You can put it back together, but the cracks are always visible--like scars that never fully heal.” ― Hope Collier,

Aubrey was almost out the door when her mother dropped the bombshell on her. Usually her mom wasn’t even awake when she was leaving for school, she was still sleeping off whatever bender she had gone on the night before. She was up today, in a stained robe with unkempt hair, but she was up.

“We’re going to visit Flora for dinner tonight. Go home on Basil’s bus, I don’t want you trying to skip out on this,” Past Aubrey would have been elated. Not only was her mom up, but they were going to see her best friend for dinner. Now she growled in irritation and rolled her eyes.

“Mom-”

“Aubrey, don’t even think about starting up,” Her mother cut her off with a warning look. Aubrey shut her mouth but hot anger lit up in her veins. She bit her tongue to stop from screaming as her mother continued her lecturing, “That woman is old and her time is coming soon. Respect thy elders, it’s the godly thing to do,”

The hypocrisy of it filled Aubrey’s mouth with poison, and she balled her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. Her mom loved to spout religious crap like this all the time, acting like saying scripture somehow equated to being a good person. Aubrey would have loved to ask her what part of her oh so precious book told her that getting drunk every night was godly, but if she started that fight again she would never make it to school on time.

“Whatever,” Aubrey muttered in lieu of her actual thoughts, pushing past her mother and out the front door. Her mother’s little lecture had taken long enough that the bus stop was completely empty, and that only made Aubrey’s mood even worse. She seized her scooter and whipped it around, putting all of her mental frustration into the physical act of riding to school and away from her house as fast as possible.

The ride did nothing to alleviate Aubrey’s anger and a dark storm cloud hung around her through every period. Students gave her a wide berth and teachers looked at her with distrustful eyes. They were all expecting something to happen, and she hated them for it. They always expected the worst of her. Kel had tried approaching her during their shared study hall, and she ignored him till he left. He wasn’t a true friend, he didn’t really care about her. Aubrey had to remember that, or she would fall for his tricks again.

By the end of the day, Aubrey was exhausted. To the rest of the world, she seemed just as bitter and angry as she was when she got to school, but it was just an easy front that she put out to keep them all away. Truthfully, she just wanted to go home, climb the stairs to her room, and curl up with her bunny (). She wanted to block out the world and all of the fake people in it, forget about false friends and the never ending loneliness that threatened to crush her at any point.

She couldn’t. She had to go to Basil’s.

She found Basil waiting outside, off in a corner. He was standing slightly hunched over, like he was trying to disappear right where he stood. Absolutely pathetic, but that was Basil. A weakling who had used Aubrey. Kel was with him, clearly talking at Basil and not to him. Basil wasn’t even paying attention, just staring off at the trees and playing with his fingers the way Aubrey hated. She walked over in long purposeful strides, putting herself in the middle between the two boys.

“Get lost,” Aubrey snapped, hoping that Kel would argue right back with her. It would be a good outlet, something that would get rid of the storm cloud. Basil was no fun to fight with, he just cried and apologized. At least Kel would do it properly.

But luck was not on her side. Kel didn’t fire back with a harsh retort or even give her a glare. He just sighed and rolled his eyes, something that instantly set alarm bells of resentment ringing in her head. She hated when he acted higher and mightier, rising above her like he was too good to fight with her. It was the same as her mother’s religious rambling, just another hypocrite who thought they were better than they were and judged Aubrey for not playing their game.

“I’ll see you later, Basil ,” Kel said, deliberately putting emphasis on ignoring that Aubrey even existed. The urge to kick out his legs and pound him into the dirt was overwhelming, but the sound of the buses starting to rumble cut off that train before it left the station. She growled and yanked Basil along with her by the wrist, walking over to his bus and climbing the high steps. Aubrey practically threw him into an open three seater and launched her bag in after, sitting as close to the aisle as she could and as far away from him as possible.

She didn’t want them, but as she sat on the bus with her former oldest friend, memories of all the times they had done this before came to her one by one. They had always chosen a two seater before, they hadn’t needed the room of three. They would cram close together and read the same book, or chat about all the things they could do when they got to his house. They had almost missed their stop multiple times because they were so lost in their conversation, and oftentimes they had to shout for the bus driver to hold on so they could get off. It was funny, sweet to the point of saccharine.

The thoughts made Aubrey sick now. She tried to pretend it was just the righteous fury she obviously should have felt at their betrayal, but there was something else in there. A thing with dark claws that dug into her chest and made itself known with pain. The word for it sat heavy in her mind, there but unspoken, pushed to some long forgotten corner that she never looked at and never wanted to. Aubrey had enough trouble grieving the dead, she had no need for grieving the living too. The bus reached their stop and she hopped off without looking back. Basil would follow or he wouldn’t, she didn’t care either way.

“Aubrey!” Flora tottered towards them down the sidewalk, her cane clutched firmly in her right hand. Her white hair was pulled up in her signature bun, and her dress was a pretty floral blue that matched her eyes.

She pulled Aubrey into a hug once the young girl was close enough, holding her in a tight squeeze. Aubrey put her hands around Flora, but she didn’t hug her back. Flora was fragile, her bones easily felt through paper dry skin. Aubrey hoped she never got old enough to feel this breakable, but the hug was still warm and comforting. Flora smelled like old lady soap and dried flowers and clean laundry, a smell that Aubrey loved for how safe it made her feel, and hated for how fleetingly often she got to experience it.

When Flora pulled back she kept her hands on Aubrey’s upper arms, looking the girl up and down. Aubrey resisted the urge to squirm, holding her breath as the old woman appraised her. She hadn’t seen Basil’s grandmother since the funeral almost two years ago, and she knew Flora hadn’t seen her shocking pink hair yet, or the new styles she liked to wear. Aubrey began to steel herself for a long winded speech about respecting her body like a temple, the kind her mom liked to preach after her second bottle of wine.

“You got taller,” Flora commented, turning around and leading the way back to the house, “Come inside, I made some snacks for you two,”

Aubrey slowly let out the breath she had been keeping, letting Basil walk in front of her and towards his house. Flora had never been a mean spirited woman or purposefully judgemental, but Aubrey’s threshold for trust was a lot lower than it used to be. Her anger began to bleed out and shame took its place. Aubrey usually thought the worst of people, and that didn’t bother her because she was usually proven right in the end, but there were exceptions. Flora had never done anything to earn her ire, even if her grandson had.

Aubrey followed them into their home, taking her shoes off at the entrance and looking around. Nothing had changed really, flowers and plants still hung in pots all around and the bookshelf was still packed to the brim. There was a pot bubbling on the stove and vegetables half cut on a board next to it. Flora gestured towards the table and slowly made her way to the fridge, pulling out a carton of strawberries and two oranges. She made quick work of the fruits and was soon putting a platter of cut up pieces of fruit between the two children.

“You two can finish your homework here while I finish up the grub. Dinner is going to be in an hour and a half. I know five o’clock is a little early for you youngins, but I like to be in bed by six!” The old woman laughed at her own nonexistent joke, the sound creaky and roughened with age. She had to stop to cough halfway through, but she waved away Basil’s worried gaze and reaching arms, “Please dear I’m fine. Aubrey you have to teach my grandbaby here how to relax more and just enjoy life,”

Aubrey didn’t respond, using digging through her backpack as an excuse to not have to acknowledge what Basil’s grandmother had said. It was less of a hassle to pretend that she hadn’t heard then to lie and act like she cared if Basil was uptight or not. Basil also didn’t say anything, he just started his work in silence. Flora’s genial mood faltered ever so slightly, but she took their dampened mood in stride.

“Okay then, while you two mope, I’ll keep working on dinner,”

Flora went over to the kitchen proper and turned on the radio, listening to some talk show that Aubrey’s mom also liked. The girl settled into her seat and began to flip through her work, picking and choosing which assignments she would do and which ones she would blow off. There was no point to doing some of them, the teacher was going to fail her anyway, so why should she try? At least if she put all her efforts into one or two classes with cool teachers, she might pass. It was almost dinner time when her peace was broken without her permission

“Did you understand the earth science homework?”

Aubrey looked up, shooting Basil a derisive look for even bothering to speak. He flinched away from her, but held firm, waiting for an answer. She didn’t even want to bother, but she knew Flora was nearby and probably listening, and she would have questions if Aubrey ignored her grandson, or worse, told him to shut up.

“It was easy,” Aubrey tersely replied, putting her anger into her pen. Her words started to come out jagged and uneven, but she didn’t care. It felt good, “It’s just identifying minerals,”

“I don’t get it,” Basil murmured, more to himself than to her. He scratched something out on his worksheet and fisted a hand in his hair, “She explained this over and over, I don’t understand why I don’t get it,”

Aubrey watched the display of his anxiety for a few moments before letting out an exaggerated sigh, letting her head flop back against the chair. It wasn’t even fun to watch him get upset, it just made her feel bad, which only made her angrier. She pushed her chair away from the table, enjoying the loud screech it gave and how uncomfortable it made Basil. Then she stood and walked around the table, leaning over him and getting in his space.

“Which one are you confused on?” She demanded, and he pointed to the question with a shaking finger. She looked at the problem and rolled her eyes. It wasn’t even one of the difficult ones. Their teacher had given them a table of potential minerals and then a series of questions with specific properties. They had to correctly pick which mineral went to which list of properties.

“Okay so you already got half of them, so you just have diamond, muscovite, talc, and gypsum left,” Aubrey stated, going over the options, “The mineral cleaves into thin sheets, has a white streak, and a pearly luster. Which out of those ones has those traits?”

Basil didn’t respond, still shaking from their proximity. He stammered out some unintelligible words, his hands clasping together around his middle. Before he could devolve into an entire anxiety attack, and more importantly before Flora noticed what was going on, Aubrey would have to deal with this

“Would you quit that? I’m not gonna bite,” She barked, and he flinched further away. Great. Aubrey forced herself to take a breath and count to ten, the thing that the annoying school counselor had showed her that almost never worked. Aubrey tried again.

“Okay instead of thinking about it that way. Let’s go with which ones don’t have those features. Does diamond have a streak?”

“No it’s harder than the streak plate,” Basil responded, which was what their teacher had said word for word. Aubrey had started off with a question she knew he would know the answer to, because Mrs. Tommen had made Basil repeat her when she thought he wasn’t paying attention earlier that day.

“So then obviously it can’t be diamond.” Aubrey said, unable to take all of the snottiness in her tone. It had to be good enough, besides he should know it was stupid that he needed help with this.

“The rest have a white streak though,” Basil said after a quick check of his notes, “It could be any of them,”

Aubrey briefly considered banging her head against the wall. Anything to get her away from rocks and this idiot. She walked around to her side of the table and went back to her own work, putting her head close to the paper.

“Look at the rest of the traits. They don’t all have the same traits. Just do it that way, and quit bugging me,” She hissed. Basil wilted, but he focused back on his work.

“Thanks for the help,” It came out quiet and timid, but it was there. Aubrey jerked her head in a nod, and the two of them lapsed back into silent solo work until Aubrey’s mother knocked on the door. She was dressed in a purple dress that had seen better days and came bearing store bought cookies that still had a sale sticker on them. Her hair was done, but flyaways surrounded her head like a dust cloud, and her smile was entirely fake.

Flora came over and greeted Aubrey’s mom with enthusiasm, thanking her for her generosity and guiding her to the table. They made small talk as Basil and Aubrey gathered their things and Basil set the table. How her mom’s job was going, how was Flora’s health, all the usual things Aubrey couldn’t care less about.

The conversation only got more boring when dinner started. When they had done this in the past, Basil and Aubrey easily entertained one another with jokes and teasing jabs and barely noticed the time passing. Now each minute was an hour and Aubrey had achieved levels of boredom previously never reached. Aubrey caught Basil’s eye and nodded towards the doorway to the bedrooms, hoping he caught her hint.

“Um G-Granny?” Basil stuttered, grabbing her attention, “May Aubrey and I be excused?”

Flora looked at both of their plates and nodded, patting Basil on the arm. They gathered up their plates and put them in the sink. As she was about to finally escape, Aubrey’s mother crooked a finger in her direction. She walked to her mom and was pulled down roughly by the arm. It was nothing like the gentle pats that Flora gave Basil, but a clear warning.

“Behave,” Her mother said in a harsh whisper, and Aubrey gritted her teeth.

She hated that word. She hated her mother. She hated this whole stupid dinner. Aubrey didn’t bother to answer as she pulled away from her mom. Her mom didn’t want an answer, she wanted a doll for a daughter. A pretty perfect doll that made small talk and smiled at jokes that weren’t funny and did whatever she asked. Aubrey stole away from the kitchen table, walking into Basil’s room and shutting the door. She didn’t like spending time with him anymore, and she certainly didn’t want to talk to him, but anything was better than being reminded just how much her own mother didn’t like her.

Basil’s room was also in a stasis, unchanged and unevolved from when she last saw it. The only difference was a blooming white orchid, the petals spread around the stem like angel wings. An orchid that was cared for meticulously, surrounded in the dying light of the day with a golden halo. An orchid that stopped Aubrey in her tracks when her eyes landed on it.

Aubrey had only seen orchids like this in one place. She had assumed that the Pastor did it, or some of the church ladies. She knew that the auxiliary had a circulating list of volunteers that went to tend to the graveyard. Aubrey had even considered that the strange man who always seemed to be in the cemetery might put them there next to her.

She knew Hero didn’t visit. He never went anywhere near the church, hadn’t in years. She didn’t know or care what Kel did, and Sunny didn’t even leave the house anymore. Aubrey had thought she was the only one that visited, the last person that even cared. For some reason her brain had completely blocked out the logical idea that Basil, who loved flowers more than anything, would be the one to carefully tend to a difficult to grow bloom.

“You put these by her?” Aubrey asked quietly, tracing a finger over the delicate petals. Neither of them needed Aubrey to say who “her” was, there was only one person left that connected them. Basil nodded, keeping his eyes down and away from his former friend. Aubrey continued to stare down at the flower, her mind racing faster than she could catch up.

“It’s a white egret,” Basil said, sitting on his bed near her and looking at the flower, “It means my thoughts will follow you into your dreams. I thought it was...I thought she might like it,”

She would have. Mari would have thought it was incredibly sweet, and she would have been able to tell Basil so. She wasn’t like Aubrey who spewed hate without a care in the world but who could never manage to say something kind without stuttering. She would have been able to bring them all together so effortlessly, there would have been no issue. None of this would have ever happened in the first place.

Aubrey was adrift, alone in a sea of confusion that sent wave after wave to try and drown her. She wanted to sit on the bed next to Basil, wanted to finally crack open and let everything out. She could trust him to listen, trust him to care. He was the only one besides her who still cared enough to visit. She should do that. That would be good. But she couldn’t get her feet to move.

“Aubrey?” Basil said, hesitant but still reaching out. She pulled away from the orchid, stumbling back and looking around. A thick leather bound book in the middle of his bookshelf caught her eye, and she wandered over to it. She knew this book.

“Aubrey, don’t.” Basil ordered, his words meaning nothing to her. She could hear him say it, she could even be mildly shocked that he even dared to talk to her like that, when he had been so timid before, but none of it really reached her. Aubrey pulled his photo album out from the shelf, holding it in her hands and opening it.

Instead of the soft faded colors of their childhood, there was black. There was black over Sunny’s birthday, black over her pink raincoat. She could barely make out Hero and Kel arm wrestling, and she only knew which pictures were from the beach based on the small bits of yellow that peaked through the marker staining the memory.

He had scribbled over Mari’s picture.

Aubrey had never had an out of body experience like this. She was always solid, always grounded. Even when she had heard what Mari did, there was no part of her that was able to check out of the situation. Now she was high in the sky, somewhere distant and far where she could only watch as her heart was broken all over again.

A rough tug jerked her back into her body. Basil had snatched the album back from her, his eyes wild and blown wide open. She couldn’t even respond, she had no idea what to do first- steal the album back, or kill him.

“Get out!” Basil shrieked, holding the book against his chest and falling to his knees. She didn’t want to. She wanted to hit him, to feel his bones breaking under her fists and hear him crying out in pain. She could hurt him worse than he hurt her, make it so she wasn’t the only one suffering. He did this. He was the one who did this, and she wouldn’t be to blame for that. She wanted to wring his neck, to break down and start sobbing.

She wanted to run.

Aubrey shouted in rage, beyond words and beyond any outward expression of the emotions roiling within. She bodily threw the door open, running past the table and out the door. She heard her mother and Flora calling for her, but she ignored them, slamming the door and continuing to sprint away. She got back to her house in record time, not bothering to close the front door as she climbed up the ladder to her room as quickly as possible.

Aubrey locked the trap door to her room, finally letting out the scream that had been building up within her. No one was there to hear it but her bunny, and she was currently hiding in her hut from Aubrey’s meltdown. Aubrey flung herself onto her bed and buried her face in her pillows, screaming again. She could hear her mother coming into the house now, screeching in rage at Aubrey’s dramatic exit, catapulting insults left and right about Aubrey. The girl wasn’t listening and didn’t care. Her mind was focused on one thing and one thing only. She would get that album back from Basil, whatever it took to do so, and she would never, never, trust him again.

#omotober #omori #omori fic #omori basil #omori kel #omori aubrey #I FORGOT TO POST YESTERDAY #I mean i did on ao3 but NOT HERE #ANYWAYS #so tired

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viridianllamasinthesilentspace · 2 years

Text

Sorting the MCU: Part 4

Note: Hello out there, for people who haven’t played this before—this is our favorite way to play Sorting. When we say “Primary” we mean values, priorities, ethics, systems of reality—WHY you do things. When we say “Secondary” we mean methods, actions, interactions—HOW you do things. This doesn’t have to do with ability exactly—it’s more about what skills you value rather than what skills you excel at (though these often overlap).

Wanda appears to be a Ravenclaw Primary who has built Pietro, her Slytherin Primary brother, into her system. This is a common (but hardly universal) way for Ravenclaws to deal with this type of strong bond, especially with a Slytherin Primary who might feel unbalanced and insecure if the relationship lacked strong mutual loyalties.

Where Pietro mostly just has fun and follows along, Wanda is making the hard moral calls and digesting new information. Once she shifts her system it is changed, deeply and in what seems to be a long lasting way. Hawkeye gives her a choice—walk out that door and you’re an Avenger—and she takes it and internalizes it. You see it later, when she stays at the key site because “this is my job.” And it’s also implied when we see her again, after her city’s been dropped back to earth and her last bit of family has died, and she has quietly dedicated herself to the cause.

She appears to be a double House—a Ravenclaw Secondary as well as a Primary. She takes in information and acts on it. She has ways she likes to do things, techniques she favors (re: the hallucinations), and does not immediately react well to change. She thinks in the long term and has a sense for how things play out—a strategic thinker. Wanda’s smile in the opening teaser is that of a Ravenclaw Secondary who has just seen a delicious opportunity for a plan unfolding at their feet.

Pietro is a Slytherin/Slytherin, as befits the speedster/trickster. That character trope is a common but delightful one—quick-footed, the speedster also tends to be quick-witted and quick-thinking. Pietro reacts, goes with the flow, and enjoys a bit of mischief—all indicative of the Slytherin Secondary.

His Slytherin Primary is present in how he interacts with Wanda—the close care and attention. Unlike Wanda, he is largely unmoved and non-reactive to the major moral crises occurring throughout the film. He follows her lead, because his morality is Wanda-based, not world-based.

Ultron’s bluntness and desire to push forward without consideration are indicative of an immature Gryffindor Secondary. We think Ultron got his daddy’s Gryffindor Secondary—this is fitting, as he was also born from Tony’s “I have a feeling! I will charge at it! Probably with science and overkill!” Scientists in media are often Ravenclaw Secondaries; mad scientists are often Gryffindor Secondaries.

His Primary’s a bit harder to pin down. Ultron makes “protect the world” his mission, twisting it with an odd combo of both jaded bitterness and youthful arrogance. He could be a Ravenclaw Primary who has latched onto this system. He could also be a petrifying Slytherin Primary, who clings to the mission given him but is also throwing a massive and exhausting temper tantrum in Tony’s face. If he’s a Slytherin/Gryffindor, then that means he entirely House-shares with Tony, who is both his dad and his version 1.0.

Vision, young, purple, and sweet, appears to have the “sentient robot’s” classic Ravenclaw Secondary. He gathers data, deliberates, probably spends his free time running hypotheticals. His Primary is not as obvious under his careful diction and gravitas, but his easy but meaningful faith and certainty nods to a particularly untraumatized Gryffindor Primary. People are beautiful, the world is beautiful, and he knows it. His emphasis on the fine quality and value of the human race could be a Hufflepuff Primary, but he doesn’t seem to treat it in the service/defense “people are people” way a Hufflepuff Primary would be likely to. It’s less because people deserve his defense, it seems, than because he just likes them. It’s an intuitive but deeply driving gut morality that suggests Gryffindor.

Loki has a Slytherin Primary the size of Heimdall’s awesomeness and a Slytherin Secondary that's even bigger. He’s got the Slytherin Primary’s selfish valuing of himself and his ambitions, and its driving personal loyalties; and the Secondary’s cunning, illusion play, and tricks.

When you put a Slytherin Secondary/Ravenclaw model or a Ravenclaw Secondary/Slytherin model together you often get the “mwahaha” evil mastermind, or subtler variations of it, at least. Loki’s got a Ravenclaw [Secondary] model (to briefly define "model": Loki can fully imagine and use the logic and long-term strategic planning of Ravenclaw, even if his quick-thinking, manipulative, adaptable Slytherin Secondary is easier to hand). On top of all that, Loki has strewn a Slytherin performance of the silver-tongued illusionist and trickster. The way Loki plays at being a trickster actually distracts from all the ways he’s truly tricking his adversaries.

Loki “petrifies” his Slytherin Primary (somewhat) over the course of the movies, going from doing everything in order to win his adopted family’s love and respect, to happily stabbing Thor in "Avengers" and presumably killing Odin.

The “somewhat” is because of the exception—Loki’s mother, Frigga. Even in "Thor 2", Loki cares for and values his mother; enough that Odin punishes him by trying to keep Frigga from him, and enough that her death drives Loki into a destructive rage and vengeance spiral that helps drive the middle of the movie. Loki and his Slytherin Secondary still play other games and quietly take the day and the throne, but his grief and rage are honest and real—it’s a particularly Slytherin Secondary trait to lie with the truth.

#shc repost #as in: i don't claim credit for anything but the hours i spent googling these ancient posts

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

Atsumu didn’t get his name on the National team roster, let alone the Olympic team because of his genius setting skills (unlike dear Tobio-kun), but because of the stubbornness and determination that he has in spades and figures he might as well deploy these same qualities to win this particular match. Osamu is of zero help here, muttering insults under his breath but fortunately, he has an unwitting accomplice in Shino, who happily babbles about how ‘mama is going to bring her to the park on Sunday’ .

So armed with onigiris pilfered from Osamu and a box of mochi from her favourite dessert shop, he goes a-hunting for his wife and child at the park on Sunday afternoon and finds them lying on a picnic mat in an open field framed with trees.

‘Oto-san! ’ Shino squeals and dashes into his arms. He lifts her up, spinning her in the air, pressing kisses to her chubby cheeks.

‘What are you doing here, Atsumu?’ she demands as she sits up. ‘How did you even know we’d be here?’

He winks and gives her his most dashing smile. It doesn’t seem to work though - the frown on her face deepens, but he tries not to let her look of distrust slice through the smile on his face.

‘A little princess gave me a hint that her mama still has a habit of going to the park to watch the birds and clouds in the sky. Right, Shino?’

Shino cheers and waves her arms in reply.

‘Good girl!’ he laughs encouragingly.

She folds her arms and is about to retort when Shino demands that ‘Oto-san and Oka-san’ try to catch her - and takes off, barefoot on the grass. Atsumu catches her easily with one hand - because of course he does, a three year old is hardly a match against a national athlete, even with an injury, but Shino pouts when she sees the cross look on her mother’s face, and she has to hastily rearrange her expression into something more acceptable to her daughter.

He counts it as a point won when they share the onigiris and mochi in silence and watch their little girl chase butterflies in the grass.

‘What on earth are you doing here?!’ she says, feeling as if she’s woken up from a bad dream to find it actually is her reality.

Atsumu stands in the foyer of her office building, in the middle of a conversation with Yuna-san, the resident office gossip, who shoots daggers at her when he bounds over to greet her with a peck on her cheek.

‘I thought I’d surprise my dear wife with lunch,’ he drawls, with an emphasis on the word ‘wife’, passing her a bento box that smells amazing and makes her mouth water despite herself.

‘What are you playing at?!’ she hisses while pretending to tuck his hair behind his ear.

‘Nothing!’ he answers her, a too-innocent look on his face. ‘And you’re welcome. Enjoy your lunch, sweetheart!’

He counts another point won when she’s left gaping at him incredulously as he prances off.

He pats himself on the back for the stroke of genius that prompted him to pass Shino the three tickets to the Osaka Aquarium. Before she could utter even a word, Shino shrieked in excitement at the thought of being able to see her favourite penguins again, so with gritted teeth, she agreed to bring Shino to meet him at the aquarium on a Saturday afternoon.

‘Did you know seahorses mate for life?’ he remarks to her as Shino gathers with the other children in front to watch the penguins being fed.

‘And male seahorses are the responsible ones who bear their young - what’s your point anyway?’ she responds, contempt dripping from her voice. ‘Anyway, never mind that -’ she continues, brushing him off. ‘Have you signed the divorce papers?’

‘I forgot,’ he tells her lamely.

‘See that you remember to pass it to me next time’, she says, walking ahead to scoop Shino up in her arms.

Point lost. Time to recalibrate.

‘Atsumu! What the hell am I supposed to do with FIFTY rolls of toilet paper?’ she shrieks over the phone.

‘I may have bought a little too much…but there was a great discount!’ he responds sheepishly.

He’d overheard a conversation between her and Osamu yesterday that she needed to make a grocery run but hadn’t had the time to do so in between endless meetings with her boss. He concedes he may have gone a little...overboard.

‘And how many cans of milk powder did you buy?!’ he continues to hear her scrabble through the cardboard crate outside her home. ‘Atsumu!’

‘Gotta go, bye darlin’ - talk to you soon!’, he says, hastily ending the call as she screeches at him.

Shit. Another point lost.

He brings out the big guns by buying season passes to the museum of natural history, gambling that a blatant appeal to nostalgia might win him some points. But he knows she recognises his gambit when she corners him while Shino is playing with toy fossils in the sandbox.

‘Atsumu. When are you going to sign the divorce papers?’ she demands, her grip tight on his elbow.

Defend. Counterattack.

‘I’ll sign them after my collarbone heals and my arm is out of the sling, alright? I can’t even hold anything in my right hand, let alone sign anything now’, he says with a false smile.

Hold your opponent off until they start to tire.

‘Fine’, she mutters, shooting him a hard stare. ‘Make sure you do. I’ll be waiting once that sling comes off’.

Fuck. He’s backed himself into a corner. This might be a harder match than he imagined.

He offers to look after Shino on a Friday evening when she mentions to Osamu her boss organised a client dinner that she can’t miss. She’d nodded reluctantly after a moment’s hesitation, and they agreed that he’d drop the little girl off at home around ten p.m.

He fumbles with the keys pilfered from Osamu, pizza box balancing precariously on top of Shino’s pram and after an undignified struggle, manages to squeeze in through the doorway, finding the apartment completely still. With his one good arm, he lifts Shino from the pram, careful not to disturb her slumber and treads softly to her bedroom, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead as he tucks her in.

As he returns back to the entryway to fold the pram away, a glint of gold catches his eye, and he forgets to breathe when he realises what it is – the wedding ring he'd deliberately left behind, an act calculated to inflict maximum pain. Wow, he really wishes he could go back in time and punch that stupid prick of his past self - he thinks, holding the ring up to the light, failing to spot any flecks of dust or dullness to the sheen of the ring. She's kept it meticulously clean, sitting in the exact same spot he left it, the sole artefact of their marriage that's been preserved against the passage of time.

After all, he notices that she’s wiped the place clean of him, that much is obvious when he turns to survey the home he left almost a year ago. There are signs of Shino in the toys scattered all over the worn carpet in the living room, colourful scribbles on the walls that probably makes her fret, and there are little touches that remind him of her - the chipped teacup she insists on using, the set of handmade knives displayed in the kitchen that was always intended by her family as a threat.

But there are no traces of him - no stray pieces of clothes or volleyballs that he always forgets to put away (that she’d always get on his case for), no picture frames of them, not even the ones from their wedding day that he’d loved because he thought she looked like a snow maiden from a fairytale in her white kimono.

He’d promised her father that day he’d always take care of her. He wonders when he’d forgotten that.

‘Tsumu?’ he hears her murmur, and he jumps a little in shock because he hadn’t noticed her curled up on the couch. ‘Have you come home?’

Yes – he aches to answer, but does not.

(Because he knows he chose to turn his back on this little apartment, filled to the brim with happy, golden memories. It’s his fault he can’t call this place home, not anymore.)

‘I brought pizza in case you’re hungry’, he does say loudly – carefully keeping his distance as she sits up and shakes the sleep from her eyes.

‘Oh. It’s you’, she says, and he can hear cold steel return to her voice. ‘Why are you still here?’

‘I brought pizza to share. It’s Friday night, remember?’ he answers, plastering a grin on to his face, gesturing at the pizza box on the kitchen table. ‘I even got pepperoni, your favourite’.

‘You can’t keep playing this game, Atsumu’, she says, walking over to the switches to flick on the lights. It brings her into clearer focus, allowing him to notice the pink scars stretched across the back of her hand and the front of her knees - were they always there before?

His eyes sweep over her form - and oh - his heartbeat thunders, roaring in his chest because she’s wrapped herself in his old jacket - the same one he’d stolen from Osamu and threw over her trembling shoulders that fateful night when he stole a kiss from her for the first time.

‘I miss you’. He blurts out, startling himself. ‘I want us to be a family again’.

‘I don’t’, she answers so forcefully it makes him take a step back. ‘I want a divorce, Atsumu’.

‘But why?’ he persists, ignoring the spike of panic coursing through his blood. ‘If you give me a chance, we could try to start over again.’

‘How many chances do you think you deserve, because you’ve already left me twice, damn you!’ she shouts, pulling the jacket tighter around herself, as if to keep herself from unravelling apart. ‘The first time you left me when I was pregnant with our child was enough of a blow – but the second time I fell to pieces and if it weren’t for Shino and ‘Samu, I would’ve never been able to weld myself back together again. And now after all this time, you want me to take you back?’

‘It’s only been a few months’, he pleads, hating how stupid his excuses sound, even in his head. ‘I should've managed it better, I should’ve talked things out with you instead of just leaving, and if I could rewind time and change what I did, I would, but I can’t, and I regretted it so goddamn much when I got to Milan. I’m back now, I’m begging you - please give me another chance.’

‘Why would you even think you deserve another chance’, she laughs, the sound fraying at its seams, sending shivers down his spine. ‘You’ve spent our entire marriage putting your dreams first, Shino a distant second, and me - your fucking wife - dead last. This past year has taught me that I don’t need you, ‘Tsumu, I don’t need your lying, cheating ass in my life when I can manage perfectly fine by myself’.

‘I didn’t cheat on ya’, he defends himself heatedly, but she levels him a hard glare that makes his gaze slide to the ground. ‘I mean - I thought about it, but I couldn’t go through with it’, he admits, guilt flooding his belly.

‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’ she says dryly, rolling her eyes.

‘Yes - no - I don’t know.’, he answers. ‘Look doll - I know I’ve been an asshole, I know I’ve hurt ya badly, but I know you still love me - you know your face gives ya away when you lie’, he adds, when she opens her mouth to contradict him, and she closes it in defeat. ‘Otherwise you won't be wearing my jacket when you sleep, neither would you keep my ring clean. And if ya love me, don’t ya think you should give me another chance?’

Her face twists in anguish, and there’s a rush of shame in his chest that he tells himself to ignore, reaching forward instead to cup her cold face with his hands. She winces at first, almost as if his touch is scalding, white hot with heat, but soon surrenders when she realises his grip on her is unwavering, lifting her gaze to meet his.

‘You can’t do this to me, ‘Tsumu’, she says, her voice brittle, echoing with an aching sadness that tears a hole into his already gaping heart. 'You can’t leave as and when you feel like it and return when it suits you – that’s not how marriage or fatherhood works. And it’s not fair for you to try to guilt me into taking you back. Why should I give you another chance only to end up being hurt again? I'm only human, and there’s only so much my heart can take'.

It’s only then that it hits him that while she may have transformed herself in his absence into a woman of iron and steel, her heart is still made of glass, and a single careless touch might shatter her into fragments across the floor. And he knows he shouldn’t strike her any further with his words, but he’s a selfish fool of a man - always has been, always will be - so he pretends he does not see her pain (looks deliberately away from the fissures in her heart that might cause her to fall apart) and continues to press hard.

‘Please - just trust me enough not to hurt ya, I just need one more chance. Tell me ya still love me - even now.’

‘I do, oh gods, I do, ‘Tsumu- ’ she gasps, almost as if she’s drowning in a whirlpool of his selfishness, her breath tipping over into a broken sob - ‘I love you, but our marriage is over - it was over the minute you put yourself before Shino and I, and left us behind to fend for ourselves.’

He shakes his head, desperately flailing against the death knell in her words - because it can’t be over, he refuses to accept it’s over, what does she mean it’s over - but he stills when she chokes back her tears to smile, lifting her hand to meet his.

‘I’ve already paid you with my heart, ‘Tsumu - don’t you think I deserve to be free?’

Her words swirl in his mind as he makes his way back to Osamu’s flat.

‘Things didn’t go so well, I take it?’ Osamu asks as he lurches through the door with overcast eyes.

He inhales slowly through his nose. ‘Nope’, he admits, exhaling in defeat. ‘She isn’t prepared to take me back.’

Osamu pulls out a chair at the kitchen table and waves him to take a seat, sliding a plate of reheated curry rice under his nose when he does. ‘Eat up’, he says, not unkindly, and Atsumu does, even though the smell makes his head spin and every swallow of food lodges itself painfully in his stomach.

‘Go on, say what’s on yer mind’, Atsumu says, knowing his brother too well to see through his posture of nonchalance. ‘I know you’re gonna tell me ‘ I told you so ’ and mock me with some insult intended to make me feel worse than I already am’.

‘I’m not going to gloat, if that’s what you mean’, Osamu says mildly. ‘All I can say is that the heart is a funny, fickle thing, and sometimes it hungers for things it knows will only bring pain. But I think ya know you’ve reached a point where you need to consider whether you can live with yourself for constantly causing her pain.’

Atsumu stays silent, fingers tracing absently over the outline of the wedding ring in his pocket. He wonders if he’s imagining the coolness from the metal seeping into his skin.

#hq #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq writing #haikyuu writing #haikyuucreations #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #miya osamu #inarizaki #haikyuu fluff

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

I'd like more Baxia/NMJ bodyswap please and thank you!

Close - extra 3

It wasn’t actually, strictly speaking, necessary for Nie Mingjue to spend two weeks as a saber after he got a nasty concussion on a deliberately sabotaged night-hunt, but he was tired of being in charge – he’d refused the Chief Cultivator title on principle, but he seemed to somehow have gotten stuck doing all the work, possibly for lack of other options – and, well, he could. So why not?

Obviously Baxia wasn’t capable of leading his sect, much less the cultivation world, but he did have one sworn brother left of the two, however distracted the remaining one was by Meng Yao’s plight, and anyway his brother needed to figure out the details of running things sometime before Nie Mingjue actually did die of qi deviation.

“You’re not going to die, stop being so dramatic,” Nie Huaisang grumbled. “The sect healers said that your meridians are clearer than they’ve ever seen in our family and that you may well have solved the problem in our clan’s cultivation method to the point that they don’t see any reason you can’t cultivate straight into immortality.”

Nie Mingjue did not respond. He was, after all, a saber.

“I can feel you being smug in there!”

It was a natural state for sabers. That was his story, and he was sticking with it.

Baxia laughed inside his mind and reached out with a human hand to pat Nie Huaisang on the head, her action still a little overly rough by the look of his face. She’d seen a parent do it to their child and been charmed by the action; she seemed to think it was the human equivalent of being polished.

“Ugh, da-jie, stop that, I’m a grown-up – more to the point, I’m a grown-up that’s going to be running the sect for the next few days until da-ge’s concussion is better!”

Baxia held up two fingers.

“…two days?”

She shook her head.

“Two weeks?”

A nod.

“I – but – da-ge, you can’t do this to me!”

Yes, he could, Nie Mingjue thought with a smile that had some bite in it. And he would, too.

“But there’s a discussion conference about to happen!”

It was all planned out already – Nie Huaisang only needed to attend in his place. What was the problem?

“Da-ge! You get out of that saber this instant and talk to me!”

No.

“Da-ge!”

It wasn’t so much that Nie Mingjue had overlooked the question of the discussion conference, but rather he didn’t think it was especially relevant to him as a saber, and of course Baxia would just sit there and scowl at everyone, her aura so intimidating that no one would dare come near.

He overlooked only a single problem: that a discussion conference meant guests, and guests meant swords.

Talkative swords.

In a manner of speaking, anyway.

Nie Mingjue had grown accustomed to the strange way of seeing things that sabers had, more qi detection than actual vision; he had learned to adjust to the strange way that he could almost taste evil, the way his blade was a single jagged tooth eager to drink down blood; he had become familiar with having a body made of sharp steel, immune to pain but vulnerable to dents.

Despite that, hearing the other swords converse was – utterly bizarre.

It was one thing when all around him were the sabers of his Nie sect, since obviously Wei Wuxian didn’t carry one and the Wen sect didn’t either, and Lan Xichen was far too polite to carry his sword openly in the halls of the Unclean Realm. Those sabers surrounded him like a raindrop fallen into a well, familiar and comforting and just the same as him – the same implacable hatred of evil, the nuances of their personalities in greater or lesser degrees, often echoing their masters. They rarely conversed, merely affirmed each other upon meeting, a low subvocal purr of contentment to be around the like-minded.

(Aituan sounded like a rusty door, squeaking and yawning, but however weirdly good-naturedly he was, he was still a saber, with his share of bloodlust and hatred and rage buried deep inside his metal.)

The swords, however…

Shuoyue was a rippling brook, gentle and clear and perhaps a little shallow, a little too flexible, while Bichen in contrast was steady as the earth – more saber-like, despite the double edge. They emitted a feeling like the curved vowels of Gusu and the straightness of their sect rules, the serene mountains and the generous plains, pristine and perfect right up until they met some of their neighbors (the newly formed Su clain, for example) at which point it was all screech-screech-screech.

The rule against gossip in the Cloud Recesses apparently didn’t apply to their swords.

Nie Mingjue would have expected the Jin sect swords to be flashy and bright, as gilded on the inside as they were on the outside, but they were actually a fairly quiet lot. He wasn’t sure if it was their masters’ poor cultivation – though it could be, they were weaker as a general rule than the other sects – or something else lurking behind, some secret of cultivation that he oughtn’t know.

Suihua was fairly pleasant, though: bright and almost maternal in the way she fussed about her wielder, secretly adjusting herself to compensate for any weaknesses in his form. She got along surprisingly well with Aituan, which Nie Mingjue wouldn’t have guessed, and Baxia hummed a reluctant note of approval as well.

Perhaps he should consider cultivating more of a relationship with the young Jin Zixuan, with such an excellent recommendation. Sure, he wasn’t his sword – unlike sabers, which reflected their masters in full, swords seemed to be more of a concave image, similar but distorted to more or lesser degree depending on the distance between master and sword – but the sort of person who would cultivate a sword like that probably needed all the real friends he could get.

Sandu, in contrast, was something of a disaster, something that Nie Mingjue hadn’t expected and, in hindsight, really should have. The sheer amount of power that the sword exuded was impressive, and he was stalwart and true, another saber-like one, but unlike his combative, grumpy, and uptight (but generally well-meaning) master, he was aimless and gamboling, mischievous in a vague unintentional sort of way, liable to make trouble more by accident than on purpose.

Reminded him of Aituan, actually. Children among swords…

It was really a fascinating insight, he thought to himself, amused. He could use this to his advantage in the future, even though he wouldn’t, politically; it seemed an unfair advantage. But perhaps as a means of making friends…

Hmm.

Speaking of friends –

“I don’t understand,” Wei Wuxian said, looking from Baxia to Nie Mingjue and back, eyes so notably not darting towards his Suibian that it had to be intentional. “Suibian isn’t a saber.”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, already regretting having returned to his human form simply because of the skull-wracking migraine the concussion had left behind. Plus, if Nie Huaisang ever found out that he’d been willing to return for this but not to do the paperwork, he’d find a way to stab him no matter how great the difference in their cultivation. “She isn’t. But she’s willing to compromise.”

“…what?”

Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure how to explain it. “You’ve interacted with Baxia when she’s - uh - upright, yes?”

“Yes, of course. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that it was mostly her during the conference – she nearly made Sect Leader Yao cry, and didn’t say a word the entire time. I want to know her secret method.”

“I’m fairly sure her method is ‘be a saber’,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “Still, my point is – would you say that you have an understanding of her? Baxia, as opposed to me?”

“I don’t think anyone can really understand –”

Nie Mingjue leveled him with a look.

“Okay, fine, yes. She’s got a lot of personality, your Baxia. What does that have to do with you wanting me to cultivate Suibian with your sect’s technique?”

“A variation on my sect’s technique, since I’m obviously not teaching you the main technique itself. My point is, during the conference I had the opportunity to converse with a number of different swords –”

“Hold up!” Wei Wuxian held up both his hands. “You talked to the - to people’s swords?!”

“It’s not really talking,” Nie Mingjue admitted. “They’re mostly not as sentient as Baxia, especially for the younger generation. But they still have spirits; they wouldn’t be spiritual weapons if they didn’t. Anyway, it occurred to me that you weren’t using Suibian because of –”

“That incident we do not discuss.”

“…yes, that. Without a golden core, it’s impossible for you to cultivate in the traditional Jiang sect sword style -”

“Wow. You just completely missed the hint that I didn’t want to talk about that.”

“It’s not missing a hint if I ignore it deliberately. Anyway, the fact that you’ve cultivated Suibian in that style for all these years means that they are accustomed to that style, but since by coincidence I was able to converse with the other swords, I thought it worthwhile to feel out if they would be willing to consider adopting a style variation on the Nie sect style, with more emphasis on utilizing resentful energy as swordsmanship.”

Wei Wuxian looked stricken. “You – think that’s possible? I – no, I tried, it doesn’t –”

“You trained your sword to resist outside influences, I know. You can’t not teach a sword that; obviously no one wants Suibian being controlled by any ghost, corpse or yao that happens by. But I think with me in the saber and you on the outside, we might be able to work out a method by which Suibian could distinguish between resentful energy generally and resentful energy being wielded by you. That woudl allow them to respond to that energy as if it was your own…”

Wei Wuxian was hugging him. Why was he hugging him?

“I’m going to switch to Baxia if you don’t let go,” he warned, and Wei Wuxian let go at once.

His eyes were teary.

“I would like that,” he said. “I would like that very much.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #close #memprime

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Victor’s Tender Regards Date (Eng Translation)

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

[ This date was released in CN on 16 Sep 2020 ]

Dedicating this translation to @kshiro for her constant, wholesome support since the early days of this blog ❤️

The date begins with MC in the office on a summer afternoon, musing over the “Snail Mail” collaboration event officially commencing the next day

She finds the name of the company very familiar, but she just can’t remember why

After ending a call with Anna (who reveals that the event would be taking place in the same camellia garden as the one in Maze Date), she receives a message from Victor, who invites her to dinner

She heads over to the camellia garden, and spots a familiar figure:

Under the eaves not too far away, Victor is wearing a black shirt, facing the curtain of rain as though in a trance.

Water droplets follow the branches which curl around the carved balustrades. He lifts his head slightly, and his expression is nonchalant.

We’re separated by some distance, so I can’t clearly identify the flowers in the bouquet he’s holding. I can only see his handsome chin.

All of a sudden, he lifts his other hand gently. A water droplet pelts onto his palm, as though pulling him into the pattering rain.

Seeing this, I find myself subconsciously frozen in place.

Because of the enshrouding misty rain, the Victor before me appears warmer and more tender than usual.

Taking a deep breath, an idea surfaces in my mind. I blink slyly, then deliberately lower my umbrella.

I brisk walk across the puddles towards the stairs, covering myself with the umbrella, attempting to furtively skirt behind Victor--

Victor: What smart idea have you come up with this time?

MC: ...!

My eyes widen in shock. Victor stands in front of the stairs. The moment our eyes meet, resignation flashes across his face, and also a hint of mischievousness.

Victor: Is it very shocking for me to recognise you?

MC: I thought you were in a daze...

Victor: I was at first. But someone’s “style” is just too unique, and I couldn’t ignore it even if I wanted to.

While he speaks, a smile appears on Victor lips, and his eyebrows rise slightly.

MC: Yes yes yes, my “smart idea” is too childish.

With this proximity, I can finally see the bouquet in his hand clearly: pink camellia flowers which are in full bloom.

[Trivia] Pink camellias symbolise longing, desire, and unreserved love

MC: Are these flowers from the camellia garden? It’s so rare to see CEO Victor with a bouquet! Looks like your plans for this afternoon are very important.

While glancing at him, I raise my volume, deliberately adopting an official yet curious tone.

MC: I wonder who’s the lucky person to receive flowers from CEO Victor?

You thought Victor would counter with a “childish”, but all he does is hang a faint smile on his lips, quietly listening to everything I say.

Victor: I have nothing much in the afternoon. Though I have plans in the evening.

In the next second, the flowers are handed to me. Standing against the backdrop of the misty rain, Victor’s expression exudes tenderness.

Victor: I prepared this for a certain dummy.

Accepting the flowers, I burst into a grin.

MC: Come to think of it, what are you doing here? Are you looking for Curator Kim?

Victor brushes off the water droplets on my shoulder. Instead of giving me an answer, he tilts his head upwards and responds with a question.

Victor: Are you here at this time for the “Snail Mail” event?

MC: Mm. The event will officially begin tomorrow, so I’m here to check up on this place again.

Victor: Looks like you’ve been listening to what I say. At least in work, you’ve become more conscientious. Not bad. It’s a good thing.

I straighten up, eyes crinkling as I respond.

MC: Of course! I’ve always been a very serious and responsible producer.

I place a lot of emphasis on the word “always”, and mirth appears in Victor’s eyes.

Victor: Let’s go then. I have some time, so I’ll accompany you to have a look. And also see if there’s a correlation between the state of the venue and your self-praise.

They take a look around the garden, and Victor’s gaze lingers on mailboxes on the wall at the back:

Everyone who sends Future Mail can write down the exact time they wish for it to be sent - whether it be a month later, a year later, or five years later.

The staff would then add a heart-shaped postmark. After slipping it into the mailbox, it’d be considered as sending a “gift to the future”.

On the wall behind the mailboxes, numerous stamps form the words “Snail Mail”, as well as the small words on the bottom right: A gift to the future.

Noticing Victor’s gaze, I move closer to him with a joyful smile.

MC: Don’t you find the name of the theme very creative?

Victor: “A gift to the future”... did you come up with this?

My eyes light up, and I nod quickly.

Victor: I could tell it was your style the moment I heard it - flashy and without substance.

MC: ...how is it flashy and without substance?

MC: Do you still remember the special episode on “Feelings” from before? Actually, this theme was inspired by that episode. Giving gifts is a common way to express how one feels. But it’s not that easy to send a gift to the future. With Future Mail, the sender can convey their feelings and surprises in this gift to the other party across time.

Victor is silent for a while, an unreadable depth in his eyes.

Victor: ...I see. I can more or less understand today’s Future Mail.

MC: Huh?

I furrow my brows. Before I can clarify what he means, Victor has already walked closer to the wall, pointing at the words formed by the stamps.

Victor: Why did you use stamps to form the words?

MC: To complement the idea of “Future Mail”. Even though few people use stamps nowadays, I feel they better convey the idea of sending something. For example, this one! It might look unremarkable, but its journey is hardly normal.

I raise my head, pointing to a stamp at the corner with slightly yellowed edges.

MC: In a time before the development of communication technology, an elderly man, who was still a young boy at the time, pasted this stamp on a letter and sent it out.

MC: By the time the letter reached its destination, the elderly man had already proposed to the elderly woman. Because it was lost, it took a whole two years for the letter to arrive...

MC: Back then, the elderly man would never have guessed that this letter would go through an unexpected turn of events to become a gift to the future.

MC: How does that sound - from its form to its stories, they all tally with the theme of the event, don’t they?

Victor: The creativity is satisfactory. You did a lot of homework. No wonder you have the confidence to praise yourself.

Gaining his affirmation, satisfaction bubbles in my heart. Pulling on his hand, we walk to a table at a corner.

MC: If we’re talking about creativity, it doesn’t stop at the words formed using stamps!

Victor picks up the small, red lacquered crescent-shaped block, holding it on his palm.

Victor: You’re referring to this?

MC: Mm, poe divination is definitely considered creative!

[Trivia] Poe divination is a traditional Chinese divination method where a pair of crescent-shaped wooden or bamboo blocks is thrown on the ground, with the positions of the blocks determining the divine answer

Clearing my throat, I use my most serious and stern expression to explain this “creativity”

MC: After all, it’s sent to a future which is filled with uncertainty. So people will definitely struggle in deciding if they should send such a gift. At this point, the poe divination blocks will contain the answer.

Victor suddenly leans a little closer, tapping my forehead with a bent finger.

Victor: Are you sure you didn’t prepare it just because you like it?

MC: ...

MC: When faced with unknown circumstances and being unable to make a decision, many people will wish to borrow some help from “fate’s direction”.

MC: It’s been statistically proven!

Victor: ...you always have a reason for everything.

A gust of wind carrying water droplets courses in through the window. Victor turns his head to gaze outside the window. Beside the enclosed corridor, a small candy coloured shed is concealed behind the trees.

Victor: Is that shed also part of this “creativity”?

MC: Not only that. It’s the “secret weapon” of this event - a shed for Future Mail videos!

Victor ponders for a moment.

Victor: From what I understand from the words, it’s a gift where videos are sent at a scheduled time?

MC: That’s right. Even though letters and objects are more ceremonial in nature, videos could be even more vivid and interesting.

I suddenly think of something while speaking, and grip his sleeve.

MC: Victor, why don’t we give it a try first? I haven’t officially seen how a recording would look like.

Right after I finish speaking, Victor tilts his face downwards, his lips pursed together slightly. Seeing his expression, the answer I predicted is readied--

Victor: I’m not interested.

...as expected.

MC: Just a short two minutes of recording will do... it’s so meaningful!

I attempt to canvass my explanation. Before I can weave together what I prepared, a stranger’s voice pipes up.

Staff: Hello, may I know if you’re Miss MC?

Before us stands a young man who is dressed in the attire of an employee of the garden.

MC: I am. Is something the matter?

Staff: That’s great. We just discovered that there seems to be a few more decorations. Could you come take a look?

MC: Sure, I’ll be there immediately!

Watching as I immediately become enlivened, Victor speaks faintly.

Victor: I can see that you’re very invested in this event.

MC: As long as I’m doing something, I’ll give it my all. You were the one who taught me this.

I tilt my head cheekily, but Victor looks as though he’s deep in thought.

Victor: So... the reason why you took up this “Snail Mail” event was simply because of the program?

MC: Yes... should there be another reason?

Staring at him a little blankly, I have no idea what it could be.

Victor: Nothing. You should go ahead.

I walk towards the door, but hesitate and swivel my head around because of his words. Seeing that Victor is remaining silent, I turn back, deciding to complete the work on hand first.

Watching the girl’s back as she runs off, Victor’s gaze returns to the small shed not afar off. Mottled lights are cast onto his face, and his expression can’t be seen clearly.

After a while, he turns and walks towards the small shed.

By the time they leave the camellia garden, evening has begun to set in and the rain has stopped

MC thought Victor would bring her to Souvenir for dinner, but the car stops at his house instead

Thinking of how I’d get to enjoy Chef Victor’s “special dinner”, I place the bouquet on the coffee table and happily plop myself onto the sofa.

MC: Huff... I can finally have dinner. What should I order... With so many things I want to eat, it’s suddenly a little perplexing.

Seeing my slightly sly smile, Victor tosses a sweeping glance at me, then sits on the sofa as well.

Victor: Take your time to decide.

Victor: First, come here. Look at this. I received this in the morning.

From a gift box at the corner of the coffee table, Victor retrieves a sheet of paper which resembles an envelope. On the back of it, I think I see--

A heart-shaped postmark?!

I hurriedly straighten up, wanting to grab it from Victor’s hand. Apart from the letter, there seems to be an exquisite-looking, petite bottle...

MC: ...camellia essential oil?

The words slip out of my mouth.

After Victor and I visited the maze in the camellia garden back then, the staff gave us a bottle of camellia essential oil which was made in the garden.

As pre-opening guests, Victor and I were the first to walk out of the maze. And this bottle of essential oil was also their first unique gift.

This unique prize seemed to be telling me that no matter which direction I choose, as long as I keep moving forward, I’ll definitely be on the same path as Victor in the end.

Back then, I had “monopolised” this bottle of essential oil, which carried the sentiments I couldn’t say aloud.

MC: I remember hiding this bottle of essential oil once I got home. Why is it with you?

Victor: Are you sure? Think through it again.

Sensing Victor’s deep gaze, a forgotten memory surfaces in my mind...

[ flashback ]

A while after parting with Victor, a small shop brimming with warmth comes into view.

MC: “Snail Mail”... what does this mean?”

Filled with curiosity, I push the doors open and enter. With the staff’s explanation, I finally get the meaning of this shop’s Future Mail.

MC: It sounds really interesting - I’ll send him a gift then! What should I send?

Biting the pen cap, I stare at the white letter paper and suddenly see the bottle of essential oil, which is still causing undulating emotions in my heart...

[ end of flashback ]

Victor: Looks like you remember now.

When the faraway memory returns, I suddenly understand what Victor was referring to when he said “I see” after I had explained the theme earlier in the afternoon.

The sky gradually clears up after the rain, and the corners of Victor’s lips seem to be dyed with the warmth of sunset. He looks at the letter in his hand.

Victor: “To a certain ‘CEO Victor’ who always surprises me.”

Without warning, Victor actually starts reading out the contents of the letter! I subconsciously try to stop him.

MC: You’re not allowed to read it out!

As though he didn’t hear my objection, Victor continues reading in a composed manner.

Victor: “Even though you’re taciturn most of the time, and love criticising me mercilessly, you always bring me unexpected hope whenever I'm at my wit’s end...”

Hearing Victor’s unchanging tone of voice, this somewhat “public confession” causes me to turn completely red in the face.

MC: S-stop reading it!

I reach out to snatch the letter, but Victor simply raises his long arm, easily lifting it out of reach.

Victor: It’s a letter you wrote yourself. Why aren’t you letting me read it?

MC: ...just give it back to me!

Seizing an opening, I pounce forward fiercely, but am still not as fast as his sharp eyes and deft hands.

Abruptly losing my balance and slipping on my feet, I stumble towards Victor. Instinctively, I reach out to grab something to stabilise myself--

Rip--

Accompanying a soft sound, a button ends up in my hand. I lift my head in astonishment, only to be greeted by Victor’s suddenly loosened tie and bare skin...

It turns out that I accidentally tore off the button near his neckline!

Glancing at his chest, I subconsciously swallow the words I was planning to say. I stuff the button into his hand, then quietly huddle in a corner.

MC: ...here, the button.

Victor: Looks to me like the state of your cerebellum deserves to be re-assessed.

[Trivia] The cerebellum is the part of the brain responsible for a number of functions including motor skills such as balance, coordination, and posture :’D

MC: I didn’t do it on purpose!

MC: It’s your fault for reading the letter aloud.

Victor: Sophistry.

Thinking that Victor would continue with his criticisms, he unexpectedly sets the letter down, then retrieves the essential oil in the box.

Victor: Not reading the letter is fine. Tell me - why did you send this bottle of essential oil to me using Future Mail?

Victor turns his head towards a still-blushing me, as he unhurriedly tugs his neckline closed. I take the unopened bottle from him, and give it some thought.

MC: I didn't put in much thought back then. I was really happy when we were at the camellia garden together...

MC: And this bottle of essential oil seemed to be telling me--

MC: That no matter which direction I choose, you’ll definitely be the first, and the only person to walk the same path with me.

MC: The reason why I sent it using Future Mail was so that you’d re-experience the beautiful memories I did after a period of time, and feel how I felt.

After hearing this, Victor’s brows soften, and he looks to be in a pretty good mood.

Opening the bottle, I take a whiff. Even after such a long time, the fragrance of camellias is still clear and refreshing.

MC: Does essential oil have such a long shelf life? It’s not spoilt at all! Take a whiff - isn’t it still very fragrant?

Watching him arch his brows in objection, I purse my lips. Something occurs to me, and my eyes crinkle as I hold the bottle in front of him.

MC: Why don’t I sacrifice myself for a while! I’ve been so busy with this event that my neck and shoulders are sore. I wonder if I have the honour of troubling CEO Victor to give me a shoulder rub? We could also test if the essential oil is still effective.

Victor doesn’t take it, but shifts his gaze towards me.

Victor: ...you’re ordering me to give you a massage? The reason you found was very pompous. Are you sure you’re sacrificing yourself?

I smile, ignoring his protests and stuffing the bottle into his hands. Then, I lift my hair up, turning to the side to signal that he should hurry up.

A while later, along with a sigh, the cooling liquid is gently dripped onto my neck region.

Victor: You’re sitting so far away. It’s not my problem if its effectiveness is compromised.

I immediately scoot backwards, shifting slightly closer to him. Victor laughs like he’s in a good mood, gently encircling me into his chest.

Separated by the thin, see-through gauze material of my clothes, it’s as though his hand is directly on my skin, soaking it with the warmth of his palm. I subconsciously hold my breath.

Victor: Is this the place which feels uncomfortable?

MC: A little more to the left.

Victor: Here?

MC: Mm... around there.

Just as I prepare to doze off and properly enjoy this experience, the soft fingers suddenly move away. Victor shifts slightly, leaning close to my neck.

The searing breaths from his nose course through the air, descending on the nape of my neck like the quivering wings of a cicada. It feels warm and ticklish.

Victor: The fragrance isn’t bad. Looks like it still has effectiveness.

His baritone voice comes from behind me. He sets down the bottle, and finally kneads my neck gently.

Without realising it, the afterglow of dusk breaks through the earlier overcast, casting golden light spots across the bright and spacious living room.

Victor’s hand is still around my waist, and I relax, resting against his shoulder.

On the coffee table, the shadow cast by the bottle is drawn out by the setting sun. Looking at the bouquet of camellias and thinking about the chance encounter in the afternoon, my heart suddenly stirs.

MC: Victor, the reason you were there today... Was it because you received the gift, thought about how we went to the camellia garden before, and wanted to revisit it?

Victor: You’ve finally come around.

My lips curl up in satisfaction.

MC: When you first received the gift, did you feel astonished, surprised, and touched?

Victor: ...I received your fevered imagination.

Victor: But I was slightly touched.

Victor: Just like what you said in the afternoon, this gift cut across time and awakened past memories and feelings.

I lift my head. The world before me has shrunk infinitely, and can only accommodate his smiling eyes, and the tiny me reflected in them.

With such close proximity, the surroundings seem to be dyed with Victor’s unique scent, causing my heart to feel warm and contented.

Victor: Although Future Mail is uncommon, whether it’s Future Mail or express mail, they are all just mediums.

Victor: The feelings they contain - that's the important thing.

Victor: This unexpected gift... just like what you intended when you sent it, enables me to sense your feelings.

Victor: To me, that is its significance.

I blink, smiling with great happiness.

MC: Come to think of it, I also want to receive the feelings given to me from someone...

As the colours of the afterglow grow heavier, Victor’s side profile is layered with a soft halo.

Just when I think he has nothing more to say, Victor’s lips curve into a smile.

Victor: Perhaps you can look forward to it.

MC: Hm? Look forward to what?

With this, he stands up and heads into the kitchen. No matter how much I probe, he remains indifferent. Resigned, I have no choice but to give up.

The faint yellow light of the kitchen illuminates Victor’s shoulders. Basking in the warm halo, the air surrounding him is especially tender.

A month passes by quickly, and the Future Mail event is completed successfully.

On this early morning, I suddenly receive a package. When I remove the plastic covering, there’s an envelope with a heart-shaped postmark on top of the gift box.

My heartbeat stutters out of rhythm.

Carefully opening the box, I see a videotape and a photograph. Picking up the photograph, I’m greeted by familiar, bold handwriting:

��Looks like you should have received this Future Mail. Apart from supporting your event, I’m only going to do this once. This will not be repeated. The things I want to say to you are all in this videotape. It only belongs to you.”

Morning sunlight filters in through the curtains, illuminating the bedroom floor, and also gently illuminating my heart...

Calls: First // Second

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #HE'S REALLY CHARMING #even his use of 782346 idioms in this date is charming #what a MAN

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mrslackles · 3 years

Note

what do you think are gg's biggest flaws?

Ooh, Anon! It’s like you’re in my head.

I’m busy making a video (that will probably never see the light of day) about this -- my distance from the show has really helped with some super objective clarity -- so I’ll use my notes from that to help me answer.

I’ll preface this by saying what I was most shocked by after putting down all the points was that Rio isn’t even mentioned until really far down??

Anyway, let's get into it.

These are Good Girls' greatest flaws in my opinion (and relative to season 1 -- while I think it had its flaws too, the list is far smaller and I think that's a separate post)

1. It didn't stick to its guns

What set this show apart from others in the 'Everyday person does crime (poorly)' genre was its comedic lightness, strong friendship element, relatability and emphasis on girl power.

a) By season 2, the lightness was already slowly disappearing to make way for season 3's darkness. (Quite literally; this show said sunlight scenes for WHO.) It also stopped being as fun. Remember how it genuinely used to be fun? I mean let's not forget The Best Scene Ever where Ruby shoots Big Mike by accident and we all laughed our asses off. (Compare and contrast to a similar-in-tone-and-context scene -- or even the whole episode -- like Boomer popping up behind them as Rio's package in season 3.) I think season 3 had some great lines and laughs, but in general, the fun element was completely missing for me.

b) As was the friendship. We already know Annie and Ruby basically became Beth's backup dancers in season 2, but at least then they still seemed to have some type of agency. In season 3, they rarely question Beth's (truly questionable) decisions, don't talk to her about shit like why she's still with her horrible husband and have very few true friendship moments as they did in season 1.

c) Which made it less relatable, but what also contributed was the major plot holes (it's less easy to relate when you're constantly having to remind yourself to suspend your disbelief). And, to be honest, their stupid actions. Just the most common-sense things weren't followed, like not taking your children to a crack den or not putting a hit out on a gang leader. It's frustrating watching a TV show -- where characters are supposed to learn things, have arcs and improve over time -- and feeling like you have more logical sense than all the main characters in every scene. (WHO would think a hitman was going to use a sniper rifle on people in broad daylight on the side of the road???)

d) You don't have to look any further than the title or the stans who shout "THE SHOW IS ABOUT THE GIRLS" -- or, hell, the first 10 seconds of the show where Sara is literally talking about the glass ceiling -- to know that the main characters being women is very important to the show. If not formally feminist, it was at least supposed to be empowering or feel like "girl power" (a term I hate, but we won't get into that now).

And I think it did it pretty well in season 1 -- it actually played on my favourite theme of the show, which is the world's perception of these women being what ultimately allows them to get away with so much. (Rife with opportunities for commentary about white privilege, but also a genius way to upend patriarchal beliefs.) But more and more it seemed like the show was asking you to accept empowerment as simply "these things are being done by women, yay".

And, well.

2. Its marketing

I'll keep this one short because I think we all know how messed up this situation is. Basically they're selling a show (every week!) that they're not making while ignoring all feedback on every social media platform. Which brings us to...

3. The marriage of Death

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times -- Beth's character development starts with getting rid of Dean. Her growth is stunted by him on multiple fronts and it's frustrating to viewers since she's constantly put forth as the main character. Not to mention how the audience, separately from Beth, was originally conditioned to see Dean as the scum of the earth (think of scenes like him crashing his car because he was perving on a woman jogging) so keeping them together is really... a choice. To actively root for this marriage (which seems like what the show wants, at least for the protracted moment) means either thinking Dean is a great person (which, as I said, we've only seen the opposite of) or believing he's all Beth deserves. Which leads me to...

4. Beth's (socio)path(y)

Is sociopath a 'good' word? Probably not. Have I seen dozens upon dozens of posts talking about whether Beth is one? Yes. And I see it from a huge variety of people -- from viewers who just binged the show last weekend to those who've been watching for years, the question keeps coming up. And I entirely blame the writing of the show that, by the way, I don't believe is deliberately creating Beth to get this reaction. I think she's written (and, to an extent, acted) in a way that is much too aloof and I'm not convinced it's meant to come off as cold and unfeeling as it does. Everything else leads me to believe that the audience is supposed to root for Beth, but it's just so difficult.

Beth does a lot of messed up shit that requires dialogue to sympathise with her and the inner workings of her mind, but in the later seasons Beth rarely gets to express herself verbally. And every time she does get to speak about her emotions, the dialogue is a pick-your-own-adventure between "She's in so much denial", "This person feels no emotions" and "I'll go find an analysis/fic later to explain this" (scenes like "Nothing" or "I was just bored"). Compare and contrast with some of the great scenes in season 1 where she emotes, like her paralysing shock after they first rob the store or admitting she enjoys crime, or (one of my favourites!) the one in the park where she's mimicking the other mothers beside her.

5. Brio

I said in the beginning that I was shocked Rio doesn't get mentioned until this point and that's because I've always felt like he was an integral part of the show. When people say the show is about the girls, they're truncating -- the show is about the girls getting into crime. That crime is represented by Rio over and over again -- they never bring in another criminal at his level (which is another one of its flaws, but that's also a different post); Rio is it.

And though I stand by Rio's importance, the truth is that Brio isn't as essential to the show, by which I mean that if all of the above were done well, it wouldn't be as sorely missed. In lieu of riveting plot, a fun friendship, character development and empowerment, most viewers have glommed onto Brio like a lifeboat (or ship, heh).

Unfortunately it's also what the show has most stubbornly refused to develop significantly.

It's honestly a toss-up for why I feel Brio is a flaw: is the flaw that they got together? That they never got together well enough? That the writing keeps bringing in these 'chemistry-filled' scenes that are ultimately filled with air?

I don't know. Maybe all of them; maybe just one, depending on the day.

6. Its criticism falls flat without intersectionality

This is a big one because Good Girls is *trying* to do something very clever. As mentioned previously, my favourite theme of the show is how the women's apparent innocence/vulnerability in the eyes of society is their biggest strength. The show plays with this and other interesting themes with varying levels of success, but ultimately they all fall a little flat when they don't feel intersectional.

When Ruby gets sidelined. When Turner, who sees and all but calls out by name Beth's privilege, is portrayed as the villain. When Rio is told he's gonna "pop a cap" in his young child's "ass". When the racist grandma becomes a sympathetic character whom we must later grieve. (And she really didn't have to be racist, now that I think about it? It was just that one line for laughs and that was it.) When, despite the real-world implications, Dean can loudly announce in a store that he's buying a gun to kill someone with and the show just glides past it. When Ruby has to grovel for forgiveness from Beth for trying to protect her husband and family from the system, with no acknowledgement from Beth about how their realities are different. When Rhea gets booted off the show as soon as she's done serving Beth's plot. When Rio gets treated like a prostitute for absolutely no reason. (Oh, and is accused of raping Beth and is literally spoken of as an animal and starts only existing in zero dim lighting as a one-dimensional stereotype... the list goes on.)

7. PR/The actors

I'll risk my life here to sprinkle this in because I do think it's a massive problem. The Manny/Christina of it all is just the tip of the iceberg (although wtf Good Girls? There's nothing you could do to get these two into an interview together??). The main actors do the bare minimum to promote the show and it's weird. I also think it's the height of unprofessionalism to keep characters on the show against the wishes of the majority of the audience just because you enjoy their actors (Boomer confirmed; Dean highly suspected). While, on the flip side of the coin, limiting a character's screentime because you aren't best buddies with them. Having less and less Rio when he's such a fan favourite is dumb; as is not including him in any series marketing material. It feels personal and that isn't how a TV show should be run.

8. The entire hair and wardrobe department needs a stern talking-to

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