#she’s mad at herself for being so openly vulnerable with someone like that even if she swore she never would | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lihikainanea · 3 years

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Did tiger and bill ever go through like a phase where tiger kind of had to get used to bill thinking of her? Like she wasn't really used to being someone's first choice, like someone thinking about what she might like or want. To have someone frankly just think of you. I'm sorry to be a bother. Just feeling kind of bad lately, and could use some sweet bill. Sorry again.

First of all boo, please don't ever be sorry for sliding into my DMs. I love hearing from you guys, especially if you're not doing that well. I'm all ears, and this blog is a safe space for everyone--so pull up a chair and stay awhile. I, and our two favourite idiots, would be nothing if it weren't for all the amazing asks that you guys send to me <3

Secondly, I love this train of thought because I think it is very, very true. And it probably started back at the beginning of their friendship, right? Yes, it did. Follow me down this rabbit hole.

Bill doesn't make a lot of new friends because since the whole fame thing, he has trouble trusting people--and Bill, by nature, is a caretaker. He's extremely nurturing. He provides. He takes care of those close to him, in one way or another. But he knows his own empathic side, he knows its limits and boundaries, and one of the worst things he can do for his own well being is care about too many people. Get involved with too many people. Bill is happiest amongst his close group of friends, people he knows he can trust, people he can cook dinner for and host movie nights for and fly halfway around the world when he has a premiere.

And tiger, for her part--my girl tiger, she has zero self-preservation skills. Like, none. And Bill is fascinated by that. He's fascinated by this little fireball who not only has no idea who he is, but who subsequently really couldn't give a shit once she found out. He's enamoured with this little scrappy ball of ire who is convinced not only that she can start a bar fight with everyone in the pub, but that she can legitimately win. Bill's never seen anything like it. And once you meet tiger, she's impossible not to love. Or at least, it's impossible not to be intrigued by her, and to want to know more.

But the thing is, that firecracker personality and the massive chip on her shoulder doesn't come from nowhere--tiger's been hurt a lot. And it's because she never goes for the good guys. For as much as Bill has an empath side, tiger has the self-destructive kind where she wants to fix people. And she always goes for the dudes who will take and take and take, the dudes who play rope a dope with her heart, and who leave her shattered. Tiger gives her soul away too easily, and she takes it as a challenge when she's tossed to the side by some guy who was never worth her time anyway. She tries to prove she's worthy.

But then in comes Bill--this big, wall-eyed, kind of freaky looking dude who seems nice and kind and is moderately soft spoken. And when they hang out, Bill starts showing a genuine interest--platonically, of course--but it's genuine. He asks what she does for a living. He asks if she likes it. He wants to know where she went to school, what she studied. Does she have any siblings? Because he has a lot, and he knows how tough big families can make you. When tiger can't decide if she wants the chilli fries or the chicken wings one night at a pub, Bill tells her to get both--and that's when she knew they'd be friends.

And it slowly but surely escalated from there--still all platonic at the beginning--but suddenly, Bill was asking her how she was getting home, if she needed a ride. He was asking her how her week was, when everyone got together on Friday--and if she had mentioned something big previously, a meeting or a presentation or something--he'd remember, and ask her how it went. If he left the bar early, he'd politely ask her if she could text him when she got home.

"Why?" she scoffed.

"Because somebody needs to look out for you," he answered honestly. Tiger, in true fashion, balked awkwardly.

And this is where her defence mechanism started to fly up. Because when you're not used to being cared for, when you're not used to genuinely mattering to someone or hell even just getting the attention of a truly good person--it's weird. It's awkward. It's scary as hell and requires a level of vulnerability that tiger isn't ready to let exist--because it would mean that she would have to admit to herself that she is worthy. That this is the norm, and that she deserves this. That she knowingly let herself settle for being treated like shit for so many years.

And tiger's first defence is always anger. So maybe she started getting real snippy with him, probably well into their friendship by this point--so Bill was cooking for her, and if he wasn’t then he was checking in to make sure she ate at least one vegetable that day. If she had a date, he would wait until she texted him that she was in for the night--whether that was at the guy’s place or hers. If she needed a ride home in the morning then he would pick her up, in all of her walk of shame glory--but he’d pick her up with a few Advil, some big sunglasses, a huge coffee. And he would absolutely make fun of her nefarious, ill-fated decisions but he’d always wait at least 12 hours before he dared.

But to go even further--you are absolutely right. Bill does put her first. Once she is solidified as his best friend, then there’s no going back--she comes first. And part of it is Bill really is legitimately concerned because tiger has no self preservation skills and he worries that if HE doesn’t concern himself over her, then tiger will just like...her reckless decisions will be her undoing. He must look after Little Human, because Little Human’s self-destructive streak is far too prevalent. He has left dates in the dust when she needed his help. He looks out for her in group settings, and intervenes if some idiot is getting too handsy with her. If he has a boys night that night but tiger calls crying because some idiot broke her heart, or crying because it’s shark week and she’s out of gummy bears--then Bill is there. In a heartbeat, he’s there. She comes first.

And I’ll bet it’s all very nice, but it also kind of has tiger seething. Because she’s not used to this kind of...care. The genuineness of it. And tiger can’t be vulnerable enough to admit that part of her likes it, part of her feels safe knowing that even in the wee hours of the morning, Bill is awake and waiting for her to let him know she got in safely. Part of her kind of likes this idea that someone is thinking of her, that someone prioritizes her. But it’s still tiger, so she also gets hella mad. And she seethes--for a long time, she seethes. Quietly. And then maybe it all just comes to a head one night when she goes over to Bill’s place after work and he has a crisp glass of white wine waiting for her, a change of clothes, even her favourite make up remover--the kind that doesn’t sting, because she has sensitive skin. And all of that pisses her off, but then she walks into the kitchen as he’s deftly cleaning and slicing mushrooms.

“How did it go?” he asks casually. Tiger plays dumb.

“How did what go?” she swigs her wine.

“The meeting with your boss today.”

“...Fine,” she mumbles, petulantly. Of course he’d remember that, even though she told him two weeks ago.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he offers kindly. Tiger sees an errant pile of green onions on his chopping board, and she eyes them wearily but somewhat triumphantly. Bill heads to the fridge, pulls out a bowl of salad, then he tosses the green onions in. Perfect, she thinks, and it gives her a weird sense of satisfaction. Mr. Nice Guy, Mr. Considerate, doesn’t even remember what she considers to be the most significant thing about her. That she hates green onions. She feels triumphant, renewed. Somewhat weirdly comforted to confirm that perhaps she doesn’t mean that much to him.

Until he heads back to the fridge, and pulls out another bowl of salad--one that he promptly dresses, salts and peppers, and tosses. One without green onions. One for her.

“Why do you do that?!” she explodes. Bill jumps in surprise.

“Do what?” he asks innocently, “This one has no green onions!”

“Exactly,” she continues, “Ugh, Bill. Just...why do you always...ugh, Bill!”

Bill is stunned, still holding his bowl of salad, trying to figure out what exactly is happening here.

“It’s too much,” tiger says, slamming her wine down, “All of it is too much.”

“What’s too much?”

“You! This. Why do you always just....think of everything?” she says, and she’s steadfastly working herself into a tizzy.

“Tiger...”

“How? How do you remember these things? How do you fucking remember that I had a meeting with my boss today, a meeting that I told you about two weeks ago? Why do you make a whole other bowl of salad for me, why do you remember that I hate green onions?”

“Because I care about you kid,” he shrugs.

Tiger is angry, but she’s also at a loss for words. Bill’s genuineness, his honesty, will do that. For as much as she struggles to be vulnerable. Bill shows that side of himself openly. She doesn’t even know why she’s so angry. Bill watches her for a minute, but she’s kind of just bug-eyed so he goes back to his cutting board and starts calmly chopping his little mushrooms again.

“I don’t like it,” she mutters after a long pause.

“Too bad,” he shrugs non-chalantly. Tiger glares at him.

“Too bad?” she seethes.

“Too bad,” he repeats.

“Stop it,” she says.

“No.”

“Bill, I mean it. Stop always trying to--”

“No.”

“I’m not finished,” she stamps her foot, “Stop being such--”

“No.” he says again, “Tiger, this is what I do.This is how I am. I care about the people that matter to me.”

“Well I don’t ma--”

“Yes you do. You matter to me. So I suggest you put on your big girl panties, and fucking deal with it,” he says. And that’s final. Tiger is taken aback at his tone, at the way his face suddenly got serious--but then in a heartbeat, it’s relaxed again.

“Now, do you want mustard on your burger, or ketchup?” he asks. Tiger is petulantly silent, glaring at him.

“Tiger.” he warns, holding up the hamburger bun.

“Shouldn’t you already know?” she huffs in annoyance, going to the fridge and grabbing the wine. She swigs it right from the bottle as she boosts herself up on the kitchen counter. Bill goes to the fridge and grabs the mayo--her favourite--putting a thick schmear on the bun.

“God, get fucked asshole,” she mutters. Bill just grabs her face, plants a noisy kiss on her cheek as she shrieks and swats him.

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard fanfic #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard fic

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maschotch · 2 years

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more thoughts on jj really not liking to take responsibility for things & spencer and his mom please! i love ur rants

alkshdfjkjsfd anon ur gonna get me in so much trouble

putting this all under a readmore bc it got… a lot longer than i expected

honestly i think it has a lot to do with how she grew up. we do get to meet her mom a couple times and see their very tense relationship. so a lot of this is me just basing her home life on the very few interactions we get.

her family didn't talk about things. they didn't talk about mental health, they didn't talk about her sister's suicide, they didn't really talk much about anything. and i think that in itself is pushing aside responsibility. wrapping up any potential conversation with a quick "oh well she was troubled i guess" and moving on without ever addressing how they could've helped. they still feel guilty obviously, but i dont think they really let that show in front of jj, or even each other. because talking about things and being vulnerable is a sign of weakness. and this is where i think a lot of jj's flaws stem from.

i dont think she likes her mom. i dont think she respects her mom. but i still think there's a lot of unintentional similarities, like not wanting to talk about complicated situations with your child. like not wanting to openly take the blame for something. whats that one end quote at the end of an episode? “children dont always listen to their parents but they never fail to imitate them”? obviously that isn’t applicable to everyone, but it certainly lines up with jj and her family, which is why i think she’s so flippant about throwing that sentiment around casually in front of people who’ve been abused by fathers/father figures

i think thats where it starts. but we see it come up in a few places: in that episode we were talking about where reid’s talking about how much she hurt him and she says it must be because he couldn’t read their microexpressions to know they were lying; in ‘the forever people’ when she doesn’t want to address her trauma at all without snapping at reid for trying to bring it up; in ‘the itch’ when she was pissy that the girl wasn’t thankful that she forced her to self harm; when she finds out she’s pregnant for the first time and just doesn’t want to talk about it—w hotch or anyone. there are more examples that aren’t as significant, but she doesn’t like addressing problems or failures at all.

and she recognizes it. in ‘in heat’ when she admits to running away from responsibility. in ‘revelations’ when she wants derek to be mad at her for her, not wanting to feel that guilt herself, but knowing she deserves it so seeks it out from someone else. in ‘the forever people’ when she can’t even apologize or thank reid directly but still gives him that look of understanding. to an extent she realizes that this is a flaw she has, even if she doesn’t really get any better at it.

i just think verbalizing guilt is difficult for her. she’s been brought up with this idea that talking about things like that is shameful. and she never quite manages to break away from that. she projects that into other areas too, like how she views hotch as this emotionless, unyielding wall of stone, even when that’s not who he is. she respects him, she sees how he stays strong in front of others, and she doesn’t let herself see the parts of him that she would consider weak. which is why she tries so hard to be as detached and unfeeling as she imagines him, even when he’s looking her in the eye and telling her it’s okay to lose it once and a while. because the way she grew up? it wasn’t.

as for reid?

i don’t think reid has ever had the healthiest perspective on his mother’s mental health. he’s always viewed her schizophrenia as something he could fix, something he should try to undo so she can return to “normal”. which is problematic first of all akjsdhgl but whatever. in his case tho i think its just… childish? its naive to think you can “fix” someone, and part of growing up is accepting and appreciating life for what it is. and reid never got there. even in the early seasons when he’s around 25 he still wishes that he could “cure her schizophrenia”

this kind of fades over time just because we don’t see it brought up again, but when his mother is diagnosed with dementia its the same shit all over again. that mindset never went away. instead of focusing his time and energy on enjoying the time he has left with her (what literally everyone is telling him to do) he flies her all over the country to put her in facilities with experimental medication/therapy. now im sure reid did his proper research or whatever and made sure it was safe and all that. but it isn’t what diana wanted.

just annoyed in general ab the whole reid-prison arc thing lmao like that was Not Done Well At All. but especially bc they tried to make him this poor uwu baby about the whole thing and how tragic it is that this innocent angel is trapped with all these meanies >:( but honestly?? reid fucking had it coming kasjhdla. talk about a fucking wake up call. this is what you get for not just accepting the situation and making the best of it—now you cant see your mom at all.

AND HE STILL DOESNT LEARN i think thats whats the worst part of this whole thing. he still wants his mom to go through more studies and medications and whatever else to try to change her. and she doesn’t want it! and gets mad at him for continuing to push her to go through all that! this is one of the last seasons and the most important lesson for reid to learn still hasn’t sunk in yet. and im sorry but thats just really fucking childish of him.

#asks #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #endgame spoilers #like... at least with jj its interesting and makes for a good character flaw #but for reid its just annoying #anyway #long story short:#people with mommy issues are fucking insane

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billiedeanhwrd · 3 years

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when i fell you were there, with your hands in the air

cordelia goode x fem!reader

summary: your depression is hitting you harder than most days, cordelia comforts you 🤍

warnings: depression, slight mention of childhood trauma, it's angsty mental health fluff basically

word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is my first ever fanfic and i'm very very nervous about it, so pls don't be too harsh, constructive criticism is very much welcome though!! also i'm sorry about any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language. i also have to add that this was very much self indulgent and based on my own experience with depression, so if you don't relate, that's fine, everyone experiences it differently. I hope you enjoy it tho, have fun reading <3

today was one of those days again. one of those days where everything seemed grey and pointless. one of those days where taking a shower was too exhausting. one of those days where it didn't matter if you left your clothes on the floor or a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. one of those days where you isolated yourself. one of those days that seemed to return to you every morning for almost 3 weeks now.

you had been struggling with depression for years now and attending therapy regularly still didn't take away from the embarrassment you felt about your illness. cordelia didn't know, you didn't want to burden her with your subjectively "silly" problems. It wasn't easy hiding something so life consuming from your lover, but whenever you were with her you felt as though you could reach for the stars and there was no point in ruining happy moments with sad stories.

Whenever you felt really depressed and unable to function, you isolated yourself. Cordelia and you had been together for 7 months now and the first time she thought she had done something wrong which had resulted in you needing space from her, but when she confronted you, you reassured her that sometimes you needed some time to yourself because you were a more introverted person. While that might be true, you wanted nothing more than for her to take you into her arms and tell you everything was going to be okay again, but the fear of possibly burdening the already very busy supreme held you back from confessing what was weighing you down.

you were used to this already, you always kept your darkness to yourself, too afraid of being too much or being abandoned by your loved ones, while the rational side of you knew that the people in your life who truly meant something to you would never abandon you because of your chronic depression, anxiety left no room for rationality.

you were always feeling kind of down, but some days it was easier to cope and enjoy your day despite that... and then there were those phases where you felt unusually down, those phases that caused you to isolate yourself and wait for the storm to pass in solitude. They usually lasted only a few days or maximum a week, but this one had been going on for much longer. cordelia was worried, you had never needed so much "alone time to recharge your social battery", but she didn't want to overstep your boundaries and possibly push you away, because what you weren't aware of was that cordelia too struggled with abandonment issues and fearing she would be "too much" (which she could never be for you, you adored every single second you could spend in the blonde witch's presence).

After leaving multiple text messages and trying to call you, only to be greeted by your voicemail, cordelia took it upon herself to see what was going on with you. The knocking on your door would've usually startled you, but you had just ordered a pizza, too tired to prepare a meal yourself and assumed the delivery was faster than they had stated on their website. your jaw fell open and the door was quickly closed again, shit shit shit, what am i supposed to do now? the place looks like a mess, i can't let cordelia se-

"y/n can you open the door please?" she asked in her gentle voice. "Uh, yeah, give me a second" you replied, hastily throwing on a hoodie that had been lying around on your couch, coincidentally that hoodie being one you stole from cordelia a few weeks ago, something that made your girlfriend's heart warm up a little and relieve her of some of the worried thoughts she had that this might be your way of signaling to her that you no longer wished to be in a relationship with her.

"can we talk? i haven't seen you in three weeks and you haven't answered any of my texts... what's going on? you know you can talk to me about anything..."

"uhm, yes, of course. sit down, make yourself at home, would you like anything to drink?"

"no, thank you, i just want to talk to you"

you didn't have the energy to lie to the woman who held your heart in her hands anymore, you were terrified of her reaction, not only to you being mentally ill but also to you hiding it for so long.

"i'm so sorry delia, please don't be mad", you anxiously stuttered out. cordelia grabbed your hand and smiled reassuringly, signaling for you to continue talking.

"I didn't tell you before because i know you've already got so much going on with the academy and i didn't want to pile onto that with my irrelevant issues... I was diagnosed with depression amongst other things a few years ago, it's something i have to deal with every day and some days are easier than others, but sometimes it all comes crashing down on me and i feel like i'm lost in an ocean of a sadness so powerful, i can feel the pain on my body. I know it can be challenging to be close to someone with severe mental issues and I understand if you don't want to continue being with me, i would never want you to stay with me because you pity me or because you're afraid i'd do something to myself if you'd left, you're not responsible for my feelings or actions and i would never want to impose you with such a burden and-"

you stopped rambling when you noticed the tears flowing down cordelia's cheeks.

your eyes widened and your heart started pounding rapidly in your chest. "i'm sorry, was that too much?"

"no, no, no, no, no... it just pains me to know that you've been dealing with this on your own for such a long time because you don't value yourself enough to believe that other people might want to support you through your everyday battles. y/n, i know you, you're the girl who's always there when someone else needs a shoulder to cry on, anytime, anyplace, you always go out of your way to make others feel seen and accepted, why would you ever think that you don't deserve the kindness you so openly give to others?"

now it was you who was crying, cordelia was right, you didn't value yourself enough to believe that. you didn't actively think of yourself as less than others but that thought always unconsciously motivated the way you dealt with the things that were bothering you.

cordelia patted her lap, signaling for you to sit on her lap and come into her arms. you hesitated though, you weren't used to being so vulnerable and open with your emotions and it scared the shit out of you. you feared cordelia was possibly annoyed at you and was only doing this to get it over with and then get out. she watched you, while you were anxiously deciding what your next move would be, her heart broke for you, you looked like a scared baby dear when all she wanted to do was to comfort you.

"baby, look at me"

her chocolate colored eyes were so full of love, simply looking into them managed to get your heart rate down.

"it's okay, i'm not mad at you for talking about your feelings and all i want to do right now is to hug some of your pain away, so please, let me hold you"

you melted at her gentle words and understanding nature, cordelia was an incredibly smart woman, who went through traumatic things herself and even from that little information you shared, she understood you. she saw her younger self in you, so incredibly lonely but oh, so scared of being vulnerable with another person, due to the emotional abuse her mother subjected her to, and while she might not have gone through the same things you did, she felt like she understood your feelings in this exact moment and she wanted nothing more than to make you feel safe with her.

you slowly crawled into her lap, still afraid this was all a trick to hurt you, but when she started combing through your hair and reassuringly whispering "i've got you" and "you're here with me, i promise you, you're safe", you relaxed into her arms.

after about half an hour of laying there with each other, calming down and enjoying the other one's warmth, you spoke up.

"delia?"

"yes, my love?"

"so you're not leaving me?", you hesitantly asked.

cordelia sat up and looked straight in your eyes while asking "would you leave someone you love because they're depressed?"

"no, never"

"then tell me, sweetheart, why would i leave you?"

her response left you speechless, you almost missed her confessing her love. "you love me?"

she hugged you tight and pressed a kiss on your forehead. "more than anything, and please, never worry about telling me about what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, no matter what it is, i wanna know, okay?"

you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding and confidently replied "okay"

a few minutes passed before you spoke up again when you remembered you didn't say those 3 special words back.

"i love you too, by the way"

cordelia smiled lovingly and stood up to reach out for your hand and pull you up. "i know, now let's go to bed, we can clean up this place tomorrow"

you accepted her helping hand and engulfed her in a hug. the way she so naturally used the word "we" and didn't seem to mind helping you clean up your mess of an apartment made you more emotional than you'd like to admit.

And while you knew this would not be the last time you were overwhelmed by your depression, you now knew that you could count on the woman who loved you to stand by your side and help you get through even your hardest day.

#cordelia goode x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #cordelia x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #tw depression #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #american horror story #ahs fanfiction #ahs fandom #ahsfx #ahs imagine #cordelia goode imagine #fanfiction

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shadowhuntering · 3 years

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Matthew & Alastair comparison

I’ve been re-reading Chain of Gold in prep for Chain of Iron and I've noticed that Matthew and Alastair are a foil of each other.

I’ve also been re-reading Cast Long Shadows for investigative purposes and it furthers my realization.

Matthew and Alastair have been through similar issues, but are the opposite (if that makes sense) in some ways. eg. Alastair had to pick up after Elias who is a drunk; Matthew is also a drunk. How they responded to these issues tells you a lot about their nature.

This is my observations, purely for analytical purposes so if I sound particularly harsh towards a character, I do not mean to be.

1. Personalities are the opposite to the other.

Matthew’s personality is literally meant to "blind people" because he's sunny, outgoing and is meant to be the life of the party (or his mask).

Alastair on the other hand is literally "dark" he is broody, not very forth coming and can be very prickly

Ironically though, both have the façade of being conceited when they are the opposite. Though you could argue that Matthew’s alcoholism is a result of being selfish. However, he has little regard for himself which is the danger.

Definition of selfish: Concerned chiefly or excessively with oneself, and having little regard for others.

2. They share a similar notion of love not being real, or won't last.

Alastair just having a very pessimistic view in general, but Matthew says it about himself. He has full faith that other people will have happiness, where he doesn’t see it happening for himself.

3. Alastair is unapologetically himself, whereas with Matthew he hasn’t been himself for a while, and even back before the events of Cast Long Shadows he was trying to fulfill what people needed at the time.

Matthew cares too much about the people around him to think about himself, but also tries not to care as he fulfills the bad reputation people have of him. He has a mask/façade(s) to help liven or distract, yet he also openly degrades himself. He keeps people at arms length so that they will not be disappointed by him, but also forms close bonds with people. He so badly wants someone to love him, but he doesn't want to help himself or be vulnerable to other people. He’s a walking contradiction.

Alastair does regret the things he did, but he doesn't think less of himself because of them. He did all those things to protect himself from hurt. Alastair also doesn’t care for his attitude. It’s not his problem if people don’t like it basically 😂 He clearly has people he cares about like Sona and Cordelia and prioritises them also. He is also actively trying to right his wrongs on not dwell on his past. He wants to move on with his life.

4. Matthew doesn't want to help himself, Alastair does want to help himself and become a better person.

Matthew openly degrades himself yet keeps his own secrets and thoughts of himself. He self-destructs as he feels he deserves it, even when people reach out and try to care for his well-being and that of others they also love (eg. Lucie’s confrontation). He doesn't see that he is hurting the people around him and also himself because of his attitude towards his own life really. He doesn’t have much of a quality for life. He is clearly depressed. He fails to let anyone in because he doesn’t want to help himself and also thinks too much about what people think of him when honestly the perception they have of him now is probably much lower now because 1. how he has chosen to deal with his mistake 2. how he has kept it to himself therefore making it look like the people who care about him would cast him out.

Alastair knows what he did wrong and is trying to improve himself for the betterment of himself. It was evident that at the time of Cordelia finding out about Charles, he wanted to break free, but once he got over being mad at Cordelia for snooping (rightfully so tbh) he understood that she loves him and would give him the support he needed; he had the inspiration from her to commit to moving forward and make amends for himself. Sure, he kept people at arms length in order to protect himself but inherently he does make himself vulnerable for other people. He still let in Charles, made himself vulnerable to love. Then with Thomas... he let Thomas see his guard down in Paris (and before that Thomas just saw right through him) and he ended up allowing Cordelia in, taking heed of her advice and love. He knew that Charles was hurting him and other people, so he stood up to him. He is much more open and vulnerable which is ironic really.

To me, the progression Alastair has already made makes me believe that the same will come for Matthew. However, the bottom line here is that Matthew self-destructs and doesn’t want to help himself whereas Alastair wants to be a better person and look after himself. Alastair has self-love which is what Matthew severely lacks.

5. Both had to grow up fast due to responsibilities of looking after their father...

Matthew arguably has "Mommy issues". This is not me making excuses for Matthew, or even criticizing Charlotte in any way, this is just my interpretation of Cast Long Shadows...

Matthew seems to have low self-esteem and love for himself due to abandonment issues it seems. He probably felt abandoned as a child by Charlotte. It's not that he was unsupportive of her or holds anything against her, but when you look at it objectively, his upbringing shaped his reaction to Alastair and to himself. She literally left him crying at 6 years old and told him to "look after your father" as she had to go off with Charles. Cast Long Shadows is a huge emphasis of how the feeling of abandonment from Charlotte, leading to how he instantly believed that Charlotte had an affair with Gideon and took drastic action. This I feel is because he never felt comfortable to openly discuss to her about himself really. He also didn't trust her...

I do not wish to insult Charlotte as her job is serious and I'm so proud of her, but unfortunately, due to it, it made an impact on who Matthew is now. He didn't trust, nor feel comfortable enough to sit down and talk to Charlotte because he never really got to know her properly or wanted to burden her. It probably also felt like she had favoritism over Charles, and Matthew didn't want to step on her toes. She also never noticed the little things he did like make her favourite scones and he just went feeling unloved or unappreciated (though he should have said something?). She would ask of him to be sensible, didn't really engage much in his humor which probably contributed to how he viewed himself as well as he already was so self-conscious and was vying for her attention. No offense to Henry but his immersion into his science probably left Matthew feeling abandoned as well as he was the one caring for him, then Christopher is the one who understands and engages. Matthew was his carer, effectively, making sure he ate, drank, slept and wheeled him about. He did love his father though, so he didn’t mind. Though Henry does praise him when he breaks the news about them expecting which just made Matthew feel more guilty of his accidental poisoning.

It’s like Matthew wants all of the attention, but he never voices what he wants aloud. This results with no one paying him much heed. In Cast Long Shadows there is also a comparison to James and Lucie’s relationship with Tessa and Will. James and Lucie have communication with their parents, along with known support and trust. Matthew does not seem to have this as he seems too afraid to voice it, not because he is scared of Charlotte and Henry, but because he is too considerate of them. I also find it Ironic that the next story in GotSM is Every Exquisite Thing where there is a huge emphasis of Anna and Cecily’s relationship with each other. Anna being too scared that Cecily would be critical and not understand her, but when Cecily comes to Anna at her worst, she completely understood Anna and supported her, making her feel better. To me this is another stark contrast to Matthew where his parents are too busy to build a good relationship with him, and when there is a heart to heart (Henry talking with Matthew) it is too late and doesn’t ease his mind. Anna also points out how no one would approach Matthew because “he did not do well under confinement”- it makes sense, he doesn’t like confrontation.

(I can go into further detail about Cast Long Shadows with Matthew’s upbringing being detrimental to his view of himself)

Alastair however has "Daddy issues". Alastair has a similar case of looking after his father, but he came to resent his father because he never got himself better or was so drunk to even remember or acknowledge Alastair and his help or I suppose confront his problem. Alastair knows what it can do and simply does not want to re-live it, and as Cordelia is now friends with Matthew, he doesn't want Cordelia being hurt by Matthew either or having to pick up after him as he did for Elias. That is also where they butt heads. It is too coincidental that Matthew is also drinking to forget, and is not wanting to make himself be better and deal with it. Alastair is trying to protect Cordelia, but he is also allowing her to make decisions for herself.

In ChoG Alastair says he was 10 when he learnt to fill the brandy bottles with water to mask the levels that had been drunk. He was probably picking up his father and "looking after him" well before that. Alastair tried to protect Cordelia from this because he was being more considerate for her sake. He wanted her to have a childhood he was robbed of. He is also being a foil here of Charles. Charles was so self-involved that he never decided to even think about his younger brother, Matthew. Alastair was compassionate; Charles was not. Alastair is a good older brother; Charles was not and was even accusatory that Matthew being parabatai with James and being in London is what caused Charlotte to be ill... he just has so much resentment...

I also believe that Alastair wanted the burden off of his mother, and I'm wondering if he knows more about Sona and her feelings towards Elias being sour and terrified (This is I feel what is indicated in the teaser of when Elias appears where Sona seems to go pale) despite rushing to him and hugging him etc.

“Sona went white and laid a hand against the wall to steady herself. "Elias?"”

Alastair was bitter and twisted and he never wanted people to know because he knew it was a weak spot for him. It is what sparked him telling Matthew the rumor in the first place.

“ "I wish I could say the same for you," said Matthew. "Has no kind soul thought to inform you that your hairstyle is, to use the gentlest words available to me, ill-advised? A friend? Your papa? Does nobody care enough to prevent you from making a spectacle of yourself? Or are you simply too busy perpetrating acts of evil upon the innocent to bother about your unfortunate appearance?" “

...

“Instead Alastair said: "Who are you to play the moralist, talking about tricks and papas, considering the circumstances of your birth?" “

He ultimately had inherited his father's shame which was wrong. It's what Cordelia has told him as well. Alastair shouldn't have to think of the mess of Elias; it is his shame to deal with, not Alastair’s.

Though arguably, as a result of Alastair giving Cordelia an innocent childhood, it opened the doors for Cordelia to want to reach out for him, due to her optimism and love, and as he loves his sister dearly, he takes what she has to say to heart. They will now face things together as a support network and hopefully they also have communication with their mother. Although their family may be "broken" they arguably have more communication and togetherness than Matthew does with his family.

(Sorry, that bit was long)

6. Result of their nature after childhood being robbed

Matthew seems to act more of a "child" anyways, being more “frivolous”. He is being reckless, he is a little petty as well. Whereas Alastair decided to grow up too fast and is more mature and relatively grounded. It did harden him to begin with, but he doesn’t want to completely isolate himself. He’s just simply more rational. This I feel is in their nature though, not nurture.

7. Matthew is slowly driving everyone away, this is kind of what Alastair tried to achieve

Alastair at the Academy decided that he would be the bully in order not to be the one being ridiculed, thinking that he would be better off and retain a hard skin, but all it did was make him regret and never allowed him to create good bonds with people. Then when he came back from the Academy, he distanced himself from Cordelia. I interpreted this as him dealing with his guilt and regret and tried to not get Cordelia too close to him because of it, but Cordelia cared about him too much. Though it could’ve just been that he got too used to having a hard skin, not letting anyone close. Throughout ChoG he builds his bond with Cordelia, and we also see James coming around to Alastair. Thomas as always was curious and saw his better side and Christopher was seemed ready to give him a second chance. Though due to Matthew’s spew at the end, there is distance between him and Thomas and others (save Jordelia).

Matthew is driving everyone away, simply because he is being so reckless. He had originally established good relationships with people. Then, when Lucie confronts him he literally avoids it, no matter how realistic she was being and how much he cared for her, but that was it; he cared too much for her to tell her. We see that even James will snap at him in COI

Teaser #41: "There is no point to it," said Matthew. "If you will never see reason or good sense—"

"Because you're a bastion of reason and good sense?" James snapped. He knew he had a temper, just like his father; his anger spilled past everything else, tasting of copper and fury. "Matthew, you are drunk. For all I know, you mean nothing you are saying."

"I mean all of it," Matthew protested. "In vino veritas—"

"Don't you quote Latin at me," said James. "Even if you were sober, you've never taken love seriously enough to lecture me. Your passions have been a series of dalliances and ill-conceived attachments. Look at me and tell me there is something you love more than that bottle in your hand."

Matthew also decides to move out and get his own place to force independence and probably drive even more of a wedge between himself and Charlotte. We also knows he has an argument with Charlotte; his apartment and car is undoubtedly a result of that, escaping the conflict and confrontation.

Anna had wanted to talk to him (Every Exquisite Thing), Magnus also wanted to help him. Lucie has always wanted to help for the sake of James and James has always known something was off. They just know that he wouldn’t say anything, and I think most were in the hopes that he would eventually say something. We know that Cordelia is most likely the one he tells thankfully! It is ironic that it is Cordelia for both Alastair and Matthew as well. So it already looks like Chain of Iron will provide the break and repair of relationships for Matthew, similar to Alastair’s progression of self-love.

8. Matthew is very open about his sexuality. Alastair does try and keep it hidden, however it’s more complicated. This is a reflection of their concern of judgement.

Although Matthew keeps things to himself, he admittedly is not afraid of what people think of him as his expectations of himself are so low. However, he is also ruled by the expectations of others, all through his life people had low expectations of him (again, another thing that influenced his actions in general) and he feels to fulfill that obscure one in spite?? The reputation the he has, has always been obscured because in everyone's eyes it will and always has been Charles who will inherit and uphold the good reputation as Consul as they don’t see Matthew as smart or responsible. However, the latter there he doesn’t help prove them wrong...

Alastair keeps his sexuality secret, that is until Cordelia finds out and he eventually warms up to her. Plus he was dependent of Charles as well, but committed himself that he wouldn’t be the side-dish. He wants to love himself for himself, not be hidden as a secret.

There is also a "reputation" element of the family that he still wants to uphold. He is learning though that he has to put himself first and should make amends for his reputation and not have to be burdened by others. Though I would argue that Cordelia is the one who is more concerned about it, but now she knows the truth she is wavering. It’s more complex.

To conclude:

I feel like their stories will either reflect the other, or will be intertwined somehow. As Alastair has dealt with a drunk and looks down upon alcoholism in general because of his experience makes me believe that Matthew might need Alastair's perspective to grow up. Once he understands Alastair I feel it may pave the way for forgiving and loving himself.

Alastair was the "spark" of making him spiral, but he was well on his way of questioning his family's loyalty and love of him before that (hence why we were given so much background) and it played into his weakness. Matthew I think wants to take it out on Alastair (he says he didn't blame Alastair or the Faerie. Alastair is just easy to take his frustration out on) as he is not prepared to come to terms with himself or even his family for that matter for his grievance. He loves his family very much and that’s why he feels so guilty, but it's wrong for him to believe so easily and hide his guilt away and that has to be due to his upbringing...

tldr; Alastair and Matthew have stark comparisons to each other that it’s probable that they are detrimental to each other’s character arcs.

@sparkofsummer

#tsc #matthew fairchild #alastair carstairs #coi #tlh #chog #cog2 #chain of iron #chain of gold #the last hours #shadowhunters #the shadowhunter chronicles

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kettlequills · 3 years

Text

C3: a wife to remember

god i love this fic so much. a03

A hag had many resources at her disposal, not at the least, her fellow sisters of feather, and Moira had a problem. She did not know the Dragonborn, and Moira did not much like not knowing things, especially when it pertained to the fruits of her bargains. The Dragonborn had not seemed adverse to Moira on the basis of being a hag alone, but accepting talons and feathers was quite different from permitting her to actively work her magics. There was too much that Moira did not know.

Moira planned to speak to someone who did.

Moira hauled her smoking cauldron into the garden patch, hissing at the weight and thinking longingly of the corded muscle that had braided the Dragonborn’s tanned brown arms, how easy it would be for them to move a cauldron almost as large as Moira was. She idly plucked a few of her own feathers and added them to the steaming brew until the liquid was thick and purple.

Her arms screamed when she took up the stirrer and laboriously fought it through the viscous liquid. Prickles of sweat broke out on her brow, and she leant her full bird-boned weight into the motion, adding an extra push with feather-fluttering hops. This cursed potion would save her days of pointless travel, but it exacted its price here, she thought irritably. Still, Moira had made it enough times before, if not for many years, that it did not take longer than a few hours before she was dipping salvaged bottles with peeling wine-labels into the mixture.

The bottles appeared largely spontaneously, washing up in the banks of the river not far from Moira’s house from Blood-Made-Pleasure’s daedric revels upstream, within the soft fold of Oblivion. Moira hunted along the banks come the morning for mortals, hollow-souled and blown from the Myriad Realms like scrunched daisies, and the trash from endless parties – human viscera, empty wine-bottles that stung the nose with haunting fragrant scents, fake cocks of shattered glass, snapped dremora horns. Sometimes, the blood-sports of the Prince of Plots bleeding over from the nexus of their shrine not far from the snow-city of Nord kings made their way to Moira’s stream, too. The river ran red for days to her mage-eye, and Moira would be weeding femurs and teeth out of her garden patch for even longer. But since Moira’s pact with Sanguine, his realm was closer, and Moira had more empty bottles than she could ever use.

Greatest power wrapped around your finger, for a single night of revelry.

She uncorked one such with her teeth and swigged from the potion as she labelled the others in spidery daedric letters that would make little sense to one foreign to haglore. When her gums began to prickle with chill, Moira kicked over her cauldron and let the dregs of the potion water her deathbell flowers. She left it there, staring hollowly out at the damp trees, and went to her roost. The potion took hold of the daedra inside her heart and dragged, and Moira’s spirit pierced the skin of Oblivion and rose on flapping raven-wings.

Witchmist Grove shimmered with ghostlike mists when she flew above it, the magic of Oblivion searing the trees tall and gloomy with the prescient tendrils of Moira’s magic soaked into the ground. The roost of a hag, visible as a thorny spot nestled like a canker around the soil. The dragon-cairn over the ridge glowed dully with trapped soul energy.

Not for the first time, Moira overflew her home and cawed at her cleverness. The necromantic energy of the dragon’s old servants and its own aedric glow nearly eclipsed Witchmist Grove, and the lines of power that hazed the ground was broken into the rippling hot pools, confusing the scrying-eye. Her own wards against magical predation still held strong, but she had been wise enough to choose a good spot to make it harder. The Grove would shelter its witch well while her mind attended to her business.

It was the work of a moment to envisage the heart of the plainsland, and a second later Moira was soaring through the cloudless blue skies of Whiterun – crisscrossed though they were by the fading trail of a dragon. Still, that was not too unusual in this season of change, and Moira made for the human city where the answers to her questions resided. It pulsed whitely in her mage-eye, the vast wings of the Skyforge spread over the city like a gargoyle. The eagle shrieked as Moira swept lower, and for a moment, its beady eye fixed on her. Her wings faltered in surprise. After a second that felt like an eternity, the eagle tucked its head back against its chest, satisfied, it seemed, that she posed little threat.

Moira’s talons clenched uneasily. The Skyforge was impersonal as the wind. Last time she had come here in this way, its wings had barely twitched when she’d landed on its head. That it was so riled up did not bode well.

Her disquiet mounted as she flew lower to the city – or what was left of it. Radiating outwards from the pulverised remains of the gates was a blast radius of crumbled stone that had reduced the surrounding timber houses to splinters. A wooden palisade had been erected, manned by guards whose spirits flickered dimly with fear to Moira’s mage-sight. Grief hung over Whiterun like a pall, and, pressing against the wall that separated Oblivion from the living, ghosts wandered dully through the streets, torn too abruptly from their living bodies to look for the way to Aetherius just yet. The living tree within the heart of the city was bowed double under the strength of their sorrow, its roots choked by a strange power crawling down from the heart of the prison of dragons. Familiar, daedric darkness, soft as poetry and suggestive as a whisper. The Webspinner, moving openly to claim the city, and, from the look of it, mostly unopposed. Even Hircine’s Underforge was muted. Well, good for the Webspinner. Moira had never liked Whiterun much.

Still, Moira noticed with some relief the burning-bright soul of the one Whiterun resident that she had come to see. Olava the Feeble was waiting for her, playing cards with a small child that shivered at Moira’s approach.

“Go along now,” Olava told the child, who wriggled in her chair. She had untidy brown hair and looked thin, but there were fresh crumbs on her ragged dress, and smears of jam on an empty plate on Olava’s table.

“But we weren’t done playing,” said the girl, and Olava smiled mysteriously.

“Yes, we were,” she said, and tapped the table between them. Moira saw the magic inside Olava flare, and the child gaped down at the cards in her hands. There was dirt caked under her nails.

“How did you do that?” she gasped. Moira sensed a curious flicker in the girl’s own fledgling spirit, as if she was trying to see as a witch did.

Food for a starving waif, and a light-show of no substance? A more obvious hook had never been planted. Moira cared not for Olava’s interest in a ragged child, but surely it would be easier to simply tell the girl whatever it was Olava wanted from her, and claim she was mad or dispose of her if she broke Olava’s cover?

“Charlatanry,” Moira commented dryly, amused at Olava’s transparent recruitment effort, “You didn’t need to touch the table at all for such a simple trick.”

“An old woman never shares all her secrets,” Olava said to them both, and then shooed the girl off. Once she had gone, perhaps a little faster than she would have if it had not been for the invisible presence of a hagraven glaring at the back of her neck, Moira fluttered down to perch on the back of the chair she had vacated. Her talons gripped the wood, but left no mark on it. She was not, after all, truly there.

“Sister,” said Olava plainly, “What can an old woman do for you?”

“Do you not need to maintain your quaint cover?” Moira asked, electing to preen herself. She tugged an errant feather back into alignment while Olava chuckled.

“Not at all.” Olava’s eyes were crinkled up at the edges and her smile was kindly, as if she really were simply nothing more than an old grandmother. Convincing, were it not for the aura of twisted power that radiated her from her like a dark sun and the way that her eyes were holes to the Void in her skull. “My neighbours think nothing of an old woman talking to herself.”

“As you wish.” Moira spread her wings and eyed them critically, as if it were more important than the task that had brought her here. “I propose a bargain of knowledge. I need to learn hand language.”

What better way to learn the ways of her new … spouse… than to prise them from the Dragonborn herself?

Olava hummed, pleased. “You have come to the right place, then. Which sign language is it you need to know?”

Moira ruffled her feathers. “How should I know?”

“Ai,” sighed Olava, “There is more than one. It would help if I knew who you need it to speak with.”

Flaring her wings, Moira shrieked her harsh raven’s cry. It echoed jealously, ear-splittingly loud. Under the eclipsing shadow of her wings, her true shape flickered and burned like coals. She would not share this knowledge. The Dragonborn was vulnerable, for now, ripe for the uncovering, and Moira would permit no other witch’s claws to steal in on her prize. Bad enough that she shared with Sanguine’s hook, that her own hold was as tenuous as the Dragonborn’s word.

Olava leant back in her seat to watch and rose a thin white eyebrow. Her face, for all it was wrought and wrecked by the passage of time, hid a mind no less canny.

“I can get you the knowledge of all major forms of hand-sign from here to Black Marsh, but it’ll cost you,” Olava relented. “I’ll have to call in a few favours.”

Moira accepted this irritably, and Olava eyed her, as if curious to see how far she would take this whim.

“I want you to … deliver something, for me.”

“Knowledge for knowledge is traditional,” Moira cawed, “I’m not your errand girl.”

“No,” said Olava, calmly, but Moira could see the tension wound in the leylines of her magic, her future-seeing eyes that glowed with the deepness of the Void, “But good luck finding another sister to help you. Did you say it was urgent?”

She hadn’t, but Moira was not patient, and Olava knew it. Besides, Olava’s demeanour was – reluctantly – intriguing. A witch’s errand was no small thing, particularly if she wanted a hag’s help to achieve it.

“Not that urgent,” Moira snapped regardless, because she did not want Olava to think that she did not see what she was doing by pricking Moira’s curiosity. “Out with it, then.”

“I need you to take an item to a particular person,” Olava said, “and ensure that it does not… leave her possession.”

Moira cawed a laugh. “A curse object, sister? Why, I’d almost do it for free. But why not see to it yourself?”

Olava’s hands smoothed deliberately over the table. She began to gather the cards and answered Moira’s question to their dog-eared and scribbled faces. “It cannot be me directly. The target knows me too well, and the spell must work.”

Moira paused. Olava’s carefully level voice roused her suspicion, and as she watched Olava stack the cards and slide them precisely into a bag woven of river-reeds, she grasped that Olava was not dissembling. She was worried. Moira did not lack confidence in her magical strength, but nor was she a fool. She had no desire to get mixed up in something that was going to require too much of her time.

“You have seen something that you hope to avoid,” Moira prompted.

“Yes,” Olava admitted, freely. “Nothing that concerns you, sister. A few fraying strings will soon be cut, and I have a … vested interest.”

Moira stared hard at Olava, who returned her gaze steadily. She was being sincere, Moira could tell that immediately from the glow and pulse of her magicka, and even more, Olava was letting her see without a single attempt to hide herself from Moira’s mage-sight. Whatever it was, it was important to her, perhaps important enough to ask a hag to do a courier’s job, if only to be sure it was done.

“Where is this target?”

“Falkreath,” said Olava and Moira squawked indignantly.

“It is far from my roost,” she complained, but Olava only shrugged.

“You’re the one who asked for something,” she said, and Moira conceded with a whistling hiss through her beak.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll see your token delivered.”

“Thank you,” said Olava. She smiled, a genuine one, smaller and slyer than her elderly façade. “I will send you a … friend, on the night of the new moon. He will have what you need.”

Three days. Moira shifted her claws on the chair, then took off without ceremony. She beat her wings quickly to rise over Whiterun, and took the precaution to soar some ways away from the wandering eyes of the powers that wrestled beneath the city. It was only once Moira wheeled freely over the stripped bones of a dead dragon, soul-claimed, that she tucked her wings and followed the thread tethering her to her body, and home.

---

Of course, it was not three days. It was two, and Olava’s friend came yowling with his ear in the firm grip of the Dragonborn.

“You’re early,” Moira said sourly, and the Dragonborn’s mouth tensed.

They wore no helmet today, and their greying brown hair had been roughly knotted at the nape of their neck. It was greasy, already damp from the moist air of the Grove. The rude knot exposed the gruesome fullness of their facial scarring, which twisted as they scowled at the terrified Khajiit whose tunic they held. Still broad, still strong, but there was a bandage wrapped around their bicep, several days old if Moira was any judge, and somewhat dirty and stained. The Khajiit in their grasp was a young ginger tom, his yellow eyes slitted with fear.

“Let him go,” Moira chided the Dragonborn, “Have you no manners?”

Moira did not recognise the boy, but she guessed that he had been sent when he offered her with trembling paws a bag marked with the crest of the Nords of Whiterun, a curling ram’s head.

“For you,” the Khajiit whispered. The Dragonborn’s lips thinned unsubtly, and they stalked off to lean against a tree, their back to the Khajiit but their head cocked, as if they were listening.

The boy’s tail lashed. “This one was not trying to sneak, he swears! He was told to bring a message, to the old woman in the grove by the dragon burial, that is all!”

“I am old, and within the grove,” Moira said, flatly, annoyed that she had not seen him coming, and had time to muster her illusions of being a harmless – if unnerving – old woman who lived alone. She had not sensed the Khajiit at all around the brilliance of the Dragonborn’s signature when they entered Witchmist Grove. “Give it to me.”

The Khajiit hesitated, but when Moira flashed her claws he tripped over himself in his rush to thrust the sack at her. It fell at her feet with a muted rattle. The Khajiit withered under Moira’s poisonous glare.

“Well?” she demanded, and the poor boy’s ears twitched. He bolted, and Moira rolled her eyes. “Let him go,” she told the Dragonborn, whose hunter’s eyes had tracked his flight, “and come in.”

But Moira did not move from her position on the top step as the Dragonborn pushed off the tree and approached her with slow, steady steps, their armour – wrapped for silence, again, in the shredded remains of what appeared to be Nordic burial shrouds – reflecting back the whiteness of the magelight Moira had tethered in the mouths of her staked goat heads. They removed their gauntlet carefully, and, without breaking eye contact, they stooped to pick up the sack and hand it to her.

Feeling as if she were moving thrice as slowly as normal, Moira took it, and her feathers fluttered involuntarily when their fingertips – rough and callused, but hot as fire – brushed her skin. Before the Dragonborn could pull away Moira tightened her grip until the tips of her sharp claws pressed into the back of the Dragonborn’s hand. Scarred, even here, with the nicks and cuts of a lifelong soldier.

The Dragonborn watched her. Those dark dragon eyes were steady as granite, and when Moira stared into them she had the odd sense of falling inwards. It was as if she peered into the implacable gaze of a creature so impossibly huge and dense that it warped the world towards it, as inexorable as a bird struck from the sky must meet the stony ground. She wondered how the Dragonborn would look beneath her potion-enhanced mage sight. She wondered how the Dragonborn saw her.

Moira had the height advantage on them from the top step, but the weight of their gaze was so immense that she felt small, like a darting bird before the maw of a dragon. She remembered challenging the Dragonborn to consummate their engagement the second time they had come to Witchmist Grove. Almost involuntarily, she pictured being pinned beneath that suffocating presence, those dark eyes, that searing heat – the enormity of them like a serpent big enough to touch nose to tail around the entirety of Tamriel coiling itself into one short human body that had to tilt their head up to look Moira in the eyes.

Moira was a hagraven, no fragile thing, her body knitted with ancient magics and raven-feathers, and she had birthed horrors on her altar for little reason other than curiosity. But she was also a bird-hearted once-woman, and the strange, arrhythmic pounding in her chest that could not decide what it felt at the warmth of the Dragonborn’s skin on hers disconcerted her.

With an impatient snort, Moira released the Dragonborn, but not before one last, pointed flex of her claws. The Dragonborn did not flinch at the tiny teardrops of blood that welled up from the scratches, just as they had not reacted to the poison tea, and when Moira turned and stormed into her house, she felt the shaking of the steps as the Dragonborn followed her.

As before, Moira filled the kettle and set it to boil, after checking the sack and tucking it away for later in a cabinet. She was curious to see if the Dragonborn would make the same mistake twice. They did not choose to sit down this time, but leant uncertainly against the wall, arms folded uncomfortably across their chest. Moira was expecting the airlessness of the shack this time and took a moment over the smoke of the fire to soothe herself.

A clinking distracted her, and she whipped her head around in time to catch the Dragonborn leaning back like a child caught going for the cookie jar, hand froze in the act of placing something shiny on the table.

“What’s that?” Moira demanded, and the Dragonborn’s grim mouth moved oddly, as if they were trying to smile.

They gestured sweepingly at Moira, and Moira eyed them suspiciously as she seized this latest offering. It was a bottle, a large one, filled to the brim with glittering dust that shifted and shimmered when she tipped it to and fro, like it was trying to escape the directness of her gaze. The aura that seeped off it reeked of death even with the cap sealed with what looked like leather and home-made twine.

“Blood-drinker dust,” Moira identified. Useful in potions, very useful. Her claws clacked when she tapped the bottle, not wanting to admit that she had nearly run out of her own supply. And she had never had so much as this. It was a handsome gift, and practical, as well. A hag had little use for frippery, after all, even if the Dragonborn’s last gift was currently hidden safely under Moira’s bed and warded with her strongest spells. “You hunted all of these yourself?”

The Dragonborn’s scarred face split, and all of their teeth gleamed. They nodded.

“Is that how you hurt your arm?” Moira asked before she registered what she was going to say, and hissed at herself.

It did not help that the Dragonborn seemed equally surprised at her question, and by the way their eyes flickered to the wound on their arm and back, she imagined they were wondering why she was bothered – or perhaps, had forgotten the wound was there at all. After a brief hesitation, the Dragonborn shook their head.

Moira cursed herself to the Void and back. “How then?” she snapped, aware of the brittle anger in her voice. She wanted to know now. Her curiosity had been piqued, and more than that, there was a strange, restless annoyance Moira ascribed to a healer’s knowledge, impatient with the mysterious wound under its dirty bandage.

The Dragonborn’s shoulders rounded, and their movements as they fumbled for their journal seemed if anything oddly shy. They scribbled for a moment, and then avoided her eye when they presented the page.

“Wolf pack surprised me,” they had written.

“You slay dragons, and hunt vampires, but not wolves,” Moira said. “Did you at least clean it?”

The Dragonborn nodded, and then cleared their throat. They were still looking away, and after a moment, Moira recognised that the fire’s warmth on their cheek was not solely responsible for the redness that had bloomed there.

“Well,” Moira heard herself say irascibly, “Wash your bandages, then.”

Scrubbing the back of their neck with their hand, the Dragonborn nodded. The motion reminded her of their skin touching hers, and Moira busied herself with the kettle, indiscreetly bolstering the fire with magic. The heat enveloped the hut, steaming away the perpetual dampness, and Moira heard the Dragonborn sigh with pleasure behind her. It was nearly noiseless, but not quite, and Moira was hard-pressed to tell whether the shiver that went through her was from some miniature earthquake or the base of her spine, which had elected to, for some reason only daedra knew, play host to half a dozen guttering candles.

“So,” Moira said eventually, “What do they call you?”

Silence, not the scratch of charcoal, and Moira glanced over her shoulder to see the Dragonborn’s confused expression.

“Your name?”

With a metallic creak, the Dragonborn’s arms around their chest tightened, and a muscle in their cheek jumped. They shrugged flatly, and then with a weariness that Moira could almost sense bent their head to write.

“I don’t know the name I was born with,” they showed her, “The dragons call me – “

More of the claw-mark letters of the dragon language, and Moira pursed her lips.

“You know I can’t read this,” she said. The Dragonborn’s mouth crooked helplessly, but Moira’s eye was drawn to the smudges of charcoal on their fingers, exposed, because they hadn’t put their gauntlet back on.

“It comes from inside,” they scribbled, and then illustratively clasped their bare hand over their breastplate. A smear of charcoal darkened the fraying edge of one of the ripped up shrouds.

They shifted, and the shadow of their warhammer blotted the firelight over the page. Moira’s claws flexed, and she wondered, briefly, precisely when the fool bird in her brain had forgotten to watch the Dragonborn’s weapon hovering ominously over their shoulder.

“I could tell you my name, but you’ll have to come outside to hear it,” they wrote. Wariness in them then, and wasn’t that an interesting response to their own offer.

Moira weighed her options. Outside would give the Dragonborn more room to swing, but it also gave Moira better manoeuvrability to escape. It was a gamble, but Moira knew herself. She was a fast shifter, and a faster flier.

“Fine,” she said, and the Dragonborn jerked their chin and led the way outside.

They were not content with Moira’s garden, but crunched their way up the garden path and out the gate without a backwards glance. Their stride was aggressive and quick, a beat short of a march, and Moira got three steps after them on her talons and then gave up and took to her wings instead. The Dragonborn glanced up and with narrowed eyes searched among the flapping cloud of black-winged birds that rose like a fanfare at their intrusion into their domain. Moira circled above them, making no move to announce herself, and with an uneasy twitch the Dragonborn continued.

They had a hunter’s instinct, and as they walked a strange, circuitous route out of Witchmist Grove, Moira realised that they were following and walking on top of the Khajiit’s tracks. She wondered at it as she swept along overhead, doubling back every so often to flit down among the trees and feel the heavy leaves weep their burden of rain onto her glossy feathers.

Did the Dragonborn hope to find the boy, or simply to obliterate his tracks with their heavy boots? To stop Moira from following him, or to ensure he did manage to find his way out of the labyrinthine corridors of twining pine and hanging ivy, the nightshade groves and lurking brambles? The enchanted mist worked well to entrap and ensnare visitors, bringing them to the heart of the Grove into Moira’s clutches. Most had some trouble finding their way out without her blessing. Perhaps the Dragonborn had an abundance of caution, to walk only where it was demonstrably safe to step, in a hag’s home.

Moira appreciated it. Some of the moss she cultivated was rather difficult to grow, and she kept it away from the illusory paths for a reason.

The Dragonborn stopped only when they had reached the boundary of Witchmist Grove, where the copse of trees broke into the steaming hot-pools. The sandy-seared ground rose in jagged humps towards Bonestrewn Crest, where the sleeping dragonbones waited like a scar on the horizon. Squat rocks clumped around the meandering dirt path, and heat shimmered lazily, like Sanguine’s ruby red eye. Tensely, they waited for Moira.

Her damp feathers billowed steam in cross-currents and curls as she backwinged towards the ground, already changing. The Dragonborn did not look away, but Moira saw them blink rapidly as the illusions fell away and it seemed as if there had never been a bird there at all, only a hag, feathered and clawed, perched atop a rock that still, technically, was within the boundary of her grove.

The Dragonborn inclined their head, then purposefully, they planted their feet and turned their back on her. Facing out over the steamy barrenness of Eastmarch, their fist clenched nervously, as if they were second-guessing their decision.

Before Moira could demand an explanation, or taunt them to fulfilling their offer, the Dragonborn spoke.

At first, it was noise. Just noise, like the sound of lightning so deep it rumbled in the bones. A flash of awareness like seeing that stark-white fork in the black sky, and then understanding that what she was experiencing was noise, horribly loud noise, like every drum in the world beating at once, every rock falling, every heart stopping. And then it was power – power like every spell in the world backfiring at once immense and throbbing, power like Moira’s first flight, like the buffeting of the wind under her feathers.

In the ringing aftermath, Moira opened stinging eyes – when had she closed them? – and took in a world unutterably changed. She thought that the Grove had reacted to her presence by thickening the mist, and realised with a strange feeling like falling into the Dragonborn’s eyes that no, the grey smoke in the air was neither smoke nor mist, but dust. Dust, all that was left of all the rocks in the Dragonborn’s path, the furrowed brow of the hill that led up to Bonestrewn Crest. Instead, there was a perfectly carved bowl, wide and smooth as any stone-carved arena. It was perfectly done, steady as if the Dragonborn had simply scooped a section of the world away with a giant spoon. Except for the claw-like, shimmering markings that were chiselled in the wall, markings that matched the Dragonborn’s name in their journal.

It was only then that Moira’s ears made sense of the sounds, and the Dragonborn’s name clicked into her mind like a fact she had always known, but had not realised she had forgotten.

“Laataazin,” Moira gasped, and the Dragonborn – Laataazin – nodded slowly.

Greatest power wrapped around your finger. Oh. Oh. Oh. And to think – all this time, Moira had been angry for his trickery, when this was the prize!

Moira’s feathers quivered, then her shoulders, and then all at once she was laughing. It was a rusty, inelegant sound, more raven-shriek than human, and when the Dragonborn heard it they startled. After a moment, as Moira continued to laugh at the immensity of the gift that Sanguine had given her, slowly, tentatively, Laataazin started to smile back.

It was small, and sweet, and looked like they were unused to it as it was to their face. But it brightened their eyes and took years from their face, and Moira recognised for the first time the winsome, laughing-loud but shy creature that had come calling to her gate in a night of revelry, and offered a ring paid in blood for a hagraven’s hand in marriage.

#moira #laataazin #inkwrites #my fic a wife to remember #tes #skyrim #elder scrolls

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onomonopetabread · 4 years

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Declawing the Cat- Chapter 2

“ Can you believe that nerve of that jerk?”

Marinette was absolutely furious. Tikki watched her from the bed as she paced from wall to wall. It was really getting concerning; she’s been ranting for the past three hours. School ended about five hours ago, but Marinette’s little encounter with Felix never left her mind.

“What, did he think that a few thoughtless compliments would get me to trust him? Who does he think he is, the MaYOR?”

That last part was a particularly loud shriek, and if Tikki had eardrums, they would be completely shattered by now. It was time to stop this madness.

“Mari, I know that you’re upset, and trust me, I am too. But… don’t you think that you should calm down? You’ve been at this for a really long time.”

Marinette hardly heard her. “I really tried. I tried to just leave it alone. But nooo, he just had to go and rock the boat! Can’t the guy take a hint? I mean, if someone didn’t talk to ME after giving the third fakest apology given ever, I would know that they hated MY guts.”

“Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!”

The group gathered around Felix. He’d just been introduced to the class by Adrien, and it didn’t seem as though they were very happy to see him. They were making so much noise that no one had noticed the lack of a certain blue-eyed class president. Unbeknownst to them, Marinette was crouched behind a pillar near the courtyard, watching and listening to the entire thing.

She had been uncharacteristically early to school and was chatting with Tikki in the locker room when she heard Adrien’s voice outside. Naturally, she'd begun to walk outside to greet him. The fact that she had decided to try to get over him out of respect for Kagami doesn’t make it illegal for her to talk to him; he is her friend.

When Marinette first stepped out of the room, her first thought was that there were somehow two Adriens. Then she realized that one Adrien looked like...Adrien, and the other looked like a sad old man somehow ended up in a teen’s body. In about 0.2 seconds, she was absolutely seething. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he at his comfortable home in the ninth circle of hell?

“Guys, this is my cousin Felix. He’s going to be attending school with us for now on. I know you guys will take him in with open arms.”

Open arms? This clown? Marinette scoffed. She’d sooner swallow a cup of tacks than let that prick into her life. Her classmates however, aren’t as strong-minded as she was. It’d probably be better if she stayed silent and invisible for this and let them make up their own minds about this, just to see what they would do.

“Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!”

Okay, so far so good. Maybe this time around, she wouldn’t be (almost) the only person that didn’t trust a liar. Oh, how great it will be to openly loathe for once! One by one, more and more voices were protesting letting the rat into their friend group. The entirety of the class was hanging Formally-Dressed Draco to dry, and Marinette was in ecstasy.

‘Yes,’ she thought. ‘Tear him to pieces!’

Just when things were really starting to escalate, the sound of someone clearing their throats cut through the noise.

“Hello, everyone. As Adrien just told you, my name is Felix Graham de Vanily. To answer your question, Mr. Le Chein, yes, I’m the cousin of Adrien’s that impersonated him and sent you a cruel response to your heartfelt videos. For that, I am deeply sorry. I have no excuse for wha-”

What. In. The. World. If Marinette was furious before, she was positively incandescent now. He really was another Lila! Not to mention the fact that he didn’t even have the decency to make the apology seem even slightly convincing. Anyone with an EQ of 3 could see that those puppy-eyes were rehearsed and don’t even get Mari STARTED on that pout. There was no way that her class would buy this, but by the looks on their faces…

“If you’re really sorry...”

…Of course. Of-freaking-course they would believe him. Marinette sighed and walked into the classroom. Once again, she was left to hold the class’ single brain cell, by herself this time since there was no chance in Adrien distrusting his own cousin. Now how was she going to go about this was the question. If he really is Lila 2.0, then her initial plan to outright hate him will boomerang her right in the eye. No, it’s better to just avoid him at all costs; you can’t hate what you never come into contact with.

“Are you really sure that’s going to work, Marinette?” Tikki asked once they were safe inside the room. “You can’t stay away from him forever, you know. He may be a nuthead, but he’s smart enough to notice when you aren’t fawning over him like the others.”

“I know Tikki, but I think I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. For now, I’m going to go above and beyond to make sure our paths never cross.”

“That’s a relief. I thought for a moment there that you were going to do the rational thing for once.”

“Really, Tikki? Sarcasm? That’s beneath you.”

“If you’re looking for a finger to point, blame Plagg. You pick it up after being with him for a few thousand years.”

Marinette stayed true to her word and made it her mission to never be in the same room as the Great Disturbance unless it was class time. Even then, she kept a compact with her so that she could see if he was coming up behind her. Whenever someone began to bring him up into a conversation, she would quickly but subtly change the subject.

After a few days of this, she seemed to really be getting the hang of it. Avoiding him was becoming second nature to Mari. It actually would have been way easier for her if the demon hadn’t kept trying to collect her soul. Like always, Tikki had been right. The little son-of-a caught on to her really quickly and didn’t hesitate to try to reach out to her. In fact, the other classmates would often tell her that he had been looking for her, and she’d had to act as though she didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. That part hadn’t been so easy.

“So, what are you going to make for the big competition, Mari? A dress maybe?” asked Alya.

“Actually, I was thinking about sewing up a pair of suits. I’m not sure what they’ll look like yet, but I really want to try something new this time.”

“Well, I know whatever you’ll make will blow their socks off, girl. Speaking of designers, Felix told me to ask you to meet him after school . He said he wants to talk to you.”

“Is that so?” Marinette asked, feigning surprise (see bane-of-existence, you’re not the only person who can act here).

“Yeah, he really seemed to have taken an interest in you. All he ever asks us is what you're up to. It’s almost an obsession. Do I sense a little romance here? Another blond-haired green-eyed love interest?”

“Not very likely, Alya. Anyways, I guess I’ll have to talk to him later. So, are you going to tell me about your new reporting piece or what?”

What? Don’t give me that face, it’s technically not a lie; Mari did end up talking to him later, didn’t she? Though, to be fair, she wasn’t planning on actually interacting with him until they both passed. No, not passing class. The other pass.

One thing that she had learned about the knock-off Five Hargreeves was that she had greatly overestimated him. For the love, the kid wasn’t fit to kiss Lila’s feet. At least her schemes were clever and thought-through; this amaetur just existed and everything was handed to him on a silver platter. The rest of the class has spoiled him into thinking that it would be easy to capture her attention with a tense grimace of a smile and two ounces of ‘charm’. Unfortunately for him, Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn’t so easily bought.

So, that’s the way it went for a few weeks; a classic game of cat and mouse. He would try to catch her, and she would slip out of reach at the last minute. If she had to admit it, it was very fun, especially sneaking peeks at the frustrated faces the devil makes when he thinks no one is looking; the coward can’t be emotionally vulnerable for a second.

That’s why she felt so sure that he wouldn’t follow her to the park; the place was way too open for a stand-offish guy like him. She was very safe in the great outdoors with nothing but her sketchpad, a sharpened pencil, and a sleeping Tikki in her purse. She had been working on that design that she was talking about with Alya. Marinette really needed this design to be perfect. Perhaps a double-breasted suit would work? How many buttons would she have to buy? If she was any deeper into her work, she might not have noticed the distinct smell of leather and the tears of the innocents approaching her. She just barely retained her composure.

‘What is he doing here? Whatever, perhaps if I just stay completely still, he’ll go away.”

“Ah, Ms. Dupain-Cheng! How lovely it is to see you. We never seem to talk, do we? It is quite a shame really.”

‘It would also be a shame if you were to get punched where the sun doesn’t shine, Mr. Pied Piper’, Marinette thought. Alas, no matter how much she wanted to move her hand like so, she couldn’t let him win this fight. No, just silent-treatment it out and pray he either leaves or gets struck with a lightning bolt.

“I must say, that is a lovely suit you’re designing there. I love the use of gold thread on the pants. If I may make a few suggestions-”

Him? Give fashion advice? Marinette would rather NOT learn how to dress like an off-brand Crowly, thank you very much. Good grief, he really wasn’t going to stop trying, was he? Alright, no more Nice Marinette.

That’s when she finally snapped and, well, you know how that went. Had it been ANYbody else, she probably would feel guilty for talking to someone so blatantly, but it turns out that she left that situation with zero regrets. If she didn’t put a stop to this whole ordeal, she’ll probably have to carry around a tiny halberd with her for the rest of her life, and as much as she would like to use it, he really wasn’t worth the trouble. Ugh, he makes her absolutely Sick. He’s so slimy, terrible, arrogant, deceitful-

“MARINETTE JOSEPHINE DUPAIN-CHENG BE QUIET!!!!”

Marinette was so startled she tripped over her chaise and fell onto her bed.

“Geez, Tikki! Couldn’t give a girl a warning before you scream like that?”

“You’re one to talk, Ms. The Mayor. And for the record, I did give you a warning; I’ve been calling your name since for the past hour. Are you really going to get all worked up over this, Mari? You said it yourself, he’s just another Lila.”

“I know Tikki, and I’m sorry I’ve been rambling on for so long. It’s just- yeah, he’s a liar, a fake, and way too stoic to be real, but he’s different from Lila. I don't know what it is about him, but I can’t help but wholeheartedly loathe him. Just the thought of him makes a shiver run down my spine.”

“Loathing. Right. That’s it, totally. Is that why you haven’t said his name this entire time.”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’m very happy you noticed, Tikki. I spent a lot of time thinking up all of those insult names.”

“I’m sure you did, Marinette,” Tikki sighed. “You really don’t like this kid, do you?”

“No, I definitely do not, and not a fiber of my being will ever so much as be happy in his presence for as long as I live.”

@ceres-zephyr here u go!

Chapter 3’s up!

https://qualityladybread.tumblr.com/post/632447827994411008/declawing-the-cat-chapter-3

#felinette #felix x marinette #marinette x felix #felix graham de vanily #marinette dupain cheng #declawing the cat #chapter 2 #PLEASE COMMENT AND INTERACT IM SO BORED

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normal-thoughts-official · 3 years

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Tw abuse, drug addiction, mentions of Shadowhunter racism, sexual abuse and all Camille related shittiness. (1) Right so how do we feel about Camille using yin fen to further manipulate Magnus and make him stay? I mean obviously Camille’s not the only vampire in the world but I’m sure Camille would convince him to stay with her and only get yin fen from her and the ways she could further manipulate and abuse him is....ouch. -

She could just up and leave suddenly and leave Magnus in withdrawal with no idea when she’ll be back, making it seem like it’s his fault she left and furthering Magnus belief that he needs her. When she comes back she calls Magnus pathetic, ‘I mean she was only gone a few days and he’s already like this, this is why no one loves you Magnus your just a pathetic waste of space’ and that goes on for a while, I’m not really sure what the breaking point would be or if cat and ragnor get him out of there, but either way he gets out and there’s lots of ups and downs and relapses and it’s painful, he has his family but he’s barley holding on and then introduce Raphael! Cause I love him and need to include some Raphael Magnus bonding any chance I get. When Raphael moves in and is struggling with his addiction Magnus tries to help the best he can but always keeping his walls up so he won’t seem weak and helpless like he feels he is but things happen insert some dramatic plot and tears and Magnus tells him about his addiction and how he understands how hard it is so Raphael can feel better cause Magnus is always helping other people at the cost of himself, is it healthy? No. But will that stop him? Also no. And cue angsty dialogue where Raphael says it’s not the same cause he hurts people with da fangs and Magnus doesn’t, like the whole aggressor vampire bloodsucking stereotype that I’m sure Shadowhunters love to use to their advantage and you’re a much better writer than me but emotions and bonding and lots and lots of angst. Djkajsjssf yeah you get it -ya boy( yeah that’s the name I’m using so you know it’s me cause I’m extremely creative )

love the name! sorry it took me so long to answer, i've been busy and i wanted to give this all the thought it deserves cuz u know me and camille angst and aaaa

i usually don't tie yin fen in with the abuse, i've seen that hc before but i don't commonly go with it (not for any reason in particular tbh except maybe that i usually use camille's abuse as a way to project my own abusers and since i never had any experience with that i don't include it in my hcs), but i do think the potential is great! (well, in an evil way, but you get it)

the whole thing about withdrawal is great because by that logic when she withdraws affection she is also withdrawing the venom so it's a double withdrawal he's experiencing and it's hard for him to differentiate between the two things, so it just ends up seeming like being without camille is even worse. and like addiction is a result of biopsychosocial factors so the fact that he became addicted in the first place indicates that he had been in a fragile state; and camille leaving plays into that fragile state, making his need for the yin fen greater, and then she isn't there to give it to him, so again it just feels like being without camille is the worst thing in the world and he just doesn't want to upset her so she doesn't leave him alone in this hell again

and then of course when she's back magnus is in a terrible state and she immediately uses it against him, saying that this is exactly why she needed some time, she can't ever be away from him, he is so needy and dependant and needs her all the time and he's smothering her, can't he see that she's exhausted? she can't live to take care of him all the time and he's just so selfish and tiring and this is why everyone but her left him

then you know... kicking him and kissing it better, saying, "look at you, what a terrible shape you are in, i don't know what you'd do without me", playing the good cop and further drilling into him that he needs her you know

and certainly magnus could get the venom from someone else but it puts him in a way too vulnerable position in front of strangers, risks other people finding out (i'm sure magnus wouldn't want people to know about his addiction just like they don't want to know about his abuse; it's ridiculous, it's pathetic and it's all his fault and he should have known better in his head obviously i'm not saying it's true but also just because it's one more thing shadowhunters and other people can use against him), and probably risks getting her mad. which is weird because she bites other people all the time, but then again, what does he want her to do, not feed herself? only drink from him? and he knows it's difficult to stop so why is he judging her for something she can't control?

but if it were the other way around she would lose it, call him a cheater and say that she doesn't deserve this, that she's done everything for him and this is how he repays her, whoring himself out for anyone else. it was supposed to be their thing, something they did for pleasure and for fun, and he had to go and become a fucking junkie, didn't he?

then later she comes back and apologizes, says she was mad but she had the right to with that he had done, and besides, she's really just worried about him, doesn't he know other people would use that to manipulate him, put him in danger? she's just looking out for him. and repeat

i'm also not sure what the breaking point would be but i think it would probably require some interventions from ragnor and cat, plus eventually these things boil. magnus is in a vulnerable position, yes, but he is still smart and he is a free spirit and he doesn't like being held down and treated like a toy and abandoned; he craves people and he craves affection and he can see how he's spiralling out of control, and i think for the longest time what keeps him tied to camille isn't love but guilt. this sense that he owes her because she saved him in the bridge, and it isn't fair of him to just break up with her. but eventually enough is enough, and plus, camille is not just an ass to him. he sees the way she treats other people, turn mundanes and then leave them to rot, and is generally a terrible clan leader. and i don't think magnus would ever want to be with someone who is openly vile and hurting others like that. he just can't live with it, magnus already has enough guilt from associating with terrible people and he cares so fucking much about others he could bleed to death from it. so eventually it's too much

don't get me wrong, he also does it for himself, and honestly i wish it was more for himself, but i do think the fact that camille is a terrible person plays an important part in him leaving her because enough is enough

about rapha!!!! you know i'm a fucking sucker for magnus and rapha angst and bonding so you've come to the right place, love of my life. i do like the idea of magnus being able to talk to raphael about it, say that he understands perfectly what he's going through. it's also interesting because they are on "opposite sides" of the addiction, and with magnus he had been in an abusive relationship that got him hooked to it, but like, it's still the same thing at the end of the day, you know?

and magnus is just like, raphael, this isn't your fault. trust me, i know what a person doing this to someone on purpose looks like. and it's a complicated thing ofc because rapha is a guilt junkie so of course the idea that he could be even remotely similar to camille eats at him, but at the same time he just... could never and magnus points that out to him, that his disgust at the idea is more than enough proof that this is not the kind of person he is

and slowly magnus helps him through his own recovery because magnus understands exactly what this is like, and he knows all the ups and downs. he knows downworlder support groups dedicated to that, he knows other people who have gone through it, he knows the importance of a support network and makes sure to give it to rapha not just in the form of himself (because no one can be a person's single source of support, it's impossible to take this much responsibility) but also by introducing him to other people like cat and ragnor and other cool vampires magnus knows. and encouraging him to eat more from blood bags because i bet rapha is the kind of person who refuses to because he feels disgusting and magnus is the one who tells him that if he adds hunger on top of withdrawal it's just going to make him feel like he needs the blood even more. so eventually raphael relents and starts eating properly

and at the same time raphael helping give magnus some closure because i think part of him still feels a bit like he was ungrateful towards camille and rapha is just adamant that that was Not the case, and camille wasn't addicted to his blood, she was using him and that's different. and just aaa raphael being the first person magnus opens up to about this that didn't already know him by the time camille rolled around, and them both helping each other and getting closure and being a support network without trying to "fix" the other, just giving options, listening, being there. ugh i love their relationship so mUCH

#sh #shadowhunters #magnus bane #raphael santiago #camille belcourt is an abuser #addiction tw #abuse tw #drugs tw #brotp: i'll do whatever it takes to protect them #camille's trash party #long post #ask #anonymous #camille angst anon #q

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beastars-takes · 4 years

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Zootopia Takes: The Power of Really Liking Each Other

Our main event, Beastars Takes, will resume soon, but in the meantime I want to talk about one of my favorite movie relationships:

Has this been talked about to death by other people? Yes. But this is my blog and I write it for free so I can do what I want.

Note: this is not a shipping post--this is just an examination of their canonical relationship in the movie and why it rules.

At first glance, this is your typical enemies-to-friends story. I love those. But while the typical arc tends to involve two characters who can’t stand each other, who eventually develop a grudging respect for one another (often through some kind of shared ordeal) and maybe thaw into actual friendliness at the end. Zootopia packs all of that into the first half--by the midway point they are clearly not just allies, but friends, and by the end of the film they’re inseparable.

It’s important to recognize this isn’t just for the hell of it, or just to be cute--the closeness and trust they build is the linchpin of their success in the final moments of the movie.

All the reasons why, after the jump.

Something I talked about in the previous post was the messaging of Zootopia, and I don’t want to rehash it too much here. It’s a movie about prejudice, and the work it takes to overcome it. A key theme (one that it shares with Beastars, incidentally) is that friendships with those who are different from you are hard--but they are worth it.

Part 1: They Hate Each Other! (Right?)

Now...it goes without saying that when these two first meet, they bounce off each other hard. Each is seeing the other at their absolute worst.

Judy can’t stand Nick because he takes every bit of optimism she has about this world and throws it back in her face. She want to use him as a prop in her vision of an equal society, where “not all foxes” are crooks. He laughs at her. He humiliates her. All he has to do is walk away, but he takes his time. He twists the knife.

For his part, Nick sees a laughably ineffectual bunny who condescends to him and threatens him with jail for the crime of...humiliating her. She may not personally be a threat to him, but she wields the institutional power of the ZPD--a power he has plenty of reason to be afraid of--and she does it irresponsibly.

On first viewing, Nick inarguably wins this exchange. He avoids arrest, reads her to absolute filth and leaves her stuck in cement.

And he makes her really sad. Nice!

But, and I don’t pretend to be the first person to have pointed this out, on second viewing it’s obvious he can guess her story so well because it’s basically his story. The only difference, in his mind, is that he’s accepted the reality that he’ll never be allowed to live the life he wants, while she is still vainly pursuing hers.

I don’t know about you, dear reader, but the people I’ve met who have always most pissed me off are the people who remind me of things I hate about myself. The people who seem to embody the flaws I’ve worked to minimize. Nick’s naive hope is what has brought him the most pain in his life. He sees this bunny full of the same naive hope, surmises that she’s facing the same failures he did and yet stubbornly refusing to learn from them. It’s irritating.

Pictured: irritation.

Maybe I am projecting, but if Nick is anything like me, he probably didn’t walk away entirely happy from this exchange. Yes, he “won,” but he was also reminded of everything about himself that he least wanted to think about.

Part 2: They Are Not Very Good at Hating Each Other

So, the thing about Judy is, she is naive. By default, she assumes people are her friend. But she’s not stupid.

Nick assumes she is stupid, not least because she hasn’t wisely given up on her dreams like he has, and...he learns that she maybe not so fun to pick on after all.

So they wind up doing the first part of this enemies-to-friends routine, allies of necessity.

So, naturally, because he is Him, he makes it his mission to torment her.

In fact, we get two whole scenes where all he does he does is watch her struggle and make this face.

The first read of this behavior is that he’s just enjoying the failures of someone he hates. He says as much later. But I would also argue--from a viewer’s perspective--Judy is ridiculously entertaining and charming throughout these encounters. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and it’s hard not to like people like that.

Is there more happening here than just schadenfreude? I won’t pretend to know for sure. But worth considering.

By the time they’re investigating the limousine, his sabotage has diminished into something more like gentle trolling. And you can’t see this face, in context...

...and tell me she isn’t starting to like him, at least a little bit.

He’s also starting to help! By the time they’re past the minor detour of almost being murdered by a mob boss, he’s entirely cooperative, helping her conduct interviews and look for clues. The movie doesn’t call particular attention to this, but it almost did.

Finally, let’s look at Nick’s behavior when they’re being chased by a rabid jaguar. He could have absolutely booked it, with no regard for the cop who was blackmailing him into helping her.

These moments go by so quickly, but they’re hugely revealing of his true character, even before he defends her in front of Chief Bogo.

He picks her up when she falls.

More importantly, when he gets to the skytram, his first instinct isn’t to jump in--it’s to hold the door for her:

He sees she can’t make it, and she even tells him to leave without her. He doesn’t. He holds the door until he can’t anymore, and as a result he’s nearly killed.

Nick is a good boy.

Part 3: They Are Friends Now

She save his life, so he saves her job. This is a key story beat, and it’s a Disney movie, so there’s not a lot of subtlety (except how the specular highlights in Judy’s eyes fade as Bogo asks for her badge--the light literally goes out of her. Go watch).

But it’s such a sweet moment of teamwork--he was contemptuous toward her from the start because she believed in herself. This is the first time she’s simply given up in the whole movie, and he steps up. Because he believes in her now.

And she believes in him! Or, she wants to.

Judy’s supportiveness here is sweet, but it’s also still a little selfish. It’s not that different from their interaction at the ice cream shop, really: she wants to meet a fox who defies stereotypes, who is easy for her to like. Someone who ticks all the boxes to prove her family wrong.

When he starts being more foxy, later--self-identifying as a predator, showing his claws, challenging her--we learn that her supportiveness is conditional.

Am I being too hard on her? Sure. She’s been in bunny country her whole life. She’s new to this and she’s trying. But that’s where she’s at.

But still! They’re friends now. They’re no longer pretending they don’t like each other. Judy’s openly encouraging, Nick is fully in her corner, and we get a few cute sequences where they keep being more and more impressed with each other.

He’s still not above affectionately messing with her, and she’s getting worse at pretending to dislike it.

And he trusts her enough to let her flush him down a toilet...

Which gives us this heartbreaking shot where he thinks she’s drowned. He cares a whole lot about this bunny.

She likes him too! Enough to want to team up on a more permanent basis. This is pretty standard-fare enemies-to-friends stuff now, but considering where we started, and considering they’ve known each other for all of two days? Not bad!

It’s clear this moment means far more to him than it does to her, too. It’s actually taken very little persuading from Judy to get him to step up and be brave and helpful and trustworthy. The fact that he’s turned around and opened up to her so fast suggests he’s been ready for an opportunity like this for his entire life, and never got it. I mean, look at his face.

The foundational flaw in her worldview is still there, though, and it’s about to do almost-irreparable damage to their whirlwind friendship.

Part 5: Fuck!

So Judy gives her press conference, and gives a great example of why police usually answer every question with “the matter is currently under investigation,” or “we’re not prepared to comment further at this time.” Honestly, though, this is on Bogo--I had coworkers who once did some press interviews, and they spent over a week doing media training. They didn’t even break a major kidnapping case. So, you know.

So she repeats some weird race science stuff she assumes is true because someone in a lab coat said it, which is amusingly similar to how race science (or “race realism”) often propagates--people with low-rent doctorates from crappy universities write a bunch of scientifically shoddy material and people say “well, he has a PhD!”

And then Nick has a PTSD flashback? I don’t want to be irresponsible and make an armchair diagnosis, but also...that is absolutely what is depicted on screen.

You’re not immediately “better” after something like this, which is why I cut Nick a bit of slack when he basically blows up their friendship.

Judy...doesn’t get it. It’s completely heartbreaking, because she likes him, and doesn’t understand why he’s mad, and isn’t self-reflective enough to stop and think maybe he has a point. Not until it’s too late. He tests her, and she fails.

Their friendship has always been a little inequal. He’s trusted her with everything, shown her his deepest vulnerabilities. She’s never trusted him completely.

So he leaves.

I don’t want to impugn her professionalism by suggesting she wouldn’t have quit the force if she hadn’t had that friendship-ending fight, but, you know. Maybe.

This is the second time she gives up, and this time he’s not there to pick her up again.

Judy is intensely goal-oriented, and I don’t think she realized what Nick’s friendship meant to her, as the first person in the city who truly believed in her, until it was too late. Judy is sweet and well-meaning but emotional intelligence is not really her strong suit (which is actually cool to see in a female Disney protagonist, imo).

So, while it would have been nice for her to track Nick down immediately and apologize, I think it makes sense for them to spend time apart. Her own self-perception has been shattered, and she needs time to figure out how she went so wrong.

So when she does come back, she delivers one of the best animated apologies I’ve ever seen. Only AtLA compares, in my mind.

Part 6: They Are Much Better Friends Now

Nick forgives her, because of course he does.

(Sidebar--people talk about how he kept her carrot pen the whole time they were apart. He also kept his handkerchief from Ranger Scouts, AND he only wears shirts that match the wallpaper in his mother’s house. He desperately needs a hug.)

Credit to Nick also, who can’t fight and has no police training whatsoever, who has multiple times been almost killed helping her out, now agreeing to help her out again. She’s not even threatening him with jail this time!

We, the viewers, are then rewarded with this great montage of them being best friends.

She’s finally stopped pretending not to be amused by his shenanigans.

(One other sidebar here--Nick is canonically a really gentle character. For all their adventuring, this is only time in the movie he gets physical with anyone: to protect the bunny. Again, he definitely can’t fight and immediately gets smacked across the room. But it’s the thought that counts, right?)

Per the post title, more visual evidence of them really liking each other.

Judy trips on a dead body, and here we get the second time in the movie that Judy tells Nick to leave without her, and he won’t--this time, he refuses explicitly.

Which then gives us the opportunity for the big moment--the culmination of all this care and intimacy and trust.

In order to con Bellwether, she lets him stalk her, and bite her throat. This has been often pointed out, but it’s important--throughout the movie, Judy’s wriggling rabbit nose has been used as a signifier of fear and suspicion. It wriggles when she’s spying on Nick at the beginning. It wriggles like hell when he confronts her after her press conference.

Not here. Doesn’t move. It’s a great, clearly intentional animation choice that tells a close observer (or more likely, a repeat viewer) that she’s completely unafraid.

She trusts him.

I could write a whole other post about how well-scripted this movie is, how every scene is doing half a dozen different things, but the way the personal and the professional come together here, the way the threads of prejudice and friendship and the police case all tie together in this moment. It’s good shit.

This is basically where things end, in terms of character development, but we get a bunch more shots of them clearly adoring each other:

So there it is.

To sum up, certainly not suggesting this movie invented “characters liking each other,” or anything like that. But it goes above and beyond in portraying a friendship that’s not just one born of circumstance, one that’s authentic and unmistakably loving. Characters who enjoy spending time with each other, regardless of what’s going on around them.

I hope everyone is able to experience friendships like that. I absolutely treasure the few I have.

Appendix: The Shipping Thing

I hope I’ve made all this ship-agnostic, which was my intention. I personally like the ship, and I think the reason it resonates with people is because that love and trust and closeness is clearly there, and a romantic relationship creates a lot more easy opportunities for dialing those things up even higher.

I would also argue, if pressed, that the amount of teasing and physicality that happens reads as pretty flirty. If they were humans I knew in real life, I’d definitely think there was something going on there. But I’m an American, where touching and emotional intimacy tends to be read as romantic. Also, animals are a lot more cuddly than humans. So who knows? I think it’s perfectly reasonable to read them as platonic friends until the end of time.

But, one way or another, they love each other a lot. Shout out to this, one of the most emotionally rewarding relationships I’ve ever seen in a cartoon.

#zootopia #zootropolis #zootopia takes #judy hopps #nick wilde #disney

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dicapriho · 5 years

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Important quotes to take from this article, that sums up perfectly why Daenarys’ treatment in season 8 was so heartbreaking..(long post with bullet points for easy reading):

Game of Thrones is "a world where women are often treated as disposable objects, Daenerys outwitted and overpowered her male enemies. As the sole protagonist in her own storyline, far from the rest of the characters, she was set up to be one of the few unambiguously [female] heroic figures in the series."

"in just a few episodes, she quickly transformed from a woman who has prided herself on saving the downtrodden to one who burns the innocent."

"[Daenerys’] treatment this season from the makeup of the writers’ room: The writers and directors on the show have always been overwhelmingly male, and women were shut out of both writing and directing jobs for every episode in season 8."

"Throughout her life, Daenerys has shown a commitment to justice...She freed the slaves in Meereen... When Drogon burned one child, she chained up her other two dragons, leaving herself more vulnerable...She put her fight for the Iron Throne on pause to fight in Jon’s war against the White Walkers [in the North where she knew she would feel unwelcome]."

"She was called the “Breaker of Chains” for a reason. When she misstepped, we forgave her, as we forgave, say, Tyrion for strangling Shae." [And Jon for killing a child for betraying him!]

“Daenerys has certainly used “Dracarys” to punish plenty of people during her reign... she always gave some compelling reason for doing so.”

She first used her dragon’s fire to kill a warlock who tried to imprison her, and again against a slaver who tried to cheat her...she crucified all the masters in retaliation for them having killed slave children — but they had killed children...She burned all the Khals who were threatening to keep her as a slave or rape her, or both."

Dany’s advisors gave awful advice:

"Daenerys agreed to make Tyrion her hand because Tyrion said he “knew things”...specifically, he claimed to know how to make alliances in Westeros and exploit people’s hate of Cersei in order to put Daenerys on the throne. Except, Tyrion did…none of that."

"...when did Tyrion convince a single lord that if they joined their side, they could get a new title and nice castle and see the land’s most hated woman [Cersei] burned to a crisp? Never."

"...what Tyrion did do: Try to cut a deal with slavers that would have kept slavery legal for a longer period of time, until Daenerys decided to burn their ships instead; convince Dany not to fly to King’s Landing and burn the Red Keep, which would have resulted in far fewer Kings Landing deaths; come up with the horrible plan to capture a wight that almost got Jon killed and lost Daenerys a dragon and still didn’t earn Cersei’s allegiance; convince Daenerys to trust Cersei, who has never proven herself to be trustworthy; forget to remind Daenerys that Euron and the Iron Fleet would almost certainly be waiting near Dragonstone, thus losing Daenerys another dragon; free Jaime from captivity in an effort to help both his brother and Cersei escape death at Daenerys’ hands..."

"Don’t even get me started on Varys, who didn’t write a single letter to a single lord to gain intel against Cersei or an ally for Dany but did find time to spread the word about Jon’s true parentage...”

“Tyrion and Varys were supposed to be her helpers. They failed her. Instead of owning up to this and realizing the part they have both played, Tyrion and Varys begin to worry that Daenerys is a flawed ruler exactly because she’s losing faith in them over their terrible decisions."

On the Sansa v Dany struggle:

"...The writers of the show cited much more petty reasons for their [Sansa and Dany's] conflict: “[Daenerys is] also very pretty, and how much does that factor in? Sansa starts off this season very suspicious and not at all friendly with Dany.”"

Her Isolation:

"In the last few episodes, Daenerys finds herself envying the love that Jon’s people feel for him...it’s destabilizing for her to arrive in Westeros and find that people are not eager to see her. Why, exactly, the Northerners don’t appreciate her dragons — without which they could not have defeated the Army of the Dead...."

"Daenerys rightfully glowers at Jon as his countrymen celebrate the fact that he mounted a dragon a couple of times when Dany has been riding one for years [Not to mention she is the first Targaryen in hundreds of years to have successfully mothered & raised/trained dragons]...In a mission to make Dany feel as isolated as possible, the show killed off her closest advisors, Jorah and Missendei."

"Daario is controlling Slaver’s Bay in her absence. Yara Greyjoy is sworn to her. In theory, the new Prince of Dorne would be allied with her since Daenerys struck a pact with Ellaria Sand. Daenerys could have called on any of these allies when she faced Cersei’s army but didn’t — simply because the show needed her to be alone ."

On Missandei:

"Game of Thrones fridged Missandei. There’s no other way to put it. Her capture and death happens just so Daenerys would feel isolated. The fact that the writers turned the only major black female character on the show into a device to motivate Daenerys feels even more cringeworthy."

"The fairly quick transition from complicated hero to totally mad villain leaned heavily on an oft-repeated line: “every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin”. But should Daenerys’ Targaryen blood necessarily doom her? After all, Jon is half Targaryen, too. So why does he get to sit comfortably on the other side of the coin?...The show has long been obsessed with various characters’ struggles to shake their family’s legacies. Tyrion killed his own father and joined Team Daenerys, only to betray Daenerys in order to help his family again."

"Daenerys has long tried to differentiate herself from her father, the Mad King, only to become her father’s daughter."

"...the show’s most recent plotting flaws was Varys’ rushed decision that Daenerys was a terrible enough queen that he would endeavor to poison her — quite a stretch for a man who served under King Joffrey...Remember that Varys once wanted to put Dany’s brother Viserys, a demonstrable megalomaniac, on the Iron Throne."

"...when Varys found out Jon was a Targaryen, he began openly conspiring to undermine and overthrow Daenerys...He accused her of being paranoid while simultaneously conspiring against her, which means she had every right to be suspicious...Again, it’s a failure of the show that the man who was once revered as Master of Whispers walked up to Jon in the middle of a crowded beach and suggested he usurp Daenerys."

"Other rulers we think of as heroes in this story have executed men for less than attempted murder: Robb Stark executed Rickard Karstark for killing the Lannister hostages, against Robb’s orders...Ned Stark executed someone for abandoning the Night’s Watch...Jon Snow executed the men who succeeded in murdering him (before he was resurrected) including Olly, a young boy."

"...Jon betrayed Daenerys’ trust by telling his family, and Tyrion betrayed her — twice. Davos also betrayed her too for totally inexplicable reasons by helping Tyrion smuggle Jaime to Cersei...Her advisor’s lie to her and gaslit her, plain and simple. And yet the way that Daenerys’ destruction of King’s Landing is shot, we are supposed to see her as the irrational one and Tyrion as one of the victims of her terror."

"...either due to time restrictions or lack of source material or just plain lack of creativity, the show took shortcuts this season...And those shortcuts tended to rely on the laziest of sexist stereotypes about crazed, power-hungry women."

"Maureen Ryan at the Hollywood Reporter put it best: “Inescapably, infuriatingly, what we’re left with is apparently the central message of Game of Thrones: Bitches are crazy.” "

"...Had [Dany's] paranoia been seeded many episodes ago and grown over the course of several seasons, it would be an epic Shakespearean tragedy. Instead we must infer this descent based on her frizzy hair."

"Worse, the moment when she seemingly decides to rule with fear, not love, comes after she’s romantically rejected by Jon...” [Suggestible that the lack of requited love is a strong enough reason for a level-minded strong woman to fall into a pit of craziness, despite all the good she has ever done and vows to continue doing..]

"Varys suggested that Jon would be a better ruler exactly because he did not want to rule. Figures in mythology and history ranging from Moses to George Washington to Harry Potter have been heralded as heroes because they came to power reluctantly. Those figures also tend to be male. How do our stories cast women eager for power? As evil queens. And now Daenerys is a cliché."

"There have been a lot of problematic characterizations of women this season, as revealed by the writers’ own commentary surrounding the episodes...Sansa essentially parroted what the writers have been saying for years about her rape by Ramsay Bolton — that it made her stronger...and the showrunners called Cersei, one of the smartest, most vicious characters on Thrones, “just a girl who needs the comfort of a man..”

"...in the end, Daenerys cycled through several tired stereotypes: Another evil, power-hungry queen literally shot with a dragon’s wings behind her; the crazy lady that a noble man has to heroically overcome..."

Like Cersei, Dany was a character introduced in the first episode, who ws incredible meaningful in the narrative of Game of Thrones. Instead of going out with a bang, Daenerys’ death wasn’t a bang like she truly deserved, but a whimper and forgotten to emphasise the man’s conquer and victory.

#game of thrones spoilers #anti got #daenerys targaryen #got spoilers #long post #sexism #anti d&d

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elyvorg · 3 years

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Wandersong character rambles 2 of 3: Miriam

Wandersong is so incredibly good that I need to get all my Thoughts about it off my chest by writing a series of rambles analysing its three most important characters. There will be spoilers, obviously. Plus, this’ll probably be kind of hard to follow anyway for people who haven’t played the game. Go play Wandersong! You won’t regret it.

1 of 3: Kiwi (the bard)

3 of 3: Audrey

Inferiority issues

I kinda covered some of Miriam’s inferiority issues already in my previous ramble about Kiwi: specifically, how she begins to get somewhere with this and feel less inferior and more inspired to try her best when she sees that Kiwi isn’t perfect and is actually a bit like her too in this regard. But what I didn’t talk about there was why she feels that way in the first place, because this was clearly never just about Kiwi outclassing her on this particular adventure. Kiwi’s presence may have brought that out of her more (at first), but this was always a deeper, underlying problem Miriam had in general.

There’s almost certainly a specific reason that can be pointed to as to why this is, and just like with Kiwi, it’s about her parents.

Miriam’s parents left her with her grandma before she could remember, and Saphy used to tell her they’d come back for her one day, except they never did. Miriam admits that even though it’s kind of ridiculous, she used to sort of hope that if she made herself into someone heroic and famous, her parents would realise what a mistake they made leaving her and come back. Which, though she doesn’t put this part into words, ultimately boils down to the fact that she feels (or, at least, felt) like her parents abandoned her because she wasn’t good enough in the first place.

This is obviously irrational – geez, she was a baby when they left her, her parents couldn’t possibly have known how “good” or not she’d grow up to be. This clearly has nothing to do with the kind of person Miriam ever was and is really just about her parents being people who didn’t want to raise a kid. Miriam herself has even figured out by now that this is irrational of her – but it seems like she wasn’t aware of that when she was younger. Growing up with that looming over her entire sense of worth as a person is going to leave a psychological mark, no matter how irrational she knows it is now.

(Saphy kind of made a big mistake by telling Miriam at first that her parents would come back for her sometime. That just resulted in Miriam feeling like she was doing something wrong every day they didn’t. There’s no way Saphy would have done that on purpose, though; she must have believed, to begin with, that Miriam’s parents (which included Saphy’s own kid!) really were going to come back… until it became very clear that, oh dear, no, they weren’t.)

Because of all this, Miriam is just constantly assuming she’s not good enough at all times, even when it makes no rational kind of sense to think that the problem could be with her, or that anyone else would be thinking that. She even expects to be judged and looked down on by Saphy and Kiwi, the two people who most obviously would never do that to her.

When she’s heading back home at the end of Act 5, Miriam says Saphy would never be disappointed in her, and then corrects herself to “she’d never show it”. Despite how consistently supportive Saphy always tries to be to her, Miriam is so insecure that part of her imagines her grandma is judging her and thinking less of her and is just too nice to say it. Nooo, Miriam.

And when Miriam plays the Act 5 Overseer song the first time, she’s all insecure and assuming Kiwi will judge her skills and think she sucks because they’re a proper musician, unlike her. This is Kiwi, who’s barely capable of thinking a bad thing about anyone, but somehow Miriam expects she’d be an exception to this. Plus, her playing actually sounds lovely and isn’t bad at all! But when it doesn’t work, she immediately assumes it’s because she played it badly, rather than that the song was simply never going to work in that form in the first place. (This is delightfully similar to how the Overseer song in Act 4 fails the first time and Kiwi takes it to be their fault rather than realising there must be another factor at play.)

At least Miriam does show a little progress in this area as their adventure continues. When she broke Kiwi out of the Rulle jail and told them afterwards that she was pretty awesome and heroic, I felt kinda bad for her. Kiwi is the one person who would have agreed that it was awesome of her and made her feel good about herself! …except that they were unconscious the whole time and never got to see her heroics.

Still, this doesn’t seem to bother Miriam too much, and she was capable of admitting in the first place that she did an awesome thing. Seems like she’s coming to realise by this point that she actually is pretty good at bailing Kiwi out of tight spots right when they need it most. She’s an important part of this saving-the-world partnership!

Getting mad about it

Until Miriam starts making progress and feeling perhaps a little bit less inferior, though, her main method of coping with these sorts of feelings appears to be to not-very-healthily turn them into anger on the surface.

Towards the beginning, her jealousy of Kiwi outclassing her in the hero department can get pretty overtly bitter at times. And then in Xiatian, Miriam spends a lot of it being super mad about Audrey showing them up and making them look useless at every turn. (She can probably let herself be more extreme with her anger in this instance because Audrey is not on her side; it’s just natural to be angry at an enemy, right?) She gets perhaps a liiittle too gleeful about the possibility of only-semi-accidentally poisoning Audrey, too.

Along similar lines to this, Miriam also has a bit of a tendency to turn to violence as the first option when solving problems, even when Kiwi keeps trying to suggest a more peaceful approach. It says a lot about her compared to Audrey that she does defer to Kiwi and let them try diplomacy when they bring it up, despite this making her feel yet again like Kiwi’s better than her – but it’s still notable that violence is usually Miriam’s go-to solution to begin with.

During one of the conversations with her in Mohabumi, Miriam mentions that her specialisation in magic is blowing stuff up. When Kiwi is shocked at how violent that is, Miriam protests that that’s just what her magic does. Apparently she didn’t actually choose this specialisation. Another witch in Mohabumi explains that all witches have individual differences in their powers and that nobody really knows why – but I’m willing to bet that Miriam’s particularly explodey powers are a manifestation of all of her suppressed emotional frustration at herself and her place in the world.

This might be why she finds dancing to be so helpful! She’s finally found some physical outlet for everything she’s stressed about and bottling up, a way that she can let it out through action rather than words, but without being violent and risking anyone getting hurt.

Towards the end of the story, especially after the dancing and the self-reflection (more on that in a moment), most of Miriam’s angry outbursts get directed towards herself instead. This still isn’t healthy yet, but it is something of an improvement in that she’s starting to realise what her actual problems are, even if she’s then bitterly beating herself up for them. She also keeps using her anger to mask the more vulnerable emotions that she’s finding it very scary to admit to, because being angry feels familiar and is easier than openly showing how scared she is. Without that, she might not have been able to admit to so much of her vulnerability in the first place.

I like to think that, post-ending, having come to like herself a lot more and make progress on all of her issues and having a best friend in Kiwi, Miriam’s speciality in magic shifts and becomes something less destructive and more creative. It would be a lovely sign of her growth!

(…Though, knowing Miriam, that’d first manifest in her suddenly not being as good at blowing stuff up as she’s supposed to be and not understanding why and feeling like a failure again, nooo, Miriam. At least Kiwi and her grandma would be there for her to encourage her to try new things and discover what else she’s good at.)

Being an outsider

Once Miriam stops feeling quite so bitterly jealous of Kiwi and the two of them begin to feel like a proper team, things stop being so much about her trying to prove herself. Her arc shifts into being more about her self-discovery and reflection on her place in the world.

This is especially because of the places they head next, of course. Experiencing Rulle’s prejudice against witches must have reminded Miriam that being a witch is seen as weird and different and possibly bad. This is something she’d probably always felt at least a little bit while living as one of only two witches in Delphi, but being in Rulle would have brought those feelings right to the surface.

Then they head to Chaandesh, where witches come from, where she should fit in… but even before she gets there, she seems to be subconsciously expecting to not belong. On the boat on the way there, she talks about how she knew this place existed but that it never even crossed her mind to visit, describing it as “like a special club, that I wasn’t invited to”. Sure enough, the witches of Mohabumi have all these complicated uses for magic and lives built around it in a way that’s nothing like what she’s used to, and it just feels alien to her.

This feeds into her inferiority issues, too; being different from what witches apparently “should” be like just makes her feel messed-up and broken. While struggling with her new broom, she laments that to the locals she must look like “the failure witch who can’t even do basic witch things”. (Yet it’s incredibly impressive that she can get the crappy tourist broom to fly at all, and she gets it working passably well before much longer – again, she’s beating herself up completely undeservedly when she’s actually doing great.)

During one of the conversations in Mohabumi, Miriam comments that she likes to think Saphy grew up here, even though she has no proof, just because it makes her happy to assume that. This kind of thing is pretty much what she does the whole time she’s in the city to combat how unfamiliar it all is: cling to the few things there that are familiar to her. She enjoys the music at the Crater only because the band’s from Delphi like her; she also mentions at one point that the only candy from here she likes is one that reminds her of her grandma’s cooking back home.

In that conversation at the Crater, she laments that she hoped she’d learn something about herself by being here, implying that she feels she actually didn’t. But the thing is, she did. She learned just how important her grandma is to her, and that their little house in the forest outside of Delphi – that’s her home, whether it’s where witches are supposed to belong or not. It just took being taken away from all that into somewhere new and strange for her to realise it.

She starts missing her home even as early as Act 3; if you talk to her during the coffee night on the pirate ship, she’ll mention having never been so far from home before and reluctantly admit that she’s feeling homesick. There’s also some very hard-to-find dialogue shortly after her broom breaks in which she admits that it was her grandma’s broom, that Saphy told her it’d be hers one day when she was old enough, and that the day that happened was probably the happiest day of her life. Aww, Miriam! No wonder she’s so upset at losing it. It must have felt like a piece of home, and of her grandma, still with her even in all these strange lands – except now even that’s gone, too.

Kiwi tells Miriam on their way out of Chaandesh that you don’t necessarily need to fit in anywhere to be happy. Which, though she can’t quite put it into those words just yet, is basically also what Miriam herself learned back there – that she’s happiest at home with her grandma where she can be herself, never mind worrying about if she “fits in” with everyone around her.

Of course, the other thing that lets being an outsider not sting so bad is having a friend there with you. Kiwi, the precious bean that they are, understands this straight away; during some of Miriam’s dialogue in Mohabumi as she’s feeling like she doesn’t belong, they try to reassure her with, “you have me!”

But Miriam’s response is just, “That’s nice.” It’s still a little difficult for her to openly admit just how much Kiwi’s company has been helping her, isn’t it.

Friendship is scary (but worth it!)

The final focus of Miriam’s character arc, of course, is these difficulties she has with friendship. This is partly influenced by the outsider issues making it harder for her to feel a connection to anyone in the first place, and partly her grumpiness born from her inferiority issues making it rarer for anybody else to want to get close to her.

But Miriam was probably kind of glad that her general grumpy attitude made people stay away from her (and might even have cultivated it on purpose for this reason) – because her bigger issue is that she’s simply afraid of getting close to people. Doing that might mean she’ll have to open up about her emotions and worries and problems, which is scary; it’s much easier to just hide everything she feels beneath that bitter angry shell forever.

As she confesses to Kiwi after the fact, Miriam’s decision to go home at the end of Act 5 was never really because she was too injured to go on. She was just scared of how close she was getting to them, and of how much talking about her feelings she’d been doing lately, and she wanted to run away from it all. It’s almost certainly no coincidence that this came shortly after the first time Miriam openly admitted that she considered Kiwi a friend.

I also think that this does have something to do with Miriam being hit by Audrey’s lightning, though. Not exactly in the sense of her being physically injured, but rather in terms of how that affected her emotionally and dug at those issues she has with intimacy. Though she was in too much pain to move, Miriam was still conscious the entire time Kiwi was carrying her down the hill. She was even still capable of speaking, barely – but she didn’t voice any kind of thanks to Kiwi for helping her out, as if she didn’t want to do so.

Being not just emotionally but very physically vulnerable and so literally relying on Kiwi for support like that had to have felt terrifying for her. She must have been so afraid of having to handle more of that kind of thing if she continued to go with them to that dangerous mountain. Miriam flinches initially at Kiwi’s goodbye hug probably not only because she’s physically injured and ouch, but also because oh god more emotional intimacy help what do???

…But then she can’t help but relax into the hug anyway, because she really does need it, even as she’s trying to cover it up by calling Kiwi’s concern for her “gross”. And also because, despite how scary it is, of course she cares about Kiwi and worries about them and is going to miss them. Most of her dialogue for the rest of this scene is all worrying about Kiwi being alone on the mountain and not wanting them to get hurt and mmsghsdgh they’re FRIENDS.

(Can we also talk about how great it is that Miriam has this major personal conflict based around her fear of emotional intimacy, and it’s presented as entirely platonic? Emotional intimacy with another person is not inherently romantic, and fear of it is a fun thing to explore in characters that doesn’t deserve to be restricted to only romantic plots. I love that this game’s writer understands this!)

Back in apocalyptic-Langtree, after confessing to the real reason she left, Miriam insists in her self-hatred that this means she left for “no good reason”. But really, this was just as good a reason as if it had been about her being injured. She needed to leave because of the struggles she was going through – just emotional rather than physical ones. That’s still important, too! It’s not her fault that she finds this kind of thing hard. In no way was she callously leaving Kiwi to go risk their life on a mountain just because she didn’t care.

Really, Miriam probably needed this time out to reflect on things. It let her realise that, actually, she would rather face up to all that scary intimate emotional stuff than leave Kiwi to tackle such dangerous ordeals alone. No matter how frightening it is, getting to be there for her best friend when they might need her is absolutely worth it. Her growing friendship with Kiwi and selfless desire to help them gave her the courage to finally face up to all these icky feely feelings of hers that she’d just been hiding from this whole time. They are friends.

Seeing Miriam join in with the Wandersong – and not just begrudgingly singing along, but really putting her whole heart into it – is a wonderful sign of how much she’s grown. The Miriam at the beginning of the story would never have done that. She’s become a lot more willing to openly express herself, to express emotions that aren’t just bitterness and anger, even in ways that aren’t specifically about her friendship with Kiwi, and it’s lovely.

Similarly, during the credits, Miriam’s default face has changed into something not quite so grumpy-looking. She’s still not exactly smiling, but she’s no longer so angry at everything because of her issues with herself, nor is she putting up such a prickly protective shell to push others away.

In the very last scene of the credits, Kiwi thanks Miriam for saving the world with them, much like you’d expect them to – saving the world and being a hero was what they most wanted out of this adventure, and they couldn’t have done it without her help. But then Miriam answers it with, simply, “Thanks for being my friend.” She knows that, in the end, that’s been the most important part of all of this for her, even more so than getting to save the world.

Saphy is good

Another thing I really loved in the end credits was learning that the real reason Saphy sent Miriam on a quest to save the world, and told Kiwi to go with her, is simply because she wanted her granddaughter to make a friend before the world ended. She wasn’t even expecting Miriam to succeed and save the world – not because she didn’t believe in her, but because she just didn’t really think it was likely to be possible at all. But that’s okay! More important than that is that her granddaughter doesn’t die lonely and friendless as the world ends. She always knew that this was what mattered most.

And of course Saphy couldn’t just tell Miriam that she wanted her to go and make a friend. Miriam would have been all “psh, that’s dumb” and flatly refused to try (because really she’s terrified of getting close to someone and opening up about her insecurities and there’s no way she’d have ever made herself do that on purpose). So Saphy had to lie to her and tell her it was about saving the world in order for her to go on the quest at all.

…Which, unfortunately, led to Miriam thinking that that was what her grandmother expected of her. And so she ended up thinking that she was a failure and not good enough for even her grandma, both when Saphy suddenly recruits some random singing dope who’s apparently better at this than her, and then when Miriam comes home near the end having not quite saved the world. Which is kind of heartbreaking, but I don’t know what else Saphy could really have done to avoid it. At least Miriam knows by the end that her grandma isn’t and never was disappointed in her at all.

Saphy’s “I like this one” when meeting Kiwi and deciding they should travel with Miriam is so very good. It’s not about Kiwi having the ability to save the world (even though it turns out they actually do), but about Kiwi being the exact kind of wholesome ray of sunshine that Miriam needed to gradually coax her to open up and trust them and consider them a friend. Saphy could see that about them right away. She knew exactly what she was doing when she told the two of them to travel together.

(Can Saphy also adopt Kiwi, please? As I discussed a lot in their post, they really need a decent parent figure in their life.)

(…I say that, but let’s be real, she practically already has. Kiwi is the friend that her precious granddaughter finally managed to make; of course Saphy would want to make sure they felt like basically one of the family.)

#wandersong #miriam #the bard #saphy #friends #family #ramble #character analysis #these are taking longer than anticipated but i will get them done i swear #wandersong deserves it

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monkeydra · 4 years

Text

Okay! For one of my favorite people, @dmonfoxriot who wanted some always a girl!Jiang Cheng forced to live as a boy by resident shithead parents jfm and yzy. Posting this early because I have work and I want to make sure you get it on time for your birthday. I hope it’s a wonderful day filled with love

Happy birthday, hope you like them! ♥︎♥︎♥︎

Jiang Cheng/Lan Xichen

“I feel ridiculous,” she said, holding the bandages in her hands while she sat, her robes still mostly open on her. A-Huan pulled softly and efficiently at them until the soft fabric was tied properly around her.

“Silly how?” he asked when she didn’t elaborate, the tips of his fingers resting gently on her cheek.

“Everyone knows already,” she said with a shrug and a reflexive scowl. She looked away, focused instead on the feel of this softer fabric on her body. She had favored stiffer fabrics when she lived as a man, something that wouldn’t drape and conform to the telling curves of her body like this one. It was plainer than the ones her sister wears, but soft, comfortable, perfect to wear in the privacy of her love’s domain. Thoughtful, like many of A-Huan’s gifts. “You must think I’m being silly.”

Lan Huan’s fingers pressed a little more firmly against her cheek to coax her eyes back to his.

“Masks are not so easy to let go of.” His soft voice unraveled the chains in her chest. “Particularly,” he added, “one that kept you safe for so long, after only revealing the truth yesterday.”

“I just feel like I should be over it already. I’ve been a woman this whole time.”

His hand dropped from her face and he sat next to her, gathering her close. She melted into him, still feeling a thrill that she could do this now. She never allowed herself to before, petrified that he’d feel the extra softness at her chest, even with the bindings, that he’d feel the curve of her hip where there should have a flat line. Now she basked in his warm hand on the curve of her back, his strong chest pressed to hers, his other hand cradling the nape of her neck.

“You can feel however you like,” he reminded her gently. She nodded and buried her nose in his neck. His scent calmed her, like always. She breathed deeply, evenly, like she learned at the Cloud Recesses so many years ago.

“I don’t want to bind my chest,” he murmured into his neck.

“So don’t,” he said with a kiss to her forehead, tucking her back against him after.

“I’m not sure about the dress.”

“You don’t have to wear the dress.”

“It will be expected of me.”

“My love,” he said with a soft laugh, “when have you ever done what’s expected of you?” She pinched his side and hid her smile in his neck.

Jiang Cheng/Meng Yao

“A-Cheng,” he said to the rustling at his window. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t care,” she huffed in a tone more reminiscent of her brother than the fierce lightning daughter of the Jiang. “Or do you not want me here?” she asked, a real note of insecurity in her voice. He opened his eyes and sat up in bed.

“Of course I do, always,” honesty dragged from him as always by her rare shows of vulnerability. A shadow slid from his window until she was close enough to make out her edges. He reached for her, and when her hand was in his he brushed the soft kisses she wouldn’t admit to loving over her knuckles, the back of her hand, her wrist. She tightened her grip, her breath hitching and she stepped closer.

Now that his eyes had adjusted, he could see she was in her sleep robes. He sat up straight, slowly as she tensed.

“Do you want to join me?”

Jiang Cheng hesitated, and he could just picture the way she gnawed on her rosy lip before fabric rustled and the bed dipped. Her taller frame curled around his and he kissed her neck, chaste, just the comforting contact she so loved to receive.

“Sect Leader Yao proposed I marry one of his disciples.”

Jin Guangyao sighed. It just figured. Very little could upset her like this, regardless of the rumors of her temper. Wei Wuxian could drive Lan Xichen to madness with enough time; it was no small wonder his own sister seemed to have a short temper after being around him.

“You can say no.”

“But eventually I’ll have to say yes. I need an heir.” She squeezed him close, her heart thudding against his chest. He tucked her inky hair behind her ear and let his hand stroke down her cheek and over her jaw. He knew the truth of what she said all too well. “I can’t marry for politics, A-Yao,” she said, and he heard the plea in her voice.

“A-Cheng,” he sighed. He wrapped his arms around her waist to squeeze her close. “I can’t. It’s not politically--”

“I don’t need politically sound,” she hissed at the familiar argument. “Why can’t I marry someone who loves me?”

He sighed again, quieter. He did, so much. Even knowing of her rejection didn’t dampen his desire to shred Sect Leader Yao to pieces for daring to approach her with such an offer. He didn’t answer this time. He never could lie to her during these late nights, especially not after spending the past few weeks missing her. She stroked a hand through his hair, over his neck.

“I know you love me,” she said, and he kissed her neck again in the hopes it would get rid of the shake in her voice. It would be easier if she did doubt, but the greedy, selfish part of him that ached to stay with her cried out against it. “I want to marry the man I love, that loves me too,” she whispered.

He stayed quiet, kept holding her close. Every day he got closer to saying yes, selfishly wanting to keep her yes, but also wanting to give her one of the few things she had dared to ask for herself. He already wanted to give her everything else.

Jiang Cheng/Wen Ning

Wen Ning watched as she redressed with a soft smile on his face, and Jiang Cheng turned away from it as she felt her face flush. He wore his love so openly; sometimes she didn’t know how to face it. She pulled up her pants and pulled her hair out of the way before reaching for the bandages.

“C-can I d-do it?” he asked softly, still laying on the bed behind her.

“Why?”

Wen Ning was quiet for a moment, and when she looked back at him he was chewing on his lip, clearly weighing his response.

“Just say it,” she snapped. He looked at her directly, calmly.

“Y-you tie it too t-tightly. It c-cuts off your circulation.”

Jiang Cheng clenched her jaw at that, still unused to Wen Ning’s care. Or any care at all, if she was being honest. For years only her brother and sister seemed to care if she was okay. She willed herself not to get defensive as Wen Ning waited patiently. She glared at his handsome face in such a rare unruffled expression. He was constantly nervous, even around her, until Jiang Cheng’s health was involved. With a huff, she held the bandages out to him and looked away again at his bright smile.

He walked over to her and took her hand, leading her back to the bed and tugging her down to sit. He sat behind her and brought the bandages around her body, his hands skimming over her skin as he bound her chest carefully, so carefully. When he was done he ran his hands down her sides, checking them again, before resting his hands on the curve of her waist.

“H-how d-do they feel?”

“Fine,” she muttered. His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back against him, and she found herself melting back against him almost instantly. He waited her out, his chin tucked over her shoulder. “Really, it’s fine,” she said, honestly this time. “It just feels a little looser than I’m used to.” Wen Ning nodded and kissed her cheek.

“Thank y-you for l-letting me help y-you.”

Jiang Cheng pressed her weight against him, almost pushing him back, his soft, delighted laugh warming her from the inside. He squeezed her close, nuzzling his face into her neck. She breathed in deep, took comfort from his touch and tilted her head to look at him.

“Help me with my robe?” she asked. He blinked at her and then smiled wide, kissing her cheek again, her temple, squeezed her again.

“Of course.”

#xicheng #chengyao #chengning #my fic #mdzs #the untamed

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