#but in the end grief is a natural byproduct of love | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soundbulb · 11 days

Text

my friends tease me for loving manosphere stuff, which is true, but they always find it kind of baffling and I guess I did too until I realized the manosphere men admired the men in these shows. obviously we all wish we could monologue in beautifully paced and well articulated philosophy, that's not what I'm saying, but the men who like this story seem incapable of viewing rust cohle as someone who is expressing beliefs that create ironic tension in his own narrative, same as marty.

it's not quite as bull in a china shop as marty saying "a man needs boundaries" in monologue while we watch him break down the door of the twenty something woman he's cheating on his wife with. but from the moment rust brings up "encouraging the capacity for illusion" it becomes glaringly obvious rust's mainlining of the secrets of the universe -- as well as the bulk of his philosophies outcropped from grief -- are exactly that same encouragement of illusion. "the world needs bad men" and "it was never supposed to work, the whole man-woman thing" is hitting you over the head in the context of the show; rust is ducking and hiding. it's intolerable, how grief irrevocably changed him as a person, the marriage that crumbled from that grief ("we turned on each other"), and the resentment it bore, and not because nature programmed it to end but because it all just did.

but that belief, that nature programmed it to end, is an extension of his idea of time as a flat circle. if you will be reborn into the life you've always been born into, than none of these choices are really yours to begin with. none of what happens has anything to do with you, which is how it feels when you lose everything to an accident on some regular day. so if you believe you're wrought through every motion in repetition, then in this repetition you're exponentially separated from anything resembling agency. but still, nature's programming is You, somewhere at some point in imperceptible time; You at one point lived the life for the first time, then over and over and over, it's Your programming, Your design. the marriage ended who knows how many times. it was never meant to work. your kid died who knows how many times because she was always going to, and you have to continue even though it feels like you're trapped inside a predetermined motion, predetermined not by a benevolent power, or even a malignant one, but by You. everything you ever did or everything done to you happens over and over, there is no such thing as once. which is just true within our lifetimes, we still live inside our decisions, our trajectories, and the trajectories of other people worn on us.

but I'd be surprised if rust believed in a "first time" like that. it's like if you roll a marble on a looping track; an elastic collision got it going, but it's already on a loop. you're born without preexistence, but does this mean that first life is a byproduct of your decisions? in the same way gravity dictated you'd move kinetic, a certain shape, slowing and speeding up at this part and that part, can the same be said for how time dictates you move through your life?

but this is what it feels like when your life is completely devastated by something random. it's the aimless inattention of a couple people at the same time; it's positions in space and speed and impact, gravity; it's an accident. you can't cope with the scope of that. you'll lose everything, but of course the world doesn't change, and the giant devouring mystery is no closer to sated or understood or whatever you believe it seeks. it's in the same way a pandemic wipes through your life and leaves you injured and ill. a plague doesn't really care about anything but living, it was never about you; lives in you but doesn't know what You are, in the same way you don't know what massive devouring mystery you live inside.

even in the murder of dora lang and marie fontenot, murders that are actually committed by men with malice and forethought, there's this thing looming above these women and children as though they're likewise devoured by something too large, incapable of seeing them. this is why it's important that dora lang and marie fontenot are easy targets, "chum in the water". it's impersonal, the accumulation of hundreds of other things that made it easy to pick them off. for some of them it was hurricanes. I love the use of hurricanes in true detective, great use of massive destroying mystery. anyway, it's why marie fontenot's disappearance is paired with the "cerebral event" that paralyzes her uncle. all of these are acts of horror too large to perceive, and why this horror is cosmic depends on where you are in the narrative. is it because evil is a design of nature (or god)? is it because you were propelled into this motion, and gravity will bring you back here, to the moment you're devoured? is it because the only closeness to this mystery is in it's silence around you, incapable of speaking to something like you, so small it could never know you were there at all? that one comes at our half way point with joel theriot -- "all my life I wanted to be nearer to god. the only nearness, silence."

the men doing the killing believe they're feeding this cosmic mystery, that it's a mouth and gut and gets hungry for the people they already view as consumable. they make it into a god that demands sacrifices. rust seems to believe it doesn't need to be fed, it will always eat. his relationship to it is hard to pin down, it clearly guides him, but when he speaks of it it's more like it's coming for him. "it's like something's got your name on it, like a bullet or a long nail in the road."

I do relate to this instinct to embrace "there was never another version". whatever I've lost to encephalitis and it's autoimmune consequences, I have this feeling in my gut there's no version of life where it doesn't happen. there's no trajectory for the me before this except becoming the me in this and after this. I think that's why rust's version of grief does resonate so much, because there's nothing he can do about how random it is, so he turns it into a bullet with his name on it. what he embraces here is the morbid version of "it was fate".

so he's mystified his experience of grief, rightfully so, because grief is inherently mysterious, and that is quite literally the process of engaging your capacity for illusion. and ultimately the story isn't telling you what's eating you, it's saying you'd know it much better by it's silence than by anything definable, present.

#true detective #true detective season 1 #rust cohle #ht #htl

45 notes · View notes

destinysbounty · 2 years

Text

Wrote a oneshot! Inspired by this fanart made by @spinchip! Basic premise, what if Zane's sixth sense had warned him about his impending death beforehand?

(Read here on AO3!)

We Were Overdue (But It'll Be Over Soon)

Zane had never taken much issue with his sixth sense. It may have been cryptic and disorienting at the best of times, but it frequently proved itself a valuable asset to his team nonetheless. And Zane couldn’t bring himself to truly dislike anything that helped his friends.

That being said, sometimes he couldn’t help considering it a bit…annoying. Inconvenient. Bothersome, even.

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when it started, but if Zane were to hazard a guess he’d say it all began about two months after the Final Battle and roughly one week before his father’s second death.

It’s also hard to pinpoint exactly what ‘it’ even is, but the closest approximation would be to call it a ‘feeling’. The ‘feeling’, for lack of better term, was a deep, profound, almost cosmic sense of sheer dread that clung to his edges like a shadow. No, not even a shadow. It was more of a black pit with no end, yawning and stretching far into a dark, foreboding expanse. Foreboding for what, he didn’t know, and was anxious to find out. But just the presence of it alone was enough to saturate his circuits and catch on the clicks of his gears, like a snag in a sweater.

He initially wrote it off as a natural byproduct of his father’s impending departure. He’d already witnessed Dr. Julien succumb to old age once before, and it seemed reasonable that he’d be apprehensive about watching it happen again. And for a short while, this explanation mollified him somewhat.

But then his father passed away.

And then they held a funeral.

And then Dareth subbed for his classes while Zane took five days of bereavement leave.

(Wu had offered him upwards of six weeks, of course, citing the fact that Dr. Julien had been his sole companion for over 40 years and losing him was bound to be a particularly mournful experience, but Zane had politely declined. He’d already grieved for his father the first time, after discovering his memory switch, and while these past few months had been a wonderful vacation from the status quo, that’s all it was - a vacation. Now Dr. Julien was back to being dead again, and everything had returned to how it was meant to be. He’d always known it wouldn’t last, and he sought comfort in the fact that it'd lasted as long as it did. Not to mention he now had a loud, vibrant, loving family to fall back on should his grief overpower him. With this in mind, he felt confident that five days was all he needed.)

Surely after all that, the sense of dread would fade at least a little, right? If the feeling spawned out of fear of losing his loved one, then it made sense that the feeling would go away once the inevitable finally occurred. Like a release of tension, in a sense.

Yet somehow, the dread didn’t go away. In some ways it actually got worse.

Once more Zane sought a rational explanation. Surely this was just an unexpected but not unwelcome part of the grieving process. He was only a nindroid, after all - far be it from him to claim any expertise regarding how emotions are supposed to work. But over time, as more troubling symptoms began to emerge, even that explanation lost its edge.

First was the occasional hot flashes - quick bursts of heat igniting in the false flesh of his palms, spiraling up through his wires and all the way to his heart. The flashes occurred sparingly, but just often enough (and just painfully enough) for him to seek diagnosis from Jay and Nya. But to their mutual confusion, none of them could find anything wrong with him.

“Well, you weren’t exactly built yesterday,” Nya said after yet another hour-long diagnostic procedure. She set her goggles down with a sigh, tenderly rubbing the red marks left behind under her eyes. “Your hardware is decades old at this point, and I highly doubt you kept up with maintenance while you had amnesia. You were bound to run into some issues sooner or later.”

Jay struck a conniving grin in response to Zane’s confused expression. “Basically, what she’s saying is that you’re dealing with old people problems, and we’re gonna have to fix you up with the robot equivalent of prune juice. Who knows, maybe we’ll even find a nice nindroid nursing home for you.”

“Oh, leave him alone, Jay." She gave her boyfriend a playful shove. "You gotta respect your elders, y’know.” And with that they both dissolved into fits of laughter, rendering Zane even more confused than he already was.

So while the rest of his family delighted in teasing him with a plethora of ‘old man’ remarks and other such jokes about his age, Nya and Jay set to work upgrading portions of his hardware - careful to avoid the more intricate aspects of Dr. Julien’s original design while still changing enough of it to boost Zane’s mechanical efficiency.

Of course, while this dramatically enhanced his processing power and overall performance speed, it didn’t fix the mysterious spark-flashes.

The dread and the flashes weren’t his only symptoms either. He’d started growing anxious around spiderwebs - not spiders, just their webs, and anything that resembled their webs for that matter. And he would often dream of strange, incoherent nonsense that he never remembered in the morning, yet for some reason always left him scrambling up to a mirror to make sure his faceplate hadn’t loosened in his sleep.

The two most concerning symptoms, however, were probably the following:

First, Zane’s quickly developing fear of gold. Every time he saw something that looked like bright, shimmering gold, the sensors in his face would sputter, and that burning sensation would light up in his palms again, and he would begin to hyperventilate, and his power core would throb in ways Pixal later explained were the nindroid equivalent of a panic attack. And worst of all, the dread would triple its pressure against his steel joints, asphyxiating his circuits into a caustic seizure.

(According to his father, Zane’s breathing mechanism not only served to make his replication of humanity more authentic, but also as a form of manual air circulation. Moments of high stress and intense emotion could lead to his system overheating, so he was programmed to breathe more when under duress to prevent this from happening. He used to think it was a bit silly, pointless even, but after experiencing the intense heat caused by both the spark-flashes and the phantom melting sensation that accompanied the sight of gold, now he was just glad for any relief he could get.)

The second especially troubling symptom was also the only one he never dared share with others: his developing fear of Lloyd .

This one didn’t have a rational explanation, no matter how many hours he devoted to parsing out for one. For reasons unknown, the mere thought of Lloyd would cause the dread to slice into him with an unmatched intensity, like wire cutters slicing away the thermoplastic insulation from the nerves in his hands. The flashes and the heat and the gold would overwhelm him all at once, overloading his neural drive with so much false input that he had to run off into another room whenever Lloyd came to visit.

Zane quickly got better at finding excuses to leave, and later he learned how to bury his fear altogether, so as to spare Lloyd the pain of this unfair phobia. Lying was immoral and Zane would never forgive himself doing so, but as much as it pained him to admit it, deceiving his friends on this matter had certainly come in handy. Lloyd didn’t deserve to think Zane was afraid of him, or that Zane didn’t trust him. He’d saved the world! He’d sacrificed his own childhood just to protect Zane and the rest of their family! And more than that, he was their little brother. Chosen one status and golden destiny notwithstanding, he had earned Zane’s affection simply by being family.

It was probably just a glitch. Like Nya said, his hardware was old, and it had been placed under a lot of strain since becoming a ninja. He just needed to let his OS sort itself out, and soon everything would go back to normal.

Right?

After a particularly intensive system update yielded no improvements, Zane was forced to reconcile the one truth he’d feared most: that all of these symptoms weren’t due to an issue with his hardware but were somehow foretelling a tragedy yet to come.

Sharing this realization with the rest of the team had set everyone one edge for a while and rightly so, as Zane’s premonitions were never wrong - but after three weeks passed with no signs of his dread becoming reality, the others steadily abandoned their apprehension and moved on. And Zane would have moved on too, but the dread addled to his side like chewing gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe.

When the Digital Overlord revealed himself, Zane was equal parts horrified and relieved. Horrified for obvious reasons - the Overlord was back, he was now targeting Lloyd specifically, he had Wu in his custody, and he was using modified versions of Zane’s own blueprint against him. But he was also relieved because finally, after nearly a year of watching and waiting with baited breath, his premonitions had at long last received their payoff. His dread was because the Overlord was still alive, his fear of gold was because of the Overlord’s plans to make himself corporeal using golden power, and his fear of Lloyd was due to the curse of the golden master and the fact that Lloyd used to be the golden master. All his premonitions finally, finally, had a rational explanation.

And yet, still the dread didn’t fade. The symptoms remained as loud and obnoxious as they’d always been. Fragments of visceral, forgotten dreams still clouded his CPU and cluttered his storage drive. Spark-flashes still singed his servomotors and grinded at his actuators, threatening to melt the fake skin off his hands and burn the metal framework underneath. The dread still infected his receivers and emitters, tangling itself into a mess of inputs and outputs, and coloring all his sensory data with a sepia filter of foreboding.

He knew what this meant, of course. It meant that no matter what the Overlord was doing now, no matter what he’d already done to the likes of Pixal and Lloyd and Mr. Borg and Wu, it was bound to get worse. Much, much worse.

Sometimes, he really did find his sixth sense to be quite troublesome.

But for all the pain and misery it had caused him for the better part of a year, he couldn’t bring himself to dislike any of it. Because of the nervous edge he'd been dangling over all this time, he knew to be ready. He knew to never fully let his guard down. And if even the tiniest millisecond of anticipation gave them a much-needed advantage, then he would rather spend all his time an anxious, dread-ridden wreck than ruin his friends’ chances of survival.

It was that same split-second advantage, that unease manifesting as preparedness, that allowed him to back away from the Overlord’s grasp just in time, while all his friends became ensnared in the new golden master's tentacle grip one by one.

Standing there on the edge of that roof, watching his friends struggle and gasp as the Overlord squeezed the life out of them, the dread returned anew. And it sang into his heart in ways it had never done before. No more was he haunted by disjointed visions and nebulous premonitions. All of it had fled his systems at once, circuitry now almost painfully bereft of the foreboding that had tormented him for so long. And in its place came a new feeling.

No, ‘feeling’ wasn’t the right word. It was…it was as if someone had taken his spirit, his soul, his conscious mind, and harshly yanked it out from its hiding place nestled between his gears, and laid it bare for all to see.

He didn’t know he had a soul to begin with. And yet here it was, twinkling bright from its perch inside his power core. Singing to him.

This is it, it said. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

“The armor!” Cole cried out, wheezing as the Overlord’s glowing tendril tightened around his chest. “Why isn’t it working?!”

The Overlord’s warped voice came through in a sickening perversion that scraped against Zane’s ears. “Because your time is over!”

Around him, golden webs weaved the city streets into a tapestry of chaos. Down below, Serpentine helped guide their fellow civilians down into the sewers. Just in front of him, his friends struggled in vain to resist the sheer power of the Overlord.

And inside him, a knowing chorus sang.

This is it. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

That much was true. For better or worse, this was exactly what he’d been anxiously awaiting all this time. This moment right here was what his sixth sense had spent the last year preparing him for.

The golden net on which the Overlord stood resembled the spiderwebs Zane had grown to fear. The glowing energy that rent the air asunder and suffocated his teammates - his family - was the reason gold had begun to scare him so much (the reason Lloyd had begun to scare him so much).

The only symptom yet to explain itself were the spark-flashes. Originating from his palms and spreading out into the rest of him and dissecting his artificial skin with a fierce destruction, converging on his heart and threatening to choke everything that made him whole in a thick layer of gold.

Coming from his…hands…

Thanks to the Golden Armor, the Overlord was nigh unstoppable. The only thing capable of defeating him was something or someone just as powerful. And it’d be a gamble, with low odds of success, but if he could jump the distance…

No, that was - that was ridiculous. It would destroy him! His heart couldn’t even handle powering a measly spacecraft, what hope did he have of withstanding all that Golden Power long enough to actually wield it ?

A memory came to him, unbidden.

“That’s why it’s called hope, Zane.”

Zane took a deep breath. At times like this, he appreciated that his father had built him with the ability to do so.

This is it. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

You know what to do.

“Support me, friends,” he said. “For one last time.” And, armed with nothing but love for his family, he jumped.

The pain from his premonitions had always originated at his palms. Now he knew why.

#this doesnt even remotely do the original fanart justice #but in my defense i wrote the majority of this while at work #so yeah quality was never an option here #ninjago #ns3 #ninjago rebooted #zane julien #zane ninjago #zangst #destiny post

155 notes · View notes

cocolacola · 1 year

Note

Omg i love Heinkel she is just a mentally ill gay like me

I would love to see some Heinkel headcanons from you

sure thing!!

most of these are based upon things we can sorta just infer about the series since hirano loooves to leave things open-ended, so some of these are moreof theories/explanations than anything if that's alright.

i put some big organized lists of hcs below the cut :)

to start i'll talk about some general fun stuff! (assuming that's what you're here for):

i always use they/them for pronouns for heinkel. mostly because there's a lot of alternation between he and she in different translations and that doesnt sound very cis to me honestly. but i rock with people who use any pronouns too.

i also see lots of ppl say theyre a lesbian and i feel like that miiight just be a byproduct of The Abridged Effect but i dont really have a label on them. they have their freak shit going on with makube so whatever that is

not a natural blonde and is very diligent about taking care of their hair. only lets their roots grow back in once they start getting older and stop giving af

gets a prosthetic arm and leg after the london attack. we know injuries inflicted before becoming a regenerator still stick around (because of anderson's scar) so walter inflicted permanent damage there.

didnt really listen to mainstream music until they started hearing it from other people like seras and makube. heard classic rock after twenty plus years of exclusively angelic choir music & opera and their brain almost exploded

their dynamics with other characters:

was raised with yumie/yumiko at the orphanage so they have a sibling bond, but they drifted a bit in their teen years/early 20s until enrico made them partners in section 13 again. it was awkward for both of them for a bit but they eventually came into their own as iscariot's dynamic duo of murderers. theyre generally pretty serious with each other but sometimes the cain instinct still kicks in

they view enrico as their boss but still fondly remembers their times together as a kid. mostly just thinks he's pathetic, but in a loving way.

anderson is a very clear father figure to them, and as iscariot's next regenerator after his death they feel like they have impossible shoes to fill; theyre very hard on themselves for that reason. the way he died definitely contributed to heinkel's self destructive habits

they had met integra through enrico before the events of hellsing and just... hated her to death. but in a funny almost homoerotic tension way. if seras was there she would have lost her mind over it and would have been overprotective to some degree

now here's some details on the time skip in general:

heinkel was rushed to the vatican (or maybe some other section 13 base) very soon after the battle of london, not a moment too late. if they were taken anywhere else they would have died of blood loss, but was given the choice to become a regenerator human like anderson for a chance to save their life. heinkel accepts because they believe walter is still out there and wants a chance at revenge. it worked and hence heinkel is now seemingly immortal/doesnt age.

side tangent is that i think becoming a Regenerator ends the aging process at whatever time you take it which explains why anderson's age is unknown and why heinkel looks the same in their supposed 40s/50s

after finding out walter had died and their battle was meaningless they were in a dark place for a long time. they were having trouble properly taking care of themselves after becoming a regenerator (i can imagine it's probably pretty weird!!). while still being a part of iscariot they were sorta benched by enrico's regent (before makube) from entering any of the organization's affairs for the next few decades. they were sort of left to rot in a way, which certainly didnt help with the grief. they considered reaching out to the hellsing organization but couldnt bring themselves to. they still somehow managed to become acquaintances with seras after the battle since they shared the same struggle and losses, but that's about it.

side tangent 2: i think seras and heinkel would genuinely become close after integra's death, but that's very far in the future

enter makube about 15-20 years into the timeskip. makube arrives in section 13 as a bishop and a new caretaker to heinkel, and is hellbent on helping them out, since theyre being "neglected" by the current archbishop, and makube regards heinkel as very important for being one of the few remaining veterans of the war in london. them forming a genuine bond would come afterwards, but that's how it started. overenthusiastic makube and tired heinkel shenanigans ensue and somehow they become tied at the hip. makube would become the archbishop quite a few years after this, and heinkel by extension sorta just becomes their de facto mission buddy.

that's all my heinkel thoughts for now! thanks to everyone who showed interest :)

#I ❤️ HELLSING LORE YIPPEE!!!!#ill do a post for yumie yumiko and makube some other time #all i have for makube rn is that i also use they/them for them and theyre in their 40s #as of the time skip scene at least #hellsing #heinkel wolfe

8 notes · View notes

rockheadcd · 1 year

Text

@electrivolt said: Ah, he's so comfortable nestled there where he is, isn't he? Just... curled up against his love's side, nuzzling into his neck, so peaceful and comfortable as he dozes off. For once, he slipped into bed earlier than his usual hours, and so cuddles are in order. Roark isn't allowed to let go even as his man is more asleep than awake. ( he's basically asleep and completely passed out at this point, isn't he? )

And Roark would be right to expect him to be already off and deep into whatever he may be dreaming of— and then Volkner is mumbling something, barely audible in his sleep, snuggling a bit closer to his warmth and sun.

"Mh... marry me..." It's barely a whisper, most likely unaware of his own thoughts expressed with words and just a byproduct of whatever dream he's having now, isn't it? ( a pleasant one too, for once. )

Well, good luck Roark. / schedule those appointments with heatran now, buddy.

It’s a less than rare occurrence these days—and he’s glad of them, in the end. Between Roark and Volkner’s tendencies to overwork themselves for one reason or another, there was a silver lining in their comfort of one another, to know someone was usually waiting for them. Roark’s been looking forward to coming home over months, years, perhaps even enjoying the idea of not spending the rest of his evenings from one coal-laden tunnel to treasure-laden one—or at least, just a bit less time.

He’s been enjoying ending his night like this more and more as they come, and he’s doubting that he’ll really get full from them, really. The warmth has been a creature comfort after that terrible year, and although selfish, Volkner had always had a taste for his selfishness. Love made people stupid, perhaps, but when sleep was so easy to come by, wrapped up under a few blankets and with trusted companions curled up all around them, it was always worth it in the end.

And yet, despite all of that, even Volkner’s quick descent to a deep sleep is still no less surprising, murmuring under his chin and pressing closer—whatever it is, Roark can’t help but wonder if he was still having a conversation with him ( one of which had ended a little while ago as they naturally did when they turned out the lights ). He’s comfortable, relaxed, certainly easy to make grumble if Roark tried to move for any reason, and so the best he can do is simply run fingers in messy blond, exhaling peacefully and trying to decipher his storm’s nonsense before he falls asleep himself.

Assuming Volkner let him, anyway.

( ..did i hear that right? )

Oh, geez, his face is positively burning and he’s so thankful his storm is completely passed out in whatever cute conversation he’s missing out on between him and his dream self. The best he can do is squeeze him in a fit of overbearing affection—it’s not like it’s a conversation that hasn’t come up per se, in those idle hours that tended to go just about anywhere and everywhere. Roark’s probably had more passing thoughts about it ever since Volkner finally set aside Sunyshore Gym and took on becoming a battle facility head, finally shedding the last of his past that had brought him so much grief despite everything. It’d only make sense his love was probably having considerations himself, through his actions more so than his words. If any of this was indication, well, Volkner may or may not have been hoping Roark asked sooner.

Oops. But.. he’s been thinking about how he’d want to for ages now—and that’s not something he can share, but.. it’s certainly something he’s planned down to the ‘mons he’d go visit and the time he’d need to craft their rings and where he’d want to bring Volkner to just to ask him and—oh, his mind his going a mile a minute, he surely can’t fall asleep anytime soon, now, can he? He’ll have to take a trip to a couple of Heatrans he knows of sooner rather than later, doesn’t he? Obsidian.. hematite and snowflake varieties. It wouldn’t be difficult to get everything he needed ready, now, would he? Their overcommunication certainly had it’s benefits.

Maybe the vindication was all Roark needed in the end to get all of this started—for their happy ending, right? Yeah.. that checks.

“..eheh.. don’t worry, I will,” he finally murmurs, settling himself amidst all the warmth and comfort of everything he’s devoted himself to.

#electrivolt #🌙 ━ / asks.#🗻 ━ 𝗂'𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗍𝗁! / roark ic.#uh oh it's that arc :^)

2 notes · View notes

northamptoncouplestherapy · 1 year

Text

To the Brave and Brokenhearted – Happy Valentines Day

It’s 9 am on Valentine’s morning, and I’m sipping tea and caught in a quandary. I’m feeling the pressure to say something meaningful or witty, wise, and kind, and on this day, it ought to be about love.

I’m a couples therapist, so that would seem a reasonable aim. I work in the heartbreak trade. People come to me with bruised and battered hearts that range the gamut — a mild case of boredom, a discrepancy in sexual appetites, an emotional affair with an old high school flame rediscovered on Facebook. The couples therapy office isn’t so different from a confessional booth. I know after twenty years of this work that heartbreak is the norm, not the exception, and that if we are brave enough to love, inevitably, we will get our hearts broken.

I’ve also come to understand that heartbreak is a skill – one that few of us are taught. And, that it is only through mustering enough courage to show up and navigate the painful terrain of heartache that we can love. So there is an irony here. Valentine’s day, a day synonymous in most of our minds with love, is also a day that speaks of heartbreak. The two are symbiotic. Loss is a natural byproduct of love and adoration – and love can only manifest when the old makes room for the new. Children would not be born if parents did not die. Lovers would not be found if children did not grow up. We are the sun, and we are soil.

My center, the Northampton Center for Couples Therapy, has seen over 1000 couples in the last 10-years and was born out of heartbreak. I was a new mother with an eleven-month-old child when my marriage ruptured. Scraping to get by as a single mom, I built NCCT with a firm commitment to helping all types of couples. At the time, the couples therapist working with my spouse and I terminated the treatment. “My work’s done,” she said upon hearing the news of my husband’s desire to end our marriage. It was as if she perceived us as only existing as a couple if we had one aim – to be the married and in-love type of couple.

I left that final therapy session with a commitment to work with all types of couples. With a firm belief that couples therapy must be from “cradle to grave.” That families are still families when couples divorce or re-partner. That heartbreak is grief, and that our better selves, our best selves, are born of grief. Implicit in this stance is an inherent and deeply held conviction that life experience in all its complexities is valuable. That couples who have broken each other’s hearts (and their own in turn) are okay. That a therapist who has navigated loss and heartbreak with skill, grit, and grace is an asset to their clients – and perhaps most importantly, that we are all in this together.

There is a secret that I’ve learned that is not such a secret. If you are seeking couples therapy, you are navigating some form of heartbreak to a greater or lesser degree. If you are not seeking couples therapy, you are still navigating heartbreak if you have a beating heart. And so, on Valentine’s day, that is what I want to speak to – how we risk life and love and find it and lose it over the years. How by the hands of good fortune, we may, in time, have the opportunity to experience more of both. Love, whether it manifests in delight or sorrow, is nothing to scoff at, it is a blessing and a burden. Beauty in all of its complexity can be nothing less.

Happy Valentine’s to all the brave and brokenhearted who dare to love. I am continually amazed and honored, humbled, and oh so grateful for the opportunities to share in this full catastrophe of life with you.

Talk With An Expert.

#valentines day #valentines day celebration

0 notes

moringadiary · 1 year

Text

Christmas in solitude

I live in my own world, a mysterious quiet world that is so different from the conventional world I physically function. It's sacred and personal, mostly felt, hardly describable. It nourishes me inside. I feel most natural in this world. I want to live in a place that has beauty and conveniences, I know exactly how it feels and how it looks. But it can not be found, only attracted somehow I don't know. I always know what I want, what kind of relationships I want to cultivate. Knowing what you want is in the core. My only wonder is it's not fathomable to many. I am assisting my parents in their healing journey, making them feel welcome and belonged in this city. After so many years living here, I have not known it yet. It's still a place to explore and many "worlds" I don't know exist here. I want to make my parents feel loved and cared for. Because I have been given that kind of care, which makes one feel safe and protected. Feeling protected is very important to make a person thrive and get well. I don't lack anything, luxury feels home to me; just that I have renounced that life intentionally. Hospitals are my assignment, where I am called to come no matter how I avoid it. "curing" and "treating" an illness is one thing, giving shelter of safety, peace and love and providing conditions physically and emotionally for people to get well is what I imagine. Why don't 10 paramis mention courage? Without courage, you don't exercise what you know is true. Or courage includes everything? Courage is not the absence of fear and grief. It's the byproduct of living constantly in fear, loneliness and grief without closing your heart. It is fleeting, however. Most of the time, I am coward. Living in a safe place without going out into where you fear, only dreaming about visions do not lead to making it happen. I am not a dreamer, I do what I know is right, small actions, maybe too insignificant, but I am tired of talking about this and that without doing anything right here right now. Uncertainty can tear your heart, you are on the verge of something ending but the new beginnning does not start yet. In this place, you are tempted to rush thing, to conclude and to gain some kinds of control. You want to intentionally end something to feel clear. But choosing to live in the grey areas and not knowing is needed to gain clarity.

Helping people and not making them feel victims and helpless. making them feel accountable and strong.

Doing everything I know and at the same time allowing room for things I don't know. Be prepared to see my bias and prejudices to be broken and changed. Allow some rooms for humily. Oh, that's difficult. You don't give everything to chance. And you also don't insist that you know what's best. Half-half. What is luck? There is luck. But luck does not come if you don't make any efforts. You have to make at least 50% efforts to catch a luck. The effort to catch luck is another 20%. So luck only accounts for the rest 30%. Taking responsibility and not waiting for someone to come and solve your own challenge, throwing yourself into what you avoid. While doing this, you have no time to dream about big changes. What demands your attention and actions are so trivial, too trivial to be mentioned something heroic. For examples, to walk the extra miles to catch a bus home, or to ask for help from a stranger on the street, or to respect someone's choice of meal when you like a different thing. How can they be seen as significant? Too trivial. Without going to the parks and looking at people or going to hospitals, I may stay home and have distorted self-perceptions. First, you live among others. Next, you learn to live alone. Next, you learn to live with others. Living among and living with are way different. 'With" connotes that you are fully present of your and others' needs and know how to care for others and yourself. Nowadays, houses are built in ways that isolate people from people. We have physical conveniences but feel depleted emotionally and spiritually. You are so scared and distrustful of each other, feeling afraid of being cheated and harmed that we have to lock ourselves carefully.

Having the opportunity to take care of my parents is a privilege.

Regulate right view, right thoughts and mindfully choose proper actions.

0 notes

itjustneedsaname · 2 years

Text

It occurred to me this morning that my “problem” isn’t that I have no love in my life; it’s actually the opposite:

My “problem” is that I’m acutely aware that it’s all I have and I don’t feel as though I have all my ideal channels for it lined up at the moment, so the flow is interrupted and there’s often a backlog

The way I interact with people when I go to the grocery store or to a park or a restaurant, or when I have to call customer service (god forbid), is very intentional and partly selfish - because I have to let that energy of love move toward other people, otherwise it starts to feel physically painful

It’s a very interesting practice to get into - noticing who lights up when you talk to them with love in ur heart and who doesn’t

I’m not talking about engaging in some half-assed, granola-y, hippyish, put-on performance of “niceness” type shit; it’s literally as simple as smiling at people (not fake smiling), or asking them about their day before you place your order (and actually wanting to hear their answer), or complimenting their style (sincerely), or really listening and engaging with them when they talk to you

It TOTALLY illuminates most people instantaneously - like a light switch - and it feels incredible IN YOUR BODY to witness (or even to hear over the phone)

It makes me wonder if people who are in a lot of pain emotionally feel the way they do because they have shut down or disowned the loving parts of themselves

They don’t realize it’s actually hurting them to do so - because the love keeps getting made regardless, but they keep it inside themselves and so the pressure builds up over time and degrades into grief, which is a very challenging emotion that equals love in its intensity

The truth is, our hearts are powerful generators and receptors of love, and they do their thing automatically and by default

There’s nothing weird or shameful about it, it’s just what they do!

Our lungs respire, and our hearts love; there’s no chance of stopping either without dying

So even if you encase your heart in stone, your heart doesn’t go “Oh ok” and stop loving - you’ve simply restricted its natural function and are essentially poisoning yourself with the byproduct

Maybe coldhearted people aren’t miserable because they’re “unloved” - maybe they’re miserable because their conduct is unloving

Maybe it’s a two-way current in the sense that, in order to be able to receive love from your environment (and you truly can get it from AN👏🏻Y👏🏻THING👏🏻 - even a ladybug or a mossy rock or your pet cat’s lil feet), you must also be loving in your own conduct and interactions with the people and the larger world around you

In the same vein, if you won’t allow yourself to receive love, conducting yourself lovingly with the world around you isn’t enough on its own - you have to be open to the flow of it in BOTH directions

What if you are performing a service by allowing others to love you? One that is perfectly equal to your loving them?

Neither selfish nor self-sacrificing on either end, but fully reciprocal, balanced - right relationship

At this point I still don’t know or interact with many people out here, and I can only do so much with my friends and family thru my phone; so I have to go outside and exchange some of it with the sky and the trees and the flowers and the birds and the Earth and the water and even my ancestors, because they never withhold their love and it really does help to regulate and relieve me

I think it’s even unconsciously part of why I take pictures the way I do: I am determined to see everything as beautiful, no matter how “ugly” it might appear at first glance - isn’t that a manifestation of love, too?

After all, love is not mere attention but a devotional act of seeing beauty in the imperfect - accepting perfection as inherent to all things, and loving all of creation as it is without trying to change it

This feels particularly corny to write but I’ve been thinking today that I feel like a nuclear reactor of love today - and without enough ways to transfer some of that energy outside myself it’s honestly kind of miserable lol

What use is the power station if it’s not hooked up to anything? Its purpose is to be of use - it wants to be of use

My point being, I don’t need all of this for me - what tf can I possibly do with it alone? I feel like an emotional trillionaire hoarding wealth, it feels like garbage but I haven’t figured out yet where all the surplus is supposed to go

It’s disorienting, too, to sometimes get the impression that it’s perceived as an inconvenience to other people to want to engage in the energetic exchange of love with them, when it’s actually the most natural thing in the universe

I often feel like I’m inept at it, or that I overestimate my own abilities at being a loving person; but, then again, our culture seems to manufacture these exact shortcomings in the vast majority of us

I openly admit that I frequently do not get it right and need a lot of refinement still; but so do we all - to think I’m somehow ~uniquely bad at it would be an ego trip lol

We all have a lot to unlearn and figure out for ourselves; we are all just flawed instruments trying our best to straighten up and attune to one another - and yet we are all already loved anyway, even with all the kinks in the antenna

0 notes

jotarothekidsmissyou · 3 years

Text

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2: ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ ᴀᴜ! ᴄᴀᴘᴏ ᴊᴏᴛᴀʀᴏ x ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ| 18+

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ɴꜱꜰᴡ, ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

ᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ

Part 1: Reunion

Art:@/oootatsumiooo on Twitter

Home, a place of solitude and confinement. Where you’re able to naturally be you without a care in the world. A space to escape from your troubles, especially at any given moment your secret could be exposed. You live in a small isolated town, anything too extraordinary would blow your identity. You’d socialize from time to time but hosting events at your home? Too risky. Small talk will suffice, that way if police start asking questions fingers wouldn’t be pointing at you. And besides it’s not like you tell everyone you were an assassin. An occupation and you had no choice but to give up on.

Long before your jewelry thieving days your family were known as assassins..well mainly your father. Your mother, as most wives, didn’t know about her husband’s second life. For years he maintained a stable work and home life, something assassins have a hard time balancing the two. That all came to an end once your father had been killed. His body was reported dead right before your parents anniversary. All of this came to a complete shock to your mother and she ended up dying months later. You weren’t necessarily alone since your father’s name held value and fear unto others. Associates of your father’s looked after you, taking you up under their wing.

Ultimately, this lure you to the Joestars. Not for any vengeance purposes but for a job offer. This led to a beautiful business relationship blossoming throughout the city of Opal. Despite age differences, races, and religious background; you, Joesph, Avdol, Kakyoin, Polnareff and Jotaro become the thickest of thieves. You once thought killing destroyed you your family but yet again it brought forth genuine relationships..as fucked up as it sounds. The ones closest to your age; Jotaro and Kakyoin immediately took a liking to you. Being the only teenagers in a violent organization was comforting, knowing you had someone a shoulder to lean on. As time grew on you and Jotaro started spending quality time alone..It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy Kakyoin’s occasional flirting but Jotaro was a drug to you. One time was all he need to get you hooked.

In the back on Joesph’s Bentley the two of you went at it. And once the backseats where getting worn down his mother’s house was the next best option. There the two of you explored your own sexual desires; Jotaro loved when you pegged him. His dick would harden at the idea you topping him. He adored when you pound him in the bed as the headboard collide against the wall.

“Jotarooo honey is everything alright?” Holly asked a bit worried about her 19 year old son. Grabbing ahold of his length you rubbed him up and down, whispered dirty words in his ear.

“Tell her that you’re being fucked in the ass with a strap on..I think she’d be pleased~”

“Fuckk youu~” He slurred just so that only you heard him.

As for you, the feeling of you being caught or almost caught turned you on. Or if Jotaro put a vibrator deep in your cunt while at the dinner table.

“What’s the matter Y/n? You’re not making any sense?” Same as Holly, Polnareff inquired during a love making session. You gripped on your fork as you felt Jotaro hand sliding down your panties.

“Good grief, you bitched how hungry you were and now look at you,” Jotaro complained toying with your clit. You shoot him a death glare which seem normal to the rest of the group. As pay back from pegging him he kicked your chair pushing the vibrator even deeper. It stimulated your G spot so much you accidentally let out a wail.

Bringing you back to reality you felt a small tug from your pants leg. You looked down meeting a pair of green shiny eyes, innocently staring back at you.

Jolyne Kujo; the byproduct of the affair between you and Jotaro. Her birthmark on her back was all you needed to confirm who are father was.

Did he know? No.

Should you tell him? Of course not.

Do you feel guilty not giving Jolyne an opportunity to meet her father? Everyday yes. It ate you up inside since you just saw him days ago.

This wasn’t your choice.

“Based on what Kakyoin already told me you’re 7 weeks pregnant..do you know how detrimental this is?” Never has Joesph been this serious. You always viewed as the fun loving grandfather all these years. What happened??

“I’m an adult so is Jotaro, we can handle—��

“I guess he didn’t tell you,” Joesph cut you off rubbing his temple. The room was heavy, letting you know there’s something wrong. “He’s getting married..well it’s an arrange marriage,”

“What the fuck?!” You jumped up from your seat, slamming your palms against the table. “And none of you fuckers told me?!”

“It’s business nothing personal,” Joesph stated keeping his composure. “I know it’s a rather difficult decision but aborting the baby would be best,”

As if your blood wasn’t boiling enough Joesph had to intensify it. Never did your mind wondered in that direction. And even if you did, it’s your body! The sudden urge to throw up crawled up your esophagus, you weren’t sure if it was from your pregnancy or showcase how enrage you were.

“Did you give Tomoko that same option? Because I’m pretty sure Holly isn’t your only child,” Blinded by pure bloodlust you held a dagger between your fingers. Joesph had better chose his words carefully or his deceased Italian friend would be the next thing he’ll see.

“What if I pay you fifty million dollars to do whatever you want? Keep the baby I don’t care..just leave,” Leave? Just like that? As if those years..being vulnerable? Seeing him as a father figure? Negotiating business proposals..means nothing to him. A spec of dust in the wind, forever forgotten..You swallow the aching lump in your throat, verbally you wanted to break him.

“Is that all? DIO wanted to steal your families riches for a reason..fifty million is all you can provide?” Sitting on top of his desk you pulled the dagger, placing it directly under his neck. “I’m a valuable ally and carrying the next joestar so pissing me off will cost you..make it a half a billion, do we got a deal Joesph?~”

“..Yes..”

~✨

Despite the odds you found your happiness, in order for it to remain this way assassination had to be left behind. A hard decision fabricated by the unfortunate events of your past. Now you were given a chance to do it all over, to not repeat your parents mistakes. Eventually you’ll tell Jolyne the truth but for right now she was your escape from reality. Coming home to her every day held importance in your twisted heart. Who knew motherhood could change you.

“Goodnight my little butterfly..sweet dreams” You press a kiss on Jolyne’s miniature forehead. Belly full of baby food she slept on her stomach knocked out. Her light snores reminded you of Jotaro, only when he was exhausted you’d hear him snore. Little similarities such as these sadden you. Jolyne was Jotaro’s carbon copy, from the appearance to her temper. What almost two year old damn near destroys the house, all for a cookie?? Then again it could be terrible two’s sprinkle in there.

9:47 p.m on a Thursday you open the doors to your home. It wasn’t to lead in a cool breeze or draw forth unwanted insects. Doing things just for the hell of it wasn’t your style, the situation had to benefit you immensely in order for it work out. So why was Noriaki Kakyoin entering your home this late? Potential booty call? Far from it. The mass majority of your pregnancy he was there, aiding you through the highs and lows.

But wasn’t he the one who ratted you out to Joesph? He was going to find out anyway so why not rip the Band-Aid off completely.

“Thought we discuss stealing the necklace was a risky move,”

“Nooo, those were your words not mine,”

“Wished you’ve listen because Jotaro wants to see you,” Kakyoin sigh handing his phone over to you.

“Fuck I look like, Joesph??” You threw his phone back to him hissing in annoyance. “He paid me to keep quiet, I’m not about to risk Jolyne’s life for this shit,”

“You’re aware this is Jotaro we’re talking about right? Sniffs out bullshit like a sixth senes,” You laughed half heartedly, there was no need to disagree with that statement. As much as you hate to acknowledge it. “Just talk to him over dinner, and I’ll watch his lookalike for you,” You elbowed his side playfully at his shady comment. “and besides..I knnnoooowww you have a killer dress you’ve been dying to wear,” Damn his proposal did sound nice, nights out were rare especially after having Jolyne.

“I’ll think about it,”

~✨

Tagged: @cesca-untoldstories @magical-pastel-milk

236 notes · View notes

lorelylantana · 3 years

Text

Luminescent

Written at @hestuu‘s request

Oneshot Rating: G

Ao3

Link hated how his reputation was leveraged against the Princess. He hated how his name was twisted into a blade raised against the one person he was sworn to protect at all costs. She had every right to be angry, to rage against the insults spat upon her by an ungrateful court. She didn’t deserve to be treated the way she had been, least of all by her own father.

He welcomed the bursts of outrage, the sneers and snide remarks made against him when they were out of the castle’s shadow. Link, of all people, knew how crucial it was to have an outlet for the tide of emotions she choked back when the court was watching. Her wrath was much easier to withstand than the quiet sobs that he heard much too often as he watched over her room at night. There was life in her rage. Power in her voice when she shouted her displeasure. A far cry from the defeated, weary gasps for breath that tore at his heart in the dark of night, anger gave the Princess strength. He was grateful for the force of Zelda’s fury driving her forward, even if it was away from him.

So he was calm in the face of her frustrations, and his patience was rewarded a few months after he was assigned as her guard. She still didn’t hold him in high regard, but she had grown accustomed to his presence. Thus, he was thoroughly ignored while she went about her studies of Hyrule’s plant life. He couldn’t help but notice how different she looked out in the wild. It was difficult to notice when he just started as her guard, but the more time he spent with her, the more relaxed she became.

That’s when he began to notice it. It was faint, and invisible in the direct sunlight, but when it was overcast or they walked under the shade of a tree Link could see this glow about the Princess. He could only catch glimpses of it at first, only when the stars aligned and she was content. These sightings were so few and far between that for a long time Link was convinced that they were mere tricks of the light. This phenomenon seemed to accompany a discovery of some sort, be it the perfect sample or a breakthrough in her research. This very observation led Link to cast aside the fanciful notion of a sparkling princess in favor of a much more reasonable explanation. Her expression brightened, nothing more. These moments stuck out to him for their rarity, nothing fantastical about it.

Looking back, it put into stark clarity how much pressure she was truly under.

Things changed after that day in the desert, though he wasn’t sure why. He could understand how an attempt on her life might shake her up a little, but to have her demeanor change completely worried him. Perhaps the incident cut deeper than he’d originally thought. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to regret the difference, because she began to smile more. She had a spring in her step, and her hackles no longer raised at his presence. This newfound ease fostered a friendship between them.

Any doubts Link had about those little flickers of light, they were banished in short order. Freed of the suffocating disdain for the one person she couldn’t shake, the glow surrounding Zelda’s happiness became undeniable. He could see it filtering through the trees in the rare moment of separation when she walked ahead of him. Link brought a slice of fruitcake along one of their trips after a particularly harsh scolding, and she burned brighter than their campfire. People began to tell stories of a light spirit traveling the land, a beautiful young woman drifting through the woods and leaving sparks behind. The whispers insisted blessings awaited those lucky enough to glance at the shining maiden.

Link was inclined to agree.

Instead of being ignored, Link was sucked into hundreds of Zelda’s little inquiries while they walked the wilds together. Scientific endeavors were a bit out of his wheelhouse, but it didn’t matter. Zelda thrived simply by having someone to bounce ideas off of, turning to look at him with a glowing grin and a theory. Bit by bit, her smile began to chip away at his reservations, replacing his professionalism with a growing desire for her companionship.

Joy was a precious commodity in those years leading up to Calamity, tenuous and fragile and oh so precious. Indeed, any levity in those shadowed times was to be savored, but what Link coveted above all was Zelda’s delight. The Princess of Hyrule deserved every speck of happiness she could get her hands on, King and court be damned. It was hard won, but worth every effort to see her grin. Link pursued Zelda’s smile with the same relentless dedication that made him the youngest knight in Hyrule’s history, and he swore to do anything in his power to make her happy. Anything to see those rays shine around her.

It wasn’t long until Link’s rising affection began to overwhelm him. He began to crave Zelda’s light, spending days gazing at her. He told himself that it was only natural, because he was her guard and he was sworn to protect her. It had nothing to do with the flutter in his chest, that strange flavor of anxiety that drew his eyes to her like a magnet. A byproduct of almost losing her to the Yiga, surely.

Link was mesmerized, he would go out of his way to make her smile. Not because of romantic interest, of course not, but because he wanted to name the elation that rose whenever he saw her in the light. He wanted to soak up as much of her luster as he could. One flicker of her sweet, gentle luminescence set him adrift in a sea of contentment and affection. It was intoxicating. He’d bring her flowers, only because she was looking for specimens, and various odds and ends nicked from the Ancient Tech Lab, all to nurture the small bursts of incandescent glee that sent his heart pounding against his ribs.

They were sitting among the flowers when he succumbed at long last. She was trying to convince him to eat a frog. He wasn’t keen on the idea, but the pleading look of anticipation on her face was enough to make him consider it even as he recoiled in disgust. She leaned too far, however, and she tipped over, tumbling over without her arms to steady her. Link couldn’t remember the details, all he knew is that when they were still once more Link’s hands curled around her hips and her hands pressed into his chest, that wretched amphibian sitting primly between her wrists. They were frozen a moment, caught somewhere between confusion and embarrassment, before Zelda let out a stream of giggles that struck him down.

She had a smile like the sun, but when she laughed she was radiant.

He watched her shine above him and realized that this is what it felt like to be in love. He understood, now, why she always seemed to brighten his day, how she sent his blood running hot to the tips of his fingers and toes. He loved her because who wouldn’t? Who could look upon this young woman so full of fire and compassion and not be awestruck? Who could hear her voice, an elegant stream of thought and wisdom, and not be weak? All the stars were in Zelda’s eyes and she still shone brighter.

Of course he loved her. It was only natural.

To bask in the warmth of her presence was a privilege he thanked all the gods for.

The light shining from Hyrule Castle cuts through any lethargy left over from the Shrine, replaced by a searing, deep yearning to see more of it. When night fell and she was silent, Link found himself wandering around, looking for any substitute convincing enough to trick his mind into ease enough to sleep. At first he slept surrounded by fireflies, but there were precious few places that were safe to sleep. Later he would keep a candle burning when he was in his house, and when he wasn’t he’d settle for clutching a star fragment to his chest. It could lull him into a fitful sleep, but it couldn’t banish the nauseating restlessness writhing in his stomach and constricting his heart.

It wasn’t enough, he wanted to bathe in that light, and if that meant wading through darkness then so be it. This sentiment drove him to complete all manner of miscellaneous, almost random tasks. It doesn’t take long for a pattern to emerge, however, after he learns more about the princess, either through stories or his memories.

He learned that she’s most likely to shine when he wears his Champion tunic, so he rarely takes it off. He kept the ingredients for fruitcake on hand at all times, and has hundreds of wildberries tucked away. She liked to see Link swing the Master Sword, or watch him wield weapons Robbie crafts for him, so he does at every opportunity. Then, when Link was stronger, he began to hunt guardians down for their parts. She liked watching him clear Hyrule Field, perhaps it built her confidence in him. It didn’t matter why it made her happy, all he cared to know was whenever he’d dispatch a particularly troublesome guardian he could see her light reach out to him from the Castle Sanctum to wash away his exhaustion.

He liked doing these little things for her. It gave him a sense of normalcy that anchored him as he stumbled about Hyrule in search of who he was, and he couldn’t help but feel a deep, vindictive sense of satisfaction whenever he watched her light pierce the darkness swirling about the castle. Each glimmer from high in Hyrule Castle renewed his determination, sending him running towards the power he needed to slay the beast.

Link thinks she loves him, but he’s not sure. Or perhaps it seems too good to be true, and his doubts shield his heart from disappointment that would prove too much after the journey's end. He really hopes she loves him, because he cherishes every gleaming inch of her being.

He notices what he thinks is affection in her eyes when Zelda smiles at him. He notices the little rays of light, precious and small during the first few days when she was tired and grief stricken, but there all the same. Then he set about cheering her up. Link was always a man of few words, so whenever he saw her dim and space out he would bring her back to earth with bits of fruit and give her the trinkets he’d gathered. Countless little gestures that made her glimmer against the desolation.

It’s arrogant, but he thinks she shines brighter when she looks at him. The thought makes him grin for hours, which makes her smile in turn. They fed off of each other’s fragile glee. His touch sends sparks leaping off of her skin and sometimes he grabs her hand just to see her shine a bit brighter. One night, he holds a Silent Princess from Satori Mountain out to her, and rather than take it she takes his tunic in her hands and pulls him close. She kisses him, and he has to shut his eyes against the blinding light that radiated out when he wraps his arms around her.

There was not a single word in any of Hyrule’s languages that could properly describe the bliss of holding Zelda in his arms. The euphoric radiance when he grins down at her. Zelda is warm, and so beautiful, a living ray of sunshine tucked in his embrace. Link pushes a shining strand of hair behind her ear while she looks up at him, a smile on her lips. Link rests his chin on her head, finally at peace.

#oneshot #zelink #botw zelink #loz botw #botw #legend of zelda #legend of zelda breath of the wild #botw zelda #botw link #writing request #LantanaLore

101 notes · View notes

juriyuna · 3 years

Text

Livia’s wish: Theory/speculation

Now that Livia’s MSS and quotes are translated, I figured it’s a good time to post this! Between her doppel and her personal memoria, there’s a lot of speculation as to what her wish was- usually something to do with a possible marriage of her own. However, her MSS heavily implies that it had to do with someone else’s marriage.

Analysis/theory/rambling under the cut, since it’s pretty long:

Implications that her wish was directed at someone else:

“I get the feelin' that I should tell you this, if nothin' else... No matter how awful of a life you've had, no matter how much of a grudge someone might inspire in you, no matter how hard it may be t' find light in the crevice you're in, don't let yourself drift in a bad direction...

Don't go stampin' yourself down so that you can overcome hardship. Even if you're feelin' so much resentment that it's hard to bear, don't go relievin' it with a curse.”

Livia is speaking from experience when she says this. It sounds as though she heavily resented someone for having a better life than her. Perhaps someone she loved, like a dear friend or someone who took care of her when she was younger? And instead of keeping her chin up and pushing through it, she turned to Kyubey for a curse out of anger.

This is reinforced by her next few lines:

“Everyone unconsciously knows how easy it is to sully somethin' that's clean and pure. They know how easily they can be sullied, too. That's why folks can get jealous when they see somethin' pure. Sometimes, they might even start hatin' that thing. But that doesn't mean you can go an' corrupt it yourself. If you see someone with a pure heart, someone who's holdin' on to hope... Give 'er a shoulder to lean on, okay?”

She all but outright states that she was so jealous of someone else’s purity, their happiness, their bright future, that she sought to tear it apart herself. She knew how easy it would be to bring their hope down around them, and let her envy turn into a grudge.

The description of her personal memoria, “May You Be Blessed”:

"A chapel wrapped in voices of blessing. Lift up the veil, swear a vow with those lips, toss out a cheer with the bouquet. I thought I'd just feign ignorance, brush it off with a cold gaze, but because I'd held such dear feelings, that love became warped."

So while this is expressly about a wedding, I’m like 99% sure it’s about someone else’s wedding, not her own. To me, this says that she held such resentment towards someone that she used her wish to destroy the bright future they were heading towards with their marriage.

Whoever she cursed, she obviously used to cherish. Maybe someone she was in love with was marrying someone else? Maybe someone she admired so much was going to get married and leave her behind, and she made her wish in a twisted attempt to keep them by her side.

Livia had planned on pretending to be innocent-- of course the horrible event that was about to befall the target of her wish was her fault, but she was going to act like she had nothing to do with it. Probably cry some sympathy tears with them as if this was all an awful surprise.

But... she ended up feeling terrible for what she’d done. One of her tap quotes is “I made my wish, regretted it... and somehow came to a stop right at the edge of despair.” Her quest select quote for her third episode is even “I'm sorry, I really am... It's all my fault...”, further implying that she crushed someone else’s hope and feels immensely guilty for it.

“Guess you'd call it a treasure of mine... or maybe a way of reprimandin' myself. It's the thing that decided the way I oughta act in this world...” [...] “This ring's the reason I live for Mister Sun, after all.“

The ring is a memento she carries to remind her of her wish. Maybe the person she cursed is gone now (or at least divorced and/or in a much worse place than they were), and this bent-up, discarded wedding band is all she has left of her relationship with them.

The description of “In Dreams, Sorrow Can Be Forgiven”:

"Softly dozing at the sound of adult voices that had once been so kind. The innocent singing that remains makes the scene, and scent, feel that much more fresh. If only it could've continued for 10 years, 20 years. Once it crashed down, the foul-smelling time spent dragging it behind me seeped into the depths of my soul."

It’s about a fond memory-- a point in time she wishes she hadn’t lost. It seems as though she may have been younger when she made her wish (probably 13-17; not yet an adult, and within Kyubey’s prime target years), and that the person she cursed was an adult who used to be nice to her. An older friend, or possibly even a caretaker? (One of her tap quotes says that her parents got sent back to their home country, so there’s a chance she was raised in Japan by someone else.)

So what was her wish?

To me, at least, it was definitely something to tear apart someone’s happily married life and future. Wishing for a marriage to fall apart would be a curse itself, but my personal theory is:

Livia wished a miscarriage/infertility on someone who was getting married and planned to start a family of their own.

The reason I lean towards something like that as opposed to just “I want their marriage to fall to pieces” is partly because miscarriage/infertility is something that causes the person involved a lot of grief. It’s the kind of wish you’d make if you really, really hated someone and wanted them to feel despair. Livia says herself that her wish was unspeakably cruel, and refuses to tell anyone about it. Something like “Make it so that ____ will never be able to have children” would definitely be the kind of thing you wouldn’t want to share with anybody, like... that’s a very personal kind of cruelty.

The other part of the reason is her doppel, Luca:

It’s shaped like a uterus without fallopian tubes or ovaries (infertile), is full of fetuses, and drips viscous black fluid that resembles blood-- not unlike the bleeding from a miscarriage. The description also says it’s “wrapped in swaddling cloth”, just like a newborn baby would be.

Of course, her doppel being the way it is is probably also for the implication of Livia being The Mother Of All Curses thanks to all of the impurities she’s gathered in however long she’s been alive (she’s an adult, which is rare for magical girls), but the form that witches/doppels take often relates to what the magical girl’s wish was. And for her doppel to be a bleeding, infertile womb made of the cloth one would swaddle an infant with, well... hm.

This next bit is “take it or leave it”, but it’s been rattling (haha) around in my head for months, so I’ll toss it out here anyway:

Bonus Theory: A hint at the story behind the Babysitter Witch?

You remember Shin? The witch whose barrier echoes with the unsettling sound of a crying baby?

The witch of babysitting. Her nature is poverty. This Witch is ever in search of the baby it lost. When it finds a human, it straps them firmly to its back regardless of their age. But because it fears to lose "the baby" again, it will tie the human so tightly that whoever is captured is able to breathe.

And Shin’s familiars, Kotori:

Minions of the babysitter witch. Their role is hopscotch. When these minions send a rock flying, their Witch chases after it thinking it's a baby. Cruel creatures, they simply watch and laugh.

So we have a magical girl whose wish and doppel are implied to relate to miscarriage, and a witch who is desperately searching for her lost/dead baby.

What if... the person who Livia cursed was the girl who became the Babysitter Witch?

It’s been confirmed that magical girls can have children (Cleopatra in the main series, Isabeau in Tart Magica), and it sounds like Shin was either a mother or had been pregnant at some point.

Cursing someone with a miscarriage/infertility (or even cursing them with "unable to have children” while they’re pregnant, which would cause a miscarriage as a byproduct) would be devastating to a human, but to a magical girl who managed to live long enough to marry and have a chance at motherhood? A young woman who was holding onto her bright, hopeful future, despite the hardships she had to work through?

That would feel even worse. Losing her unborn baby and never being able to carry a child again could have been what pushed Shin into becoming a witch.

... Upon which Livia probably had to kill Shin herself.

Maybe the ring Livia carries was Shin’s wedding band when she was alive, and now it’s all that’s left of her. That would make sense-- Livia keeps the ring with her as a memento of her past, and her episode 3 quest select quote is her apologizing repeatedly to someone.

She works as a Coordinator to make up for the sins of her past, and “I killed my best friend’s baby, ruined her happiness, and then she turned into a witch and I had to kill her too” would be... Yeah, I’d want to do something to make up for that, too. And if Shin used to be a bright person, someone pure of heart who didn’t let her struggles get her down, Livia could be doing work as a Coordinator in her honour, helping other magical girls hold on to hope.

(This is just a tiny thing and may be completely insignificant, but as Shin’s nature is poverty: If this theory holds water, she and Livia might’ve come from a similar tough background. But Shin soldiered through it with her head held high-- something Livia was unable to do, which sowed the seeds of jealousy warping her love into hatred.)

So, that’s about it! Livia is a very interesting character, and the vagueness of her wish leaves it fairly open to interpretation. Hopefully this makes sense and doesn’t have too many typos; it’s 2am here, haha. Thank you for reading!

#magia record #madoka magica #livia medeiros #hc post #spec #been in a puella care mood lately

88 notes · View notes

blooms-of-ice · 3 years

Photo

Wyda is officially retired...for now. She had a good run, and I loved writing for her! GOD the existential dread I felt as I drew closer and closer to running the event that would end her.

Her story continues through another. Give a follow here! :D

I’ll be keeping this blog up as an archive, although I might still post every now and again. But since her arc is done, here goes! An unedited, unfiltered slurry of words-directly-from-brain-to-keyboard about Wyda! I’m warning you, this is true farm fresh to you stuff. And spoilers for many events in FF14. Read on if you dare.

Strap in, it’s going to be a long and bumpy ride.

Did I say that I love Primals?

Primal lore gives the FF14 devs a lot of creative freedom when it comes to designing bosses. Want the arena changed? Want something/someone to look absolutely wack? Want to spin up a threat without having a villain train for years prior? Bam, primals.

It also gives us, the players, the same creative freedoms when it comes to roleplaying!

The requirements to summon one are humorously low. At first, primals result from misguided and zealous beastmen shenanigans. Ifrit, Titan, Ramuh, Leviathan, Garuda...but then we get a bunch of weird summonings. Like when Ga Bu summons a funky version of Titan through his despair alone. Or when Yotsuyu brings forth Tsukuyomi because she really, really wants to see the world burn. Hell, Gilgamesh just thinks about his friend Enkidu in the presence of some crystals, and that’s enough to bring forth a primal. So I guess the only requirements for a primal summoning are 1) crystals and 2) thinking kinda hard? Strong feelings, especially negative ones, seem to be more effective but then again! What the heck happened with Gilgamesh? Who knows?!

But this is one of my favorite things in FF14. It’s a powder keg of a situation that will, and HAS, gone off multiple times.

Being tempered, meanwhile, is a fate worse than death. You’re forced to change sides and fight for the enemy. You don’t even find peace when you die - tempered souls linger in Eorzea thanks to how messed up they are by the process. But you don’t become a mindless servant either. *Points to Emet-Selch who is....kinda...on your side (???) but also on Zodiark’s side*

Things aren’t nearly as dark now that tempering can be cured. I’m very thankful, since otherwise my campaign would’ve had a very, very depressing ending. One that I originally planned for but STILL. I’m weak. ;_;

Riding off the Rails

Primal lore is flexible. In ARR, the rules are established, but later expansions took those rules and went “Well, what about this? And this? And this?” In other words, this is me admitting that I’m shameless and will stretch this lore until I reach the moon.

Developing Wyda was a ‘chicken first, egg later’ sort of situation. Though trite, I gave her amnesia in order to give myself an excuse for knowing nothing about FF14 lore (and because I was new to roleplaying). When I finally sat down to flesh her out, my mind kept returning to primals. I love ‘em and their potential for drama! So yeah, I was determined to make it work.

There were a lot of questions I had to answer. If Wyda is a primal, then why isn’t she tempering everyone she meets?! How is she getting away with being a ‘normal’ person? And how do I avoid power creep? I know, for a fact, that if I walked into an RP event and just said...hey. My character is a primal, are you cool with that? The answer would be a solid no. Nooooo! I’d tell that to myself! So I wanted to solve these questions in a fair way that would allow others (and myself) to remain immersed in the roleplaying world. Luckily, FF14 lore is like a bottomless chest of building blocks. It was just a matter of stacking them carefully.

Primals are summoned when someone thinks around some crystals (Ah, Gilgamesh...)

The primal’s purpose is based on the summoner’s desires, but with a monkey’s paw twist (Ga Bu’s Titan punching the other kobolds away is indicative of this)

The amount of aether used in the summoning determines how powerful the primal will be (Shinryu being beefy as hell)

Primals can be summoned out of thin air, or be channeled into someone’s body

When a primal is channeled, the summoner needs the Echo to resist (Ysalye and Ryne). Otherwise the summoner is tempered by their own creation.

Now, with those blocks in hand, I started spitballing...and it led me to this thought. If a primal’s purpose is to NOT be a primal, what happens?

Would they know that they’re a primal?

Can they still use their primal powers?

What happens when the primal is based off of someone who still exists?

For Wyda, I chose to swing this way.

Her memory is garbage because she’s a primal based on someone else. Even if you know someone really well, you can’t perfectly recreate/emulate them.

She’s normal-powered because all her primal magic is going towards suppressing her powers. Extremely inefficient. And she’s very human-like because she’s possessing someone else’s body, as opposed to being made purely of primal aether.

Primals temper whether they want to or not - aether leaks, and it corrupts. To solve this for Wyda, instead of leaking aether out of the wazoo...thanks to the nature of her summoning, she just leaks a tiny bit all the time. Not enough to temper.

But I also wrote myself into a corner. If Wyda isn’t going to behave like a primal, then how does she exist for so long? They need a constant source of aether to survive, and she’s not doing primal stuff since she’s too busy being human. And so...the answer is that she doesn’t. Once her aether runs out, then poof.

See? Fun! (But also pain. So much pain.)

Playing with Fire

Eorzea (like most fantasy RPG settings) is a nightmare factory. Most, if not all, who make their living ‘adventuring’ are scarred from what they have to face. For every success story (WoL), there are countless more tragedies (Avere). And even if you survive...who wouldn’t get trauma if you were an adventurer and it was normal for your buddies to be eaten by a beast, tempered by a primal, possessed by a ghost?

Which is to say, Wyda's scars run deep. Shit goes down.

To repeat that in slightly more words: Wyda is an accidental byproduct of Cravendy’s grief and longing. At her lowest moment, Cravendy (a Seawolf pirate) thinks of her friend Dots and the unfairness of it all. And oops, there are crystals nearby. So now, we got Wyda walking around in Cravendy’s body, thinking that she’s someone named Dots. By the way, Dots is still alive! Very awkward.

Wyda is a denial incarnate. She is Cravendy’s dream for safety, family, and happiness for Dots. But denial does not erase the past, nor does it change how you feel. By existing, Wyda suppresses those feelings for Cravendy and freezes the other woman in the past. With the both of them like this, Cravendy will never accept her trauma and Wyda will be plagued with a stranger’s guilt.

Primal souls are weird. I have no idea where they come from, but they seem separate from the summoner’s. So as Wyda’s influence wanes, Cravendy’s soul begins to resurface. This forces Wyda into a cycle of self-discovery and self-destruction that, unfortunately, convinces Wyda that she ought to disappear. It’s a tragic conclusion she reaches after having her worldview shattered. She’s a copy of Dots, she’s a primal. What’s real, and what’s not? What even matters?

The Power of Love

Love is a persistent theme for all of my characters. For Cravendy, love is why she hurts, so she would rather forget it than bear any more pain. But Wyda is the opposite - she loves too much. When all else is a sham, Wyda trusts that the love she feels is real. And ultimately, this love dooms Wyda and saves Cravendy.

Wyda’s fatal flaw is her self-destructive selflessness. Thanks to being mistaken for Dots all the time, Wyda develops a low sense of self. Then events of the campaign erode that into nothingness. She’s a second rate copy full of brittle memories, she’s a fake! And discovering Cravendy’s sleeping soul only pushes Wyda further into her flaw. Here is my purpose, she thinks! My original! And I’ll save her no matter what, because she deserves to live!

But it’s a mistake. Certainly, Cravendy is saved, but Wyda deserves to be saved too. Although she loves with all her heart, Wyda never learns to love herself and see her own self-worth. She doesn’t understand that her friends don’t share her view of herself - as a worthless copy that can only find value in saving another. Her selflessness loops into selfishness.

Maybe Wyda will come back...She certainly has a lot to learn still!

The TLDR version of all this is that I accidentally pulled a Kingdom Hearts plot with this character, and now I understand, Nomura. I UNDERSTAND WHY YOU BRING BACK YOUR CHARACTERS. ;_;

#Aiswyda Nuthalwyn #me as I got myself into this mess: pain #lots of pain but #but also very rewarding #I hope you all give Cravendy a follow!! lol I keep making new blogs for organizational purposes #ff14 rp #art

5 notes · View notes

forthegothicheroine · 4 years

Text

Dear 2020 Yuletide Author...

Hey, I’m RobberBaroness on AO3, and thank you so much for offering one of my fandoms! I say that every year but I especially mean it this time, since I picked more obscure stuff than usual. Now, let’s get to it!

General likes: Fairy tales, gothic literature, film noir, revenge tragedies, bodice rippers, melodrama, dark comedy, heroine/villain/hero love triangles, heroine/villain dynamics, rescue romance, mythology, maledom (non and dubcon are welcome), bdsm, bondage, character studies, what-if AUs, genre swapping AUs, vampires, folklore, knight and lady dynamics, epistolary fic, interactive fiction.

DNWs: Pushing away female characters, fetish universes, character bashing, fully mundane AUs for fantastical settings, unrequested identity headcanons, Christmas or other Christian holiday-themed fic, abrupt character death (character death fully earned and explored is fine), a focus on bodily fluids or byproducts in porn.

I’m open to both Crueltide and Yuleporn, but I’m also okay with getting neither of those.

Waxwork (1988)

Sarah, China, Dracula, Marquis de Sade

Such a fun, silly movie! And absolutely perfect for anyone who likes to read or write Problematic Fanfiction. You can write about all four of those characters, or just focus on one of the two heroine/villain ships (China/Dracula or Sarah/de Sade.) The movie (and its sequel) have lots of references and homages to classic horror movies, so that would be fun to see here! In any case, this is a great place to pile on all the gothic tropes and aesthetics your heart desires.

Some ideas:

Sarah and China are very much positioned as the Virgin and the Whore, respectively, but surely there must be some more to their characters than that! What if they were the two survivors who had to rally troops of monster-hunters against the forces of darkness? (Mark can be there too if you want, I have nothing against him.) How would Sarah deal with being put in a position of leadership? How would China deal with having to think about the well-being of people other than herself?

Tell me about the women whose situations the girls found themselves in, Dracula’s victim and the Marquis’ plaything. Tell me how they ended up in those situations. Alternately, what if they found themselves in America in the 1980s when Sarah and China took their places?

Explore the darkly sexy situations Sarah and/or China were in if the camera hadn’t cut away (China) or Mark hadn’t been there to rescue them (Sarah.) Straightforward porny stuff is fine, or you could spin it into a full story of the aftermath. (I know the Marquis plans to whip Sarah to death, but I’d rather that didn’t happen- he can spare her life or she can escape, whatever you want.) This can be a seductive dom-sub scene, full on noncon, or anything in between.

Dracula and/or the Marquis de Sade don’t get killed and have to adapt to the modern era. Will China and/or Sarah pledge themselves to hunting them down, or grudgingly and grumblingly help them adjust?

The sequel has characters hopping between times and alternate universes, so if you want to bring that into the events of the first movie, that could be fun. Sarah and China find themselves running from one sexy horror movie scene to the next, having to deal with a whole range of hot villains interested in them!

Dragonwyck (1946)

Nicholas Van Ryn, Miranda Wells

I love Vincent Price and I love Gene Tierney, and I really love them together. Movie Nicholas seems a lot less cold-hearted than his book counterpart, and I think he probably was in love with Miranda before grief over his son’s death and opium addiction drove him mad. (Which is not to excuse murdering his first wife- he’s still a very bad man!) Another thing I like about the movie adaptation is that there’s a lot less blame put on Miranda for daring to want to leave the farm, and an understanding of why she’d be dazzled by the Van Ryn’s lives. For this canon, I’d really like to explore more of Nicholas and Miranda’s relationship, doomed though it may be.

Some ideas:

Seduction! Either before or after their marriage, Nicholas tempts Miranda with the pleasures of sin. This can involve sex, or just sensual pleasures (kisses, fine wine, scandalous poetry.)

Is there any way Nicholas and Miranda could have had a happy ending? If he and his first wife had divorced (with all the trouble that would have caused at the time), if he hadn’t accused her of being barren, if he had gotten better after their marriage instead of worse?

A darker look at their relationship, with obsession and possessiveness and madness inspired by beauty. (Would rather this didn’t involve physical abuse, but sexual or psychological is okay.)

What if Nicholas had tried to corrupt Miranda to be his partner in crime? Would she have stood firm against his temptations, or find herself weakening towards sin?

Revenger’s Tragedy (2003)

Gloriana, Vindice, the Duke, Lussurioso

I know for sure one kind of fic I’d want- Gloriana lives fic! I’m very sweet on Vindice’s devotion to her, and I’d like to know more about the woman herself! (I once saw someone call her a Mary Sue, which baffles me- how can she be a Mary Sue if all we know about her is that she was pretty and nice?) Mind you, this doesn’t necessarily mean a nice and happy story. The bloodthirsty nature of Revenger’s Tragedy is one of the reasons I love it, after all! If you don’t want to write that main prompt, you could write something where any of the nominated characters reflects on Gloriana, or where the revenge plays out in a different fashion. You can come up with something gruesome enough for a Jacobean playwright, I believe in you!

You can write these stories without Lussurioso, but he’s fun if you do include him.

Some ideas:

Instead of poisoning Gloriana, the Duke drugs her for his own ends. Or, if you don’t want to get that dark, he does poison her but she survives after a period of illness. Either way, she joins Vindice in his crusade of revenge.

Role reversal! When the Duke makes a pass at Gloriana, Vindice interferes and gets killed for his efforts. Now Gloriana is the one setting out to destroy the entire ruling family.

The movie seems to take place in a vaguely post-apocalyptic setting, so dig into that if you like. Worldbuild away, so long as you include the characters!

For any of the above scenarios, what part might Lussurioso play? Would he take over as the main villain after his father is dealt with, or could disgust towards his family’s actions (which he does seem to canonically show) lead to him rethinking his life and switching sides?

#yuletide 2020

5 notes · View notes

cheryls-blossomed · 4 years

Note

Having a fun debate about Barry and Iris and wanted to get another person to chime in. Do you think Barry is more emotionally dependent on Iris, Iris on Barry or do you think they are equally dependent on each other?

I think Barry is more emotionally dependent on Iris. Generally, Westallen is a very equal relationship, but as with any love story, there’s no way that everything, especially something as impossible to quantify as emotional dependency, will be split 50/50. The canonical evidence backs up that Barry is evidently more emotionally dependent on Iris. And it makes sense.

Barry was taken into Iris’s home by her father after the murder of his mother by Thawne and the wrongful arrest of his father; nobody other than the two witnesses of Nora’s murder, Barry and Henry, could believe that a man in a yellow suit enveloped in lightning came and murdered Nora. Nobody except Iris. Barry is frantically telling her that his dad didn’t kill his mom when he arrives at the West household, and she simply reaches out her hand and tells him, “I believe you.” That night is perhaps the most visceral and fundamental memory that Barry and Iris share, and that is why they both constantly go back to it when they want to get through to the other, when the typical amnesia and alternate reality obstacle comes crashing through (see 3x21 and 5x09). For Barry, Iris believing him without any hesitation basically saved his life. Until the impossible became possible, nobody would believe Barry about Henry’s death, and it took the biggest emotional toll on him, as it naturally would, but his one constant was Iris. She even stood up to her father when he tried to berate Barry about the circumstances of Nora’s murder. So, Barry’s emotional dependency towards Iris began very early on, and it was intensified almost immediately by Iris believing him.

Which is why he literally nearly loses himself completely and is absolutely wrecked after he sees a future where Savitar murders Iris. Furthermore, Savitar, a villain who purposes himself as a god with the absolute need to survive, is literally the byproduct of Barry Allen without Iris West-Allen. (There’s also the fact that Savitar only starts coming around to the idea that he can maybe stick around, if he can have Iris, something which he realizes he cannot with Barry right there, and that just fuels his rage). And we, of course, had the chance to see Barry in 2024 during the Savitar arc, where he was living in a time vault, staring at photos of himself and Iris, and point blank tells our Barry that he will never get over Iris’s death, because how can he? And during the arc, every time Barry considered crossing a line that he couldn’t come back from, Iris was there to pull him back, to reason with him, and to refuse to allow him to compromise his humanity.

The Mirror Arc this season is a good illustration of this point, I think. Barry doesn’t comprehend the distance between him and Mirror Iris, but he feels it quite viscerally, existing between them, and it’s killing him. Physically, he’s without his speed, as the speedforce died, and is a literal wreck. He’s overwhelmed by the changes of Crisis and is trying to focus his attentions on recreating a speedforce, but he really cannot keep it together. And he cannot, because he’s without the person who grounds him; his one constant. I've been saying that for seasons we’ve watched Barry had to go where Iris could not follow, but this season we’re watching Iris go where Barry cannot follow, and Barry’s whole world is literally collapsing around him, because well... his whole world is stuck in a mirror. In 6x07, the speedforce pleads with Barry, and the one moment where it really gets through to Barry, as evident from the quietness and hesitation he exudes after his tirade against the speedforce, is when it tells him, “You’ll lose part of you that Iris loves.” Devastatingly ironic, perhaps, that after Iris fought tooth and nail to bring Barry back from Ramsey’s control, Iris is lost to a mirror and the speedforce dies. Is it any coincidence that Barry loses his speed, the physical manifestation of his superheroism, very shortly after his Iris is trapped in a mirror, switched out with an imposter, and that he experiences side effects of losing his speed the very episode Mirror Iris arrives in his life? I. Think. Not. At the core of Barry’s emotional dependency on Iris is the fact that she’s his constant: he cannot run without her. He cannot be without her. And as he spirals in this back half of season 6, this is very clearly evident.

For Iris, she’s definitely emotionally dependent on Barry, but I feel it’s a bit different. When Barry comes to the West household, by Iris’s own admission, it greatly helped her heal from the absence of her mother, and so he’s her light as much as she’s his. When he enters the speedforce prison at the end of season 3, Iris is adamant to keep her promise to him to continue running, and so she is able to actively help protect and save Central City, by leading the Team at S.T.A.R. Labs, but she bottles up her grief, but that acute devastation is clearly eating her alive. She is just able to compartmentalize, and Iris is very good at focusing on one task at hand and pouring all her energies into it, and so it keeps her going, when otherwise she fears that she would fall apart. When Barry asks a great deal of her in the lead up to Crisis, namely to accept his demise, she does it, once again taking her grief deep within herself, to be his strength and support, while he navigates how to prepare everyone else around him for Crisis. It’s a high ask of anyone to their spouse, and yet Iris accepts it, because she must. So, there’s obvious emotional dependency of Iris on Barry, because he’s her rock, but it’s not the exact same, I would say. (The fact that The Flash tends to box Iris into the Strong Black Woman trope, is a completely different issue and does warrant criticism, but that’s a separate narrative issue: for example, the show didn’t apply the archetype to her during Barry’s absence at the beginning of season 4, but they have constantly applied that archetype to her this season.)

And frankly, as I said, I think that’s okay that Barry is perhaps more emotionally dependent on Iris, because it’s attune to Barry and Iris’s respective characters.

#replies #Anonymous

7 notes · View notes

kmindset · 5 years

Text

Grief & Hybrids: Chapter Two

Word Count: 3,319

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Synopsis: Ready to begin healing from the death of your boyfriend, you become a volunteer at the local hybrid home. When you catch the attention of seven hybrids you begin to open your heart again. But are you ready to move on?

On AO3

“____! Would you mind waking up the felines?”

You nodded.

Two weeks of working here and you have effectively kept your distance from as many male hybrids as possible. Especially the one you encountered in the cafeteria. Happiness at interacting with the felines was growing, however. Personally, you loved all hybrids but easing into this was key. This was only your third day working with the felines but you loved it because you were assigned to female tigers. Typically, all male and female sleeping quarters were separated for many reasons. The main reason being the inevitable pain of their heat. That was a nightmare according to the day manager, Sulji.

“Alana, Naeun.” You called, recognizing the occupied beds of the two older hybrids. Whenever possible you wanted to allow them to sleep as they had a hard time before entering the home.

The familiar black and white ears of Naeun came into view as she slowly rose from the bed, waving sleepily at you as she passed. You slowly approached Alana’s bed not wanting to startle her.

“Unnieeee” you sang.

A deep voice caught you off guard. “I’m not your unnie, now shut up.”

You flung the covers back to reveal a male hybrid looking rather comfy in a bed that was definitely not his. “What are you doing in Alana’s bed?”

He peeked from where he was balled into himself. “If I tell you will you put the covers back?” In response, you flung them fully off of the mattress.

“Ok then.” He sat up with slightly widened eyes and a hint of an amused smile. “Alana was “embraced” yesterday.” He informed you, grumbling “fucking adopted” under his breath.

“That doesn’t explain why you are in the female quarters.”

“It actually does. I fucking hate the male quarters and now there is a free bed in the quiet, better smelling area.’

“Either way you have to get up, they’re cleaning in 5.”

That got him up. “Shit!” He didn’t have to say it for you to know the threat of multiple vacuums was not something he was excited for. You followed behind as the hybrid scurried out.

The way to the cafeteria was quiet, most of the other hybrids already indulging in lunch.

“Why do you hate the male wing?”

He snorted. “Have you not been in there?” He looked over and could tell by the confused look that you hadn’t. “Wait have you actually not?”

You shook your head.

“It’s… too much sometimes.” A thoughtful look painted his features as he contemplated how to explain. “Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful more than I can express for this home. I just…”

“You wish there was somewhere better for you.”

He glanced at you, briefly showing his surprise before looking away. “Yes, exactly. I’ve been to worse places though.”

You wanted him to elaborate however he jogged away to a group of men, one with a familiar tuft of hair that seemed excited to see him.

One more reason to steer clear of the male quarters.

An endless string of curses went through your head as you vigorously scrubbed the wide hybrid home sign. The night before, a small group of people that seemed way too angry about nothing came and trashed the front of the center. Your manager informed you it was most likely a group the volunteers had come in contact with before. The group was known to be outspoken in their distaste for hybrid rights. Often they complained that hybrids should be grouped together with animals in pet stores.They were few in number but worryingly aggressive.

It took what felt like an eternity but once you finished you returned to the building to see a debate already in progress inside the volunteer break room.

“Everyone with a brain to think about other species knows that hybrids can’t be grouped in quarters like this with full blooded animals without risk of further cross species contamination.*

“It sounds like inbreeding and experimentation in one.”

“I don’t understand it all truthfully. They are part animal, seems to me that would be healthy. The poor things are already the result of experiments anyway.”

You made eye contact with Barbara and tried not to roll your eyes. “Sulji, animals and hybrids can interact safely. The problem is similar to why male and female hybrids living quarters are kept separate. Natural instincts take over too heavily making for high risk for either one or sometimes both.”

“Not to mention, most hybrids are more in tune with their human side, not wanting to mate with a full animal or shit wherever. Their animalistic qualities and form are a byproduct of what they are not who they are,” you added.

“Ehh maybe I am old fashioned but animals are animals.”

Another volunteer began to respond but you had had enough. With thirty minutes left on your break, you opted to go to the library. The cleaning crew was finishing up, ensuring no hybrid was there and with Sulji’s ignorance you were sure all working volunteers were engaged in the increasingly intense debate against “old fashioned’ ideas about basic rights. Fun for sure.

You smiled at the last vacuuming janitor as you took a seat behind the first computer. There was nothing you were interested in looking at but the monitor blocked you from view of the entrance, allowing you to drift into your own thoughts without being spotted easily. Five minutes of listening to music, the last janitor was finished. You paused your music and looked around. The library was well organized and thoroughly cleaned but staring long enough you can see signs of aging. The walls were a beautiful muted golden but in the corners and crevices, there were chips and uneven areas where the old color was visible. The most noticeable was the old mural rather poorly covered up behind the volunteer desk. You remember seeing a picture of the mural in its glory days and while it was beautiful it represented the “old fashioned” way of thinking Sulji spoke of. It depicted hybrids as companions but it was clear it was thinking of them as pets, not people. Thirty years outdated for sure.

As you drifted further into your thoughts you had to admit that was part of the reason this place was bittersweet. The love radiating from everyone there created positive energy in every way but there were still reminders of the past. Not only the unequal past of all hybrids but his past. So many things reminded you of what he told you. His early life was heartbreaking. No one deserves to be in a volatile environment. It was beautiful though that despite his situation he still became loving with an affinity for kindness beyond belief. It brought a smile to your face but as you spotted a hybrid rights book you grimaced. The photo on the front of an angry man yelling at a cowering canine hybrid reminded you that no matter how brilliant and warm he was, it was repaid constantly with aggression and prejudice. Even in the end.

There was a whimper. But it didn’t come from you.

It took a moment to realize before you were looking around. You almost didn’t notice the black tail barely sticking out from the computer desk across from you. Carefully, you walked around to see a sad figure huddled into the corner under the desk.

“Are you alright?”

He sniffs and quickly crawls up to where you are kneeling to see him. “Are you?”

For a moment you’re shocked because of course you weren’t but that’s not his concern as you’re there to help all hybrids. With him in better view now, you notice right away he is a beagle. Their increased empathy often made it easy for them to pick up on the emotions of those around them.

“Shouldn’t you be in the cafeteria? Lunch was just put out. Or at the gym? Or anywhere else but under a desk?”

He pouted at his ignored question. “There were too many people in the cafeteria right now and Ms. Kim says I spend too much time in the gym.”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

He was quiet this time, opting to scan your face. You grew insecure under his gaze. “Who was it?”

“Chef Bae I think. Either way, it smells goo-”

“No, who died?”

This time you were dumbfounded. After a moment of silence, you moved to leave but he whimpered again, his ears hanging lower in dejection.

“My boyfriend.” was all your offered before once again escaping the personal questions from strange hybrids.

You’d done your best.

After the last interaction with a nosy hybrid, you began helping out more in the kitchen. It was a job you wished you’d taken before. There was minimal interaction with non-volunteers and any opportunity to cook was welcome. Cooking calmed you which is why you were currently enjoying the music you were playing as you prepped ingredients for the day’s next meal. Until you turned around and met face to face with both hybrids of the hybrids you were mainly avoiding.

“You.”

“You remember me!”

“Why are you back here?”

“We got into a fight with an idiot.”

“ You got into a fight. I was having a conversion.” The shorter one corrected.

“No, you were being harassed.”

“Whatever.”

The taller one shook his head. “Either way we were put on food duty as punishment.”

With a hesitant nod, you bit your lip. “Put on a hair net, wash your hands, put on gloves and an apron.”

They stood staring at you for a moment.

“Now!”

The smaller one jumped a bit as they both did as you instructed. Taking on the manager role while Chef Bae was on the phone, you efficiently prepared lunch and avoided conversation with the two.

You could feel them staring at you every now and then along with whispers but you choose not to say anything.

Burning.

Everything and everyone is burning.

He’s somewhere in here but all you see is flames and unbothered neighbors. They sit as if their skin isn’t being charred off. The boiling flesh turning your stomach.

Then you hear his voice. He’s calling your name. Screaming it.

Finally, he is standing in the doorway of your apartment. His back is to you. The soft grey tail a flame and moving towards the top like a lit stick of dynamite.

Part of you doesn’t want to call out in fear of the horrific scene.

Then he calls out your name. But it isn’t right. The voice was demonic and taunting.

“It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream.” You chanted over and over. Eyes shut tight and begging for true consciousness. He was next to you, you could feel him.

“Accept.”

You popped your eyes open.

The next morning, you made an impromptu decision. The whole drive to the Hybrid Home was a blur as you spent the entire time thinking about your decision and trying not to think anymore about your dream.

Nothing was going to stop you from quitting. Until you saw the fire trucks. For a moment, it spooked you. The intense fear of still being in that horrible nightmare sped up your heart rate. Thankfully you were awake but unfortunately, that meant the lost looking hybrids in the street were real.

The road was littered with overnight and morning volunteers trying to comfort scared hybrids. You parked at the playground across the street. After a few minutes of search, you approached panic-stricken Sulji and Barbara speaking with whom you assume to be the fire captain.

“______!” Barbara’s panicked eyes found some relief in spotting you.

“What in the hell is happening?” The question seemed obvious in a way but you wanted something specific. The whole damn home was in the road.

“Someone started a fire in the male wing.”

“One of the hybrids?”

She shook head. “One of those anti group jerks. They think he didn’t mean to do this much damage but regardless it’s a mess.”

She informed you the whole home is burned to different extents. Parts are nothing but ashes others are only singed.

Sulji and Barbara gathered some of you who were not tending to the hybrids. ” ”We have just been informed the building is uninhabitable. Thankfully there is a hybrid shelter nearby able to help. The only problem is, it is a female shelter. They are willing to take all misplaced females but males are another story.”

Worried gasps sounded from the crowd. “What about the male shelter in Gwangju?”

“We can possibly arrange for travel for some but not all. We will still have about 20-25 hybrids displaced. That number is being very optimistic.”

Barbara spoke up. “We will be moving next door for an emergency embrace event. Some of you will go back with the females to inform them of the move. They are still going to be involved in the embrace event as we need to thin out our numbers. They are encouraged to stay together while we organize.”

Everyone nodded along in understanding. “The news is running the incident as we speak and asking for temporary volunteers and families willing to adopt or at the very least foster any of them.”

Sulji cleared her throat. “With that being said if any of you have room please considering taking in some of them.” It was silent but you couldn’t blame them. Many of your fellow volunteers were single parents needing this job, though low paid, with no time, money, or room to foster. Others were financially not able to do so.

Sulji nodded somberly. “Ok then. We need to begin setting up in the rec center.”

The small crowd breaks to get into action.

You get swept up in the chaos not long after. People in every direction. It isn’t helping your anxiety but the sympathy for the now homeless hybrids keeps you grounded.

Something crashes behind you. You whip around to see a tall man with fluffy ears almost blended into his brown hair. He is trying to set the water bottles he knocked down right side up until another volunteer tells him to leave. The tall man tries to get a water bottle but the volunteer smacks his hands and points for him to leave. As he walks away, she notices you staring. “The hybrid of destruction strikes again.”

The snort she lets out hints at a joke you clearly aren’t in on. Either way, you feel bad for the man.

Soon the adoption event is in full swing. All hybrids mingled with families and one another. Some opted to play amongst themselves. Two of which you noticed were the two you saw many times. It wasn’t until their “playing” got too rough that you interfered.

“It’s you!” the one with pouty lips spoke excitedly. You made a noise in confirmation, taking the chance to look at the hybrid ID tag to finally see his name.

“We know we won’t be fostered. It’s better to not get our hopes.” Taehyung spoke matter-a-factly. His words didn’t appear to have much emotion, but Jimin deflated a bit at the statement.

“Do you feel the same, Jimin?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know but if Taehyung isn’t there I won’t go anyway.”

You frowned at their somber words. There was so little hope in them. A nagging feeling began to grow. They didn’t mind as during your internal emotional battle Taehyung roughly hit Jimin’s shoulder and took off. The smaller male took off behind him.

You took your bottom lip between your teeth nervously as you eased over to the outgoing form and wrote down both names.

The nagging feeling ceased but a wave of anxiety threatened your sanity. Thankfully, a fellow volunteer asked you for a hand with the snacks.

Not long after, the feelings were pushed down momentarily to focus on the matter at hand. This was working until you went in search of a janitor. A younger hybrid came with a family interested in helping out but was spooked by the activity. He had an accident. You assured him gently you would find someone to clean it while the family apologized. You spotted the janitor coming from the supply closet. “Ma’am! There was a little accident on the court.”

She nodded mop already in hand. “Can you reach that spray bottle for me, love?”

You looked to where she pointed. It was a higher shelf but not too high for you. You paused for a moment then handed the bottle to her and waited for her to walk away before turning back to the closet. “Come out.”

“No.”

You felt his presence before you even spotted the cat eyes. You weren’t sure if he would be chastised for being in there so you didn’t inform the janitor.

“How did you know? She didn’t even glance my way.” The dark-haired feline emerged from the darkness of the corner.

“I have experience with a hybrid wanting to hide.”

He examined your face. From the look on his own, he found the answer to the question in his head but kept it to himself. “Ignoring the overwhelming aroma of cleaning products, this was the only place to get away from everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“ Everyone .”

You smiled, holding back a laugh and he looked as though he was doing the same. Though his smile was smaller and gone much quicker you felt something. An understanding of disdain for a crowd and the mix of people in it made you feel like you feel mutually accepted. With a small wave of your hand, you ushered him back to his corner, sure to catch the name on his ID tag you did. “I’ll bring you a snack. Maybe it will make the smells more tolerable.”

“Doubt it.” he scoffed but you could see another smile as you closed the door. You turned away to get him a snack.

And write his name down.

To your surprise, the community showed up in aspiring numbers. Many came to help with the event and transportation while many took advantage of the embrace opportunity.

Typically, home and background checks were done to ensure the safety of the hybrids however Barbara informed all embracers that an inspection and evaluation would be done a week from the event “When we have our bearings.” she had stated exasperatingly. The outpour of support helped thin the number of misplaced hybrids.

“The list of secured hybrids was much longer than expected,” Barbara announced happily at the end of the day. All volunteers and remained hybrids were crowded around. The volunteers all appeared worn out but proud. Some of the hybrids appeared sad while others couldn’t care less. A chunk of them were waiting to be transferred to the partnering shelter. Some were already on the way there but there wasn’t room for everyone. “Although, I see Taehyung, Jimin, and Yoongi‘s names written but they are still here.”

A stiff silence fell. Four long seconds pass before you bashfully speak up. “That was my doing. I can foster them for the time being.”

You dare not look at the men as you could feel their shocked gazes.

“Oh, that's wonderful! That only leaves these four.”

You don’t really want to but something keeps pushing you, the nagging feeling from earlier. The words tumble out before you can catch them. ”I have room for them.”

Barbara is taken aback. “Really?”

You nod reluctantly. “My home was originally built for a nine-person family. They will have to share rooms but nothing too crowded.”

Sulji spoke up. “____, that is truly amazing! Of course with your number embraced we will make your inspection priority as a precaution for them but until then thank you!”

An absentminded nod was all you could give. The true reality of your charitable act not hitting you until everyone else dispersed and only seven pairs of eyes remained on you.

#poly bts #hybrid bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst

163 notes · View notes

fallingin-like · 4 years

Text

november 12

peu à peu by @zombiesolace [requested by @jsteneil]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

this is a really interesting character study on post-canon kevin and how he finds his place within the foxes and deals with the aftermath of the events within the series. this fic has a lot of introspection and does a really great job of unpacking everything.

this is such an intriguing fic to me, i don’t see that many that really delve into kevin and his thoughts. i can’t imagine how difficult of a time he must have, both throughout the series and during post-canon events. this fic really made me better appreciate the struggles that he goes through because it’s really common to have his actions portrayed without any of this explanation or why he acts in certain ways. we always see his single-mindedness with respect to exy and just kind of write it off as kevin being kevin. i think you effectively explored his character and inner thoughts.

some parts that stood out to me:

“it goes like this: they lose.” uhm somehow you were able to break my heart in the first two lines of the fic? i love the simplicity of the way you worded this, it contrasts really well with the significance of what it means, for the foxes, but especially for kevin.

kevin yelling at the team after the loss feels very in character. it reminds me of what he was apparently like when coaching the foxes prior to playing, and we see a little bit of it in the books themselves. it really comes down to the fact that kevin is desperate. for a lot of the foxes, the loss stings, but at the end of the day it’s just a loss. the criticism is harsh and they don’t understand why kevin is so hard on them. to kevin, it’s his life. not just because of the fact that he’s definitely trying to go pro and have exy as his career and not just because the moriyamas are definitely watching over him, but because that’s how he was raised as a child. kevin’s terrible childhood is somewhat overshadowed by the rest of the foxes, but he likely still has trauma from how he was raised in the nest, under the master and riko. so much pressure that it feels natural that he wants to try and regain control in some way.

”they’re a team, they fall together. and yet after each game this year, kevin has found himself falling apart alone. biting shame and swallowing frustration as he tears into each overanalyzed mistake” i find in life it’s so easy to isolate yourself from the people around you. the foxes probably find it hard to be sympathetic towards kevin, but they probably don’t realise that as harsh as he is to them, he is exponentially more critical of himself. in your own head, mistakes can be an unending loop, constant and distracting. this fic is really opening my eyes to what kevin is dealing with and appreciating him so much more.

”their win last year was a fluke. a gift given to them by virtue of the trojans. a simply byproduct of the hardiness of the foxes and the instability of riko’s collapsing domain.” ohmygoodness nooo it’s always so hard for me as an outsider to see kevin (and really anyone) struggle with the imposter syndrome. so many people (including many talented fanfic authors!!) write off their talent, skill, and hard work as fluke or luck as opposed to the many hours spent bettering themselves and practicing.

”it is with an overwhelming sense of dread that kevin thinks of his death. with each day the reality of riko’s loss feels more sure… kevin wishes riko’s ghost had followed. he wishes riko were still alive. he wishes he were alone, he wishes he weren’t.” wow i love the way you wrote this, with his conflicting thoughts. since we experienced the series through neil’s pov, riko’s death feels more like victory and less like a loss. it’s something to be celebrated. but i think it can almost be seen as similar to mary’s death, which neil mourned. both characters were abusive and did things that were wrong. and yet, they were loved. whether we like it or not, riko was kevin’s family and though their relationship was twisted and manipulated, especially as they grew older, riko was the person that kevin was closest to. emotions are so complicated and i bet kevin feels like he can’t discuss this with the other foxes, who don’t quite understand.

”he knows that his commentary is far more nuanced by virtue of being a fox. kevin takes the out and opens the folder he has on the roadrunners.” this is kind of small, but i find it has some significance. it can be so easy to do the thing that you know is self destructive and get caught in a rabbit hole of pages and articles of bad. good on kevin for not doing that.

”the name wymack clings to his tongue. coach sits temptingly at the back of his palette. my dad, his mind whispers, the words clear and intrusive.” ugH it must be so so hard for kevin to work through this. i love these lines.

”andrew pokes his head out of the bedroom. he stares blankly at kevin, his hair mussed… he leaves the door partially ajar. kevin feels something in his chest loosen.” oo i really really liked this part. andrew has his own unique way of showing that he cares and i love seeing the small things that he does.

the whole conversation between dan and kevin is so interesting. the actual information that you’re sharing about exy and the way that they interact. i think you did a great job of showing a realistic back and forth.

”riko was always right there. kevin never had to call him.” these two sentences, and actually that whole section is really just so heartbreaking. you do a great job of making me understand kevin, something i haven’t really done so before.

”that’s not true. he does know. he enjoys having the ability to express his opinion. it’s a novelty he’s still getting used to.” oh, kevin.

”kevin can’t see any of the foxes. they disappeared into the store moments upon arrival and three out of the four are too short to be seen over the aisles.” lol what a mood (i am short)

kevin’s interaction with the fans is so interesting. i wonder if he often dealt with actually meeting fans during his time as a raven. it’s also really interesting to see neil from this point of view, he almost seems… unfamiliar? but not in a bad way. it kind of really brings us into the perspective of kevin.

abby-kevin relationship is so nice. i think it’s great that kevin has a maternal figure that he can find comfort in

the section on kayleigh is just so so sad. it makes me feel grief for someone i never knew. it aches knowing that she was such a wonderful woman, that kevin had her and now he doesn’t.

”’wooo!’ nicky shouts, ‘now that was a wake up call i didn’t need.’” ohmygoodness i love the way that you write nicky! it really lightens the fic a bit more.

honestly the bit about jean being waterboarded is horrifying to me.

i like that wymack took kevin to riko’s funeral. there’s a sense of closure that has to do with it, kevin being with his real family while saying goodbye to what used to be his family

”he doesn’t recall riko breaking his had. he remembers before, and he remembers after but he doesn’t remember the moment his life changed.” i really appreciate the formatting you used with this, the line separating the first sentence, the way that you broke up the second sentence into two lines. it feels more impactful, more significant.

”he can see nicky and aaron showing off their most ridiculous dance moves in the corner for one another” oh my goodness this is amazing

“he wonders if they’ll call him an ex-fox when he graduates or if he’ll always be labeled an ex-raven. the nest had a quiet energy that fox tower doesn’t.” oh oh i like this a lot

also i like how you broke up the texts with paragraphs of kevin’s thoughts. it shows the gaps between his texts more and i feel his loneliness more keenly. the double-texting with the periods between reminds me of when i am at my loneliest

i love kevin’s conversation with jeremy. he’s known as one of the nicest, brightest characters in the series, but we really see why. how he is able to relax kevin and just speak to him.

your explanation of kevin choosing history as his major is so insightful, i’ve never really considered it, but now i wish i had

”i want andrew to enjoy himself. he does it rarely, kevin, you’re aware of that” renne is just so great.

the part about kevin using twitter, especially as a way to try and connect with thea is so interesting to me.

”’does he know you’re better than he is?’ she’d whispered in his ear” I LOVE THIS LINE what a turning point in kevin’s journey

ahh the part about nicky telling andrew about the conspiracy station, it’s so nice to see the way they are bonding like his

andrew is such a complicated character, i absolutely adore the way that you write him. a lot of the time i read a softer side of him, through the perspective of neil. kevin and andrew have a fascinating relationship, i love seeing it from kevin. “he gives kevin a thumbs up”, “i hear you, andrew says” these are so perfect

wymack giving kevin an extra jacket is peak dad behaviour.

recently i’ve been so fond of seeing authors incorporate the title of their fic into the writing. this is no different, it makes the title have that much more meaning “little by little, the bird builds his nest” i love this. how did you come across this quote? it’s so fitting for this fic

the dynamic between dan, wymack, and kevin is so so interesting. wymack and kevin are so similar that sometimes i guess it causes a distance because they’re not the best at communication. and it must be hard. they’re related, but still have so much to learn about each other. i guess i’ve never though much of how close dan and wymack are. you do a really good job at capturing the tension that exists, the interactions.

”he thinks a lot of people would rather he never spoke again” oh no this hit me hard

the little part where kevin and dan are talking about neil’s shot, i like this little bonding that we see. exy is the thing that has brought them together

”’you’ll make a good wymack,’ he says. dan jerks back, her mouth open, and her eyes stunned.” oh this is so nice

”he wants to say he’s my dad, but he’s hers too; hers more so and that’s dan’s point. what would he know? ‘he saved me too,’ he says instead” oh my goodness i love this so much

sorry but neil and kevin teaming up and nicky and aaron teaming up so that andrew loses is the best part of this fic and anyone that believes otherwise can fight me!!! “when they arrive in columbia andrew makes an aborted move like he will shut neil out of their room and it’s the first time kevin hears something like a laugh from neil.” this is so soft i needed this

go thea!!! thank you for making her so amazing in this fic!!! i like how you write their relationship, it’s refreshing and really interesting, we don’t know that much about thea

THEA TAKING OFF HER NECKLACE WHEN KEVIN CHANGES HIS TATTOO THIS IS THE BEST

there’s so much that you covered in this fic. kevin’s relationship with exy, riko, the rest of the foxes, wymack. i love the way that you worked through everything. the gradual improvement of the foxes following with kevin’s mental health improving. but we can really see how far he has come when they lose and he’s okay with it. you made me feel so close to kevin. your writing is wonderful, so many little details that just build to make this fic amazing. thank you so much for writing this!

#peu à peu #aftg fic review #raelle writes

14 notes · View notes