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yanderart · 4 years

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Once you found Shouto on the Anti-Purge forums, it felt so wonderful to be understood. So comforting to finally have someone you could rely on...

So, when you got a letter notifying you of your selection for the Annual Purge later on, of course you went to seek his help.

Should’ve known better than to trust strangers online, though.

My fic/portrait convo for the Yandere Purge Collab, from the Lovesick Discord. And please check the rest of the m. list for other amazing works set in the same AU!

Under the cut is the actual fic (Todoroki x Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 10k), as well as the respective TWs. Hope y'all enjoy 🥀

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Tws: Usual yandere ones (stalking, manipulation, delusion). Dub-con/Non-con. Non-consensual Drug Use, aka Aphrodisiacs. Death threats and sexism (from randoms on the forum, not Todo).

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You couldn’t think straight —hadn’t been able to since waking up again. All you could recognize amidst the fog currently obscuring your thoughts was the longing, prolonged, and tangible in its hold over your being.

You felt hot all over, the flames licking at your skin burning brightly as you squirmed from your place, eagerly attempting to get closer to the cold reprieve emanating from the man that held you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N." One of his hands was steering you on his lap, the other one gently massaging your shoulders in a comforting motion. “I can only help you if you do."

If your judgment had not been overcast by the desire pushing away your self-awareness, then perhaps you could’ve heard the faint hint of amusement in his voice. Perhaps you would’ve thought to look up and finally encounter the content shine of his heterochromatic eyes.

“I feel…" speaking was laborious, your tongue impossibly weighty and your mind swirling with thoughts that escaped any semblance of coherence. “I feel hot all over. It hurts.”

The hand positioned around your waist went to search for one of your clenched ones, easily engulfing it in his grip as he nudged the side of your face with his chin rather tenderly. A gentle encouragement for you to stay attentive, anchoring you to the moment despite your dazed mindset.

“Show me then,” his low timbre tickled your skin, sending another wave of excruciating heat to wreak havoc inside your body, “Let me know where it hurts.”

With a stuttering sigh, you proceeded to press both of your hands to your lower stomach, gulping audibly before bringing them further down. Dancing just short of your underwear while your eyelids fluttered shut.

You knew your actions were out of character deep down. Even recognized the shadow of wrongness that distorted the current scene. You weren't supposed to do such things, weren't supposed to feel like that…

But the reality was that you were so excruciatingly warm by that point, and his palm felt so deliciously cold.

When you heard the dreadful siren going off in the distance, the instantly recognizable sound of the Purge starting at last, you were already too far gone to think of anything else but the fingers brushing against the thin cotton of your panties, so close to the evidence of your need soaking through them.

Your parents had told you not to trust strangers online once upon a time. You should’ve really taken their advice more to heart.

。。。。。

But first, perhaps a little tracing of your steps is in order —some necessary context to fully understand the extension of your plight.

You see, earlier that day you had woken up full of a peculiar mix of drive and determination. It was indeed Purge Day, the single day of the year you had grown to fear the most ever since childhood, and yet for once you found yourself oddly relaxed, filled to the brim with resolve instead of your usual nerves.

Which was already an unexpected turn of events, considering you had just gotten a letter notifying you of your selection as one of the accursed Darlings of the Night.

A gentle reminder that, if caught, your life would stop belonging to yourself for an entire dreadful year.

Because a Yandere had their sight on you now, or so the notice had informed you in impeccable typography. Anxious fingertips memorized the slight raise of inked words, inspecting every single detail the letter carried.

You had imagined a monster ready to pounce just outside your door then, fitting enough to be the carrier of your bad news. A preternaturally grotesque being, built from all the Yandere themed horror stories you had heard throughout the years.

And yet there you were, feeling safer in that instant than you had in years; Because this time you had a plan. He made sure to give you one you could easily follow.

Just like he later made sure to welcome you in with a kind smile and awfully persistent hospitality.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

You should've known better than to accept.

。。。。。

In the present, fingers were now dipping under the elastic of your panties, ghosting across feverish skin and encouraging your whimpers to grow louder.

"Is this what you want, then?" The man's breath tickled one of your ears, rough digits gathering your slickness with practiced ease. And he sounded genuinely concerned too, as if your discomfort was not a consequence of his own machinations. "Because I wanna ease your pain, baby. Give you what you truly need."

He barely even touched you yet you were already struggling not to crumble, the desire governing your mind mixing with the new sensations to create a new delirious kind of torment.

Continuing to tease you, the man was relentless in his torture, barely even brushing over your neediest spots. A gentle press of his palm to stimulate you for a moment before pulling back, much to your shameful frustration; Better than nothing, but not close enough.

In his own way, though, he was urging you to speak up. Expecting you to demand what you truly wanted.

Yet as a retort, all you could come up with was gasping out his name, dripping from your lips like honeyed prayers as your hips fought to buck up against his hand.

A sound you afterward repeated a hundred times over. Chanted until its melody became engraved on your tongue and the man was finally caving in, sliding his fingers inside with a smirk.

He had known you'd end up caving, had planned for it for months now, and yet nothing had prepared him for the actual view.

。。。。。

Shou, actually, had been his username when you first met him. Once upon a time recited with a genuine smile and an eagerness to please, such a far cry from the anguished whines it would later lead up to.

You started frequenting the forum he inhabited a few months back. A place which happened to be a hidden corner of the internet for people who did not just stumble upon it, but actually sought it out. A part of the web where its occupants challenged societal norms and, against what society had tried to condition you all into thinking, chose to voice their taboo Anti-Purge sentiments instead.

Sentiments perhaps born either due to the inherent discriminatory nature of the holiday (why was it that Yanderes were accommodated for, while Darlings barely got a warning before they were made prey?), a need for contrarianism (when opposing open kidnappings, assault and other debauchery became an act of rebellion), or just a tenuous moral high ground which made it unbearable to stomach. Whatever the reason, it was your first time encountering such a density of like-minded peers.

Despite attempting to commit yourself to being a lurker, deciding to never post or reply to others, your days had still quickly become consumed by the need to read each and every topic. You were simply fascinated with this new dark corner of the web.

That was, of course, until the aforementioned Shou became the main focus of your attention, a dash of intriguing brightness to break the monotony of your existence.

And like moths rushing to the flame, your curiosity would be your undoing.

There was something about him that pulled you in (along with many others from the community, which tended to flock on his posts whenever he grazed the forums). His username was clearly just a nickname instead of a carefully crafted pseudonym; profile picture just an image of the back of what you all assumed to be his hair, dual-toned strands catching the light in a hypnotic way.

Truly, his disregard for anonymity within those parts was a bigger statement than you were expecting, almost as commendable as it was dumbfounding. There was the nature of his postings too, never subtle about his inclinations or ideas.

How to disarm and reutilize Purge Traps.

Most effective ways to incapacitate a violent assailant.

Government lies and why they matter.

Faking a BOPC (breach of purge code) and getting away with it.

There was little method to the madness that was his forum activity, besides the hint that he was evidently more knowledgeable about the subject than most. Plus the fact that he was proactive about his advice, actually seeking to teach others to fight back instead of just hide away and hope for the best. For another self-proclaimed Darling, Shou was ruthless with his methods —it was hard not to admire him.

And admire you did, keeping tabs of his sporadic bursts of activity and speeding to try and interact with him whenever you caught him online. You were, to voice it simply, simply star-truck by him (and perhaps becoming a bit of a fangirl).

Because whoever Shou was, it felt like he understood you. And so, against every ounce of your common sense or natural paranoia, you had finally decided to break your golden rule and reach out for the first time since you joined the niche forum.

And not to just leave a vague comment agreeing on public discourse, but to actually send him a private message. In your defense, how were you supposed to know the chains of events your actions would start?

Do you actually believe what you post?, had been your lame conversation starter.

Luckily for you, he did not leave you hanging. You made sure to send the message while he was still active, one of the few days a week you knew he devoted to his presence on the site (and wasn't it slightly creepy, how you had taken the time to learn his schedule by that point?)

I wouldn't be here if I didn't, dry, to the point and leaving you embarrassed to have even sent the first question.

Yet for some reason, something about Shou reverted you back into a middle school kid seeking to impress a way cooler senior.

Perhaps it was what he symbolized (a change for the better), what he appeared to be (everything you wish you were) —whatever it was, your fingers were frantically typing a reply as soon as his appeared on your screen.

I just think it's amazingThe things you know

How you share them with everyone

The way you see through the lies

I just think you're— , your digits hovered over the keyboard as you were about to type out the last sentence before quickly deleting it. Even in your excitement, you knew how obsessed you'd sound if you started complimenting him personally in your very first conversation.

So instead you sent your thoughts on his posts and awaited his answer with bated breath. A few minutes ticked by this time, your anxiety making you count down the seconds in mortified silence, slowly weighted down by your doubts until your notifications for the forum were going off again with a distinct ping.

I've seen your replies around. I think you're great too.

Whatever your hang ups for praising him directly had been, he clearly did not harbor any. As the prongs of nervousness alleviated their hold over your body, you struggled to see any problems with it either…this was a person you had come to idolize, and they thought you were great?

Your smile, while still anxious, was considerable while you quickly responded.

I'm just a n00b. Learning from the pros.

A moment of thought, biting your bottom lip as you decided whether to add a second message or not. Fuck it, you told yourself.

I wasn't even supposed to be posting anything, but you made me wanna reach out.

Was that too forward? Oh god, it was, wasn't it? You must've sounded creepy, must've sounded desperate and…

That's cute. Did my ramblings teach you anything?

An actual squeal left you then, sounding like it came from an altogether different person. You were an adult, with a career and responsibilities… Yet somehow, this stranger online indirectly calling you cute made you more excited than you were comfortable admitting.

Ofc. I didn't even know what a BOPC was before. Didn't know most of the purge traps you mentioned, either.

The spaces between replies were getting smaller, the conversation turning fluent as you both seemed to be staring straight into the screen, waiting for the other to finish typing.

So you really are a n00b then.

Shit, did you fail some sort of forum etiquette by admitting that? Somehow, the need to impress Shou was more palpable than ever.

And you clearly know your stuff. Makes me wanna up my game.

Be more like you, you left unsaid.

So am I your senpai then?

Your fingers froze just above the keyboards, eyes scanning over Shou's last message and reverted back to staring at his profile pic for a solid minute. You would've squealed again, if you weren't so taken aback.

You make it sound like I am, his second message lit up your screen, coming in quickly after your rare pause in replies.

I don't think that's bad, though. Third message from him, and you were close to fainting now.

Then in that case I suppose you are. You wondered whether Shou wouldn't think you were pathetic admitting that, or whether he had been honest by saying he didn't mind...

I've also noticed you agreeing with some of my more polarizing views.

A welcomed change in topics.

You thought to ask him which ones (most of his posts tended to have a polarizing effect, with people finding him either too radicalized or not radicalized enough), but before you could formulate the question you saw the twinkling circles symbolizing he was typing up another sentence.

Do you actually believe them? And now it was his turn to spit your words back at you.

Well, yah. You make compelling arguments.

Color me impressed then, the start of his new retort left your mind spinning. Never met a n00b like you before.

After his declaration, you found yourself writing and rewriting your answer, hesitating on your word choice, and yet pure elation coursed through your veins.

He said he's impressed with me, your brain kept supplying on loop. You had no way of knowing just how much of a lasting impression you were leaving.

I don't wanna stay one tho. I'd like to jump a few levels. Improve.

Barely a moment's notice before his last message provoked a noticeable hitch in your breath.

I can help you with that.

Which, as short of a reply as it was, left you giddier than would’ve been healthier to admit.

Perhaps it could be chalked up to your work shifts growing more monotonous and tiresome, your social life becoming a faint echo of what it used to be, or just the regular wear and tear from a too-plain existence —a routine where you didn’t tend to engage with life, but just passively watched it go by.

Whatever the true reason was, that night you went to sleep with such a wide grin that the apples of your cheeks had started to hurt from the exertion, infinitely excited after getting to talk firsthand with someone you had already come to admire by that point.

It almost made you self-conscious, knowing just how much it all meant to you, how such a small gesture on his part happened to mean the world to you.

But there was really no reason to feel ashamed or overzealous over your own reaction. If you could’ve seen Shou, you would’ve known you weren’t the only one smiling.

。。。。。

Almost as open of a smile as the one adorning his features right now, currently hidden from your view as his fingers set a maddening pace. Tortuously slow at first until his knuckles started brushing against your opening with each thrust.

All you could hear now were the wet sounds of your arousal facilitating his movements, motions whose only purpose seemed to be to drive you more rambling and disoriented by the second.

"Is this what you want? What you need, perhaps?" His usually calm voice was uncharacteristically affected as he gasped against your ear, the torture he was making you endure clearly getting to him as well.

You were much too preoccupied with the waves of pleasure and warmth overflowing your body to give a proper response, but your lack of one did not deter him.

If anything, your needy gasps and whines were the only encouragement he required.

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll take care of you, make you feel good."

By that point, the hand that had been petting your hair had found its way to your sopping heat too, calloused pads circling around your pearl while the man continued feeding you his eager promises.

"I get you, baby. Just like you get me." So close, your entire body taut and ready to snap. "And you want me to take care of you too, right?"

You weren't conscious enough to understand the implications, your impaired judgment prohibiting you from reading further into the meaning of his words. He sounded so encouraging, so deceivingly tender despite stuffing you full of his fingers as you squirmed on his lap.

All you could do was nod furiously.

And later on, when your senses sadly returned, dedicated yourself to lamenting over which of your actions brought you down this unfortunate path.

。。。。。

Perhaps, your consciousness supplied, it had been the fact that you opened up so readily. That you had dared to share with a supposed new friend, things that should’ve better stayed hidden in the first place.

But goddamn it, you felt downright honored that he even considered you worthy enough to entertain in the first place. From the very first second, Shouto already had the upper hand.

During the first few conversations, the topics you two discussed were all closely related to the purge and your mutual hang ups with it. Concise and carefully typed out messages were exchanged, discussing opinions you had never expected anyone to be interested in hearing—not from you, at least.

But then, as the weeks slowly progressed, the subjects of conversation began shifting to both of your lives, to your occupations, hobbies, and, directly against the forum's policy for privacy, the people you two were outside the confines of your online corner.

Even without actually exchanging any real data or supplying him with your name or age, you found yourself starting to open up more and more with each day.

You told him about your grueling office job, the friends you hadn’t seen or texted in weeks, and the reality of an apartment which more closely resembled a containment cell than a home…

Revelations that you had kept hidden for so long, which now came pouring out without regard for how mortified they made you feel. You were conscious of the limits blurring between you two the further you kept going, of how you were telling him things best left unsaid, cramped and buried in a hard to reach place.

And yet, for some obscure reason, everything Shou represented made it impossible for you to resist the temptation to speak up, to demand to be heard for the first time in an eternity of quietness.

You’re pathetic, is what you expected him to say in return. Pathetic, weak, meager, and worthless. Anticipating him, somehow, to echo all the doubts and deeply held fears you carried inside.

Most of my friends don’t understand either, was instead the response you received. But most people don’t see what's wrong, what needs to be changed. You feel lonely because you do.

It wasn’t clear what you would’ve wanted to hear beforehand, the things you had fantasized someone would reply if you ever gathered the courage to share your anxieties. Whatever those expectations had been an eternity ago, they now vastly paled when compared to what your new friend was dangling in front of you.

It felt like he was giving an excuse for things you had always perceived as personal failings. If what he said was true, it would mean it wasn’t your social ineptitude that kept people away, your uselessness, or uninteresting personality.

It would mean the shadows around you could still be dispelled somehow, exorcising the silhouettes of a suffering that had become a regular companion in your day to day life.

Brandishing a courage that only anonymity could give you, your fingers were a blur on your keyboard as you tried to ignore the rapid heartbeat in your chest, the fear, and exhilaration from opening up for the first time in forever.

Something you would later regret a thousand times over.

And you do too, and it wasn’t a question, a nervous comment or a stuttered retort. With the aid of the text format, you could look as confident as you knew you weren’t. You understand as well.

You understand me, was the tacit meaning behind it. The prickling of unshed tears made it so you were furiously blinking, fighting against the downpour despite your eyes refusing to leave the screen for longer than an instant.

I do. More than you realize.

For all intents and purposes, your first mistake was indeed opening up.

And your second one was being naive enough to let him in. Seriously, why hadn’t you heeded your parent’s advice about stranger danger?

。。。。。

...If they could only see you now, coming apart at the seams and with the name of your tormentor being the only word you were able to string together.

"Such a beauty, and all for me," his praises accompanied you through the rough orgasm ripping through your body, lips kissing your forehead in stark contrast to the digits still pumping inside your heat. "Let me hear your voice, baby. Let me hear how beautiful my name sounds on your lips."

And you obeyed, because what other choice did you have. Mindless, broken, and oh, so needy.

You continued to audibly moan as your climax unwound, crying out his name in absolute reverence while Shouto's smile deepened against your skin. The chill of his touch was still as soothing as ever, calming down the embers of a lust that refused to completely die down.

When he finally pulled his hands from your core, you felt excruciatingly empty. But you were not given enough time to wallow in your despair, because who you once considered your friend was then grasping your face gently between his hands, leading your gaze to meet his—forcing you to witness the intensity and adoration present there.

"My Y/N."

Even in your deeply intoxicated state, the last few dredges of your senses supplied just how utterly abhorrent the situation was.

The sirens signaling the start of the Purge had died down a while ago, drowned out by your own cries of pleasure, but you could still see the remnants of the government logo still plastered all over the TV, its bright glow bathing you both in an eerily scarlet ambiance.

From the same weak place of coherence, a shiver of fear managed to break through your stupor.

"You're going to continue to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

When he kissed you then, slow and almost ironically hesitant despite what had just transpired moments before, you couldn't begin to tell your body to refuse. Much to your own horror, you were soon eagerly kissing your tormentor back.

。。。。。

The second mistake leading up to your downfall, on the other hand, took a little longer to occur. It was after a few more weeks of conversation. You vented and talked way too much, while Shou listened intently and even rewarded you with a few crumbs of advice of his own.

So wrapped up in your new seemingly innocuous friendship you were in, you failed to recognize the magnitude of an event that should've sent you scrambling to shut off your monitor. A warning so loud it would've put the Purge sirens themselves to shame.

You see, with Shou's help, you were slowly becoming more of an active user around those parts. You didn't just stick to replying to his posts or lurking until he shot you a private message anymore; no, you were now officially a contributor, deciding to step out of your anonymity to share what you thought was a fairly interesting article. It was a rather long-winded thinkpiece on the morality of Darlings’ treatment after the Purge had ended—the reality of that year spent in captivity that most people tended to just brush under the carpet, all in the name of making the entire ordeal more palatable to digest.

In all your eagerness, however, you had failed to realize a very crucial detail, which was that the article was a whole two days old. Already an ancient text by forum's standards, apparently.

So with that in mind, of course you should've expected the hate, an outpouring of bitterness fit for a community of loners and acidic underdogs. You were on an anonymous forum on one of the darkest parts of the internet, somewhere most sane people actively stayed away from—Clearly, a rookie unwittingly reposting something was the perfect target for a lot of your bitter comrades. An excuse to finally take out all of their pent up frustration.

Fuck1ng pleb, thanks for copy-pasting the same post for the 55th time.

This is why we shouldn't let newbies post. Look at this mess @mods.

Time to hang it up, n00b. And by “it”, I mean your f****** neck.

i bet ur a girl, [Username]. u type like a b1tch.

And the icing on the cake for internet interactions, a myriad of wall spamming "KYS" being plastered all across the comment section, bold and daunting as they filled your notification box with the repetitions of hate. If you weren't so sure of your safety behind your screen, perhaps you would've felt intimidated.

As it stood, you were just embarrassed, mortified at the fact that you had seemingly botched your only attempt at leaving a positive first impression. If anything, it only seemed you had given everyone a common enemy to pick on for once...

Or that was, at least, until Shou happened to log in at exactly that precise moment. You knew he was usually busy around that day and time (he never actually told you whether he had a job, but you had surmised as much from your past chats), so his instantly recognizable profile picture and username popping up had you genuinely gasping at first. It was one hell of a coincidence, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at what looked to be your savior.

Everyone, stop getting your panties in a twist. This is why no new users end up staying, the environment is abhorrent.

It was vague enough not to betray the fact that you two weren’t just strangers anymore, as well as keeping Shou’s reputation as a lone wolf from completely shattering.

And a comment which, surprisingly, instantly dulled most of the incoming messages your post was being flooded with.

People respected him there, his status as a renowned user giving him a genuine sort of power and hold over the rest of the community. One of the first things you had recognized on the forums was the distinct hierarchical structures amongst its users, and there Shou might’ve as well be granted the title of mayor for all the weight his every sentence carried.

Or at least they did with the majority of the community. As in every place where large numbers of people gathered, there were always a few rotten apples just begging to be tossed.

and ofc ur whiteknighting for her, Shou The Great. shes sucking ur dick under evry single post u make

You cringed, studying the bitter user that had decided to be a contrarian and easily recognizing him from unsavory past encounters you witnessed. Although, if you were completely honest, this time you couldn't exactly say his words didn't carry a certain degree of validity.

Shou had told you he was glad that was the case with you, that his post resonating with anyone was one of the main reasons why he hadn't just disappeared from the site completely. But in reality, saying you weren't subtle about your agreement with his ideas would be an understatement.

You were like a puppy skipping behind him, trailing his interactions and always ready to write an eager comment backing him up. Yet you had never thought others actually paid attention to your mostly one-sided interactions, the occasional meager downvote or emote being the only thing that made you aware your comments weren’t just lost in the sea of spam Shou’s posts were usually showered in.

For the longest time, your support had just felt like leaving letters for the man to find. Letters you hadn’t even been sure had reached their target until a few weeks back...

Suddenly, the sharp sound of Shou's incoming reply drove you from your tribulations.

Well, maybe if you weren't such a crude man you wouldn't be permabanned from starting topics yourself. Although I doubt anyone would be sucking your dick either way, shitty ideology considered. [Image attached]

A grimace was quick to grow on your face as you aptly studied the picture Shou decided to close his reply with.

It was a screenshot of what looked to be someone's post history, a rather extensive list with alarmingly offensive titles such as "Why male darlings should be spared", "The purge is a form of cuckoldry" and “Feminist agenda: female yanderes and their biological advantage [Repost]". Almost all of them exhibited a tragic downvote ratio right as well, besides the red symbol signaling the posts had been archived by senior users or mods.

For someone who also loathed the terrible holiday, it was almost admirable how the man managed to be almost as detestable as the criminals you all rallied against.

But even so, what disturbed you the most wasn't the clear bigotry of the user, but the fact that that screenshot couldn't have been taken from public records. A user's post history was hidden, just another measure on the site’s part to keep people from recognizing too many details about each other and possibly endangering themselves.

No, it could only have been taken from inside the account. And judging from the other guy's quick reaction, you weren't the only one who came to that realization.

how the fck did u get that

I knew u were friends with the mods. fcking rats

By that point, everyone else had stopped clogging the comments and, you assumed, instead opted to settle down and attentively observe the events transpiring. Apart from the emote reactions and the rapidly rising number of upvotes on Shou’s comments, you had all become a passive audience to the public ridicule.

Although you couldn’t help feeling slightly disjointed by Shou’s behavior. Below your wicked sense of pride at having him defend you, there was still the whispers of your gut telling you the man was going a little too far, his actions spelling a more sinister meaning than just “having a friend’s back”.

You've been here for years, Minoru. Surprised you haven't yet noticed how much of a pest everyone sees you as.

Minoru? You did a double-take, going back to read the username of the guy Shou was arguing with. But he just had a randomly generated number as a pseudonym, same as you and most others, and with just a picture of some anime sneezing girl to distinguish his profile from the rest. No trails or signs of what could Shouto be referencing to.

Nothing but an option you preferred not to consider. But it couldn't be, could it? your friend wouldn’t...

fucking delete that right now, man.

this isn't a joke, DELETE THAT.

Only that the abrasive and desperate reaction told you everything you needed to know. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, shock mixing with equal parts horror and amazement you couldn’t even begin to try and disentangle. Because right that second, you were witnessing your friend breaking the forum’s number one rule with a front-row seat to the spectacle.

And he was doing it all in your name.

Then maybe think twice before you go out of your way to harass newbies. Or have you had too much time on your hands after being fired, is that it?

It was vague enough not to represent any kind of threat... if not for the context of the site. And yet you all knew the hidden message behind it, the warning for whoever Minoru was to understand Shou knew much more than what he was letting on. That he could expose much more than he was currently alluding to.

y are u even doing this, shou? y do u care wtf happens to this noobslut anyways?

Shou's reply took barely a moment to appear, lighting up your screen and, despite the slightly morbid nature of his protection, coaxing out a smile to adorn your lips. It was like a balm being applied to your worries, quieting down most of your incipient concerns in favor of rejoicing.

They're a friend.

For fuck’s sake, you even screenshotted that for posterity. Somehow, him acknowledging the new bond you two had openly felt like a milestone.

When a mod came in to archive the post and give everyone involved a stern warning later on, you were already way past your previous doubtful sentiments.

Instead, the last thing you did before going to sleep that day was to open up your private conversation with Shou and send a quick yet heartfelt message of gratitude his way.

Months prior, you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be thanking anyone for semi doxxing another human being. How rapidly things were changing, though, and all while you got lost in the thrill of mattering.

Thanks for sticking up for me. It meant a lot, you typed feeling slightly lightheaded, drunk on the idea that anyone would think you worthy of having your back.

You thought Shou went offline after dishing out his not so thinly veiled threats, but somehow he was back again in an instant, the sound of notifications going off shaking any remnants of your exhaustion.

Anything for you, [Y/N].

You were so tired, it didn't occur to you that you hadn't yet shared your real name with your friend either.

That night, for once, you fell asleep with a twinkle in your eye and the image of Shou's multicolored locks dancing against your eyelids. Imagining, ever so briefly, your fingers trailing down the back of a neck you now had memorized from analyzing his profile picture.

And, while you slept with your phone clutched to your side, you also failed to notice the peculiar sound of your own camera going off, the soft glow from the red light beside your lense bathing your features in its subtle illumination, flickering against your eyelashes and the lingering grin on your curved lips.

You truly looked angelic like that.

Suffice it to say, Minoru never bothered you again after that day. In fact, his name disappeared from the site not too soon after.

。。。。。

But now, to continue the grueling task of giving a context for your inevitable end, it is necessary to jump a month further into the future, barely a week from the excruciating present.

Because it was then that the last strike finished nailing the coffin of your proverbial undoing, burying you under the weight of your own ignorance.

You got your notice in the mail on the Day of Announcements, an inconspicuous letter lacking any further distinction beyond a scarlet government seal emblazoned across its front. But even before you opened and read the message, you already knew of its contents—easily recognizing the image before you from several of the varied posts you had seen floating around on the forums lately.

Purge Notice!!! Help needed Urgently.

Just got my letter. Do I stay hidden or fight back? [Open poll]

Third time getting mine. AMA about my methods.

The range of how you had seen other users reacting to their own selections was diverse, with some of them being more experienced while others, such as you, had just gotten their first letter ever. If things played out differently for you, then you were sure you would've been another one of the numerous panicked voices, awkwardly trying to maneuver their way out of their new situation.

And maybe, then, your odds wouldn't have been so completely fucked from the start.

As it stood, as soon as you laid eyes on the notice, the first thing you thought of was how quickly you could boot up your computer and open the forum’s private messages. Because, for the first time in forever, you were overwhelmed by the feeling of someone else being there for you.

Shou was your friend, had earned that spot fair and square after months of listening to you venting and sharing deep discussions; faster than you could even realize it, and so it was only natural for you to seek his help once the news of your selection for the new yearly Purge reached you.

He had even threatened another user for your sake, for fuck’s sake. So, really, what harm could come out of relying on someone you were sure was trustworthy?

Maybe it was too late by that point for you to snap out of it, but it was almost amusing seeing you being so easily deceived.

Just another reason why you needed him, certainly.

。。。。。

Already told you I'd have your back, had been his immediate reply barely an instant after you attached a candid photo of your hand holding up the envelope. Whatever you need, I’m here.

His lack of hesitation was palpable through your screen, heart hammering in your chest as you were faced with a kindness you had thought yourself undeserving of not long ago.

As soon as you closed your mailbox, you had immediately raced to send him the message, completely foregoing telling any of your other friends or family members when you doubted they would even understand you in the first place. Shou had been right when he told you people just didn’t want to see the truth, even if it slapped them right in the face, leaving dark imprints in the shape of their narrow mindedness.

But he was there, he was letting you know as much, in his own words. And for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months, you felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Forums in the first place, to have traced whatever fortunate path had led you to find him—the one person able to distinguish you in a world you always thought you blended straight into.

Thank you, Shou, for everything. And at that moment, you really had been truthful, so much so that there were tears prickling at your eyes, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude drowning you with its intensity.

Indeed, your final mistake had been your desperate need for acceptance. A need that had, in the end, cost you everything.

You can call me Shouto now. No use for nicknames anymore.

Amidst the chaos of your life possibly crashing down all around you, somehow his revelation put a trembling smile back in your face.

Then allow me to repeat: thank you, Shouto.

Np, Newbie. Told you I'd help you level up, didn't I?

His teasing managed to garner a small stuttering laugh out of you despite the dreadfulness of your situation.

But you couldn’t help it. Somehow, every reply Shouto sent you only served to wrap the illusion of safety tighter around you. So tight in fact, that you should’ve started worrying about suffocating.

。。。。。

On the other side of the screen, the man with the multicolored hair couldn’t help but keep staring at the picture you had sent him earlier.

He was transfixed, eyes almost unblinking as they refused to separate from the image. The way your fingers tentatively held the letter up for the picture was simply adorable to him. Beautifully naive.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen your face before, like he hadn't already memorized the texture of your skin and the everlasting trace of a frown always threatening to dampen your mood. He read your expressions like poetry, every mole and scar furthering the securing of his interest.

But this was the first picture you had actually chosen to send him out of your own volition, the final symbol of a trust he had worked so tirelessly to earn. Used to catching prey as he was, the man wasn’t entirely sure when you had turned from a game into a priority, from a priority into the only thing he could even make himself care for.

And it didn’t help that it was his letter you were holding, too. His formal declaration of pursuit.

With time, Shouto was sure you would find it in yourself to appreciate the beauty of such irony.

But, for now, what he really needed to do was buy some tea. Couldn’t have your own stubbornness ruining your first encounter, could he?

。。。。。

In the coming weeks, your friend aided you and even coached you as you jointly planned for the horrific holiday, not only suggesting ideas but tracing the safety measures needed for them to succeed. You really had no reason to doubt him by that point.

That evening, after you finished letting Shouto know you were back from work, you made sure to pack all of your supplies into an inconspicuous bag you had acquired for the occasion. Whoever your Yandere was, it was best to not give any hints of your new acquisitions, just in case they were already stalking your movements.

Shouto had helped you devise the list, mentoring you in your selection of weapons as well as self-defense arsenal—what brands of pepper spray to get, which ammunitions were most efficient and reliable, even what kind of clothing was the least troublesome if the need to escape ever arose. If you had been sure he knew his craft before, now you were surprised at just how vast his wisdom genuinely was.

After the last few finishing touches of preparations, you were already on your way to the direction you had both agreed on (supplied by him, approved by you). There were several hours until the start of the Purge still, but the adrenaline swimming through your bloodstream was already considerable.

Shouto had suggested you visited him for the Holiday, quoting how the measures in place for his home made it nothing short of a fortified vault, impossible for any outsiders to break into (and for anyone to break out of, but let's not get ahead of ourselves).

With that in mind, how could you have refused his offer? Your place was barely an excuse for an apartment, windows that didn't entirely close, and feeble doors that could be easily broken into. Even if you weren't partly driven by the curiosity of meeting your new internet idol turned friend, it would've been foolish to decline.

So in a few hours, you were sporting a nervous smile on your face as you parked your car in front of the largest apartment complex you had ever encountered. It was luxurious in a way you had only seen staring back at you from a television screen, marble, and gold accents giving you the impression you were about to step into a drama set instead of visiting an online friend.

Before the surrealism of the entire situation could begin to set in, however, you noticed the young man sitting on the ample stairs of the building. He had an air of effortless elegance, tall and lithe, yet sporting a black turtleneck which hugged his frame and made it clear just how much sheer strength hid behind his movements.

And he also sported the same peculiarly colored locks you had already memorized from the last few months, the light softly reflecting on them proving to be an even more impressive show when admired live.

You were dazzled for an instant, wondering if, somehow, this entire thing was a prank and the Shou from the forums had just schemed his way into making a fool out of you in front of a handsome stranger. Way too convoluted, yet entirely too plausible to your bewildered self.

Until the man lifted his eyes—as beautifully dual-toned as his hair, and catching sight of you standing just beside your recently parked vehicle.

"Y/N," he was sharply climbing to his feet as he called out your name, the shy hint of a smile in his lip contradicting the monotone cadence of his tone. "Good to finally meet you."

You had first been under the impression that the Shou you knew was cold, the way he interacted with others on the site reminding you of an emotionless robot at times, but the man addressing you seemed like he was ripped straight out of a stereotypical rom-com.

Maybe he'd be the aloof, tormented heir? Which, in your fantasy drama land, would make you the nearly illiterate and poor love interest. Your feelings of inadequacy only grew at the comparison.

Almost cute, how that had been one of your greatest worries once upon a time. How foolishly eager you were to be liked back then.

"Shouto." The name still felt somewhat strange on your lips, even after he had insisted you started calling him that. "It's good to meet you, too."

He was by your side in an instant, taking your bags from you swiftly and shutting the door to your ride. From this up close, it became considerably harder to disguise your staring.

Even the scar which covered his left eye, a splash of reddish textured skin, somehow came across like yet another enhancer of his appeal. An underlying harshness which you couldn't help but be intrigued by.

"Your hair looks even better in person."

And leave it to you to once again find a way to screw first impressions. You were chastising yourself a mere second after the words left your mouth.

But Shouto only sent you that same hint of a smirk your way, his eyes appearing genuinely pleased at your praise. If he thought you were a weirdo and was regretting ever inviting you to his house, then he was a good enough actor for you to be fooled.

And fooled you he did, but with completely different intentions.

"You look just like in your pictures," came his serene retort not long after.

Which you assumed was a joke, keeping in mind that the only photo you had ever sent his way had been of the Purge letter you received a few days ago.

Laughing lightly, you tried to ignore the nerves tugging at your chest before catching up with him on the steps of the building.

As you giddily barged straight into the open jaws of the beast, it once again struck Shouto how utterly unsuspecting you were. How you trusted him so wholeheartedly.

He couldn't wait to see it all come crashing down.

。。。。。

Inside his honest to god penthouse, your previous feeling of insufficiency only became more severe.

The interiors were decorated sparingly, albeit fashionably. Filled with different muted shades and being unexpectedly traditional in the way they were designed. It was a stunning abode, even if you couldn't help but mentally point out how utterly unlived in it appeared.

There was not a single cup, shoe, or book out of place, everything perfectly polished and organized to the point that you felt hesitance as your sock-covered feet continued making their way through the place.

"Make yourself at home," Shouto told you most matter-of-factly. If you weren't so sure of his intentions by now, perhaps you would've thought he was being sarcastic.

Without any of your belongings to distract yourself with, you instead gravitated towards what you could see of the kitchen through one of the sliding doors.

It was very modern despite the rest of the aesthetic the penthouse sported, shiny stainless steel and spotless dark countertops. It should've looked out of place when paired with the carpeted floors, wooden furniture, and sparse pieces of classical Japanese art…

Yet somehow, it strangely fits. Just like his owner, you supposed, thinking back to the oddities that amounted to his unique brand of appeal.

And you really needed to stop thinking of your friend like that.

When you heard the door to the apartment being audibly locked with a resounding click, you instantly stopped your fingers grazing the smooth countertops. Your instincts flared up with worry for a moment, right before you forcefully willed yourself to calm down.

After reminding yourself of the true reason why you were there, the exhale you released next was one of clear relief.

"Want something to drink?" Shouto appeared in your line of sight again, hands buried in the pockets of his pants and looking like the picture of composure.

You felt embarrassed once again, knowing he had given you a free pass to roam but still somewhat self-conscious about intruding on his space.

"You don't need to make me anything. I'm fine." Your timbre was apologetic, not used to slipping into the role of a guest just yet.

He seemed strangely dissatisfied with your answer, closing some of the distance between you with a presence that had you almost flinching back for a second.

There was an intensity in his gaze, something which you could not quite yet place.

"But I want to be a good host. So let me." He appeared very serious about it, too, with his face growing stern as his peculiar eyes bore into yours.

Not wanting to cause further distress, you imagined relenting would be the best course of action.

It was like you were molded to be the perfect Darling, so wonderfully meek and gullible.

"Okay then. Water is fine."

Yet Shouto shook his head, still somewhat dissatisfied with your answer.

"Tea it is." His phrasing allowed little space for argument. "I know you mentioned liking a few brands before, so I took the liberty of stocking up on them."

A surprising burst of laughter broke through your anxious feelings then, drawing Shouto's eyes again from the particular cabinet they had drifted to as he mentioned the beverages.

He looked at you puzzled, an unasked question written all over his otherwise blank expression, and so you decided to reply from the surge of unexpected amusement you were experiencing.

"It's only a night, Shou," you didn't even realize you had slipped back into his nickname, too entertained by how much he had apparently overdone his hospitality. "There really wasn't any need for you to go buy my favorite teas."

His eyes blinked quite slowly your way, his expression back to his vacant mask before a smile reappeared.

"I wanted you to feel welcomed," he supplied as he approached the cabinet he was eyeing before, dedicating himself to searching for whatever kind of flavor of tea he had in mind.

In response, you just shrugged your shoulders with another chuckle.

"And I didn't get you anything. You're making me feel even more out of place."

"Nonsense," he cut you off in that deadpan way of his, hands rummaging through the most ridiculously vast tea collection you had ever seen. And then he added, decidedly quieter, "today is supposed to be about you, after all."

Too bad you didn't pick up on it.

When he ushered you back to the salon with barely a wave next, pointing at one of the cushions arranged around the short-legged table, you decided to follow his suggestion and wait there while he finished brewing the drinks. By now, you understood the futility of offering any kind of help when he was still so intent on properly welcoming you.

So, curious as you were, your eyes continued to inspect each and every inch of the apartment, drinking up all the pieces of info you could observe, that you didn't even think of the potential dangers of letting a stranger fix you a cup while you weren't looking.

Unbeknownst to the other, you were both actively counting down the seconds until the Purge started, minds lost to your own inner turmoils from opposite sides of the suite.

And for entirely different reasons, you were both filled with anticipation.

。。。。。

Meanwhile, finally back in the present after retracing the steps that guided you there, it was becoming increasingly hard to compartmentalize the chaos brewing inside you.

Shouto’s lips were the personification of hunger against yours, an inescapable gluttony to mark and consume every single inch of you he could encompass.

After a hint of understanding returned to your body post-orgasm, your vision and the sensations you endured were becoming disturbingly vivid. It was impossible to conceive anything beyond his hands ridding you of your flimsy camisole, palms cold in comparison to the heat you felt, splaying against your sides and slowly making their way up the sensitive mounds of your chest.

“All mine, baby.” You barely registered his teeth nipping at your bottom lip until a shock of pain snapped you out of your trance.

He bit you, and quite harshly too, but when you tried to instinctually pull back his response was to hold you even tighter. Before you could attempt to voice your complaints, his tongue was darting out to clean up the droplets of blood he spilled.

“Out of all the Darlings I’ve played with, you’re the only one I’ve ever even considered keeping, you know?”

And now that had you freezing, even amidst the cloud of desire still muddling your cognizance. His arms pressed you closer still, forcing you to bury your face against his chest, completely unphased by the bloody mess your mouth had morphed into.

Had he tricked others before then? Was that the reason why he was even on the Forums in the first place?

You wanted to ask him what he meant, wanted to demand explanations for a phrase that had dread closing around your neck like a noose. But whatever he slipped into your drink to keep you so awfully responsive and pliable, also appeared to make forming any complex sentences incredibly hard…

Shou, ever the receptive one, caught onto your change in demeanor rather aptly. His face nuzzled your hair softly, humming a calming melody as if you were a scared child who could be so easily reassured. Meanwhile, his hands hadn’t abandoned your breasts, still tenderly kneading them with a touch bordering on worship.

“But I’m glad you weren’t my first, baby. Means I could be all ready for when we met.” He rocked you both as he rested his back further on the sofa, opening his legs wider below you and forcing you to settle closer to his clothed groin with a whimper.

Your arms reached out to grasp his shoulders while you tried to stabilize yourself, the strain of his erection resting snuggly against your still sensitive slit.

"Helped me to know when to pull back," he kept confessing, purposefully thrusting into you while he kept lovingly massaging your chest, fingers twisting your hardened peaks to coax a new kind of mewl to be uttered against his skin. "Wouldn't want you to break now that I've finally found you."

The fact that your bodies seemed to fit so perfectly, even in your impaired state, was not an irony lost on you.

Abruptly, Shouto stopped fondling your breasts in order to maneuver your face again, both of your stares meeting in a vehement standoff before he continued.

“I’ll make this as close to perfection as I can, I promise you.” And you got a direct view of the vulnerability in his uniquely colored eyes, the nature of his words clearly heartfelt despite the atrocities they alluded to.

As you heard him drag his zipper down, the hand clutching your jaw trembling in anticipation, you couldn’t help the new wave of warmth spreading through your body, negating all the fear and anxiousness warring inside you in order to shamefully expose your baser desires.

Now that whatever had been clouding your judgment was pulling back slightly, your thought process had begun to snap back into place, overflowing you with a terrible sense of shame at your own reactions.

He gave you something earlier with your drink, you were sure of it, and yet you couldn’t help but still be horrified at just how much you were enjoying it. Once you felt the flushed head of his cock placidly rubbing against your thigh, the sounds leaving your mouth weren’t ones of complaint, peril or dissent.

Quite the contrary, actually, and it only made Shouto grow bolder.

As the hand clutching your face grew tenser, gripping you with force before tugging harshly, you got the hint. Now painfully following his lead, it wasn't long before the previous pressure against your legs was now resting directly against your cunt.

The pre-cum already gathered on him mixed in with your still oozing arousal, smearing the span of your outer lips as he lightly teased you one last time.

You were so mortified by that point, that if he had offered to end your embarrassment right then and there with one of the several weapons you knew he kept, you would’ve been very inclined to accept.

“... I didn’t even think there was such a thing as 'The One' before, actually.” You hadn’t even realized the man was still talking, ardent whispers getting lost on the intensity of the situation.

His eyes were searching your face, a satisfied twinkle lighting them up as soon as you returned his stare of your very own volition. Perturbed, you wondered if his delusion made him see anything beyond a twisted mix of lust and fear reflected back at him.

“But I now know just how wrong I was, Y/N.” So sure of himself, tone back to the stern cadence you previously associated with him for a moment, gripped by a gravity befitting of his obsession. “Indeed, I think you were always meant to be my darling… don't you agree?”

To your credit, you did struggle to speak up, to gain back the control over a body which had stopped listening long ago. Too bad you only managed a single pitiful word out.

“Shouto…”

But before you could even fathom attempting a better response, he was breaching into you, sheathing himself with an ease you wished you could overlook, turning your voice from an anguished plea into outrageously labored moans.

You had once thought Shou had been interested in you because he somehow perceived you as anything but pathetic, but you were beginning to think it had been your weakness which drew him in all along.

So deliciously frail, that even a predator like him had been driven with an urgent need to protect you. To break you down, just so he could be the one to build you back together.

As he started fucking you with shallow thrusts, hips bucking up from the sofa while he tenderly guided you until your body was mimicked his motion on its own, you couldn’t help but be the most disturbed at his oddly affectionate ways.

As awful as it sounded, now that your mind had awakened from its stupor all you wanted was for him to bend you over and abuse you, manhandle you and mistreat you in a way which unequivocally screamed assault. You wanted bruises painting your skin, proof that you hadn’t just willingly given up and facilitated your own ruin.

He was humiliating you despite the pretty words he decided to disguise it as—showing you how easily he could own you and even make you enjoy it, drug-addled drink or not.

But as his mouth latched around one of your hardened nipples, sucking generously until his name was once again fast on your tongue, you also couldn’t deny the crystal clear responses you were giving.

You could attempt to lie to yourself later, could swear it was all a delusion born out of the deranged man's mind, but the particular brand of your screams was unmistakable.

When your own hand reached down to facilitate your release, you knew you were already acting beyond what you could've previously attributed to the drugs. Toying with your bundle of nerves, you rested your forehead against Shouto's shoulders, tears from the pleasure mixing in with the subjacent agony of your guilt.

Why did it have to feel so good? And how far did the drugs truly affect you? Or had they just peeled back your inhibitions perhaps, baring you until all you had were dark desires and no self-control to contain them.

You still tasted blood inside your mouth when your walls started clenching around his cock, the coppery flavor entirely too vivid on your tongue. Hearing his own choked groans gasping against your chest, you felt his mouth abandoning your bud with a pop before his kisses were trailing a path back up—eager in their search of your face, your lips.

You were still cumming by the time a lascivious kiss connected you two again, unwinding in his grasp until his hands were the only thing keeping you whole.

“Even if I wasn't taught how,” he began promising while his rhythm grew frantic, barely resisting the allure of your core fluttering around him. “I promise I’ll love you, Y/N. Love you so good, you won’t ever want to leave when the next Purge comes.” He was getting increasingly excited by his own words, imagining a future where you did not need the aid of a little cup of tea to eagerly kiss back. “I’ll fuck you every day, fill you up and show you just how much I care. How much you matter.”

Faced with his degenerate promises, all you could do was gasp out his name one last time, perhaps seeking to express your reticence, perhaps oddly excited by the image he was painting.

You indulged him in the pitiful sound of your whimpers molding around its syllables, and it wasn’t long before you were coaxing him to join you with an orgasm of his own.

He actually came inside, you recognized inwardly after the aftershocks of enjoyment now quieted down to a lull, a new type of dread quickly following the realization. His cum was still shooting in hot ropes, stuffing you to the brim with the intent and purpose of a man bent on marking you, owning you.

But Shouto was so loving as he kissed you time and time again, painfully reminding you of just how nice he could be for you, how gentle and attentive. It made the lines between your tormentor and a traditional lover blur even further, the confusion clouding your sense not merely born out of narcotics any longer.

You had been so preoccupied with a monster outside your house once. A creature ripped from the kind of movies that were ripe with cheap scares and considerably cheaper thrills.

But monsters never were like that in real life, were they? As the man continued to cradle you in his arms like the most vulnerable of creatures, you were suddenly struck by how glaringly obvious things should’ve been from the beginning.

Because your Yandere’s obsession had not come with claws and a row of sharp teeth. No, it came instead with a suit of deception to hug its frame, the bait of acceptance, and the promise of a reliable ear to comfortably listen. It arrived with whispers that assured you that you were not alone, that it was not you who was flawed, but the world for not welcoming you.

It dangled everything your little heart desired, so by the time you were reaching out, you were simply too distracted to notice the dangers of the abyss you were throwing yourself at.

Luckily for you, Shouto had made such a void his home. And for however long it took you to consider the darkness as your own, his was a kind of hospitality that no amount of your struggles could ever hope to wear down.

And if the worst came to pass, if you kept stubbornly refusing and fighting despite your odds? Well…

He could always brew you another cup of tea.

-------

Well, I can finally rest now 💀

This monster of a one-shot took me a lot longer than expected, so I ended up being a lil later to the collab that I would’ve liked. Either way, I’d really appreciate hearing any feedback or opinions on either the fic or art (or both?)... I swear that’s what keeps me motivated ;___;

So fr, thanks to everyone who takes the time to let me know your takes! y’all are the bests of the best 🖤 And speaking of bests of best, special thanks and gratitude to the actual angels who helped and gave me feedback for both the art and/or fic @reinawritesbnha , @drxwsyni, @wootato, @snappysnapo and @coyambition. Don’t catch me seeing y’all drop your crowns bc it’s on sight 😠 👑

#bnha fanart #todoroki #yandere todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha imagines #bnha #mha fanart #bnha x reader #todoroki fanart #todoroki smut #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime fanart #bnha smut #bnha art #artists on tumblr #just art tingz

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coffeeandritalin · 3 years

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Thoughts on The Song of Achilles

I just read The Song of Achilles, and while I have book club tomorrow to gush over this book, I think the level of deep I'm digging to will probably be too much for my club-mates. So I've decided to use Tumblr to offload instead.

This is the first book I actively annotated in since... probably high school (aka, it's been more than a hot second). This was probably the best and worst book to use to start annotations again. Best because it is so beautifully written. Worst because, of course, I no longer have a heart as it has been hollowed out to relieve me of the intense pain I suffered after reading it.

In the final chapter, Patroclus calls Thetis out, "You said that Chiron ruined him. You are a goddess, and cold, and know nothing. You are the one who ruined him." I definitely agree with Patroclus here. However, in today's TED talk, I will rant about how Patroclus' is also responsible for Achilles' ruin.

To start, I have to praise Miller for how masterfully she molds each character. In just four chapters, we have a complex understanding of who Patroclus is as a person and why he ticks the way he ticks. Patroclus' defining characteristic, confidence (or lack thereof), is first hinted at on the first page, "Quickly, I became a disappointment." This is the core trait Miller starts out with to flesh out the character. The low opinion Patroclus has of himself, heavily shaped by his father, becomes the source and shaper of all his other traits.

Patroclus' low self-opinion is his greatest gift and flaw. His entire life, he has been told he is worth nothing. He is emotionally abused, depressed, and hurting. Tragically, out of this comes his humility and humbleness. In a world that is hard and cruel, Patroclus chose to be soft and kind - the key to what makes the people around him love him so deeply. There is a whole separate soap box waiting to be stepped on for this topic alone. Today, we are focusing on how Patroclus' lack of confidence becomes his fatal flaw. Just as his gentleness is borne from his low confidence, so too is his self-contempt, and this is his ultimate undoing.

From the very first moment he lays eyes on him, Patroclus has always seen himself as second to Achilles. It originates from a place of envy but eventually comes from a place of love and admiration. Patroclus, believing himself only worthy of disdain, allows this to define him. Rather, he uses it to define himself - what value could he possibly have without Achilles at his side?

It is not just Thetis' misguided, motherly love and prideful scorn for mortals that fills Achilles' mind with the whispers of gods instead of the cries of his peers. It is not just the adulation of the masses and the glorification of war that lures Achilles into hubris and a madness that even Patroclus falls prey to. It is also Patroclus' self-contempt and core belief that he has no value beyond Achilles that fuels and enables Achilles' arrogance.

There was only one person Achilles was ever willing to put on a pedestal above himself. He believes Patroclus is worth extending the Trojan War and keeping thousands of families apart for ten years (a separate discourse on this). He holds Patroclus in the absolute highest regard. On multiple occasions, although Patroclus only consciously acknowledges two, Achilles defers to what Patroclus' wants. Despite his godliness, which he is fully aware of, Achilles is willing to submit himself to Patroclus.

Patroclus is always in awe of Achilles and in disbelief that he managed to land such a hot piece of a**. Through the first two thirds of the book, Achilles also repeatedly mentions how equally in awe he is of Patroclus and repeatedly tries to get Patroclus to stand by his side as an equal. However, Patroclus' self-contempt will not allow him to see himself as Achilles' equal. Achilles makes many attempts to put Patroclus' needs first, but Patroclus consistently rebuffs these efforts and insists his needs be second to Achilles'. Over time, Patroclus trains Achilles to see his (Achilles') needs above his own (Patroclus'). Due to a highly privileged upbringing, Achilles knows no better than to gradually accept this as fact and ends up taking it for granted.

The only person who could have taught Achilles to know better and to understand reason is Patroclus himself (and probably Chiron, but Chiron isn't the one who is constantly and seductively whispering in Achilles' ears for 20 odd years). Patroclus was everything that tethered Achilles to his gentleness and humanity. However, Patroclus dotes on and spoils Achilles far too much. He makes himself, and is grateful to be, the rug that Achilles wipes his shoes on (despite Achilles equal insistence to clean off Patroclus' shoes).

With all this pre-established cognitive wiring, can we blame Achilles for being the densest of all walnuts when it comes to Patroclus' feelings and needs? (The answer is yes, and I place equal blame on Achilles as I do Patroclus for all of this.) Until the last third of the book, Patroclus is the only person who could possibly force their will on Achilles. He loved and respected both his parents, but he was defiant even against them. Of course, Patroclus has neither parent's pride and does not ever seek to force his will on Achilles or anyone else (something which he is definitely loved for). He loves Achilles and genuinely wants everything that would make Achilles happy.

Most crucial to this whole rant thought, Patroclus also refuses to acknowledge (read: zero self-confidence) that he has the power to stay Achilles' hand. Patroclus forgets he has a voice. He forgets his opinions and feelings are worth of acknowledgement. He forgets to be selfish and fight for what he wants (outside of Achilles' survival).

In true Patroclus fashion (forever putting others before himself), he finally stands up against Achilles for Briseis' sake. Although he has secured Briseis' temporary safety, he is far too late and Achilles has already been swimming in the deep end for a good thirty minutes. Achilles is entrenched in the belief that he and Patroclus are of the same mind, that his wants must also be Patroclus' wants. While he is wounded by the betrayal, Achilles cannot and does not stay mad at Patroclus because he knows his immortal glory is also what Patroclus is trying to build and preserve.

This is as deep as Achilles' understanding goes though. Achilles' belief system has been shaped too perfectly. His cause is Patroclus' cause, any ancillary motivation is but an afterthought. The blinders are up and Achilles only has eyes for his immortal glory. He is blind to how much pain was necessary to provoke Patroclus into mutiny against him. He is unaware of the searing grief it caused Patroclus (in contrast, Briseis immediately understands how severely this betrayal affects Patroclus). Worse, Achilles is completely ignorant of Patroclus' true reasoning and displays blatant lack of concern to Patroclus' emotional wellbeing by immediately launching into how he and Thetis have concocted a plan to let thousands of more Greeks suffer for the sake of his honor. Patroclus is fighting (albeit too late) to bring Achilles back to his humanity and spare innocent people from needless brutality. He has literally and physically spilt blood to right the wrongs he finally opened his eyes to, and Achilles undoes it all in one, idle stroke.

Patroclus was the only person who could keep Achilles grounded, but his infinite love only made him wish to see Achilles fly free. Patroclus was the only person who could scold Achilles into seeing the wrong in his actions and beliefs, but his dotage stayed his tongue and he instead chose to maintain Achilles naivete. Patroclus was the only person who could raise Achilles to his best self and also utterly break him, but his self-contempt did not allow him to acknowledge that he had the power, and thus responsibility, to guide Achilles. Patroclus failed to take meaningful action earlier because he had little faith that his actions and words would matter (despite Achilles, Briseis, and Chiron repeatedly trying to convince him otherwise). He eventually builds up the confidence to believe he is at least worthy of dying for someone he loves, thus cursing grief upon those who love him.

#tsoa #tsoa spoilers #the song of achilles #in this essay i will #welcome to my ted talk

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the-moon-prince · 3 years

Text

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter I

AN: Hi my lovely fellows! I’m making a Kurapika x reader! This will be the first chapter. Overall I’m trying my best for you to insert yourself in the story as good as you can. However, some point who are going to be relevant in the plot a little further, like (Y/n)’s age, Profession and first language have been modified.This is my debut as a fanfiction writer here on tumblr!

As now, I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the first chapter of my story. (Second coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 783

TW: None!

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5 am The buzzing sound of the alarm loaded Kurapika's ears. The same noise as every morning. Another day to go on. He woke up with this peculiar feeling, but so familiar to him. That unnamed pain hit him again as his senses started to stir. The bed beneath him felt cold and foreign. The morning was dull to him. Seeking to shake the feeling away, he sat up and stretched. His limbs felt heavy, his eyes burned. Just another morn after a terrible night with limited sleep and disagreeable dreams. That tiredness was omnipresent in his life for the last months. He immediately saw the space that wrapped him. Empty, just the drawer, nightstand, a lamp, and blank white walls. Finally, getting up from the bed and arranging the also white sheets. Going to the drawer and pulling out his work uniform; a white shirt, black trousers, black tie, and a black jacket. Taking his loose pajama pants and shirt off and starting to button the white shirt. Thinking annoyed at how he had to abide another day Neon dramatically said how sad, miserable, and lonely she felt. The fairly frustrating attitude she had been insisting on the last weeks. What did she know about misery and solitude? Once dressed, he left his bedroom to the tiny hall of his apartment. Leading to the small room alongside his. The big black door remained in front of him. He stared at it for a moment. A certain doubt in his mind made its presence. Lastly, he opened the door, glancing at the scarlet eyes floating on the jars displayed in the room, and closed the door. The emptiness seemed greater than the last morning. He wondered one more time while putting his shoes on, what did he yearn? What did he lack to feel once more this abyss? He stepped outside his home and took a deep breath, the swampy air feeling his lungs. And head straight to the Nostrade mansion. He passed the big entrance gate, the security of the Nostrade's residence, and arrived at the main room. Unlike what Kurapika might have thought moments ago, there was something new that morning. An unknown person was sitting on one of the multiple couches, apparently waiting. Wich piqued his curiosity. Their guise was quite formal and unique, white cigarette bottoms and a moss-green long-sleeved sweater with a white dress shirt underneath. However, the shirt's collar was embroidered with a peculiar decoration. A botanic motif of tiny red, yellow and blue flowers plus green leaves was along the tip of the collar. Naturally, Kurapika carefully observed the intruder to determine if it was a possible menace. The individual had (long/short/medium/ with bangs) (curly/straight/wavy)(hair color) hair; it was loose and a bit messy. Some strands were framing their face. Their body had a juvenile apparent, around one or two years younger than him however their face looked more childlike. Their gaze was lowered into the book, so Kurapika was unable to see the eyes. He just saw the (long/short) eyelashes moving with the occasional blinks the person gave and some eye bags from fatigue. They were sitting with their legs crossed, one hand was holding the book, and the other was rubbing the green fabric of the sweater between the index and the thumb. They gave an overall serene aura. It wasn't long before a butler came near Kurapika. -"Mr.Kurapika, Sir. Nostrade requested to have the young guest to his office. For security reasons Sir. Nostrade wants one of the bodyguards to watch over the guest. Please take them there." Kurapika agreed with a quick "understood" and made his way towards the outsider. Kurapika stopped in front of the sitting figure. "Excuse me, Mx"- The person reading gave a slight quiver in surprise to immediately put the book down and look up at him with a subtle and soft smile. Despite looking up at him, they didn't look directly into his eyes, fixing more in his mouth.- "Mr.Nostrade charged me to take you to his office, please accompany me." he addressed the outsider with a secure tone. "Hello, and thank you" was the quiet response the stranger gave him. Getting up and ranging the book in a black side bag. "This way." The person quietly followed behind him through the hallway, examining the distinct decorations and pieces of furniture all over the mansion. Once the both of them arrived at the office's door, Kurapika gave a knock, letting their attendance be known, followed by a grave "Come in" from Light Nostrade. Kurapika rapidly opened the door and entered the room. At the center of the room was Light Nostrade, sitting at his big wooden desk. Accompanying the desk, a coffee table and matching sofas were placed over a luxurious carpet. In one of the sofas, Neon was sitting playing with one of her stuffed toys. Mr. Nostrade without a word gave the guest sign with his hand to sit down in one of the chairs in front of his desk, as the foreigner obliged. "Neon, this is (Y/n), they're your new companion and therapist. As you have let me know lately, you've been feeling bored and alone. As your dad, your welfare concerns me. So I searched for one of the best professionals to improve your state." -The man addressed the young girl next to him, to take the phone to his desk right away and address it to someone on the other line-"Let the rest of Neon's bodyguards in" -In an instant, the rest of the bodyguards entered the room- "Mx. (Y/n) present yourself to the rest" Mr.Nostrade finally ordered. (Y/n) got up in a unique move from the chair, and facing the rest of the company in the chamber, with their hands clasped in front of their body, they declared "Hello, I'm (Y/n) it's a pleasure to meet and work along with you."-(Y/n) presented themselves with a small politeness reverence, then they turned to faced Neon-"Neon, I am a Doctor with a specialization in psychiatry medicine. I, moreover, am a certified Hunter and I'm here to take care of your psychological and physical integrity. If required I can protect you in case of aggression. Besides I'm here to treat your loneliness and improve your mental health. I honestly hope my faculties will help develop several health skills!" they finally finished, all the discourse was made with the same quiet and kind voice tone, with the subtitle smile never leaving their face. After the quick initiation, Neon's face went from attentive to a worried grimace to shout "DAD!!! AM I SICK?!?" (Y/n) tilted their head and stepped to Neon softly reassuring her "No Neon, don't worry, you're not sick. I am here just to prevent you from being sick. I'll take good care of your mental and physical state and keep you amity so you remain as happy and healthy as always! In other words, I'm your private psychotherapist." Following those words of reassurance Neon's face lights up in a smile "YAY, So you're my new companion! Finally, I won't be so bored around here! I'm Neon, but you seem to already know my name. You look strangely young, you know? Plus you have a weird accent when you talk!" Of course, Neon added lacking discretion as always. (Y/n) just tilted their head once more, without changing their friendly air they responded "Of course I have an accent, Neon, all chic and elegant people have one, like David Bowie or Kate Bush. And regarding my age, It's judged preferable to have someone closer to your age to establish a more organic cooperative relationship." -The response to the rude observations of Neon was devoid of any malice, it was rather merry and kind, giving Neon the sensation of friendship and calm -"If you'd prefer to consider me your "companion" is fine. As planned with your father, I will be with you every Tuesday, Thursday from 11:00 am to 8:00 pm and Saturdays from 2:30 pm to 7:30 pm. But today as being our first day, I'll be entire with you!" The grin on Neon's face just became wider "YOU'LL SEE, I AM GONNA HAVE SO MUCH FUN FROM NOW ON!''-Neon called once more, grabbing (Y/n) from their arm and dragging them somewhere. The (hair colored) didn't protest, just flinched to the sudden touche-"COME TO MY ROOM, WE HAVE SO MUCH TO DO!" The stranger's identity and intentions finally became clear for Kurapika, letting him discard (Y/n) as a hazard. We followed them into Neon's room to guard the Nostrade's teenager. Hours passed by. Neon talked about all the nonsense she could think of, as (Y/n) seemed to pay special attention to every word the girl spitted out. Sometimes making some comments and writing down in a little (fav color) notebook with a little cat they took off their said bag. Kurapika was just sitting on one of the couches, some sort of relieved to have someone else to take care of Neon's heavy personality and tantrums. "She even seems calmer today, having some entertainment will be profitable to her. " he thought. Even if Neon was, in fact, calmer that day, you could still hear her from across the room. "Your notebook is really cute, you know? Where did you get it? Cats are SOOOOO cute! I want one like that!" "Thank you Neon! I got it at the novelty store in the Mall that's in the center of the town. I go near there quite often, I can get you one if you'll like. Also, I think I'm going to take my break now if you don't mind. I will go make some tea, would you wish some, Neon?" (Y/n) actively added to the chat, even if it's their first day, they seemed to fuse nicely with Neon, rather odd due to Neon's personality. "Nah, I don't like tea" the teen finally responded, getting a soft nod in agreement as an answer. (Y/n) got up from the chair they were sitting on and headed to the employee's kitchen. Not much time later, they came back with a cup of tea and a bottle full of tea. To Kurapika's surprise, (Y/n) handed him the cup of tea with the soft smile of always. They simply added an "I made you some tea, you appeared a touch worn, I hope it's okay". That was the first of many little acts of kindness (Y/n) had with him. They would make him some tea regularly in the day or ask about his day during the breaks. During the following weeks in which (Y/n) was going to give therapy to Neon, a lot of things could be perceived. The first was the improvement in Neon's attitude. Being gradually more used to friendly human interaction, and having a better understanding of her frustrations. The second was about (Y/n), they were a rather nice person, gaining some sort of (or what was the most resembled) sympathy from Neon, which was a feat considering the lack of empathy of Neon. They were polite to everyone in the Nostrade's mansion, and their job as Neon's special doctor was their 4th job. Melody, during a casual chat, learned that (Y/n) worked Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturday mornings as a Psychoanalyst between a Psychiatric ward and a Private Doctor's Cabinet, and the mornings of the days she came to assist the Nostrade's daughter as an intermediary liaison psychiatrist (basically someone who gives psychiatric supportive treatment in non-specialized unities) in the YorkNew General Hospital Center. This explains largely the eyebags and exhaustion for which (Y/n) has earned comments from Neon such as "You know you have eyebags?". Also, that (Y/n) has 18 years of age (sorry dear readers if it's not your age, but this will be relevant for the plot, so please let me this one pass), remarkably young to be an accredited doctor. And they were "precocious" on their own words- as Melody said- And the third and last thing, noticed essentially by Kurapika was about (Y/n) comportment and personality. Even if (Y/n) was kind and polite to everyone, they were incredibly discreet. They acted with prudence in virtually all aspects, from their appearance to their very presence. Like if (Y/n) was hiding and acting from the shadow (Melody also commented about this borderline anxiety). Additionally, all the movements (Y/n) made were prudent and meticulously planned, which made Kurapika realize the intelligence (Y/n) had. He also could tell English was not (Y/n)'s first language. They had a peculiar pronunciation and spoke with a large and fancy vocabulary. Those things greatly aroused Kurapika's curiosity, but the part of (Y/n) that triggered that curiosity the most was related to (Y/n)'s eyes. They were very careful with the subject. So careful indeed that they were even subtle with the care they treated the subject. Were tiny and nearly unimportant actions from (Y/n) that made Kurapika realize the importance of their eyes. (Y/n) never looked anyone in the eyes. Sometimes, during the break, when feeling exhausted or overwhelmed, (Y/n) would close their eyes and cover them with one hand. The biggest event of all was one time he listened to Neon through the door curiously ask "Hey (Y/n), what happens with your eyes?" and, when he opened the door to see if everything was correct, (Y/n)'s eyes were normal. As if nothing had happened. Kurapika had for sure some inquiries regarding (Y/n). However, all of his suspicions became more prominent with a precise action from (Y/n). One day, Neon decided to show (Y/n) her body part collection. "(Y/n) You're a doctor, I'm sure you're going to love this! You know about these things, You'll be able to appreciate my glorious collection!" Neon was bragging about how happy she was with her various articles. "I have hearts, livers, fetuses, all the parts of the brain, some left and right lungs, and a pancreas. And my favorite of them all! A pair of beautiful scarlet eyes!" Neon made a special address on how rare the scarlet orbs were and how proud she was of them, she even played with them a little. And for the first time, (Y/n) didn't say a thing. Their perpetual smile even faded a little. During the whole episode, Kurapika remained sitting on a chair. Hearing that kind of discourse about his clan's eyes was hurtful and infuriating. How could she talk in such a manner of his fellow Kurtas? With no compassion, like if they were a mear object. It was sickening. A dull and hurt expression plastered on Kurapika's face. He was so immersed in his thoughts, he didn't notice it already was break time. If it wasn't for (Y/n) who came to sit beside him in an attempt to comfort his sorrow. (Y/n) had their gaze lowered and, for the first time, wasn't smiling. It wasn't a gloomy face, more like a flat expression. They didn't say a word and just stayed near him. Similar as if they seemed to comprehend. It wasn't until Kurapika looked at (Y/n) that they gave him a tiny smile. Nevertheless, this smile wasn't like the usual one. It was more caring, full of empathy and kindness, but also pain. None of them said a single word. And even if he never stated a thing about the subject, Kurapika felt a little comforted. At the end of that day, where everyone was heading to their own houses after such a hard working-day, (Y/n) came to Kurapika. He deduced they would just wish him a nice night. Except it wasn't the case. "Kurapika, pardon me, may I speak to you for a bit, pretty please?" (Y/n) mumbled to him, with the identical smile as always. A bit confused by their request, Kurapika responded, "Sure (Y/n), how may I help you?" forthwith to its answer (Y/n) made him follow them to a more private place behind the Nostrade's mansion. (Y/n) looked down as they had their hands in front of their chest, similar to the pose of a meerkat, and was fidgeting with their fingers. "Kurapika"- then they looked up to him-"I know I'm putting my life on the line. Yet, what I'm about to do is an act of desperation wholly motivated by my conclusion. Are you somehow related to the scarlet eyes?"

#kurapika x reader #kurapika hxh #hxh #hunter x hunter #kurapika #hxh x reader #hxh scenarios #hxh drabbles #kurapika kurta #kurapika imagine #kurapika kurta x reader

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dreamerandcrazy · 3 years

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how high is the probability that soo-won is canonically gay? tbh it it would just make so much sense. soo-won loved yona but really he had eyes for hak since young... i just wish that in the eventual soohak reunion (kusa WHERE IS IT) that they'll acknowledge this fact somehow. that hak is still and forever will be soo-won's goal

Oh, anon, you have no idea how much feelings and ideas I have regarding SooHak, but when it comes to Soo Won’s sexuality, I am in the dark just as every other reader, because sadly we don’t have much insight/p.o.v. from Soo Won himself, and I think that’s on purpose and something Kusanagi is saving for later. However, he mentioned once that he didn’t feel love romantically, but he did like people, and Kusanagi also implied he wasn’t interested in romance during the high school omake, so there’s a chance he could maybe be asexual/aromantic? But he has blushed before whenever someone put him in the spot, like Yona in ch. 1, and when Lili threatened to say he was in a brothel, I think during Sei or Xing arc. So I think there’s a little bit of chance he could be, but the chances of him being asexual are definitely higher. But like you said, if Kusanagi decided to write in canon that Soo Won is gay period, it would also make sense, align with past moments that have made us raise our eyebrows, and it wouldn’t affect the story or his personality, except for other than giving us much needed insight on what goes inside Soo Won’s mind.

(I talk a lot about SooHak underneath, so I put it under a keep reading, lol).

It’s important to note that it’s very much canon that he still cares for/loves Hak and Yona, despite everything that’s happened. However, I do get the feeling that the love he has for Hak is slightly different from the love he has for Yona. It’s very interesting how since the start, Soo Won has kept his emotions in check around Yona and co., but like Zeno said, his face just looks more human around Hak. I guess maybe because Hak has always been the most normal part of it all for Soo Won, since they were kids, which is why I get the feeling that they were closer. They raised Gulfan together, they trusted each other more than anyone, and can read each other so well they were able to know what the other was thinking through a single look. The only time in the manga both of them were seen crying, truly crying over adult emotions, was because of each other. Soo Won wasn’t able to raise a sword to defend himself against Hak when they reunited in Nadai arc, but his hands automatically flew to his sword the moment he saw Hak in danger during the battle in Sei. It’s like a quote from a gifset I reblogged recently, “People change, but habits don’t”. Or even as Ik-Soo himself said, “some love cannot be discarded,” and I think that was as true for Yona then as it is for Soo Won and Hak. They both can try themselves their best to convince they no longer care for one another, and will be ok if the other dies, but we have seen that that’s not true.

Also it’s interesting, like you said, anon, sometimes I get the feeling that Hak is still Soo Won’s goal, but like in a dormant way. Soo Won seeks for the power of the humans, and nobody embodies that as much as Hak, in the story. We have seen since the start that Soo Won admired Hak, and wanted to be like him, so I feel like that feeling is still there. They both literally wanted to be on an equal footing just so they could walk side by side, and that is a powerful want, to have someone mean so much to you that you are motivated by them, which is why their dynamic is probably one of the most interesting for me, whether it’s platonic or romantic. But we shall see how it goes. Many fans have been theorizing that in the next chapter or 204, Soo Won might go to see Hak, and I think that’s something the story really needs right now. They have been avoiding each other for over 200 chapters now, and they’re getting to a point where they can no longer do that. I think Hak has come very far in the manga and is also in a point where he’s willing to listen to what Soo Won has to say; prior to this castle arc, people liked to say he was narrow-minded and refused to see meaning in Soo Won’s actions, but Hak only had the grasp of what he’d seen that night: that Soo Won killed Il and was willing to kill Yona as well, after presenting her with that hairpin. He had no idea about what happened to Yu-Hon, or any of what happened in the past, so from that point of view, Soo Won had usurped the throne and wanted to destroy the evidence of him (Yona seeing what happened). The fact that Soo Won also said “the Soo Won you knew never existed” definitely didn’t help Hak see his side, giving him the impression that their friendship had been a lie since the beginning. And thus, his heart shattered into a million pieces. And he had to live with that hurt and betrayal every day to himself, to the point where it was suffocating him and he broke down completely when he and Soo Won came face to face in Nadai. But like I said, he has come a long way since then, and now he has some idea of what happened and Soo Won’s real reasoning for killing Il, so their next conversation, which I pray happens soon, might come more easily, but that will also depend on what Soo Won will be willing to say. Let’s remind ourselves that Soo Won has expressed he is ready to live an unhappy life, and is not exactly desperate to explain himself to Yona and Hak nor ask for their forgiveness, even if his heart longs so much for his old friends. He’s that kind of character that doesn’t mind being seen as the bad guy so long as he can get the job done, which is one of the many layers of his character that we’ve seen over and over in the manga.

I am sorry this answer was so long, but like I said, I have a lot of feelings regarding SooHak and I really need them to talk it out soon. I’m sorry if something I expressed about Soo Won is not to your liking or to anyone else’s, but this is my point of view from what I could get from the manga. SooHak is the kind of relationship that works just as well for whatever it’s meant to be, but I have a feeling Kusanagi will leave us in the dark about that one and let us believe it is what we wanna believe it is. At first I was 50/50 about Soo Won dying, I still think it’s a possibility, but now it’s no longer one I necessarily would like to see happen. I want him to make things right with Yona and Hak before the manga ends, and beat this crimson illness. I think a fresh start is something he definitely needs for himself, he was robbed of his childhood when he was only 9 and was pushed into a role he didn’t exactly want, so I would like to see him come to terms with that and close that page, and begin living the life he wanted to live before all this.

Tl;dr; I think Soo Won might be asexual, but his feelings for Hak are definitely still an important part of his character arc that I believe we will see more of. But how Kusanagi will go about them, we can only wonder. Thank you so much for the ask, I really needed to let this all out lmao, and for anyone who disagrees with what I said, please just do me a favor and ignore this post because I really don’t wish to be part of discourse. Soo Won is a character that’s hard to read, and maybe my view of who he is can be different from someone else’s, so let’s be grown ups about it and just respect each other’s opinions and agree to disagree.

#asks #soohak #soo won #son hak #akatsuki no yona

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stellamore-after-dark · 3 years

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Headcanons on how the LIs would react to the Oracle suggesting they could start a family once their situation becomes more peaceful.

This request is, as the kids say, “BUSSIN’” (Admin Yara help!!! My older millennial is showing 😫)

Cipactli:

Surprise will be the first thing that crosses his features. Sure, as a royal its was always expected of him to produce an heir to the thrown, however he never expected to find someone he truly loved and that would love him back in order to do so. And then you entered his life and basically turned it upside down and now you have the AUDACITY to come in and tell him that you want to start a family with all misty eyed and looking the way you do.....sign him the fuck up.

He will be so thrilled and just might get slightly misty eyed with you. After all that has happened in Huatzintepec and now finally living in a world surrounded by true peace; he couldn’t imagine a more perfect world and partner to raise and grow a family in and with.

Regardless of wether you both decide to adopt or have your child the fact remains that Cipactli will absolutely R E A D E V E R Y B O O K A V A I L A B L E that might help/ease him into parenthood an DESPITE his preparations he still was not ready (cause who really is am I right). As soon as the child is here he will panic; is he good enough, is he prepared enough, will his child love him, etc., etc. You will most definitely need to help him get out of his own head and reassure him that he will be a wonderful father.

Mukondi:

Mukondi would be ecstatic at the idea of starting a family with you. Although she will be slightly apprehensive at first due to her duties as the human representative of Saiph; most of her insecurities and fears would lie on whether or not she would spend enough time with your child when, as it is, she barely has enough time for herself. Of course, this would be something discussed between you both before any definite decision is made and you both mutually agree that this would be easily solvable by hiring or staff/representatives to take her place in her absence (make👏🏻her👏🏻 realize👏🏻she’s👏🏻not👏🏻an👏🏻island👏🏻and👏🏻it’s👏🏻OK👏🏻TO👏🏻ASK👏🏻FOR👏🏻HELP👏🏻AND👏🏻NOT👏🏻BEAR👏🏻EVERYTHING👏🏻ON👏🏻HER👏🏻OWN👏🏻).

She would be the first one to bring you ideas for baby names whether you like it or not. Lists, upon lists of baby names and meanings, Mukondi does not want to give her child a basic name that everyone has. To her there is allot in a name and it’s important to her that this child knows the thought and care that was meticulous placed in choosing a name that they would be proud to bear.

Mama Mukondi is simply the best mother, hands down, no 🧢. She will spoil them rotten but she isn’t above disciplining when she has to. When it comes to her family pride is the only word that comes to minds, so many things were lost during that time in Huatzintepec but so much more was gained, and for that she couldn’t be more grateful.

Ariki:

At first, he’s super excited, 10/10 yes lets have a child together (very excite, much wow). However, after his initial reaction, there may be some doubts that will settles in. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he needs to make sure that this child will be supported and loved by both of you. By this, his intentions are not doubt IN you or your capabilities to love anyone but it’s more security that he seeks in your relationship.

It is commonly known for merfolk to be very particular about their life partners, some spend years assessing and building a relationship until finally they feel secure enough to start dating, get married, etc. and this is no exception when it comes to building a family together. There is no doubt in Ariki’s mind that the depth of is love for you is endless, so even though he has his initial hesitations, it’s not something you can both talk about. Set up a game plan, share your insecurities, assure him about your intentions, be completely transparent. Once everything is discussed you can expect Ariki to go right back to the happy baby boi that he was when you first mentioned starting a family together.

Expect Ariki to be super excited about decorating his future child’s room. He would come up with motifs and colors, and of course you would put everything into a cohesive idea which you can both execute without the child’s room being overwhelmed with Ariki’s excitement. HAND MADE DECORATIONS FROM PAPA ARIKI!!!!

Dior:

“....so like...you wanna get a puppy or something...?” (let me also express that if you have a puppo/catto that you call family you are very valid cause same...anyways) Don’t hold your breath on getting an excitable reaction from Dior...you won’t. They might even, lowkey, seem repulsed by the idea of family mainly cause most of the time it involves children.

Look me in the eyes and tell me that Dior would find the idea of a small humanoid being that needs constant attention, screams when displeased, and might have the nerve to grow up and defy any rule set in place by Dior appealing in the slightest. Dior already fills out all those position why in the world would they want a second them. But being serious for a moment; Dior, much like Ariki or any species of merfolk, most definitely consider this a very prominent step in their future. So it is a very real thing that Dior may suggest getting a pet before a child. Much like Ariki, sit down with them, talk with them, discuss any insecurities (cause believe me they’re there). And in reality, it might take a long time for Dior to come around to the idea of a family with you. The one thing that Dior most certainly wants to make sure is that you know that they love you and they consider you their family/whole world regardless of children status.

EVENTUALLY, and with lots of physical, emotional, and mental preparations, Dior will come around, they might lean more towards adopting a child that may be slightly older but still young enough that they can help raise. Trust and believe that Dior will have matching outfits with their mini me. “You may be only 3′ tall and know a total of 4 syllables but thats not an excuse to not look your best, especially not when you’re with me”.

Waauru:

You and Waauru must’ve been together for a long time for you to bring up the possibility of raising a family together, and even more surprising still that she agreed so plainly to you.

Waauru is not one to beat around the bush specially not when it comes to you, she has always prided herself of being completely open to you. You will always know how she’s feeling even when she tries to shut you out, so when the time came in which you began to plan, envision, and execute a future with her with the possibility of children she was roarin’ and ready to go. Topics like these are oddly comforting to Waauru due to the love she has with her own family and with you as her partner the conversation most definitely came up even before you were to meet her family.

The idea of starting/continuing her family’s legacy with you fills Waauru’s heart with so much joy. She loves you so much and the fact that you’re in her life simply astounds her. Waauru never thought she could reach this level of serendipity and sereneness in her life after everything she’s been through. Most of her amazement comes from the fact that she is inspired by you and all that you were capable of doing despite being thrown in the thick of a political discourse and was the tipping point in bringing it all of it to a climax. Now she gets to do life with you as you both prepare for the latest addition.

Halle:

*ERROR 404 HALLE’S FUNCTIONING BRAINCELLS COULD NOT BE FOUND*

Oh boy, you did it, you broke the man. Only the heavens know how much was taken out of him to even talk to you in a full sentence, he still doesn’t know how he’s in a relationship with you, and now you want a F a M i L y!!! He’s gonna need a minute...no really. The request will catch him so off guard that he might need a moment alone to himself and his thoughts and in all honesty it might bother him slightly that you asked this of him. This will, of course, lead you to ask why to which he responds : “Well aren’t ‘we’ enough, why do you want to bring another being into our dynamic?!?!” With that he’ll storm off leaving you confused and a little hurt, but for know you drop the topic and just let him reconvene with himself. In his moments alone he sighs and thinks to himself: “...why did I say that?...you know thats not true Halle...?” Deep down, yes, yes he does want a family to call his and he couldn’t imagine doing so than with you; now he’s left rattling his brain trying to figure out what could’ve caused such a reaction...fear

After several hours of processing and coming to terms with himself, Halle comes back to you. Bright red face with so much embarrassment over his behavior with you, apologizing profusely for walking out on you. In these cases just hold his face, look him in the eyes, center him, ground him, and sit him down. When his able to breath at a steady pace again, expect the flood gates of emotion to open. He very rarely opens up but when he does it’s to you and only you. The main thing he focusses on though is this feeling of fear in the back of his mind much like Cipactli, only difference is that his is rooted in his own self conscious view of himself. Remind him how great of a friend, partner, lover, and man he is; remind him that what you asked doesn’t have to be done now, it is a very big step and something you can both talk and prepare for. This eases him, you both want this, just not right now and that is perfectly fine with both of you. Whenever you’re both ready he will be the proudest man in all of Saiph with you and your family by his side.

Taqtu:

*Queue the water works 🥺*

This man will be ✨E M O T I O N A L ✨Let him get it out, crying will ensue, but don’t worry these are happy tears. Taqtu has always been a family man, whether its been with his own family or his people in general; he considers the people he grew up with, raised him, played with him, babysat him, the children in his clan that came after him, all of them he considers family so it’s safe to say that when you brought this desire to his attention he was so excited.” WAIT?!?! REALLY?!?! Your not yanking my chain are ya...wait...really, you meant it? Oh Sweetpea, you’ve made me the happiest man”. He didn’t think it was possible to fall more in love with you, but here he is, head over heels (SIMP)

The other thing that has him all giddy is that he also gets to tell his tribe about this newfound journey you both are to take. The Ijiraat as a whole have suffered so much loss that whenever there is a new addition its a full on celebration. When you and Taqtu decided to begin your relationship, the whole tribe threw you both a party celebrating you as one of their own. The news of starting a family won’t be any less of a celebration, if anything it will be even more so. It’s a new chapter in both of your lives that might spring forth a new life. It has been one of his unspoken dreams to start a family of his own one day and finally being able to do so with the love of his life by his side elates him. Taqtu does not know what he did to deserve you, but he thanks every star in the sky for that fateful day he ran into you in the streets of Huatzintepec.

Seneca:

Seneca, like Halle, will be freaking out about it as soon as the suggestion leaves your lips; most of his reasoning being out of insecurities as well. However, unlike Halle, the main reason for his objection is because in reality he never knew what family was. How can a man who grew up without family be able to take care of a family of his own. Seneca does not expect you to do all the work in creating and raising this family by yourself, he wouldn’t allow it. Even so, he couldn’t see himself playing any significant part in the family dynamic that you so desire to have with him.

The idea of a family seems really nice to Seneca, poetic even, something he has probably talked about and studied as a disciple of the Sun god. It is a concept that is hard to grasp when the closest thing he has had to family is you. He, like Dior also, will take allot of: time love, and most definitely patience in order to even begin processing what you’ve asked. It is advisable in these instances to let him know that you understand where he comes from and that there is absolutely no rush for him to decide on this. In reality, family is more of a wound to him than something to look forward to, which is something that he is able to comfortably disclose to you after giving some thought to your request. Seneca follows by later stating: “...wounds are meant to heal, not fester. And if you will continue to have me and love me, the wound will heal...when that day comes I will be more than willing to create the most beautiful life that you deserve my sunshine...” (I’m NOT crying, you are).

Whether you both decide to have or adopt your new member of your family, on that day Seneca will learn what it means when people say love at first sight is real. One look at your child and his heart soars. He is grateful for the time that you gave him; it allowed him to heal so that way he could stop bleeding on the people that never hurt him, and with his new future with you he is certain that your family will only grow in love.

#headcanons #stellamore #admin nani #fluff #cipactli #mukondi #ariki #dior #waauru #Halle #taqtu #seneca

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glittering-snowfall · 4 years

Text

On Elsa and “Out of Character” behavior.

Sometimes I see arguments between different groups of people in the Frozen fandom - with some people criticizing Elsa’s actions in F2 by calling them out of character and other people defending them by saying her actions are in-character. But here’s the thing - I think both groups are a little misguided. One side just wants to use anything to tear the movie down, but the other side just wants to defend the film when sometimes the people who critique it have valid issues.

First of all, I don’t agree with people who try to paint Elsa as OOC in F2 by saying that her actions make her less “refined” than in the first film. This idea of Elsa’s “refinement” feels more like stereotypical headcanon than canon.

In F1, Elsa feels liberation when standing in the free air, without the weight of queenship weighing upon her. Thus, in F2, her choice to stay in the Forest could parallel that if written well.

The trouble is, for some reason, F2 decides to write a narrative where Elsa’s own desires and sense of self are not the catalyst for her journey to explore herself. Her mother’s Voice is the catalyst, so instead of telling a story where Elsa drives herself forward, the film tells a story where Elsa is led by larger forces beyond her control. This becomes worse when we factor in the origin of Elsa’s powers. They’re “a gift” for her mother’s action and while we’re supposed to see that in a positive light, I just don’t.It feels like Elsa being forced on a path in life before she was even born - a path that doesn’t come from her but instead comes from her mother. The destiny narrative makes Elsa a pawn - and I know I’m not “supposed” to read the film that way, but there is textual evidence to support my perspective. The fact her powers are tied to her mother rescuing her father and not to Elsa herself. The fact that the spirits decided these things for Elsa because how could Elsa decide while still in the womb?

When people use superficial reasons like Elsa’s “refinement” to call her OOC, they sometimes criticize Anna being queen and treat that as OOC for Anna - but I’ve personally always liked Queen Anna. I feel the role suits Anna and that she makes a capable leader, making tough decisions in difficult times across both F1...

and F2.

So I don’t think the superficial readings of either sister being OOC are true.

But here’s the thing - I DO think that Elsa comes across as somewhat OOC in F2 compared to F1, just not in a way that the superficial readings ever get across. Let me explain.

In F1, we see over and over again that Elsa is deeply and sensitively attuned to Anna’s emotions.

When Anna is in pain, Elsa feels it. She doesn’t want to hurt Anna - either physically OR emotionally.

And when she does hurt Anna emotionally, it breaks Elsa’s heart. F1 makes clear over and over that Elsa doesn’t want to do this - makes clear over and over that Elsa understands the terrible emotional pain Anna undergoes because Elsa has felt a pain akin to it.

Look at the look in Elsa’s eyes in the screencap where Anna is walking away. You can see such anguish in Elsa’s eyes, such regret. If Elsa felt like she safely could, she’d reach out in a heartbeat.

Over and over, the first film stresses that Elsa understands Anna’s emotional pain, that it hurts her more than anything to hurt Anna emotionally even as Elsa feels like she has to do that because of how she has been raised.

And then comes F2 and Elsa’s connection to Anna’s emotions... lessens to some degree.

It’s still there in this moment. Elsa clearly hates doing this.

But we don’t get to pause on Elsa’s emotions. We don’t get to linger with them.

The next time we see Elsa is here:

When I first saw this moment in the theater, it felt... abrupt. This was the scene that was in all the trailers, and when you watch the trailers, you think something will lead up to this.

And then the film just cuts directly to this moment. It just... happens, with only the conversation from before as build-up - only conversational exposition.

We don’t get to pause to breathe with Elsa, to have the full weight of her reflection after sending Anna and Olaf away. She must have reflected on that as she made her way to the Dark Sea and it must have hurt... but we don’t get to... see it.

We don’t get to see an incredibly crucial emotional moment that could show Elsa reflecting on Anna’s pain and Elsa’s own pain.

We just cut to this and focus on Elsa being... Awesome.

And then we get Show Yourself, and Show Yourself is all about Elsa’s joy and validation... and in the process, Elsa reflecting on Anna’s pain gets pushed to the wayside.

Now, in the past, I’ve gotten angry at Elsa for this - because it felt acutely OOC to me for Elsa to... lose sight of Anna’s pain in such a way.

And when I got angry, anti-Elsa people jumped on my anger and tried to use it to justify their agenda - and I don’t want that.

You see, anti-Elsa people try to frame this as, “Well, Elsa is just Like That. She pushed Anna away for her safety before and now she’s doing it again.” Anti-Elsa people treat Elsa like she’s just... naturally callous.

My point is not theirs. My point is that Elsa (at least, the Elsa we see in F1) is NOT “Like That.”

In F1, we see over and over that Elsa is not naturally callous. We see so much how Elsa connects with Anna on an emotional level.

From my perspective, the anti-Elsa sentiment is just as shallow as the people who throw around the word “refinement.”

But in F2, Anna kind of gets... dropped from Elsa’s journey. The focus becomes Show Yourself, and then Elsa freezes.

I know that I struggle with these scenes because I feel for Anna so much, because I agree with Anna’s perspective and her desire to protect Elsa, because I disagree with Elsa’s choice to go on alone. (Again, my disagreeing doesn’t mean I’m saying that Elsa is a bad person the way anti-Elsa folks do. I know that Elsa loves Anna and wants to protect her. I just... wish the two characters could have resolved the matter in a different way, through communication and through love. And I’m not saying the conflict of Elsa’s decision and Anna and Olaf’s anger was bad. It’s actually a really intriguing scene where the characters all kind of right and kind of wrong. There’s depth there... but my problem is the film doesn’t really explore that depth later on. We don’t get the sisters talking together about the emotional crises that drive them.

We don’t get... anyone... talking together that much. Elsa and Anna seem on different wavelengths, Anna and Kristoff seem on different wavelengths. Miscommunication is a plot device. And I know you’re going to tell me that it’s supposed to be mature, that it’s supposed to reflect the characters’ trauma - and it does reflect that trauma incredibly well, but...

I just want to see the broken people I saw forming a family being able to communicate in a positive way for more than the last several minutes at the end. I don’t care about the maturity of miscommunication that translates into surface-level scenes. There’s as much maturity in a family healing together than in reopening wounds for drama’s sake.

So maybe, my use of the term “OOC” is wrong. Maybe it’s not OOC for Elsa to go on alone (because she wants to protect those she loves dearly), but the rushed nature of the following scenes don’t allow the emotional impact of that particularly complex scene to land. Instead of letting us feel its full weight, the film moves to other things.

I’ve praised the slow, brooding pace of F2 before, but at times the pacing can still be rushed. So maybe it’s not a characterization problem but a pacing problem.

Still, I... I can’t shake the feeling that F2 presupposes that Anna is in the wrong - and I just disagree with that presupposition.

The film frames Anna as though she has to learn something. She gets the chance to reflect on her life in aching and beautiful clarity in The Next Right Thing. The film has her apologize directly to Kristoff for leaving him behind because she was just “so desperate to protect” Elsa. And because of that, the term “codependency” gets thrown around - often by anti-Elsa folks who have weaponized the term.

Here’s the thing though. Anna has an incredibly understandable and rational position in F2. She doesn’t knw what is going on. All she knows is Arendelle could be in danger, her sister has been hearing this voice and hasn’t told her, her sister could be in danger, and Pabbie has further entrusted her with keeping Elsa safe.

Not wanting your only surviving family to die when they are put in a position where they are forced to do incredibly dangerous things is not codependency. “I don't want to stop you from being whatever you need to be. I just don't want you dying, trying to be everything for everyone else too. Don't do this alone,” is actually an incredibly clear-sighted perspective.

I don’t know. When Elsa is forced into extremes in F2, it’s often framed as heroic - and oftentimes, it is heroic. Seeking the truth about Runeard at the expense of her own life is an incredibly noble, compassionate, and heroic thing for Elsa to do. When Anna goes to extremes to protect Elsa, it’s framed as... desperation. Even though I just want to desperately cry to the screen sometimes, “But Anna is in the right, Anna is in the right, Anna is in the right...”

Maybe my mind has been exhausted by different factions in the fandom trying to place blame. maybe fandom in general is too focused on judging characters and so that hurts the discourse because we have people judging and condemning Anna as a character and judging and condemning Elsa.

Maybe Frozen 2 means to be broadly humanistic, with the characters all being partly right and partly wrong, so we can empathize and love them all. If so, that’s beautiful.

But I don’t like the presupposition that Anna is “too desperate” and I don’t like how that’s beaten home for her in such a torturous way. Maybe I just empathize with Anna too much and I see my pain in her pain across F2 and so the film just hurts to watch.

Maybe it’s because I wanted to see this family talking together openly instead of going on individual journeys of self-discovery.

I know I’m speaking from a personal place here - because the bond the sisters have (especially in F1) means the world to me and is among the most beautiful connections I have seen in fiction, so I’m sensitive about it.

But I needed to get these thoughts out.

#frozen #frozen 2

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teamhook · 4 years

Text

A Chapter a Day... Savage Heart CS AU

A love story between a pirate and his savior. An innocent, beautiful, selfless woman meets a man with no manners, no formal education and not even a last name. Will Emma fall in love with Killian once she discovers that beneath his tough exterior lies a heart-wild, but a heart of gold? This is a Captain Swan AU

Beta-ed by the sweet @ilovemesomekillianjones

|AO3| |FFN| current chapter

|AO3| |FFN| previous chapter

Chapter 3: The Betrothal

~~~Flashback

The Nolan's are a very respectable family in high society even though they now find themselves in bankruptcy. Their financial problems had emerged from one too many bad deals made by James, David's identical twin brother. James Nolan had always been known to be the reckless brother of the two. He had angered so many people in his dealings. Those actions were the reason for his tragic demise.

His death leaves Count David Nolan, his lovely wife Snow, and their beautiful, young daughter behind with a tattered and uncertain financial future.

Despite the insecurities they now face, Emma Nolan is loved and adored by her parents. She is especially close to her father. Emma will forever be her father's little duckling, his sweet little princess.

Months after his brother's death, David receives a letter from Jackeline, James' coming of age love. She tells him of Milah's existence, a niece, a cousin to Emma. Sadly, by the time the letter arrives, Jackeline had met her death as well.

David decides to fix the injustice that his young niece and her mother had to face. David tells Snow the story and then leaves with her blessing, on a quest to retrieve Milah.

Ten-year-old Emma sits waiting as her mother tells her she has big news. "Emma darling, we will soon have an addition to our small family."

Emma's ears perk up to the news, and a wide smile covers her face, she has always hoped for a little sister, she would even settle for a brother. "Mother, am I getting a little sister?" Emma asks, trying and failing to hide her excitement.

Snow takes a breath. "No sweetheart, I am not expecting. Your cousin Milah is coming to live with us. She just turned eleven years old. Your father has gone to bring her home."

Emma sits calmly taking in the information, she never knew her Uncle James had children. She scrunches her face in confusion, she's always been an extremely curious child, so she does the only thing that can appease her. She asks questions.

"Mother, how is it possible? Uncle James never married. How can he have a daughter? What is her mom's name? Where have they been? Why are we only finding out now?"

Snow nods and tries to answer her inquisitive daughter's questions as best as she can. "No, he didn't marry, but there are situations that happen unexpectedly. This is not something we can discuss completely at this time. However, we will embrace and love Milah because she is family."

Emma nods vigorously, agreeing with her mother. She already loves her new cousin and she hasn't even met her.

David soon arrives home with his niece in tow. Milah is a beautiful girl that has inherited her mother's looks, she has long, wavy, raven hair and blue eyes. Emma, also a beautiful girl, has inherited an equal mixture of each of her parents. She is the polar opposite of Milah, with her blonde locks from her father, and her mother's lovely emerald eyes.

The exterior is not the only thing that makes the young girls different though. Milah is envious and secretly longs for all that Emma has, she hates that she never met her father, while Emma grew up with her parents doting on her. Milah's mother Jackeline had tried her best but she could barely scrape enough money together for meals. Jackeline had worked in a tavern to provide for Milah and that made her resent Emma for her charmed childhood.

Emma is sweet, loving, and caring, she does everything she can to make Milah feel like a part of the family. She's naive to the manner in which Milah was brought up, and therefore she is unaware of the discourse Milah feels toward her. She has grown to love Milah like a sister, but sadly the feeling is not mutual.

It's not long before talks of a union between two of the most established families in town begin. The Nolan's need to rebuild their financial future and hope that tying themselves to the Booth's will help. The Booth's can think of no better way to secure their good name than being linked to the Nolan family. They decide Emma and August will be joined by marriage.

Emma had met August several times when she was younger. She had only fond memories of him. Despite being a few years her senior, he was always sweet and kind to her, so it didn't bother her that her parents had agreed to the arrangement.

Once the betrothal is arranged, David Nolan decides he must leave his family in order to seek out a way to rebuild his own fortune. If he's able to, he won't have to see his daughter entered into an arranged marriage. As a young man, he had been betrothed to Kathryn Midas. His father George thought that it was the best match for the family.

He had hoped to never put Emma in that position. He had gotten lucky because Kathryn had fallen in love with Frederick Knight, a business partner of her father, and she married him instead.

David had met Snow not long after, and he is forever grateful to have had the fortune of meeting his true love and marrying her. Snow tries to stop him, but he refuses to stay. He wants his daughter to marry for love not to save them. He still has time.

11 Years later

Emma grows up to be even more beautiful than her mother, and as dedicated as her father. She misses him dearly, but remains at home with her mother to keep her company, while Milah travels, spending the money Emma's father has been able to send home. David still waits for the big payout that will allow him to finally return home from Arendelle.

Emma's parents give Milah everything she asks for. Guilt is such a powerful incentive. It always goes back to what she didn't have when she was a child.

Milah's trip is coming to an end. On her last week in Port Royal, she comes face to face with her cousin's betrothed, August Booth who is en route to Misthaven after a long absence from home.

"Don't you remember me?" Milah asks while looking at August through her eyelashes. Milah knows she is beautiful, and she knows exactly who he is.

"I am afraid I don't recall my lady," August responds promptly.

"I'm Emma's cousin, Milah."

The rest, as they say, is history, they spend a whirlwind week together and August falls deeply in love with her. The only reason Milah shows any interest in August is because of his wealth, power, and influence.

Milah returns home and never mentions her interactions with August to Snow or Emma. Milah tries to make the best of her time in Misthaven, but she misses what the big city has to offer. She had gotten too used to the big city and all its fine distractions.

She takes daily strolls on the sandy beach to pass the time. On one of her excursion,s she comes across a modest cabin and stops short when something catches her eye. She sees a man bathing, and quickly hides and keeps observing. Unbeknownst to Milah her presence does not go unnoticed by the handsome man. Even from the distance that separates them, she can clearly see that the man is gorgeous.

He suddenly yells, "Smee, bring my towel and get rid of the dirty water."

Once Smee is close enough, with a smirk, he whispers, "There is a lass by the oak tree, follow her and find out who she is."

Soon Smee returns to give his Captain the information he was able to uncover. "Sir, she entered the Nolan's household. She didn't use the servant's entrance."

"Do the Nolan's have any daughters?" Killian asks lost in thought.

Smee quickly answers him, "They have one daughter, and they took in the daughter of the Count's twin brother who was killed some years back."

"That will be all, for now, Smee," Killian says quickly.

For days Milah shows up by the cabin in hopes of seeing Killian again. As soon as Smee notices her he reports to his Captain. "Sir, she is back."

"Is she now? I guess I better go introduce myself," Killian says with a smile.

Milah is waiting patiently by the oak trees to see if the handsome man will make an appearance.

Killian slowly approaches her from her blind side. "Hello, my lady. Killian Jones at your service."

Milah gasps when she hears him, then smiles and says, "Milah Nolan."

"Countess Nolan, would you like to join me for a glass of wine, or is the request completely out of line for a lowlife like me?" Killian asks.

"I'm afraid I don't drink wine," Milah responds but quickly adds, "I could keep you company."

Killian smiles and guides her inside his cabin, where they talk for hours. As nightfall approaches, Milah reluctantly lets him know she must take her leave. Killian offers to escort her home but she declines.

Over the next couple of weeks, their meetings become a ritual. They get to know each other and quickly fall in love. Killian and Milah soon explore their physical attraction, and Milah gives her maidenhood to Killian not long into their relationship. The truth is, they are being extremely reckless.

One beautifully sunny day, Milah and Killian go swimming. Milah gets out of the warm water to lounge and bask under the horizon. Killian emerges out of the clear blue water to join her. He looks like an Adonis, not a pirate as the water travels down his glistening and toned body. He finally reaches her and leisurely gets on his knees then crawls on top of her to kiss her passionately. They end up in his cabin enjoying each other.

That same night, Killian proposes to Milah and informs her of a business trip that he will be taking on his ship, The Jolly Roger. He assures her that on his return they will be able to marry. He knows it will be a very lucrative deal and he will be able to offer her the life that she desires. Milah accepts his proposal quickly.

"Mother it is so lovely to see you. I have missed you," August tells his mother upon her arrival to Port Royal.

She smiles and leans in to kiss his cheeks. "I have missed you too. I came to surprise you; I hope you don't mind making the trip back home with your mother."

August smiles and only nods his agreement, he wishes he was making the trip back with a certain young brunette who stole his heart just a few days ago.

"Are you excited to finally be going back home? I know Emma is looking forward to seeing you again and starting wedding preparations as soon as poss-"

August cuts her off, "Mother I am afraid I cannot marry Emma. I have fallen in love with Milah. I will not marry someone I do not love. I am truly sorry."

"August, how could you do something like that? You knew very well of the betrothal," his mother seethes.

"Mother, you mentioned it once or twice in passing when I was young. How was I supposed to know you were serious?" August quickly snaps back the retort.

After hours of arguing Cora finally relents and agrees to break the news to Emma and Snow.

The arrival of August in Misthaven will surely break more than one heart.

Tagging:

@hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87 @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @kymbersmith-90 @branlovestowrite @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @ilovemesomekillianjones @thisonesatellite @thesschesthair @winterbythesea @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @artistic-writer @thislassishooked @shardminds @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @laschatzi @wellhellotragic @xemmaloveskillianx @courtorderedcake @pirateherokillian @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @sherlockianwhovian2 @andiirivera @djlbg @nikkiemms @jennjenn615 @scientificapricot @officerrogers

#Captain Swan #cs ff #CS Crew #CS Mafia #teamhook SavageHeart

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neko-shinigxmi · 4 years

Text

Ohhh, I lost a follower. Good note to start this off at. So! Anyways!!

I’ve vented a LOT about this in private...and I feel like maybe the reason why this keeps bothering me is because I never air it out where it’s been needed. I have never said my piece because, while I have a stance, I’ve been more afraid (in the past) of blacklash and how people would think of me. Which is dumb, I realize now, because people I don’t even KNOW have a way of thinking of me that isn’t good. So what’s the point in trying to care about stuff like that?

This is a long-winded way of saying that- although belated- I want to give my thoughts on the Age Discourse. (With potential ties to the Villain Discourse, but that’s only gonna make sense later into the post.)

Obviously, feel free not to read! I know that this community is done of the Discourse and I would like to be, too.....but I’ve also vented about this multiple times in my own server and I feel like if I need to vent about it again, maybe it’s time I do it in the place that’s been causing the stress in the first place.

With all that said, let’s get into it.

By Law of Canon, I have young F/Os. Most of which stopped at 17, due to series ending or no promised continuation ever coming to light. (Since some series, like DanganRonpa, had their main focus be high schoolers, but then Dangan Ronpa: Hope (the anime) came out, and everyone’s now canonly in their twenties to wrap up the series and move on to other things, same formula. Also: Naruto and Death Note.) This makes sense on the media side of it, since sometimes, you really don’t want to drag your shoes through all the nitty-gritty details. Who wants to hear about the whacky MC high schooler finding a day to day job? Afterstories? Psssshh.

....But then, there’s me. This little autistic kid who puts all their stakes into these fictional worlds and people. Who REALLY gets into it! This character likes me, these characters are my BFFs, and the rest.... Well, I’m just gonna take this world and make my own little story in it! Cause it’s fun!!! And in the eyes of fandom- at that time- I was totally weird, but made it okay. I got the right friends to support my self-inserting. Hell, it’s probably kinda cute for a kid to be so excited about this stuff.

Now I’m in my twenties. I made it far enough to find the community...and learned that most people agree that if your F/O is age locked, you should leave them behind. And I suppose that makes sense...if you can do that. If you can let go of those feelings and move along, happy at past memories.

......I can’t, though. Kurama’s always been my best example for this, cause he’s been the BEST showing of how my worlds have evolved past canon. His canon stopped him at 17. (Yoko is far older, but. Still, his physical body is young.)

I’ve had Kurama as an F/O for....about 12-13 years, maybe? Which might seem pretty young, but I’ve had.......childhood issues, to put it one way. A friend got me into the show in.....around middle school or so. I liked Kurama ever since.

In all these years I’ve had him, he’s strayed from canon’s end point. In my world, we age-match, if not him being a year or two older. Two kids and a house all our own; basically a large cottage with PLENTY of flowers and a lovely garden. There’s also a special greenhouse for his demon plants to take residence in.

I am not a “pedo in love with a 17 year old”......it’s a fictional character who’s my age. Cause I said so and canon wouldn’t let him EXIST past the ending of the manga.

And that’s what frustrates me so much. One, that my F/Os who canonly have a younger age, were never shown older. Why is it okay to have Naruto Uzumaki as an F/O- who GOT to age up in the show- but I can’t keep Alphonse, because FMA ended when Ed was 18, and not Alphonse? When his canon story ended....why is it suddenly not allowed for ME to finish his story? To keep writing it?

Secondly, because THIS AGE ISSUE HAS NEVER BEEN AN ISSUE IN FANDOM BEFORE!!!! Of all the fanfics I’ve read over the years, writing characters as older for story purposes has ALWAYS been a thing!! This character is older so he can be the CEO of a company in my AU fic. This character is older so I can show their friendships and relationships, and show how they changed after this important, canon events. I wrote her as older so I can show........whatever.

I could write a fic where me and Guzma are Pokemon, and nobody would have a problem with it. But no..... If I age up a character, I’m a pedo.

And I get what it’s supposed to be...don’t look at a kid, think they’re hot, and then fall back on “age up” as a thing. I get that idea, cause if an adult aged up Deku to ship with.......I’d be side-eyeing that. I fully admit to that one. My point is “how does this account for people who just want to grow up with their F/Os?”

Maybe it’s more nuanced than that and I don’t get it; it wouldn’t be the first time. (I mentioned autism offhand before cause I NEED people to understand that I’m seeking to understand this. I don’t get the connection. I really, really don’t. Maybe there’s something I’m missing! I wouldn’t know!) But as it stands, I just feel frustrated and all too often alienated. Because I know why I do what I do. It’s because of how I was growing up. I went through awful situations and went through emotional abuse at a super young age. I let people walk all over me and thought it was okay, because maybe they’d stay if I was enough. Nice enough, quiet enough....whatever.

I didn’t- and don’t- want to let these characters go not only for the life I’ve built for us and all of them......but because people have continuously left my life. I’ve always felt so, so alone and left behind... Fictional characters are the ONE constant that can’t be taken from me. And I need that.

....Anyways, I did want to tie this back around to the Villain Discourse, so as a sort of weird closure..... I see this as the VD. My example? Purple Guy. For some reason, I like him. Couldn’t properly explain it right now (not without going on another rant and this post is long enough as is), but I like him.

HOWEVER this does NOT mean I condone his actions in any way. I do NOT support child murder. I have siblings- little kids, themselves- and I know, if he was a real person, that they could be at risk. And I would LOATHE someone like that. They’d make me fucking sick.

But it’s a fictional character. He’s not going to hurt any real-world people. My sisters are safe...and I can goof around with a fictional, literally purple man as I want. Because I know where reality and fiction differs. I KNOW that there’s a difference between condoning actions and just simply thinking a character is neat. And that’s that.

#Aki speaks #It's the Discourse #Venting #DO! NOT!!!! REBAGEL!!!!!!!!#I'm in a Mood and wanted to say things #I hope this makes sense hhhhh #I have my exceptions but #for the most part it's all just.....weird to me #idk #I'm frustrated and in a weird mood #I might even delete this later idk

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jphbk1982 · 6 years

Text

Connection

This is a short story I wrote after seeing the 2017 Justice League film. Spoilers within if you haven’t seen it.

Clark Kent closed the door to the house behind him and gazed out across the many acres of farmland that stretched out in front of him. He breathed a large breath and smiled as the fresh air infiltrated his lungs. He gave a quick glance up at the sky as he took a few steps out into the yard and prepared to take flight.

“Kal..” a voice from behind Clark stopped him. He smiled upon hearing the unmistakeable voice, an involuntary response that surprised even himself. He turned around to see Diana Prince standing under a nearby tree. She started to approach him as he turned to face her fully.

“Diana..” Clark greeted her in return as they closed the distance between each other. Clark glanced over to his mother’s house and then back to Diana. “How’d you know to find me here?”

“Lois.. I was looking for you in Metropolis and she said you were here..” Diana responded with a smile as she took in the sight of the man in front of her.

“Oh.. you were looking for me?” Clark responded with a question. He furrowed his brow as he wondered why Diana would be seeking him out.

“Yes.. um.. I was..” Diana replied as she shifted on her feet and folded her arms. Clark detected a hint of nervousness in the quickening of her pulse and body posture.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, attempting to put her at ease. He stepped a few feet closer and tentatively reached a hand out for her arm. It was when he touched her that it struck him how little he knew Diana. How they had fought side by side on two occassions now without so much as having a conversation or even sharing a greeting.

“I am fine.. thanks.” Diana replied touched by the genuine look of concern on his face.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Clark asked as he removed his hand and the two began walking across the yard and towards one of the many corn fields surrounding the property.

“This might sound silly..” Diana replied as she turned to look at him. The nervousness she had previously seemed to disappear as Clark saw the bold look on her face he had seen on her as they fought together.

“Try me..” Clark said, with a light tone. Diana stopped her steps, prompting Clark to follow suit. She turned to him and he mimicked her once more.

“I just wanted to..” Diana hesitated. “We never really spoke you know..”

“I was thinking that just now.” Clark agreed. Diana nodded.

“I.. have followed you.. Superman.. since you first appeared..” Diana informed him. She crossed her arms and glanced out at the scenery in front of her.

“Oh?” Clark spurred her to continue.

“I.. it did not take me long to determine what you were..” Diana replied. “The stories of Kryptonians and their potential power on earth reached even Themyscira.”

“Your home..” Clark added.

“Once.” Diana corrected. “I knew only someone from Krypton could do the incredible things you were doing… and.. I was glad that you..”

“What?” Clark asked upon sensing her hesitation.

“That you used them to help people and not for harm.” Diana finished. Clark nodded and smiled as crossed his arms in a pose that closely matched Diana’s.

“I knew of you too… well.. of the Amazons..” Clark confessed.

“How?” Diana asked, intrigued by the revelation.

“On my ship.. when it traveled to Earth.. my father left me messages..” Clark began. “They informed me of nearly all the knowledge I would need on Earth.. one section was a discourse on the Amazons and Themyscira.”

“I did not know..” Diana responded as she digested the information.

“I often wondered… if they were just legends, what I had been told.. but all things considered, I had no reason to doubt they were more than that.” Clark said as he unfolded his arms and slipped his hands into his jean pockets.

“Kal..” Diana spoke.

“You call me that.. no one else does..” Clark interjected, intrigued.

“I’m sorry..” Diana responded, feeling as if maybe she was doing so in poor manners.

“No.. it’s okay..” Clark said with a smile. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s just.. I know that was your given name and I… if you want me to call you Clark..” Diana began.

“Whatever you want is fine.” Clark said, his smile widening. Diana nodded and grinned as well.

“Kal…” Diana continued. “Are you… is everything okay with you… I was there when you died, and there when you came back… and..”

“I..” Clark began his response when Diana’s voice trailed off. He could sense what she was trying to ask, but also her uncertainty at how to ask it. “I’m okay.. yes.. at first, it was very confusing… like… a bad dream…”

“When we encountered you.. at the monument..” Diana recalled.

“I’m sorry.” Clark cut her off gently. Diana was taken back by the genuine sorrow she heard in his voice. She studied his features for a moment and then mimicked his gesture from earlier as she reached out to place her hand on his arm.

“It’s okay… you weren’t yourself Kal.” Diana said soothingly.

“I know.. but I still remember it..” Clark replied shaking his head as if to shake the memories from his mind. “If I hurt you..”

“I…” Diana paused, hesitant to admit to any pain she had felt, wanting to spare him guilt. “It’s okay.”

“I won’t ever…” Clark paused, he wanted to make a promise to her, but was unsure if he could keep it, giving what had just happened.

“I know… we all know that.” Diana replied, referring to the other members of the newfound group they had just formed. Clark let out a nod and sigh.

“Thank you..” Clark said.

“For?” Diana asked.

“Bringing me back.. fighting with me… everything.” Clark answered.

“Of course..” Diana replied. “I must admit I was hesitant to bring you back at first.. I was afraid that maybe you.. the real you.. would be lost.”

“Yeah..” Clark nodded as he contemplated the risk that was taken.

“Bruce insisted… Victor also seemed to believe things would be okay.” Diana stated. “The rest of us were not so sure..”

“I know.. I could sense all that..” Clark replied as he flashed back to the encounter in Metropolis. He considered something for a moment. “But you.. were not afraid.”

“I don’t know..” Diana countered.

“Are you ever afraid?” Clark asked, the question seemingly deeper than it appeared on the surface judging from the way his tone softened at the end.

“I suppose.. but I don’t think of it.. are you?” Diana replied.

“Yes.” Clark answered without hesitation.

“Why… with your abilities..” Diana began.

“I’m afraid I’ll lose control.. that I’ll hurt someone…” Clark confessed, his eyes shifting down to make sure Diana had not slipped her lasso around his arm unaware as he felt he was being too candid to her.

“I.. too think of that..” Diana responded. Clark lifted his eyebrows in surprise at her.

“That doesn’t scare you?” Clark asked.

“Maybe.. but I don’t think of it that way..” Diana answered. The two fell into a silence before Clark took a few steps towards the corn stalks in front of him. He stopped and turned to Diana and motioned for her to follow. “Come with me?”

“Okay.” Diana agreed as she followed him through the field, unsure of where he was leading her. For his part she noted though he seemed to know exactly where he was heading. He stopped and she nearly ran into the back of him, shifting at the last minute to instead find herself at his side. “What’s this?”

“It’s a windmill.” Clark replied as he extended his hand. Diana eyed it curiously before reaching out to place hers in his. Within a few moments she felt the ground beneath her feet disappear. She glanced down to see she was rising up from it ever so slowly and gently. She glanced back up to Clark who was smiling at her as he pulled them up a platform just below the blades of the windmill chopping at a steady pace above them.

“What..” Diana began to ask but stopped when Clark nodded off the in the distance. Diana turned around to see the view in front of them. She forgot everything for a moment as a sense of peace and calm overtook her.

“I used to always come up here..” Clark began. He glanced over at Diana to see her close her eyes for a moment and then open them with a smile forming on her face. “When I felt afraid.. it put me at peace.”

“Kal… I can see it..” Diana replied as she turned to him. She for maybe the first time considered how attractive he was. She shook the thoughts from her mind immediately, fearing what not doing so would lead to.

“It helps to remind me.. of home… it keeps me in check.. if ever I worry I’ll lose myself to the persona, the power of Superman.. I come here to this spot.. and I’m reminded.. I’m just a simple farmer from Kansas trying to do the right thing.” Clark explained.

“I…” Diana paused. It suddenly occurred to her she had not met anyone with the purity that Clark Kent embodied. Some had told her in life that she embodied this trait, although the warrior in her quickly dismissed the notion. It was different with Clark though.. she felt something. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but it was a connection, in this moment, with Clark Kent, Kal-El, Superman.. she felt connected. “That’s beautiful Clark.”

“I don’t know.. I just know it helps.. we all need that place, that person, or something that keeps us grounded.. even when we can fly.” Clark said with a slight chuckle at his joke. Diana found herself smiling once more upon hearing his laugh.

“Thank you..” Diana said.

“For?” Clark asked.

“Showing me this… talking to me…” Diana responded. “I.. I think you are pretty special Kal and I’m glad I met you.”

“It’s not everyday one stands in the presence of a goddess.. so I think you are special too.” Clark countered. Diana began to dismiss his choice of words for her but something in the sincerity of his voice made her forget to do so. She smiled. He smiled. Diana closed her eyes and turned her gaze back to the view stretched out beneath them. She glanced out of the corner of her eye to see Clark had done the same.

“Clark..” Diana began, suddenly in this moment the switch-up on names seemed appropriate.

“Yeah?” Clark responded.

“Will.. um..” Diana hesitated once more. “The League.. will… what I’m saying is.. will I only see you when there is trouble?”

“I hope not.” Clark replied. He took in Diana’s silhouette next to him and found himself contemplating her. He had never met anyone like her before, and wanted very much for them to become friends. He felt like his life would be missing something without her now.

“I hope not as well.” Diana replied. “The group.. we should stay united…”

“Yes.. we should.” Clark agreed. “And we will.. I’m never too far..”

“Same.” Diana agreed. Silence fell over them once more as the sounds of the windmill were the only things to be heard. Diana turned to Clark and clasped her hands together in front of her. “I better be heading back now..”

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” Clark asked.

“For now.” Diana replied with a nod and a smile. “It was good to talk to you…”

“Likewise.” Clark replied with a smile to match hers as the two made leaped off onto the ground below them, both landing with grace and barely without a sound. They began to make their way back towards the house, stopping as they reached the yard.

“See you around?” Diana asked as she and he slowly started to put some space between them.

“I’m always around.” Clark replied before he took to the skies. Diana watched him, even with her abilities, she felt a since of wonder upon seeing how Clark could so seamlessly blend being a simple farm boy with a near godlike being. The irony upon being in wonder at someone else was not lost on Diana, and in fact it prompted a small grin to form on her lips.

#superman #wonder woman #superwonder #diana prince #clark kent #justice league #fanfic

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shannaraisles · 7 years

Text

Set In Darkness

Chapter: 60 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M Warnings: None Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

A Split Second Decision

Orlesians, it seemed, were hopeless romantics. Despite the plethora of less than complimentary comments Rory had overheard in the last few hours, suddenly the lords and ladies of the court were falling over themselves to be sweet and pleasant to her. She had a feeling that change of tune had everything to do with the fact that Cullen had claimed her from Granthis at the end of their dance, and had yet to let go, his arm wrapped about her back as they faced his gaggle of breathless hangers-on.

"Madame Rutherford, you are a vision," one of the barons was saying to her. His attempt to sidle closer a moment ago had resulted in Cullen's hand tightening on her hip, a subtle sign that overtures of more than friendship were not going to be accepted with grace. "Such confidence to throw off the dictates of fashion. My wife has been admiring your gown all evening."

"Indeed, madame, it is a beautiful creation," the baron's wife added. She was on the other side of Cullen, and all hands in the commander's own words. "Who created for you? I do hope she kept the design."

Rory tried not to laugh at this sudden interest in her. She'd known Cullen was very popular among the Orlesian nobility, but she genuinely hadn't expected him to use her as a sort of human shield at the first opportunity. Since he'd pulled her to his accustomed corner of the ballroom, he hadn't had to say a word - his admirers were focusing on her in some strange attempt to win his favor by being pleasant to his wife.

"Madame De Fer's preferred seamstress, Madame Francoise, made this gown," she told the baroness with a smile that was only just short of being a grin. She could play at being a vacuous primp for a while. "Her technique is just divine, my lady, and so comfortable! Why, I even have pockets for my precious things!"

She felt Cullen swallow down the urge to snort with laughter, the familiar tension in his chest rumbling against her arm as he watched the little group suddenly separate into fascinated women, and bored men. None of the lords had a hope of following the conversation now taking place, as Rory did her best to praise Francoise to the skies while sounding as empty-headed as possible. With the Orlesian ladies sighing excitedly, discussing their own hopes to commission Francoise for their next events, he leaned down to murmur against her ear.

"Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?"

She tilted her head back, meeting his gaze from behind her mask with innocent mischief. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she informed her husband sweetly, watching as he manfully forced himself not to smile openly at her playful devilry. "Should I invite the gentlemen back to fondle your spectacular backside again?"

Cullen blanched, his eyes going wide for a brief moment. "How did you know ... Never mind." He shook his head, glancing at their small horde of admirers. "Act faint," he murmured against her ear, both of them knowing that it looked to those around them as though he was whispering sweet nothings to her.

The order might have been a surprise, but how else could they have a reasonable conversation in this ridiculous place? Privacy was hard to come by in the Imperial Court. Rory wasn't entirely certain she could sell faintness, but she gave it a good go, letting her knees buckle a little as her hand groped for his.

"Madame!" A marquis on the outskirts of the group was the first to notice, pushing forward to take her hand as Cullen schooled his expression into one of concern, his arm wrapping about her waist to ostensibly hold her up. "Are you unwell?"

She shook her head, offering a brave little smile for his concern. "A little faint," she told the nobleman. "It seems very warm in here."

"Perhaps some fresh air will help," Cullen announced, more for the benefit of their admirers than anything else. "Come out onto the balcony a while. Thank you, my lord. Do excuse us."

With skillful charm, he managed to detach his wife from the worried marquis' grip and usher her out onto the nearest balcony, breathing a sigh of relief when no one tried to follow. Rory tried not to laugh at the instant relief on his face.

"Maker's breath, they won't leave me alone," he complained impatiently. "Congratulations on our marriage combined with snide suggestions that an Orlesian mistress would suit me better than a Ferelden wife. Male or female."

"Not tempted, then?" she teased, earning herself a dark look from her husband.

"You are more than temptation enough for me, sweeting," he informed her in a firm tone, turning his body to hide the gentle touch of his hand to the little swell of their child, hidden beneath her flouncing skirts. "You seem to have them wrapped about your finger well enough. Have you heard anything of note?"

Rory shook her head. "Nothing but gossip regarding themselves," she admitted. "I've passed most of it on to Leliana; she seems to think she can make use of it. They're very derogatory about Kaaras. It's difficult not to leap to his defense, but everyone here thinks I don't speak Orlesian."

"Which was the point of the exercise," he agreed reluctantly. "I have tried to change their minds about him, but their fixation on ... well, my personal preferences ... does not allow for much in the way of political discourse."

She bit her lip, utterly failing to hide her smile. "You're not enjoying all the attention, love?"

He snorted derisively. "Hardly." Leaning beside her against the stone balustrade, he let his lips brush her ear, his tone lowering to something far less than appropriate for such a public place. "Yours is the only attention worth having."

She shivered at the promise in his tone, her fingers curling into his hand to grip tightly as his unspoken desire brought a bloom of heat to her cheeks. The inner fangirl was squealing again, absolutely delighted by a piece of game dialogue recreated with all new nuances just for her.

"You are so beautiful," Cullen whispered to her, the fingertips of his free hand tracing over her shoulder, along the dipped neckline of her gown. "A wildflower among roses. I have never felt more privileged than when you entered the ballroom and heads turned to admire you, knowing you are mine."

"Cullen," she breathed, uncertain if she was pleading for him to stop or to go on.

Those who glanced their way from the ballroom would see only the commander and his wife, standing side by side, speaking quietly together in the fresher night air. They couldn't hear the low longing in his voice as he caressed her senses with words alone; couldn't feel the way she thrilled to the possessive craving in the tangle of his fingers about her own, the heady darkening of whiskey-warm eyes that wanted to see her melt at his command. He wouldn't kiss her, not where these puffed-up idiots could see and take it for their own entertainment, but he could tease her with soft promises of the night to come, when their business here was over and they were free to return to Val Royeaux.

The sound of a throat quietly clearing behind them drew them apart to turn, finding Blackwall standing awkwardly in the doorway to the ballroom, trying to look as though he wasn't interrupting what he knew was a private moment.

"What is it?" Cullen asked, the longing, the promise, gone from his voice in an instant. How does he do that?

Blackwall let his dark eyes touch them regretfully. "Solas is asking for a healer's help," he said quietly, moving to join them so he would not be overheard. "Dorian's wrist needs setting before he can heal it."

"There was fighting in the servants' wing?" Cullen asked, releasing Rory as she turned toward the false Warden.

"Aye, but we came through it," the bearded man nodded. "Kaaras is dancing with the Grand Duchess. Think Leliana might want you, commander."

"Of course." Cullen nodded, glancing down at his wife briefly. Things seemed to be coming to a head. He drew her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently. "Bring her back to the ballroom when she's done," he told Blackwall firmly. "We'll want you all there in case of ... incident."

"Right you are." Blackwall nodded in agreement, offering Rory his arm. His courtly manners were still very good, despite several years spent in the wilds, but the tension in him was palpable. He was skirting a dangerous line just being here, and he knew it. "This way, mistress."

With a last look to Cullen, Rory took the offered arm, forcing herself to wipe the concern from her face as Blackwall escorted her through the ballroom to the great doors that opened into the vestibule. Despite the mask she wore, she knew the people here could likely read her expression with the ease of years of practice. She wanted them to think that Cullen had handed his wife to a trusted friend to seek refreshment, while he returned to his place in the ballroom; she wasn't sure if she had succeeded. A brief glance to the dance-floor revealed that Kaaras was, indeed, dancing with Florianne du Chalons - the evening was definitely accelerating toward its final conclusion. But what that conclusion would be, Rory still could not guess. Celene and Gaspard were both awful options, and Briala was working for her own gain, but somehow, at least one of them had to come out on top tonight. She did not envy her Qunari friend that decision.

Dorian was hidden away in the library, pale as he cradled his broken wrist, sipping an elfroot potion to numb the pain while Solas waited patiently beside him.

"Ah, there you are," he managed in a tight tone. "A prettier healer I never did see."

"Did you have another argument with a door, Dorian?" Rory asked, kneeling down in front of him to gently inspect the state of his wrist.

"Sadly, no," he informed her, cheerful despite his injury. "A Venatori thug objected to my outfit rather violently, as it happens."

"Well, the cutting edge of fashion is rather brutal," she agreed, turning his hand as gently as she could. "This is going to be incredibly painful."

"You know, just once it would be nice if you could lie through your teeth about the pain aspect," the altus complained, gritting his teeth already.

"Are you ready, Solas?" she asked, tilting her head up to the elven apostate. She found it a little strange that none of the group had tried to set this wrist themselves, but then maybe they'd leapt at the chance to get her out from under the nobles' eyes for a few minutes. It would be nice to think that was the case, but it was more likely that no one wanted the responsibility of resetting the bone in case it went wrong.

Solas nodded silently, raising his hand over the injured arm, prepared to pour that healing magic into Dorian's limb the moment the bone was set. "On your mark, healer."

"All right, then." She turned her attention back to the wrist. "Dorian, what's the Tevinter word for sexy?"

"The ... why in Andraste's name would you want to know tha - vishante kaffas!"

He threw back his head with a strangled groan of blinding agony as she used his confusion to tug the bones back into position. A moment later, Solas was done, and all that remained was the lingering memory of that pain. Dorian scowled at her, flexing his newly healed wrist.

"If I had the energy, I might hate you for that," he told her, nodding gratefully to Solas as the other mage stepped away. "You could have done that a little differently."

"You have a bad habit of tensing up," she informed her friend, taking Blackwall's hand to rise to her feet. "It makes my job harder. Up you get; Cullen wants everyone in the ballroom for the foreseeable."

Together, the three of them made their way back to the ballroom, an interesting enough trio to draw the attention of the curious nobles away from Kaaras disappearing once again with Varric, Cassandra, and Solas. Cullen was nowhere to be seen, but Rory knew what was happening now - the Inquisitor was walking into a trap, and Cullen was giving the order for his soldiers to infiltrate the Winter Palace. A quick sweep of the ballroom revealed that there were a few harlequins in evidence, something that made the redhead distinctly uneasy. She'd only played the big fight ending once, somehow managing to keep her court approval high enough not to have to do it again, but the sight of those Orlesian assassins mixed in with the nobility was giving her a very bad feeling.

When Cullen returned, he all but glued himself to her side, his tension palpable enough that Dorian chose not to tease him about protecting his wife in a room full of nobles who, at worst, wanted to get her into bed. In fact, Dorian was on edge; everyone she knew in this room was on edge. Granthis, who had been so jovial all evening, was watching from the sidelines, his mismatched eyes wary behind his mask. Even the nobility was beginning to feel it, their lively chatter starting to show the strain, when the herald announced that in a few moments, the Empress would be addressing them.

"Where is he?" Cullen muttered, worry and exasperation mingling in his tone. They needed Kaaras here when Celene made her announcement, or everything they'd come here to accomplish would go down the drain. And he didn't even know that Florianne was the assassin.

The suggestion of horns emerging from an unused doorway into the ballroom caught the commander's attention, and he strode away to make sure Kaaras knew what was going on. But Rory was a little more immediately concerned by the sight of the smiling mask of a harlequin too close for comfort, taking up position beside the Inquisition soldier who was guarding the door to the balcony nearby. She squeezed Dorian's arm.

"Let's move a little bit further down the rug here," she murmured to him, subtly nodding toward the theatrically-dressed assassin.

Dorian seemed to barely glance in that direction, but he nodded in agreement. "Ah, yes, the view of the Empress will be so much better from over here," he said aloud. "Her sense of style is unrivaled, so I hear. Or was, before you walked into Halamshiral." In a lower tone, so quiet she almost missed it, he added, "Stay close to me."

"I hardly think anyone's going to remember me after tonight," she told him for the benefit of anyone listening to them, as he guided her to the lee of one of the thick pillars beside the railing that looked down over the dancefloor. Defensible.

"You may be surprised," the altus answered, raising his head. "Ah, I believe the Empress is about to speak."

As the herald called for silence, and Celene took her place to address the court, Rory's eyes searched wildly for Kaaras. He wasn't moving. A cold certainty gripped her heart as her gaze rose to the Empress ... to Florianne circling behind her. She felt sick, hands gripping the warm marble of the railing before her. She knew what was going to happen.

Empress Celene was going to die. And the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, her friend, was going to let it happen. A split second decision ... and there was nothing she could do to change it.

#set in darkness #multi-chapter fic #MGiT #modern girl in thedas #cullen rutherford/original female character #cullen rutherford/rory allen #rory allen #cullen rutherford #blackwall #dorian pavus #solas #halamshiral #the winter palace #wicked hearts wicked eyes #private moments #flirty nobles #cullen doesn't like being flirted with by orlesians #but has no problem teasing his wife #naughty boy

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pinelife3 · 5 years

Text

Sadness

The treatment of the breaking of the fourth wall in Fleabag is the most compelling thing I’ve seen all year. Throughout the first season, our protagonist Fleabag (played by Phoebe Waller-Bridge who also writes the show) would look at the camera to make witty asides. Usually a sarcastic remark or eye roll to hammer home that she’s sardonic, insincere, perhaps a little underhanded.

You’ve probably noticed how if you’re in a one-on-one conversation, it’s hard to rag on someone but that in a group it works (because you can pretend it’s good natured humour rather than a scathing attack on their very existence). In Fleabag, the breaking of the fourth wall is a way for Fleabag to safely ridicule whoever she’s speaking to. It’s also a succinct way of delivering backstory, revealing her intentions, and getting us on side. These interactions with the fourth wall are pretty standard, see: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Amélie, House of Cards, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Shakespearean asides, American Psycho. It’s an accepted device. But then in season two, when Fleabag speaks to us, someone takes notice, someone spots her dipping out of their diegetic reality as she speaks to us in ours.

I thrilled at this.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve seen everything - but I’d never seen this before. This is the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen on a TV show (forget the Red Wedding). This is a masterful trick, and great storytelling all at once - it demolishes a literary device. But most of the coverage of Fleabag has focused on how sad the show is:

People seem to like that: they like being crushed, enjoy being devastated. Why is that?

I’ve recently cried over two cowboy related things: Brokeback Mountain and Red Dead Redemption 2.

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I cried when I finished Red Dead Redemption 2 because I love Arthur Morgan so much: he was just the sweetest guy, and I was sad the story was over because we can’t go fishing anymore, or crash his horse into trees and fall, or fight gators in the swamps, or brush his horse while we cruise around the old west. I just felt so wistful for his life and the idea of bad guys working hard to be good in a changing world.

And then I cried at the end of Brokeback Mountain because it is objectively very sad. The shirts tucked inside each other which Jack kept all those years. The possibility that Jack didn’t know how much Ennis loved him. The life they could have had together, and how much they loved each other - but the families and relationships they destroyed along the way as well, because no one ever said what they felt.

I really liked both Brokeback and Red Dead, because they have great stories and characters. In Red Dead, I have so many fond memories - and for that reason it made me feel strong emotions. But I don’t like Red Dead because it made me feel strong emotions. I don’t like Brokeback because it was ‘crushing’ and/or ‘devastating’ - it was enjoyable because it was a beautiful story with tragic, poignant elements. I like the story - not that it made me cry. Most Fleabag reviews seem to focus on the sadness it made the audience feel as a way to recommend it to people.

Watch Fleabag - it will make you feel something.

Prepare to emote because Fleabag is preternaturally sad.

The discourse around the show on Reddit is similar:

Pffft want to feel really sad? Check out this scene from Synecdoche, New York:

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It’s very moving, kind of irresistibly so. And I think that’s because it’s calling out to that scared, bitter, self-pitying part of you which is always cringing in the shadows, waiting for someone to invite it out of the garage into the living room. This speech is designed to frighten you: you’ll make misssssstakesss and ruin your life. You won’t even know you’re doing it until it’ssssss toooooo late. You might think your life is nice - but that’sssssssssssss only because you haven’t ssssssssssseen how bad it will get. It’s giving you permission to feel bad without providing any reason to feel bad, and then it’s allowing you to wallow in that bad feeling. It’s poison.

I promise you, for 99% of people who watched Synecdoche, New York , life is not that bad. People in horrible, war torn places where they aren’t able to watch Charlie Kaufman films because no one dubs indie movies in Kurdish have it bad - and not just because they’re missing out on great films, but because they essentially live in a sandier version of Hell. Haven’t you ever sat in the sun with a dog and seen it look back at you and felt a perfect connection? Haven’t you ever fallen asleep, perfectly comfortable, tucked in beside someone you love? Haven’t you ever eaten pancakes with ice cream, or seen a huge mountain, or been really cold and then gotten into a warm bath? Haven’t you ever seen a baby fake-crying on the tram and then its mum tickles it under the chin and it laughs, and you see everyone around you smile because babies are so pure? Come on! You’re not Othello. Your life is pretty nice. Even Othello’s life was pretty nice right up until the end.

Pretty nice.

But boring. Right?

Pancakes? Cuddles?

How am I to thrill at sunsets and smiling babies?

Good. Now I’m sad again.

And if the realisation that you don’t have anything to be sad about (except for the ordinariness of the pleasures in your life) didn’t make you sad, check out this compilation of the 10 most depressing moments in Bojack Horseman (ranked in order from least depressing to most depressing!).

A major inconvenience of modern life is that most of us have supremely comfortable, happy, safe lives. And when something goes wrong, you can’t go on a tragic rampage and tear out your own eyes, beat your breast, or wail on the moor in a thunderstorm - even though that may be what you feel like doing.

Work sucks, no one respects me, and I messed up that section of the Excel spreadsheet so maybe they are right to not respect me: take me to a moor where my tears can blend with rain and my howls will be swallowed by the wind!

Ordinary people don’t get to live in a tragedy - and besides, there aren’t as many moors around as literature might have you believe. The most you can do usually is make a scene at a family dinner or isolate yourself at a party and then get drunk and walk home crying. Who would write a sweeping, romantic story about an embarrassing fuck up walking home drunk, feeling sorry for themselves.

Oh.

Wait:

And Now For That 2000 Year Old Mystery

Aristotle’s Poetics is the source of the word catharsis (in italics because it’s Greek which is the way I was taught to do it in high school - if only there were Greecian-alics, am I right?), which in common parlance today basically means any kind of dramatic release of emotions. Kickboxing is cathartic. Getting your eyebrows waxed is cathartic. Crying during an emotional episode of a TV show is cathartic.

Because the word appeared in Poetics, it's original usage related to the theatre, in particular the experience of an audience watching a tragedy: the release of emotions they feel in watching things go seriously wrong for the hero. For this reason, catharsis is often tied to anagnorisis - the moment of tragic realisation.

Oh god I killed my father and married my mother.

Oh god, that’s my son’s head on the pike, not the head of a mountain lion.

Oh god, remember when I messed up that bit of the spreadsheet and everyone knew it was me. Existence truly is pain.

You get the idea. It’s not enough that the protagonist is a fuck up: that matter needs to be brought to their attention and they need to reflect on it.

(A more proper (read: academic) definition of catharsis is: “an imitation of an action ‘with incidents arousing pity and fear, wherewith to accomplish its catharsis of such emotions.’” The emotions the audience feel echo what the people on stage are feeling. The jump scare in a horror movie scares the character on screen and the audience watching at home.)

Aristotle never clearly defined catharsis. So for all this time (2000+ years) people have been trying to infer what he meant from a couple of references to a pretty slippery concept. Even though the general public has their understanding of the word, academics still cannot agree on a definition. But we know what it means, roughly, because we’ve all experienced it.

Over the weekend I watched Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s other other TV show (not Killing Eve) which had an exchange between an artist and a drunk girl on sadness and how it factors into art:

Character 1: He’s my muse!

Character 2: Your muse?

...

Character 2: Like an artist's muse?!

Character 1: Yes, he is! You think meeting someone like Colin happens to artists all the time?! He gives so much.

Character 2: Yeah, sure, and you just lap it up and just slap it on a canvas.

Character 1: Pardon?

Character 2: "His pain is so beautiful." You're using him to indulge yourself.

Character 1: I am indulging? And what is this?

Character 2: This is a $4 bottle of wine.

...

Character 2: Sorry if I upset you, Melody.

Character 1: You don't upset me. You bore me. All you seem to want to do is drink and wank and drink and wank.

Character 2: Well, at least I don't have to wank other people's pain onto a canvas, and then shove it in people's faces and call it "my art."

Character 2 in this scene is played by Phoebe Waller-Bridge. I can’t be bothered to explain why it’s relevant.

For the eternity of human brains, or at least for as long as preserved creativity, the most comfortable, secure people in the world have tried to experience the things tragic victims feel - perhaps so they can briefly know what it feels like to be a romantic figure struggling in an unjust world. A passport to feelings and drama we aren’t permitted in every day life. Catharsis is the word to express the reaction, but what do we call an audience who seeks out that sensation? Catharsis chasers?

It’s not insightful to say that people like to watch Fast & Furious movies because they’re exciting and perhaps audiences enjoy that excitement because their own lives are un-exciting. But commending a thing because it will make you sad seems aberrant in some way. A fast and dangerous car that will make you miserable. A roller coaster that will make you depressed. An incredible shootout in the streets of LA that will make you sob in the bathroom cubicle at work every time you think about it. I can’t explain the drive, but like Aristotle I will invent a new word, so that academics can never know what I meant but will still write at great length about it, so that it will slip into common parlance and be horribly misused until eventually, 2000 years from now, a girl can waffle on about it on her blog. And the word will be: scartharsio. Or maybe scorpithoniacs? Or sarcastiharsics?

Sadness is entertainment for a scartharsio.

ALL TIME HALL OF FAME: WAILING WOMEN AND MOORS

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Nobody knows what it’s like to be me, a sad woman who weeps on moors!

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I’m not being overly dramatic!

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#Fleabag #phoebe waller-bridge #bojack horseman #kate bush #wuthering heights #sense and sensibility #ang lee #kate winslet #othello #synecdoche new york #charlie kaufman #brokeback mountain #red dead redemption 2

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avatarmeherbaba · 5 years

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Early days with Baba

I had been a spiritual seeker and earnestly looking for any way I could "heal" for several years. Going from vipassana meditation to native American shamanic practices, I stripped away all I could that bound me to any falsehood. And for those years I found much help in those practices and experiences but always felt something was missing. In the summer of 2016 I met Adrienne, and the first thing I noticed stepping in her apartment in Oakland were pictures of Meher Baba in almost every room. She had showed me a photo of Him in the car the first time we met and I instantly knew He was a Master. To what extent, I didn't know at the time, but I stared into His eyes for what seemed like 30 mins. It felt like peering into the eyes of an old friend as His smile brought one to mine. It was a tranquil experience but to be honest I didn't think much of it because I had spent time before looking at pictures of Saints from India and experienced similar feelings. In the next year of Adrienne and I dating I would be doing my daily tasks and see Baba's image constantly...and this got me to wonder...who is this Meher Baba really? In all the studies I'd done on Indian Saints and Gurus I had never come across His name, or image once! Was He a fraud and my girlfriend an unfortunate pawn? I needed to know.

I kept looking at His photos and read Wikipedia but couldn't find a scandal or bad rep to His Name. This intrigued me more. So I began to dig through Adrienne’s bookshelf and came upon Discourses Volume II.

As I began to read, I felt an unshakeable pull and the experience of an energetic "download" occurring instantly. I KNEW His words were the Truth and I couldn't find anything I disagreed with on any page I scrolled through. It was a book that was crafted by a genius of the Spirit and I knew there was something for me to learn.

All this while, an indian Master named Neem Karoli Baba had been in my life for several years. I had had a spiritual awakening listening to Ram Dass in my early 20’s and felt my Heart awaken meditating on pictures of Neem Karoli Baba. Many a great feverish moment of utmost pain and suffering had I dropped down to my face on the floor in prostration begging for mercy and help.

As the days and weeks went on, I read more and more of the Discourses and plunged into the material. I thought, “Well if this Meher Baba said these things He must have some truth to Him. I still don’t know what my relationship to Him is though.” I was not however, consciously seeking Meher Baba as a guide or Master. I was simply interested in the Discourses and appreciated the spiritual topics discussed. One day my girlfriend (Adrienne) got invited to play music at a Baba event in upper New York called the Northeast Gathering and invited me to come. I hesitantly agreed. I wasn’t sure about being around a bunch of “Baba lovers” when I only was just beginning to read His material.

After a long drive with a wonderful man named Pauli from landing in New York, we arrived in a community center near Yonkers surrounded by lush green hills and trees. People greeted us warmly but I felt a little distant until one man named Charles Haynes approached me with the warmest of smiles. I was in line in the dining hall picking out slices of bread from a table covered in condiments.

 “Hello there, I was told that you are Adrienne’s partner. Wonderful to meet you, my name is Charles, Charles Haynes”. I shook his outstretched hand. It was cool to the touch, and I felt a soothing energy and smiled back.

“Nice to meet you. My name’s Alan. This is my first time at a Baba meeting.”

His sharp blue eyes eased my tension. He seemed unexplainably familiar.

“Oh that’s wonderful. Well we’re glad you both made it! Would you like to sit together for lunch?” His attire looked sharp, as if he was going to a business meeting.

“Sure, I think Adrienne is already seated over there.”

We walked over to the long table covered in red and white checkered tablecloth. I wanted to sit there because it was in the right side of the room and closer to the tall windows outlooking the green trees and fields beyond. Charles had met Adrienne before so they caught up. I was dipping my bacon in a sunny-side-up egg when suddenly a question popped up in my head. When there was finally a pause in their conversation I said, “ Hey Charles, may I ask you a question about your opinion on God?”

His quiet smile made a sudden shift in the energy at the table, and the chatter from the others at the table lulled to a halt.

“Why, yes of course Alan. Ask away.”

I swallowed my bite of bacon and said, “ So I have a sense that God is beyond comprehension, being everything, everywhere all at once. It seems hard for me to accept or understand how God could be one person, or embodied in a human, since God to me is literally every atom and molecule from earth to the farthest reaches of space. I don’t know if I can see God in one person, since many people have claimed themselves as God in human form before.”

Charles seemed to watch each word I said like he was reading a puzzle, nodding and pausing for a few seconds before he responded.

“Hmm. I think I understand the question implied. Yes, I very much agree that God is everything and everywhere.” His southern twang accented his words, “And it seems to me that in the case of Meher Baba, He is one of the faces of God in human form. But it’s a personal relationship, one that is between you and Him. Some people have such a connection while some do not. Meher Baba loves all indiscriminately.”

His words simmered in my head as the day went on. There was something about the love in Charles’s eyes when he spoke of Baba, something about his deep connection with a man I had never met that was deeply palpable. I pondered on this until the evening when Charles was a guest speaker in the main Hall. There were about 50 people gathered for the talk in the low ceiling-room, most in their mid-50s to 70s. Adrienne and I sat in the front row and I didn’t expect to hear much except a few stories of how Charles met Meher Baba in the 1950’s. What happened next not only changed the entire course of my life, but opened the door of my heart to a pool of unconditional love that continues to sustain me on a daily basis.

Charles got to a place in the story where Baba was visiting His Center in Myrtle Beach South Carolina in 1958. At 8 years old Charles lived on the Center and in this particular moment, Baba was walking past him and did not acknowledge Charles in a way that stirred him up greatly. (Please see this link to Charles telling the story, my explanation here does not give it justice! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z_LH4q0FyI8 at the 30:00 min mark on)

Suddenly in a flash of instinct Charles reached out, and took hold of Baba’s sadra (clothing). He mentioned that it was totally out of his character to act in such a manner but found his heart had impelled him to reach out and hold on to Baba. He felt so much love for Baba, not because of any particular reason, but because it was spontaneous and erupted from his very soul. At this point in the story I was sitting very still and listening very intently. The whole room was dead silent and the rhythm of Charles’s voice brought up within me first a warmth in my chest, then what felt like fire and an eruption of emotion that leapt out of my soul. I began to weep so fiercely that it took me by complete surprise. And not only that, but Adrienne had also burst into tears right at the very same moment. It was a force of love I had longed for my whole life, a feeling of complete acceptance and forgiveness, like being cradled in the Cosmic arms of Infinity.

Charles Haynes in Myrtle Beach 1958. The exact moment he leapt for Baba.

I would experience in the coming weeks and months a powerful remembering; a deep-seated feeling of coming back home to myself through the love for Meher Baba in a series of dreams, visions, meditations, and synchronicities. This familiarity with a man I had not met in this lifetime was perplexing, but brought absolute significance to my life. As Baba states in Discourses Volume II, page 94:

“The relation between the Master and the disciple is often carried on from one life to another for several reincarnations. Those who have been connected to the Master in past lives are drawn to him by an unconscious magnetism, not knowing why they are thus drawn. There is usually a long history to the apparently unaccountable devotion which the disciple feels for his Master. The disciple is often beginning where he had left off in the last incarnation.”

One night a little while after our trip to NY, I had a dream I was walking through a vast desert with sand as far as the eye could see. I saw a black scorpion and some brush. Suddenly I began to be pulled backward, up and into the top of a closet shelf then into a dimly lit room sitting in a chair. The sun was out but the cream colored blinds were closed. The interior looked retro, from the 1960’s.

A man was sitting in a chair opposite to me near the window looking toward a bed to my right. He was describing what seemed to be his worries and troubles. Suddenly in the middle of his sentence as he was saying the word “sadness” another voice, a voice more clear than I’ve ever heard, thunderously said "SADNESS". A finger pointed at the man and when I followed the tip of the finger to the face, lo and behold it was Meher Baba. As he sat on the bed he looked down at me directly making eye contact. He did not blink as he looked deeply into me, and my whole body began to quiver. It came as a shock because there I was, suspended in the crackling intensity of Truth, breathless, soundless, just vividly awake. I was looking into the eyes of the timeless, eternal One and he looked as real as anyone in “waking” reality. I’m not sure how long I looked into His eyes, but at one point I began to weep into my hands profusely. I kept repeating over and over "I thought Neem Karoli Baba was my Master". I woke from the dream in fervent tears breathing heavily with my heart racing.

During these early months of Baba slowly but surely hooking me to His Damaan, I was battling my confusion with why Neem Karoli Baba had been in my life and who he was to me now. It wasn’t till one night while staring at Neem Karoli Baba’s photo that the answer came. I had the experience of him telling me, “I have brought you to the Ocean of Love”. I began weeping not knowing what that meant for I hadn’t known that phrase to be connected to Meher Baba. I just felt an indescribable sensation that the “train tracks” were being shifted from one frequency to another.

With tears still streaming down my face I walked into the living room where Adrienne was on her computer. I went over and saw on the screen a quote from Meher Baba that read in big letters, “I AM THE OCEAN OF LOVE”. And that was it. I fell to my knees and it felt like galaxies and starlight imploded in my chest. Baba felt so physically near and I held my heart sobbing hot tears to the ground, for He was the One I knew to be my true Master.

I eventually found a passage in Discourses Volume II Pgs. 54-55, that discussed the experience of having multiple Masters in one lifetime:

“All Perfect Masters are one in their consciousness and it is absurd to imagine any grades between them. Though one Master is not greater than the other, the disciple must, for his own purposes, place the claim of his own Master over and above the claims of other Masters until he transcends the domain of duality and realizes the unity of all life…in very rare cases, owing to special circumstances, the Masters themselves might decide to share the spiritual work in relation to a particular disciple. There are, therefore, exceptional cases of disciples who have had to affiliate to two or more Masters. This is an exception rather than the rule, and where there are more Masters than one, they arrange the distribution of their work so carefully that they do not set up any conflict of claims.”

After that day I never reached out internally or externally to Neem Karoli. I didn’t think about it or question, it was just time to move forward with the God Man, that’s all.

#avatarmeherbaba #meherbaba #jaibaba #belovedmeher

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arcenciel-par-une-larme · 7 years

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Reasons to be a leftist in the 21st Century

[translated and slightly modified from an article I read. DISCLAIMER I do not own anything except my own additions, where noted.]

Because you can consider yourself morally superior to everybody else without ever having to practically prove what your superiority consists in. It suffices that you pose it as an axiom.

Because you have the freedom to maintain that true politics is limited in philosophical quotations and the recitation of noble desires with which pretty much everybody (especially Peter Pan) agrees.

Because you can criticise everything without offering a counter-proposal. The answer to everything is “love” [own note: cf. “open-mindedness”, “tolerance”]

Because you are a priori right in every discourse, since you are not obliged to construct and submit arguments. In case your opponent demands them, you can easily leave them dumbfounded by asserting that s/he has never studied history (which, by the way, is ALWAYS on your side) [own note: Alternatively, come up with some convoluted reason to declare them sexist, racist or homophobic. That ought to shut them up].

Because you have the most beneficial relation to capitalism possible. You take advantage of it in the way, time and degree that you desire (e.g. by consuming its goods, offering your services to it, being rewarded by it) but theoretically you are its permanent detractor. Thus, you manage to benefit from its positive aspects, while at the same time you renounce its “monstrous evils” - given that, formally, you disagree with it and, as is well known, all that matters in your world is ideology, i.e. what you believe and say you are.

Because you are able to be philosophically opposed to the concept of power or authority and consider anyone who wields it (in any form and intensity - from the local school principal up to the PM himself) inhumane, but also approve of it with immense joy when it is exerted by you or anyone of your persuasion.

Because you can defy every procedural framework and democratic tool when they are imposed and used by non-leftist folks (because, in your judgment, “they are not pro-human” (now ain’t that deep)) but also demand their strict observance when those whom you like call upon them.

Because you deserve to and, to be exact, enjoy the exclusive privilege to label every application of a law which you don’t particularly like as fascistic and totalitarian, as well as designate the state involving the legal status quo which you dislike as fascistic. In the meantime, you have the right to state your satisfaction in the implementation of the exact same laws and democratic institutions - as long as the government is of leftist leanings.

Because you enjoy the exclusive privilege to produce authentic judgment on violence, as well as constantly invent new sub-categories of it, regardless of the dictionary definitions or plain sense because, clearly, you know better. In the same framework, you hold the absolute right to detest violence and put under the umbrella of its vague definition anything that displeases you, but also call for its use against your enemies, because then it is not “violence”, it’s “justice”. [own note: usually expressed in terms such as “the oppressed have every right to lash out against their oppressors”]

Because your arsenal of arguments consists primarily of absolutes which are not subject to scrutiny under reason and/or science, because, as everybody is aware, sciences and degrees are bought/sold/corrupted things who estrange man from true knowledge [own note: to this you may add, ad libitum, that “evidence and logic are obsolete constructs of the cis white heteropatriarchy”]. Thus, you have the ability to support everything but also deny everything, without bearing any sort of burden of proof for your allegations.

[my own addition] Because, depending on your metaphysical beliefs in the context of your leftism, you can also have a special relationship to science as well. When your opponent happens to be a theist, you can very simply refuse to debate with “retards like him/her” by playing the “Science has proven that God does not exist lol who could ever take you and your arguments seriously” magic card, with no examples or citations needed even for that, but when peer-reviewed articles prove that the gender pay gap can be traced back to causes unrelated to institutionalised sexism, then “the results are obviously rigged” and “traditional logic and reason are patriarchal constructs”. Or, more concisely: theists bear a burden of proof for the existence of God, but your claim that there are 145 genders must be taken as gospel.

Because you can shun the education system, school, college, university, classes, studies and separate disciplines, but at the same time assert an active role in the structuring of the curriculum and administration of colleges and universities.

Because your former life means jack s**t once you decide to join the “enlightened” left. From the moment on that you embrace leftist dogma and modify your speech accordingly, you are a true missionary and whatever you say gains extra importance and a poetic gravitas. Your whole record is wiped clean and you are a saint in everybody’s eyes. [own note: if you want some evidence off the top of my head, take a look at the organisers of the vagina demonstrations women’s marches. Hint: if you find an ex-torturer and a Sharia apologist among them, don’t say I didn’t warn you.]

[own addition] Because, once you are a leftist saint, or at least seek protection under the wings of the Almighty Church of Leftism, you get a free pass on things ten times as controversial as what you criticise others for. By way of example, you can compare opposition to no-measures immigration to genocide, but when you say “kill all men” it’s ‘just a joke’. Likewise, when you deem your child trans in its third year of age, you are a ‘hero’ of ‘progress’, but a couple raising their kids in a Christian worldview and way of living are “indoctrinating them” and it counts as child abuse.

Because while, formally, you are strongly opposed to discrimination and labelling, you are entitled to lump all your intellectual opponents together into one enormous category, apply to that category the label that suits you and cast stones at them at will.

Because you have the freedom to speak on behalf of “the people”, without any authorisation by anybody.

Because you have the most convenient relationship with logic. Whenever you want or are forced to collide with it, you aren’t irrational as anybody else would be, you’re just a romantic revolutionary who wants to make the world a better place.

Because you can continually reinforce your position (which is either way dominant) by invoking the struggles of others, with whom you are not connected in any way beyond your imagination.

Because your left-ness is something akin to an honorary title, which shall accompany you throughout your entire life and shall buy you positions, distinctions and glory, without your actually being obliged to do anything for that or possess any ability or talent.

Because you have the mind-bogglingly surreal advantage of stigmatising as apolitical [own note: or, just as easily, fascist, medieval or nazi] anyone whose political convictions fall to the right of yours.

[own addition] Because, if you are a leftist but also consider yourself Christian, things could not be better for you! Not only can you conveniently label any conservative a racist/misogynist/homophobic/islamophobic bigot, but when it comes to Christian conservatives in particular you can also confidently shout that they are not true Christians and gleefully proclaim how God will burn their asses in Hell eternally and you will be laughing. (Yes, fellow leftist ‘Christian’, the “love your enemies and pray for them” commandment only applies to others; you are a cute, special little snowflake and you don’t need to burden yourself with anything resembling courtesy or ethics or bearing your own cross and all that jazz...)

Because it is ex officio self-explanatory and universally accepted that you belong to the group of the greatest Fighters for Social Justice and, at the same time, the most oppressed among all citizens, just because you participate in rallies and believe that the state owes you extra stuff and special treatment.

Because you can always decry propaganda while simultaneously declare yourself unaffected tby it - and in this you see no contradiction.

Because you have the most peculiar and schizoid relationship with the state. It is obliged to pay you, recompense for you, educate you, take care of you, employ you, spoil you, not tire you, foster you and do likewise for your children and the only thing you have to do is point out how bad and incompetent it is.

[own additions henceforth] ...until a left-wing government is elected and then you insist that we must give more and more and MORE power to the state or else the entire country is doomed. When, after all that, you have a right-wing government again, only then and not a moment earlier you have to remember that it is bad to trust the state with excessive control and call for curbing its power.

Perhaps most importantly: Because you can spend years on end being allergic to any sign of dissent, labelling whomever disagrees with your ideology hateful or bigoted or whatever modern synonym is available and shutting down all debate, but when people get disillusioned by your collective attitude and turn en masse to other platforms and ideologies, you are under no obligation to assess your actions and words so far and consider the possibility that you might have been wrong; nope, it MUST be their fault and this only proves that they ARE hateful, bigoted, misogynistic, racist, homophobic, climate-change-denying Bible-thumpers after all and that YOU HAVE BEEN RIGHT ALL ALONG!

#leftism #liberalism #leftist hypocrisy #anti sjw #anti cultural marxism

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pamphletstoinspire · 7 years

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THE HOLY GOSPEL OF JESUS CHRIST, ACCORDING TO ST. John, FROM THE LATIN VULGATE BIBLE

Chapter 6

PREFACE.

St. John, the evangelist, a native of Bathsaida, in Galilee, was the son of Zebedee and Salome. He was by profession a fisherman. Our Lord gave to John, and to James, his brother, the surname of Boanerges, or, sons of thunder; most probably for their great zeal, and for their soliciting permission to call fire from heaven to destroy the city of the Samaritans, who refused to receive their Master. St. John is supposed to have been called to the apostleship younger than any of the other apostles, not being more than twenty-five or twenty-six years old. The Fathers teach that he never married. Our Lord had for him a particular regard, of which he gave the most marked proofs at the moment of his expiring on the cross, by intrusting to his care his virgin Mother. He is the only one of the apostles that did not leave his divine Master in his passion and death. In the reign of Domitian, he was conveyed to Rome, and thrown into a caldron of boiling oil, from which he came out unhurt. He was afterwards banished to the island of Patmos, where he wrote his book of Revelations; In his gospel, St. John omits very many leading facts and circumstances mentioned by the other three evangelists, supposing his readers sufficiently instructed in points which his silence approved. It is universally agreed, that St. John had seen and approved of the other three gospels.

Chapter 6

Christ feeds five thousand with five loaves: he walks upon the sea, and discourses of the bread of life.

1 After this, Jesus went over the sea of Galilee, which is that of Tiberias:

Notes & Commentary:

Ver. 1. Galilee. St. John does not usually relate what is mentioned by the other evangelists, especially what happened in Galilee. If he does it on this occasion, it is purposely to introduce the subject of the heavenly bread, which begins ver. 37. He seems, moreover, to have had in view the description of the different passovers during Christ's public ministry. As he, therefore, remained in Galilee during the third passover, he relates pretty fully what passed during that time. We may also remark, that as the other three evangelists give, in the same terms, the institution of the blessed sacrament, St. John omits the institution, but gives in detail the repeated promises of Jesus Christ, relative to this great mystery.

2 And a great multitude followed him, because they saw the miracles which he did on them that were diseased.

Ver. 2. No explanation given.

3 Jesus therefore went up into a mountain, and there he sat with his disciples.

Ver. 3. No explanation given.

4 Now the Pasch, the festival day *of the Jews, was near at hand.

Ver. 4. From the circumstance of the passover, the number that followed Jesus was greatly increased. (Bible de Vence)

5 When Jesus, therefore, had lifted up his eyes, and seen that a very great multitude cometh to him, he said to Philip: Whence shall we buy bread, that these may eat?

Ver. 5. Our Lord first said, (Matthew xiv. 16.) Give them to eat; but afterwards, accommodating himself to the weakness of his disciples, he says: Whence shall we buy bread? So there is no contradiction.

6 And this he said to try him: for he himself knew what he would do.

Ver. 6. No explanation given.

7 Philip answered him: Two hundred penny-worth of bread is not sufficient for them, that every one may take a little.

Ver. 7. No explanation given.

8 One of his disciples, Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, saith to him:

Ver. 8. No explanation given.

9 There is a boy here that hath five barley loaves, and two fishes; but what are these among so many?

Ver. 9. No explanation given.

10 Then Jesus said: Make the men sit down. Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, in number about five thousand.

Ver. 10. The text in St. Matthew adds: without counting the women and the children, who might possibly amount to an equal number.

11 And Jesus took the loaves: and when he had given thanks, he distributed to them that were sat down: In like manner also of the fishes, as much as they would.

Ver. 11. In the Greek, there is this addition: He distributed to the disciples, and the disciples to them that were sitting. The Syriac, and some Greek copies agree with the Vulgate.

12 And when they were filled, he said to his disciples: Gather up the fragments that remain, lest they be lost.

Ver. 12. To make the miracle still more conspicuous to the multitude, Jesus Christ shewed, that not only their present wants were supplied, but that there remained as much, or more, after they had all been filled, than there had been at first presented to Him.

13 So they gathered them up, and filled twelve baskets, with the fragments of the five barley loaves, which remained over and above to them that had eaten.

Ver. 13. No explanation given.

14 Then those men, when they had seen what a miracle Jesus had done, said: This is of a truth, the prophet that is to come into the world.

Ver. 14. The Prophet indeed. That is, the Messias. (Witham)

15 When Jesus, therefore, perceived that they would come to take him by force, and make him king, *he fled again into the mountain himself alone.

Ver. 15. St. John here corrects what relates to Jesus, and then what relates to the disciples. For if we attend to the order of time, the apostles got into the boat before Jesus went to the mountain. But, in matters of this nature, it is usual for the historians to follow their own choice. (Polus, Synop. critic.)

16 And when evening was come, his disciples went down to the sea.

Ver. 16. No explanation given.

17 And when they had entered into a ship, they went over the sea to Capharnaum: and it was now dark, and Jesus was not come to them.

Ver. 17. No explanation given.

18 And the sea arose, by reason of a great wind that blew.

Ver. 18. No explanation given.

19 When they had rowed therefore about five and twenty or thirty furlongs, they see Jesus walking on the sea, and drawing near to the ship, and they were afraid.

Ver. 19. Five and twenty or thirty furlongs. About three or four miles.

20 But he saith to them: It is I: be not afraid.

Ver. 20. No explanation given.

21 They were willing, therefore, to take him into the ship: and presently the ship was at the land to which they were going.

Ver. 21. In St. Matthew xiv. 26. and St. Mark vi. 51. we find that Jesus entered into the boat. St. John does not deny it; but he remarks a circumstance not noticed by the others: The vessel was presently at the land. (Bible de Vence)

22 The next day the multitude that stood on the other side of the sea saw that there was no other ship there but one, and that Jesus had not entered into the ship with his disciples, but that his disciples were gone away alone:

Ver. 22. No explanation given.

23 But other ships came in from Tiberias, near to the place where they had eaten the bread, the Lord giving thanks.

Ver, 23. No explanation given.

24 When the people, therefore, saw that Jesus was not there, nor his disciples, they took shipping, and came to Capharnaum, seeking for Jesus.

Ver. 24. No explanation given.

25 And when they had found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him: Rabbi, when camest thou hither?

Ver. 25. No explanation given.

26 Jesus answered them, and said: Amen, amen I say to you: you seek me, not because you have seen miracles, but because you did eat of the loaves, and were filled.

Ver. 26. Christ did not return an express answer to their words, but he replied to their thoughts. For they seem to have put this question to him, that by flattering him, they might induce him to work another miracle, similar to the former; but Christ answers them not to seek for their temporal prosperity, but for their eternal welfare. The Church is daily filled, says St. Augustine, with those who come to petition for temporal advantages, that they may escape this calamity, obtain that advantage in their temporal concerns: but there is scarce one to be found who seeks for Christ, and pays him his adoration, through the pure love he bears him. (Maldonatus)

27 Labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that which endureth unto everlasting life, which the Son of man will give you. *For him hath God the Father sealed.

Ver. 27. For him hath God the Father sealed. The sense seems to be, that Christ having wrought so many miracles in his Father's name, the Father himself hath thereby given testimony in his favour, and witnessed, as it were, under his seal, that Jesus is his true Son, whom he sent into the world. (Witham)

28 They said, therefore, to him: What shall we do, that we may work the works of God?

Ver. 28. No explanation given.

29 Jesus answered, and said to them: *This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he hath sent.

Ver. 29. No explanation given.

30 They said, therefore, to him: What sign then dost thou shew that we may see, and may believe thee? what dost thou work?

Ver. 30. What sign then dost thou shew? And foreseeing that he might, with great propriety, allege the recent miracle, they contrast it with what Moses performed in the desert. It is true, they say, you once fed 5,000 persons with five loaves; but our fathers, to the number of 600,000 did eat, not for once, but during forty years, manna in the desert; a species of food infinitely superior to barley bread. (Bible de Vence) See Numbers i. 46.

31 Our fathers did eat manna in the desert, as it is written: *He gave them bread from heaven to eat.

Ver. 31. Christ having declared that he was greater than Moses, (since Moses could not promise them bread which should never perish) the Jews wished for some sign by which they might believe in him; therefore they say: Our fathers did eat manna in the desert, but you have only given us bread; where then is the food that perishes not? Christ therefore answers them, that the food which Moses gave them, was not the true manna from heaven, but that it was only a figure of himself, who came down from heaven to give life to the world. (St. Augustine) --- St. Chrysostom observes, that the Jews here acknowledge Christ to be God, since they entreat Christ not merely to ask his Father to give it them; but, do thou thyself give it us.

32 Then Jesus said to them: Amen, amen, I say unto you: Moses gave you not bread from heaven; but my Father giveth you the true bread from heaven.

Ver. 32. Moses gave you not bread from heaven; i.e. the manna was not given to your forefathers by Moses, but by God's goodness. 2ndly, Neither came it from heaven, but from the clouds, or from the region of the air only. 3rdly, It did not make them that eat it live for ever; but they that spiritually eat me, the living bread; that is, believe in me, and keep my commandments, shall live for ever. --- Ver. 37, 44, and 66. No one can come to me, unless the Father draw him.[1] These verses are commonly expounded of God's elect; who are not only called, but saved, by a particular mercy and providence of God. God is said to draw them to himself by special and effectual graces, yet without any force or necessity, without prejudice to the liberty of their free-will. A man, says St. Augustine, is said to be drawn by his pleasures, and by what he loves. (Witham)

33 For the bread of God is that which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life to the world.

Ver. 33. A life of immortality and eternal happiness to all who worthily receive it.

34 Then they said to him: Lord, give us always this bread.

Ver. 34. St. Augustine with all the Fathers, believed that the Jews did not understand this in its proper sense; but only understood a material bread, of superior excellence to the manna, which would preserve their health and life for ever (St. Augustine); or at least, a far more delicious bread, which they were to enjoy during the whole course of their lives.

35 And Jesus said to them: I am the bread of life: *he that cometh to me, shall not hunger: and he that believeth in me, shall never thirst.

Ver. 35. No explanation given.

36 But I said to you, that you also have seen me, and you believe not.

Ver. 36. You demand this bread; behold it is before you, and yet you eat it not. I am the bread; to believe in me is to eat me. You see me, but you believe not in me. (St. Augustine) --- It is to this place that those words of St. Augustine are to be referred: "Why do you prepare your teeth and belly? believe in me, and you have eaten me." Words which do not destroy the real presence, of which he is not speaking in this verse. (Maldonatus, 35.) --- Jesus Christ leads them gradually to this great mystery, which he knows will prove a stumbling block to many. The chapter begins with the miraculous multiplication of the loaves; then Christ walking on the sea; next he blames the Jews for following him not through faith in his miracles, but for the loaves and fishes, and tells them to labour for that nourishment which perishes not, by believing in Him, whom the Father had sent; and then promises, that what their fathers had received in figure only, the manna, the faithful shall receive in reality; his own body and blood.

37 All that the Father giveth me, shall come to me: and him that cometh to me, I will not cast out:

Note:

Ver. 37. Nisi pater traxerit eum. St. Augustine, trac. 26, p. 495. noli te cogitare invitum trahi; trahitur animus et amore.

----------trahit sua quemque voluptas. Virg. Ecl. ii.

38 Because I came down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him that sent me.

Ver. 38. Christ does not say this as if he did not whatever he wished; but he recommends to us his humility. He who comes to me shall not be cast forth, but shall be incorporated with me, because he shall not do his own will, but that of my Father. And therefore he shall not be cast forth; because when he was proud, he did his own will, and was rejected. None but the humble can come to me. (St. Hilary and St. Augustine) --- An humble and sincere faith is essentially necessary to believe the great mysteries of the Catholic faith, by means of which we come to God and believe in God. (Haydock)

39 Now this is the will of the Father, that sent me: that of all that he hath given me, I should not lose thereof, but should raise it up again at the last day.

Ver. 39. No explanation given.

40 And this is the will of my Father, who sent me: that every one who seeth the Son, and believeth in him, may have everlasting life, and I will raise him up at the last day.

Ver. 40. No explanation given.

41 The Jews therefore murmured at him, because he had said: I am the living bread which came down from heaven.

Ver. 41. I am the living bread, which came down from heaven. These Jews did not believe that Christ was the true and eternal Son of God, who came down from heaven, and was made flesh, was made man. He speaks of this faith in him, when he calls himself the living bread, the mystical bread of life, that came to give life everlasting to all true and faithful believers. In this sense St. Augustine said, (trac. xxv. p. 489) why dost thou prepare thy teeth and belly? only believe, and thou hast eaten; but afterwards he passeth to his sacramental and real presence in the holy sacrament. (Witham)

42 And they said: *Is not this Jesus the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How then saith he, I came down from heaven?

Ver. 42. No explanation given.

43 Jesus, therefore, answered, and said to them: Murmur not among yourselves.

Ver. 43. No explanation given.

44 No man can come to me, except the Father, who hath sent me, draw him: and I will raise him up at the last day.

Ver. 44. Draw him. Not by compulsion, nor by laying the free-will under any necessity, but by the strong and sweet motions of his heavenly grace. (Challoner) --- We are drawn to the Father by some secret pleasure, delight, or love, which brings us to the Father. "Believe and you come to the Father," says St. Augustine, "Love, and you are drawn. The Jews could not believe, because they would not." God, by his power, could have overcome their hardness of heart; but he was not bound to do it; neither had they any right to expect this favour, after the many miracles which they had seen. (Calmet)

45 It is written in the prophets: *And they shall all be taught of God. Every one that hath heard of the Father, and hath learned, cometh to me.

Ver. 45. Every one, therefore, that hath heard of the Father, and hath learned of him who I am, cometh to me by faith and obedience. As to others, when the Scripture says they are taught of God, this is to be understood of an interior spiritual instruction, which takes place in the soul, and does not fall under the senses; but not less real on that account, because it is the heart, which hears the voice of this invisible teacher.

46 Not that any man hath seen the Father, but he, who is of God, he hath seen the Father.

Ver. 46. No explanation given.

47 Amen, amen, I say unto you: He that believeth in me, hath everlasting life.

Ver. 47. Thus Jesus Christ concludes the first part of his discourse: "Amen, amen, he that believeth in me, hath everlasting life;" which shews that faith is a necessary predisposition to the heavenly bread.

48 I am the bread of life.

Ver. 48. Because the multitude still insisted in begging for their corporal nourishment and remembering the food that was given to their fathers, Christ, to shew that all were figures of the present spiritual food, answered, that he was the bread of life. (Theophylactus) --- Here Jesus Christ proceeds to the second part of his discourse, in which he fully explains what that bread of life is, which he is about to bestow upon mankind in the mystery of the holy Eucharist. He declares then, in the first place, that he is the bread of eternal life, and mentions its several properties; and secondly, he applies to his own person, and to his own flesh, the idea of this bread, such as he has defined it.

49 Your fathers did eat manna in the desert, and they died.

Ver. 49. No explanation given.

50 This is the bread which cometh down from heaven: that if any one eat of it, he may not die.

Ver. 50. No explanation given.

51 I am the living bread, which came down from heaven.

Ver. 51. Christ now no longer calls the belief in him, or the preaching of the gospel, the bread that he will give them; but he declares that it is his own flesh, and that flesh which shall be given for the life of the world. (Calmet) --- This bread Christ then gave, when he gave the mystery of his body and blood to his disciples. (Ven. Bede)

52 If any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread which I will give, is my flesh for the life of the world.

Ver. 52. The bread which I will give, is my flesh for the life of the world.[2] In most Greek copies we read, is my flesh which I will give for the life of the world. Christ here promised what he afterwards instituted, and gave at his last supper. He promiseth to give his body and blood to be eaten; the same body (though the manner be different) which he would give on the cross for the redemption of the world. The Jews of Capharnaum were presently scandalized. How (said they) can this man give us his flesh to eat? But notwithstanding their murmuring, and the offence which his words had given, even to many of his disciples, he was so far from revoking, or expounding what he had said of any figurative or metaphorical sense, that he confirmed the same truth in the clearest and strongest terms. Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat, &c. And again, (ver. 56.) For my flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed. I cannot omit taking notice of what St. Chrysostom and St. Cyril, in their commentaries on this place, have left us on these words, How can this man do this? These words which call in question the almighty and incomprehensible power of God, which hinder them, says St. Chrysostom, from believing all other mysteries and miracles: they might as well have said: How could he with five loaves feed five thousand men? This question, How can he do this? Is a question of infidels and unbelievers. St. Cyril says that How, or, How can he do this? cannot, without folly, be applied to God. 2ndly, he calls it a question of blasphemy. 3rdly, a Jewish word, for which these Capharnaites deserved the severest punishments. 4thly, He confutes them by the saying of the prophet Isaias, (lv. 9.) that God's thoughts and ways are as much above those of men, as the heavens are above the earth. But if these Capharnaites, who knew not who Jesus was, were justly blamed for their incredulous, foolish, blasphemous, Jewish saying, how can he give us his flesh to eat? much more blameable are those Christians, who, against the words of the Scripture, against the unanimous consent and authority of all Christian Churches in all parts of the world, refuse to believe his real presence, and have nothing to say, but with the obstinate Capharnaites, how can this be done? Their answers are the same, or no better, when they tell us that the real presence contradicts their senses, their reason, that they know it to be false. We may also observe, with divers interpreters, that if Christians are not to believe that Jesus Christ is one and the same God with the eternal Father, and that he is truly and really present in the holy sacrament of the Eucharist, it will be hard to deny but that Christ himself led men into these errors, which is blasphemy. For it is evident, and past all dispute, that the Jews murmured, complained, and understood that Christ several times made himself God, and equal to the Father of all. 2ndly, When in this chapter, he told them he would give them his flesh to eat, &c. they were shocked to the highest degree: they cried out, this could not be, that these words and this speech was hard and harsh, and on this very account many that had been his disciples till that time, withdrew themselves from him, and left him and his doctrine. Was it not then at least high time to set his complaining hearers right, to prevent the blasphemous and idolatrous opinions of the following ages, nay even of all Christian Churches, by telling his disciples at least, that he was only a nominal God, in a metaphorical and improper sense; that he spoke only of his body being present in a figurative and metaphorical sense in the holy Eucharist? If we are deceived, who was it that deceived us but Christ himself, who so often repeated the same points of our belief? His apostles must be esteemed no less guilty in affirming the very same, both as to Christ's divinity, and his real presence in the holy sacrament, as hereafter will appear. (Witham) --- Compare the words here spoken with those he delivered at his last supper, and you will see that what he promises here was then fulfilled: "this is my body given for you." Hence, the holy Fathers have always explained this chapter of St. John, as spoken of the blessed sacrament. See the concluding reflexions, below.

Note:

Ver. 52. Quomodo potest hic, &c. pos dunatai outos; St. Chrysostom, hom. xlv. in Joan. in the Greek, hom. xlvi. tom. 8, p. 272. otan gar e zetesis tou pos eiselthe, sunerchetai kai apistia. St. Cyril, lib. iv. in Joan. p. 359. Illud quomodo stultè de Deo proferunt, to pos anoetos epi theou legousin. --- Hoc loquendi genus omni scatere blasphemiâ, dusphemias apases. --- Judaicum verbum. to pos Ioudaikon rema. He takes notice how much the nature and power of God is above human capacity; he shews it by examples, and then concludes, (p. 360) De quibus miraculis si tuum illud quomodo subinde inferas, omni plane Scripturæ Divinæ fidem derogabis, ole pantelos apeitheseis theia graphe.

53 The Jews, therefore, disputed among themselves, saying: How can this man give us his flesh to eat?

Ver. 53. Because the Jews said it was impossible to give them his flesh to eat, Christ answers them by telling them, that so far from being impossible, it is very necessary that they should eat it. "Unless you eat," &c. (St. Chrysostom) --- It is not the flesh of merely a man, but it is the flesh of a God, able to make man divine, inebriating him, as it were, with the divinity. (Theophylactus) See Maldonatus.

54 Then Jesus said to them: Amen, amen, I say to you: Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, you shall not have life in you.

Ver. 54. Unless you eat ... and drink, &c. To receive both the body and blood of Christ, is a divine precept, insinuated in this text; which the faithful fulfil, though they receive but in one kind; because in one kind they receive both the body and blood, which cannot be separated from each other. Hence life eternal is here promised to the worthy receiving, though but in one kind: (ver. 52.) If any man eat of this bread he shall life for ever: and the bread which I will give, is my flesh for the life of the world: (ver. 58.) He that eateth me, the same also shall live by me: (ver. 59.) He that eateth this bread shall live for ever. (Challoner)

55 He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath everlasting life: and I will raise him up at the last day.

Ver. 55. Jesus Christ, to confirm the notion his disciples had formed of a real eating of his body, and to remove all metaphorical interpretation of his words, immediately adds, "Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, you shall not have life in you. ... For my flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed;" which could not be so, if, as sectarists pretend, what he gives us in the blessed sacrament is nothing but a bit of bread; and if a figure, certainly not so striking as the manna.

56 For my flesh, is meat indeed: and my blood, is drink indeed:

Ver. 56. No explanation given.

57 He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, abideth in me, and I in him.

Ver. 57. No explanation given.

58 As the living Father hath sent me, and I live by the Father: so he that eateth me, the same also shall live by me.

Ver. 58. As the living Father hath sent me, his only, his true Son, to become man; and I live by the Father, proceeding always from him; so he that eateth me, first by faith only, by believing in me; and secondly, he that eateth my body and blood, truly made meat and drink, though after a spiritual manner, (not in that visible, bloody manner as the Capharnaites fancied to themselves) shall live by me, and live for ever, happy in the kingdom of my glory. (Witham)

59 This is the bread that came down from heaven. Not as your fathers did eat manna, and died. He that eateth this bread, shall live for ever.

Ver. 59. No explanation given.

60 These things he said, teaching in the synagogue, in Capharnaum.

Ver. 60. No explanation given.

61 Many, therefore, of his disciples, hearing it, said: This saying is hard, and who can hear it?

Ver. 61. If Christ had wished to say nothing else than that his disciples should be filled with his doctrine, that being his flesh and blood, it would not have been a hard saying; neither would it have shocked the Jews. He had already said as much in the former part of his discourse: but he goes on in still stronger terms, notwithstanding their complaints; and, as they were ignorant how he would fulfil his promise, they left him, (Calmet) and followed the example of the other unbelieving Jews, as all future sectarists have, saying: how can this be done?

62 But Jesus, knowing in himself, that his disciples murmured at this, said to them: Doth this scandalize you?

Ver. 62. If you cannot believe that I can give you my flesh to eat, now that I am living amongst you, how will you believe, that, after my ascension, I can give you to eat my glorified and immortal flesh, seated on the right hand of the majesty of God? (Bible de Vence)

63 If then you shall see *the Son of man ascend up where he was before?

Ver. 63. If then you shall see, &c. Christ, by mentioning his ascension, by this instance of his power and divinity, would confirm the truth of what he had before asserted; at the same time, correct their gross apprehension of eating his flesh and drinking his blood, in a vulgar and carnal manner, by letting them know he should take his whole body living with him to heaven; and consequently not suffer it to be, as they supposed, divided, mangled, and consumed upon earth. (Challoner) --- The sense of these words, according to the common exposition, is this: you murmur at my words, as hard and harsh, and you refuse now to believe them: when I shall ascend into heaven, from whence I came into the world, and when my ascension, and the doctrine that I have taught you, shall be confirmed by a multitude of miracles, then shall you and many others believe. (Witham)

64 It is the spirit that quickeneth: the flesh profiteth nothing: the words that I have spoken to you, are spirit and life.

Ver. 64. The flesh profiteth nothing. Dead flesh, separated from the spirit, in the gross manner they supposed they were to eat his flesh, would profit nothing. Neither doth man's flesh, that is to say, man's natural and carnal apprehension, (which refuses to be subject to the spirit, and words of Christ) profit any thing. But it would be the height of blasphemy, to say the living flesh of Christ (which we receive in the blessed sacrament, with his spirit, that is, with his soul and divinity) profiteth nothing. For if Christ's flesh had profited us nothing, he would never have taken flesh for us, nor died in the flesh for us. --- Are spirit and life. By proposing to you a heavenly sacrament, in which you shall receive, in a wonderful manner, spirit, grace and life. These words sufficiently correct the gross and carnal imagination of these Capharnaites, that he meant to give them his body and blood to eat in a visible and bloody manner, as flesh, says St. Augustine, is sold in the market, and in the shambles;[3] but they do not imply a figurative or metaphorical presence only. The manner of Christ's presence is spiritual and under the outward appearances of bread and wine; but yet he is there truly and really present, by a change of the substance of bread and wine into the substance of his body and blood, which truly and really become our spiritual food, and are truly and really received in the holy sacrament. --- The flesh[4] of itself profiteth nothing, not even the flesh of our Saviour Christ, were it not united to the divine person of Christ. But we must take care how we understand these words spoken by our Saviour: for it is certain, says St. Augustine, that the word made flesh, is the cause of all our happiness. (Witham) --- When I promise you life if you eat my flesh, I do not wish you to understand this of that gross and carnal manner, of cutting my members in pieces: such ideas are far from my mind: the flesh profiteth nothing. In the Scriptures, the word flesh is often put for the carnal manner of understanding any thing. If you wish to enter into the spirit of my words, raise your hearts to a more elevated and spiritual way of understanding them. (Calmet) --- The reader may consult Des Mahis, p. 165, a convert from Protestantism, and who has proved the Catholic doctrine on the Eucharist in the most satisfactory manner, from the written word. Where he shows that Jesus Christ, speaking of his own body, never says the flesh, but my flesh: the former mode of expression is used to signify, as we have observed above, a carnal manner of understanding any thing.

Notes:

Ver. 64. St. Augustine, 27. p. 503, carnem quippe intellexerunt, quomodo in cadavere dilaniatur, aut in macello venditur

Ver. 64. St. Augustine, 27. p. 503, caro non prodest quicquam, sed caro sola ... nam si caro nihil prodesset, verbum caro non fieret.

65 But there are some of you that believe not. For Jesus knew from the beginning who they were that did not believe, and who he was that would betray him.

Ver. 65. No explanation given.

66 And he said: Therefore did I say to you, that no man can come to me, unless it be given him by my Father.

Ver. 66. No explanation given.

67 After this many of his disciples went back: and walked no more with him.

Ver. 67. No explanation given.

68 Then Jesus said to the twelve: Will you also go away?

Ver. 68. Jesus said to the twelve: Will you also go away? He shews them, says St. Chrysostom, that he stood not in need of them, and so leaves them to their free choice. (Witham) --- Jesus Christ remarking in the previous verse that the apostate disciples had left him, to walk no more with him, turning to the twelve, asks them, Will you also go away? The twelve had heard all that passed; they had seen the Jews strive amongst themselves, and the disciples murmur and leave their Master; they understood what he said in the same literal sense; it could, indeed, bear no other meaning; but when Jesus put the above question to them, leaving them to their free choice, whether to follow him, or to withdraw themselves, Simon Peter answered him: "Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life;" and therefore art able to make good thy words, however hard and difficult they may appear to others. --- We may here admire not only the excellency of their faith, but the plain, yet noble motive of their faith: they believe, because he is Christ, the Son of God, (or, as it is in the Greek, the Son of the living God) who is absolutely incapable of deceiving his creatures, and whose power is perfectly equal to perform the promises he here makes them.

69 And Simon Peter answered him: Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life.

Ver. 69. Simon Peter, the chief or head of them, said in the name of the rest: Lord, to whom shall we go? It is only from thee that we hope for salvation. Thou hast the words of eternal life: we have believed, and known, and remain in this belief, that thou art the Christ, the Son of God. (Witham)

Concluding reflexions on this chapter.

If we take into consideration all the circumstances of this chapter, it will be difficult to conceive how any person can bring their mind to think that there is no connexion between this chapter and the institution of the blessed sacrament. It must proceed, as Dr. Clever, the Protestant Bishop of Bangor, affirms, "from the fear of giving advantage to the doctrine of transubstantiation." He moreover adds: "whilst the institution is considered as a memorial only, nothing can well be further from being plain." See his Sermon on the Lord's Supper. The holy Fathers have unanimously understood these repeated promises of Christ with a reference to the institution. St. Cyprian, of the third age[century], quoting the promises of Christ, the bread which I will give, is my flesh, for the life of the world, deduces this conclusion: "Hence it is manifest, that they have this life, who touch his body, and receive the Eucharist." Qui corpus ejus attingunt. (De Orat. Dom. p. 147.) St. Hilary, of the fourth age[century], quoting Christ's words, says: "there is no place left to doubt of the truth of Christ's flesh and blood, de veritate carnis et sanguinis non relictus est ambigendi locus; for now, by the profession of the Lord himself, and according to our belief, it is truly flesh and truly blood." (De Trin. lib. viii. p. 954-6.) St. Basil, of the fourth century also, citing ver. 53 and 54 of this chapter, says: "about the things that God has spoken there should be no hesitation, nor doubt, but a firm persuasion that all is true and possible, though nature be against it: Kan e phusis machetai. Herein lies the struggle of faith." (Reg. viii. Moral. t. 2, p. 240.) Again the same saint says: "it is very profitable every day, to partake of the body and blood of Christ, phagein to soma kai piein to aima tou kuriou emon, for he that eateth my flesh. &c. (John vi. 55.) - "We communicate four times in the week; on Sunday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, and on the other days, if there be a commemoration of any saint." (Ep. xcii. t. 3, p. 186.) - St. Ambrose, of the same age, says: "the manna in the desert was given in figure. You have known things more excellent. For light is preferable to the shadow; truth to the figure; the body of Christ to the manna of heaven. But you may say: I see somewhat else: how do you assert that I shall receive the body of Christ?" He gives this answer: "How much more powerful is the virtue of the divine blessing, than that of nature; because by the former, nature itself is changed? ... If the blessing of men (he here instances Moses changing a rod into a serpent, and many other miraculous changes) was powerful enough to change nature, what must we not say of the divine consecration, when the very words of the Lord operate? For that sacrament which you receive, is accomplished by the word of Christ. If the word of Elias could call down fire from heaven, shall not the word of Christ be able to change the outward elements? ... The word of Christ could draw out of nothing what was not, shall it not be able to change the things that are into that which they were not? ... Was the order of nature followed when Jesus was born of a Virgin? Certainly not. Then why is that order to be looked for here? It was the true flesh of Christ, which was crucified, which was buried; and this is truly the sacrament of his flesh ... Our Lord himself proclaims, This is my body." - If Jesus Christ, during his public ministry, performed so many visible and palpable miracles as we read of in the gospels, was it not to induce us to believe without doubting the truths that escape our senses, and surpass our reason? If we believe the water was changed into wine at the marriage feast of Cana; if we believe that the bread in the hands of Christ and his apostles was not diminished, by being broken and divided among five thousand, why cannot we believe the miracle of the Eucharist on the authority of Christ's word, "the bread that I will give you, is my flesh? This is my body," &c. Not one of all the ancient Fathers has ever denied the real presence; not one of them all has ever said, that the body of Jesus Christ is received in figure only.

70 And we have believed, and have known that thou art the Christ, the Son of God.

Ver. 70. No explanation given.

71 Jesus answered them: Have not I chosen you twelve: and one of you is a devil?

Ver. 71. No explanation given.

72 Now he meant Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon: for this same was about to betray him, whereas he was one of the twelve.

Ver. 72. No explanation given.

#gospel of st john

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