#'ive lost in love so many times what does one more failure do? but ive seen so many things in you and none of them are cruel' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raleighcarrera · 4 years

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falling

platinum | raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

a little while ago i posted about the idea of a soulmate au where the first words raleigh & cadence say to each other are tattooed on them their whole lives, and this... is that. (for @platinumweekend ❤️)

tags: @choicesarehard ; @empressazura; @emomoustache ; @natesewell ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixeljazzy ; @brycemaloliver ; @grigori-girl ; @dulceghernandez ; @bitchloveskcbaseball ; @withbeautyandrage

~10.5k words | T

the words appear in looping script on his thirteenth birthday, right on time. they curve along the inside of his bicep, innocently punctuated. what’s your name?

“you got lucky,” one of his older cousins tells him, later, when everyone in his family comes by for cake and to ooh and aah over his new tattoo, “you’ll be able to hide that with a shirt or a jacket easily.”

but raleigh sleeps shirtless every night for the next two years, even when it’s cold, so that the words are the last thing he sees with his head pillowed on his arm before he falls asleep, dreaming of the nameless, faceless person who will one day say them, wondering what their voice might sound like when they do.

ii.

she has a more difficult go of it.

being a thirteen year old girl would be miserable enough without the added pressure of the words that practically feel broadcast across her forehead, most of the time. everyone at school teases her constantly and ruthlessly: say something funny, cadence. go on. tell us a joke!

so it’s difficult not to resent the two words scrawled lazily across her collarbone and the person attached to them, especially in the mornings before school when she’s angrily rearranging her neckline and jewelry in the mirror while the bus idles outside.

very funny. she isn’t, really. she’s plenty of things -- determined and passionate and sensitive, definitely, but... no one’s ever found her particularly funny, before.

and no one seems to understand just how much the expectation of having to be funny, one day, is weighing on her, not even her parents, when she finally works up the courage to squeak out, “but how am i supposed to know what i should say?”

her mom laughs indulgently, like she’s already said something funny. her stomach sinks further.

“oh, sweetheart,” she tells her, “don’t worry, it won’t matter. you just will.”

iii.

people ask him about it. a lot.

it gets difficult to keep it a secret as things change around him, but raleigh’s careful to avoid slip-ups and paparazzi photos and he doesn’t say a word about it in interviews, even when he’s asked directly. he’s never seen without short sleeves on, at the very least, and he doesn’t even tell blair and cameron about it.

he sort of wishes he had, though, because as his life turns upside down and he adapts to a new country with a new set of rules and an industry that makes his head spin most of the time it starts to feel more and more confusing, those three words -- what’s your name?

everywhere he goes, thousands of girls blocking the street scream it at him. so how is it possible that whoever’s waiting to meet him doesn’t already know it?

and what does that mean for how the rest of his life is going to turn out?

what if all of this -- the fame and the money and the notoriety -- is fleeting, and he’s only a few short years from being completely washed up and irrelevant? what if the day he’s meant to meet his person is so far away that he’ll be completely out of the spotlight, by then, with sunset skatepark playing reunion tours and him having spent most of his life alone?

it’s a lot of pressure, for someone who’s already working their way through such a serious adjustment, and most of the time it’s dizzying, thinking about the fact that there’s someone out there who’s supposed to be perfect for him, when everyone he meets seems determined to forget every word they know other than yes, so they can suck up to him as much as possible.

his teenage years fly by in a whirlwind of mistakes and regrets. there’s things he would’ve never dreamed would come his way, like world tours and more money than he can count and so many girls who know everything about him before they even sit down to dinner, but there’s more than that, too.

there’s all the ways the industry weakens his trust until it’s gone, all the people who try to use him for what he can do for them, all the times he stumbles until he finally learns to distance himself by cultivating a persona, by leaning into all the expectations of raleigh carrera and creating something so outlandish it doesn’t hurt as much when disaster follows him around because it’s supposed to.

he watches everything that surrounds him turn fake and plastic and puts his energy only into his music, coasting on the rest. the days are less exciting than when he first joined the band at fifteen; he’s a solo artist, now, and most of the time, he’s just trying to get through.

but chaos continues to follow him and eventually his notoriety is inescapable. his first solo album is self-titled and he somehow manages to get a trademark on the word raleigh, as if the name is now more his than anything that ever belonged to the state of north carolina, and part of him sort of expects the words stamped on his arm to change, once he hits one-hundred million followers on his social channels.

they never do, though, and when he’s alone, and the veneer he’s built up for everyone else fades away, he can’t help but to be fascinated by this person who just wants an answer to the question no one else would ever dare ask him.

iv.

college isn’t exactly the fresh start she was hoping it’d be.

she was a loser in high school and things don’t get much better for her even now that she’s with ‘her people’ at a performing arts university she can barely afford, even with two part-time jobs.

shane is across the country at a proper state school with parties and a social life and lots of friends who aren’t her, and she’s failing her improv class, proving that she isn’t actually very funny at all.

boys continue to not notice her and patrons in bars continue to turn away from her one-woman performance, her old acoustic guitar the only constant in a life that feels utterly, unbelievably pointless, most of the time.

it’s like she’s drifting through the days, putting her time in at college in the hopes that it’ll fortify her for what’s next -- her big break, the discovery that’ll get her out of that shitty small town she’s been trying to escape her entire life. she writes hundreds of songs about how lost she feels and hates every single one, dreaming of a time when things might be different and she doesn’t have to second-guess every single one of her decisions.

she doesn’t have much of a love life and tries not to think about that, either.

the person on the other side of those two words stuck on her collarbone is probably looking for someone self-confident, who knows who they are and is comfortable with that. they’re probably expecting to meet someone who has their life together, who, at the very least, has a plan.

they’re probably not expecting a talentless nobody screwup like her, someone who tries as hard as she can yet never seems to make anything work.

things don’t turn around after graduation, either. sure, she manages to find an apartment in a building that’s nice enough and uses the last of her savings on the deposit and trying to furnish it, but it’s only a few weeks of trying and failing to secure a regular paying gig performing before she’s back at smoothie star again, begging for her old job back.

and there’s nothing that makes her feel more like a failure than working the same shifts she had in high school.

as she hums along to the radio on a random tuesday afternoon when the store is dead and there’s nothing to blend, she wonders what mr.-or-mrs. very funny would think if they walked in and saw her here -- twenty-three years old and flat broke, with a dead-end job and a one-bedroom apartment all she has to show for her very expensive and very useless bachelor’s degree.

that, and a notebook full of half-finished songs about relationships she could only ever dream about and an escape from the miserable small town she lives in that feels farther away with every day that passes.

she can’t imagine they’d be very impressed.

raleigh’s life gets monotonous very quickly. the music takes a backseat to the scandals and for a while there’s a predictable pattern of cause trouble, clean up image, rinse and repeat.

there are girls in between the cycles to help him pass the time. some he likes well enough and some he despises, but for the most part his management gives their recommendations and he agrees and makes awkward conversation for an hour or two over brunch until it’s time to go trash something again.

things get particularly bad after one minor cruise ship hijacking incident.

but in his defense, no one ever told him that breaking into the harbor and joy riding was a first-degree felony, worsened by the fact that he’d just so happened to crash the boat into the pier while he was trying to dock it.

at least he’d been sober.

though a monumental fuck up like this felt sort of inevitable; everyone who knew him probably figured it was only a matter of time before he went too far. how could he not when he was always chasing the next high?

still, the image rehab tour that follows is far from what he’d call enjoyable. he has to cut off all his hair and play nice at industry parties and waste time standing around being seen at charity events he winds up just cutting checks for instead of helping out at.

on top of the miserable community service comes the pr bullshit his team so loves -- dozens of tv appearances back-to-back where he’s herded around all day like cattle, in and out of green rooms with crappy coffee and bad catering.

he has no idea that showing up to be a judge on one in a million is going to change his life. hungover and running late, he barely even makes it to the taping of the semi-finals, slinking inside the concert hall in middle-of-nowhere, usa with a headache and some choice words for whoever thought this was the best way to clean up his image.

fortunately, raleigh manages to make his way inside virtually unnoticed. his phone is buzzing angrily in his pocket -- undoubtedly his manager trying to encourage him to hair and makeup or some other absurdity -- but he ignores it in favor of ducking back behind the line near the auditorium doors, only barely catching the last few words of some catty confrontation between two contestants as he goes.

as one of the girls stomps away, he sees the other’s shoulders slump from behind. “guess i’m not making any friends,” she mutters.

it’s clearly said to no one -- not even to herself, really -- yet for some reason, he can’t stop himself from responding. “where i come from, that’s a good thing.”

the girl’s shoulders straighten, but she still doesn’t turn around. “i’m not trying to succeed at the cost of others.”

raleigh smirks, leaning back against the wall beside his guitar case. “you do realize you’re at a competition show, right?”

“of course, but...” her hair ruffles with what sounds like a huff. she’s still not facing him, staring off at where the other girl she’d been talking to had run away. “that doesn’t mean i’m not rooting for everyone here to share their music with the world.”

“what a sweet sentiment,” raleigh drawls sarcastically, almost feeling a little bad for her and her naivety. this poor girl is going to be eaten alive. “it won’t last.”

her body tenses, her shoulders tightening again. he can almost see smoke start to pour from her ears before she spins suddenly on her heel to face him.

whatever sharp retort had been on the tip of her tongue gets swallowed with a blink as soon as their eyes meet. something like electricity crackles in the space between them, strengthening the invisible pull he’d felt when he first stopped behind her. instead, she only asks, “what’s your name?”

vi.

the man in front of her snorts. “very funny.”

a smile tugs at her lips. “very funny, that’s a weird name.” this is unlike her -- the quick comeback, the flirting. usually being face-to-face with a guy as good looking as the one talking to her now made her want to wither away and die, but something about the stranger standing before her sets her instantly at ease. “so, are you gonna tell me, or not?”

now it’s his turn to blink at her. a hand lifts to rub at his jaw. “huh. you really don’t know who i am, do you?”

cadence’s eyes narrow as she assess him. there is something vaguely familiar about that crooked grin, she’s sure of it.

at the very least, it’s an excuse to stare at him, and she does, moving her eyes slowly over the tattoos poking out over his jacket collar, the line of stubble on his sharp jaw, the glint of mischief in his eyes.

her helpless gaping is interrupted by a sudden shrill scream. “oh. my. god! is that raleigh carrera?!”

everything clicks at once. as a wild group of girls corner him, she realizes where she’s seen that smile before -- on just about every tabloid cover known to man, plastered all over convenience stores and the internet with headlines about his latest bender. in fact, she’s pretty sure he was just in the news for something similar -- crashing a yacht or something else ridiculous like that, something that only someone as rich as raleigh carrera could have accomplished.

then she realizes what he’d said to her, as soon as she’d turned to look him in the eyes. very funny.

her heart stops. all she can do is stare wide-eyed at him as he dispels the girls clamoring for a selfie, snapping back to the present when he waves one large hand in front of her face.

“sorry -- what?”

“i said, what’s your name? it only seems fair, now that you know mine, and all.”

“cadence,” she answers numbly, “i’m -- um, i’m used to your hair being longer.”

“cadence,” raleigh repeats, smiling at her, “so you do know who i am.”

“what do the magazines call you again? r&b’s time bomb? puerto rico’s hottest export? you’re kind of notorious.” she blinks at him, then admits, “i’ve heard your songs.”

“seen the tabloid covers too, eh?” the expression on his face suggests he’s almost proud of them.

this is surreal.

“didn’t you crash a yacht or something?” she asks, brain whirring into overdrive as she tries to process what’s happening. he doesn’t seem to have realized it yet, which gives her a moment to gather her thoughts, something that feels impossible when she can’t push the way he’d scoffed very funny out of her mind.

“or something. insurance paid out a couple million in property damage, but...” raleigh trails off, brow suddenly furrowing. he stares at her silently for a beat too long, then slowly turns a dull red. “hey, what’d you say earlier, again?”

cadence wets her dry lips, trying not to panic. stay calm, she silently coaches herself. raleigh carrera is not your long-awaited soulmate and you are not doing this in line to audition for one in a million. “i said -- what’s your name? and then you said...”

oh god, this is happening. her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she fidgets with the neckline of her top, tugging it to the side so raleigh can see the two words on her collarbone.

“very funny,” he mutters, “oh, jesus fucking christ. you can’t be serious.”

“me?” she demands, “you’re the one who --”

“next up,” calls a voice suddenly, cutting sharply through their argument, “contestant #9,276.”

her blood runs cold as she realizes that’s the number she’s wearing pinned to her shirt. she can feel herself start to sweat; how the fuck is she supposed to perform like this? she wants to throw up. why did this have to happen to her now? this was her shot -- her one fucking chance --

“hey, easy.” there’s suddenly two strong hands on either side of her shoulders, and she startles as raleigh stares at her from up close, closer than he was just a moment ago. “relax, okay? you’re gonna be fine. you’ve got this.”

“but --” she starts, then realizes her mind is racing too quickly to even articulate what she wants to say. she settles for shaking her head, eyes wide and panicked. “i can’t just -- oh my god, i’m going to throw up.”

“here,” raleigh directs, “take my guitar. prince gave it to me as a birthday present.”

prince?! she mouths hysterically to herself, as he flips the latch on his case open and pulls out the instrument. “how is this supposed to help me?”

“just trust me,” he says, giving her a gentle nudge towards the auditorium, “now go.”

she does, stumbling forward with the most expensive piece of equipment she’s ever held in her hands in her life alongside her, drawing in a deep breath as she makes her way onto the stage.

she can do this.

everything else will have to come after.

vii.

the thing is -- she’s talented. exceptionally so.

he can tell she’s a little nervous, but maybe that’s just because he’s used to looking out for that sort of thing; he could probably recognize it more easily than the average person would. it probably has nothing to do with who they are, how he notices the nuances in her body language...

her belt is impressive. her voice is stunning, clear and uniquely melodic. his guitar looks spectacular in her hands, and cadence plays it like she’s been practicing on it her entire life.

he tries his best to look nonchalant, feet kicked up onto the seat in front of him, but when she locks eyes with him from the stage he knows he hasn’t succeeded. raleigh’s breath catches, and he stares back at her, transfixed by the way her dainty hands cradle the neck of the guitar and strum the strings, how her lips purse around the long, emotional high note at the end of the song’s chorus.

she’s really very pretty.

he’d probably be lying to himself if he said it doesn’t make him a little bit jealous and uncomfortable, watching how she and avery fawn over each other when she’s finished. he’s probably a much better suited match for her, clean cut and pristine as he is.

he wonders if she’s disappointed that it’s him -- that it’s now, when she’s clearly on the cusp of something great all on her own.

it’s a lot to think about, and so he dips out of the auditorium before she finishes up, rushing outside with his heart pounding. it’s not until he’s halfway through the crumpled pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket that raleigh starts to relax even an iota, and of course that’s when the stage door he’d left propped swings open wide and cadence’s sneakers hit the asphalt beside his boots.

“uh, you can’t just leave me with this thing,” she says, apropos of nothing, and as he stares at her he realizes she’s talking about his guitar, which she’s holding in one hand like it’s a dead fish. “this costs more than everything in my apartment combined, i’m sure.”

he shakes his head at her, laughing as his fingers flick ash from the cigarette he’s holding. “no way -- you should keep it. you two looked perfect together.”

she hesitates, looking down at the instrument again. he can see in her eyes that she’s torn; it’s obvious she knows the right thing to do is to refuse a generous gift from a stranger, but she wants to keep it, and already his mind is racing as he considers what else he could give her that would excite her like that -- a private flight, a tour of his penthouse, a million dollars.

“are you sure?” cadence asks, without looking at him, and the hesitancy in her voice makes him realize how unsure she really is. she’s the one who’s wondering if he’s disappointed in her.

he licks his suddenly dry lips and drops what’s left of his cigarette to the ground, finding he doesn’t actually need the rest of it, anymore. “positive.”

viii.

they don’t actually get to spend a lot of time together, while she’s filming. she has to focus and it seems like she’s always busy, somehow -- not that she sees raleigh very often in the first place.

the days are spent rehearsing with avery and cramming in as much mentoring as possible, and when she can pull herself away from fiona’s lessons on image to get home at a reasonable hour she collapses into bed pretty much immediately, out like a light from the whirlwind of the day and hardly even aware enough to dream.

but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about him. she does, especially on the rare occasions she manages to catch a glimpse of raleigh walking around in the studio, or on one memorable evening she stays late in the auditorium to bang on the piano keys of the beautiful, enviable baby grand on set and startles to find him leaning in the doorway, watching her play.

it’s all a blur and wildly difficult to process; just when she thinks she has a grip on things she remembers the private moments she’s had with raleigh and her emotions tumble to pieces again as she lets the weight of the implications of what’s going on between them crush her completely.

one moment sticks out on her as being particularly worrisome, insofar as how it bodes for the rest of her life.

it feels like something significant from the moment raleigh offers to help her warm up; they’ve hardly had a moment alone together in days and she still has absolutely no idea how she’s supposed to talk to him or what she should say, but for some reason the conversation flows easily and she hardly has to think about the (no doubt incredibly stupid-sounding) words coming out of her mouth.

“you’re going to kill it,” raleigh says finally, once they’ve worked through all the exercises in his arsenal, “you really don’t need my help.”

never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine someone like him would say something like that to her. “you think?”

“i know it,” he answers confidently, shrugging his shoulders like it’s that simple. “and you should, too.”

there’s a moment of silence where they just stand there staring at each other, ignoring the restless murmuring of the crowd outside that’s waiting for him to slip into his seat at the judge’s table. she’s effortlessly lost in raleigh’s eyes, so fixated on the intensity of his gaze that she doesn’t realize he’s leaning in closer until it’s too late.

“insurance policy,” he mutters, before he kisses her, hands cupping her face gently.

for a split second, she stands frozen, shocked totally still. then, her brain reboots enough to propel her into motion, and cadence gets with the program enough to wind her arms around raleigh’s waist and pull him closer and kiss him back, until her heart’s lurched up into the throat she’d just been warming up, pounding relentlessly.

they make out until the roar of the crowd is deafening -- until it’s impossible not to acknowledge it any longer.

of course raleigh’s a life-ruiningly good kisser. why wouldn’t he be? why should any of this be easy?

it’s only a few simple touches, but raleigh’s mouth leaves her dizzy and lightheaded when she’s supposed to be concentrating on performing, and, independently of the way she’s blinking at him in stupid shock, cadence already knows she’ll never be able to kiss anyone else ever again without thinking about him.

“i have to get out there,” she gasps between desperate presses of their lips against each other, grasping ineffectively at his clothes while his fingers tug her hair out of shape.

“be late,” he suggests, “it always works for me.”

but she’s not him. she’s not like him -- they have nothing in common. they come from different worlds; they’re two completely opposite people.

and yet every minute with raleigh is like coming up for air after being underwater for years, like the knots of guilt and shame and awkward embarrassment she’s carried around for her entire life without understanding why she has them are slowly starting to undo themselves, unlaced by his careful fingers.

they make it out there. eventually.

before she knows it, confetti’s raining down from the ceiling and falling all over her, and she locks eyes with raleigh from across the room to find his lips pulled into a genuinely affectionate grin -- lips that she’d just kissed for the first time a fucking hour ago and, seriously, what is her life now -- his eyes bright and excited.

things just keep getting weirder and weirder, but the way they’re beaming at each other like idiots in a room full of thousands, broadcast on national television, too, makes her think things might be pretty great, too.

ix.

it sort of takes them a long time to getting around to talking about it -- the soulmate thing.

it’s not that he doesn’t try. he does, but she’s got a lot going on, these days: a big move and a new record deal and days filled with songwriting and nights out being seen. he’s still on his image cleanup tour, while she’s at it, so his fake smile stays fixed on his face throughout another boring week of restaurant openings and charity events and talkshow appearances before he finally gets the chance to spend some time with her again.

they text here and there, but nothing pans out until the stars align and they manage to slip out of the back door of a nightclub unnoticed together after a night of dancing too close for the comfort of her publicist while avery and the others cause a commotion at the front entrance to distract the press.

she goes back to his penthouse with him. he can’t remember the last time he brought a girl back to his apartment just to talk, and especially not one who spent the better part of the evening in a sparkly minidress grinding against him.

but here they are.

“so -- how’s the city treating you?” raleigh asks, pouring them both a drink he doesn’t want from the bar cart in the corner of the room for something to do with his hands.

cadence shrugs from where she’s perched on the edge of his sofa, tugging at the hem of her dress. “good, i guess. it’s honestly all kind of overwhelming.”

“yeah,” he nods, passing her one of the glasses in his hands and taking a seat on the ottoman in front of her, close enough to see her face in perfect clarity but still maintaining a distance that he hopes is respectful. “i know what you mean. when i first came here after joining sunset skatepark everything felt so... huge.”

“totally,” cadence answers quickly, nodding in a way that’s almost aggressive. “i mean, there’s so much pressure to deliver an album right away, but i want it to be perfect, and the studio is so different from, like, writing songs in my room at home, and i... i guess i feel kind of homesick, but -- not for my hometown. i hated that place.” there’s hesitancy in her gaze when she asks, “do you know what i mean?”

“yeah,” raleigh says again stupidly, because the truth is -- he knows exactly what she means. cadence has just articulated something he could never quite put into words better than he’d even thought the sentiments to himself. “it’s like... nostalgia for something you don’t even want.”

“exactly,” she breathes emphatically, and then they’re kissing again, and she’s in his lap on the ottoman and he definitely brought her here to talk, for sure, but is it really so terrible if they get a little sidetracked on the way to their destination?

well -- they wind up making out for hours. so, there’s that.

it’s not part of the plan but it’s a hell of a side quest, memorizing the shape and feel of her with his hands while her lips pull every last bit of breath from his lungs, until he’s lightheaded and dizzy in a way no other girl has ever made him, before. it’s to the point where when he finally finds it within himself to push her away, he’s uncharacteristically nervous -- something that’s never happened to him before, not even on the night he lost his virginity.

“i really did ask you over to talk,” he says, voice hoarse.

cadence licks her lips and then beams at him, eyes sparkling. “i know.” she shuffles delicately back onto the couch, lingering in his lap for only a moment before pulling away entirely. he stuffs his hands under his thighs to stop himself from reaching out for her again. “sorry i haven’t been around more.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” raleigh shakes his head. “i should be apologizing to you, i feel like... i should be the one who’s around, to help you with all of this. or at least -- i want to be. i don’t know if i’ll be any good at it.”

he blinks, surprised by his own honesty. he hadn’t meant to say all of that, but the words came up before he was cognizant of them and now they’re out there, and there’s no taking them back -- especially with the way she’s looking at him, all soft and sweet and happy.

“well, you don’t have to be good at it,” cadence murmurs, reaching out for his wrists and tugging his hands free so she can interlock their fingers effortlessly. they fit together like puzzle pieces. “you just have to be you.”

her budding relationship with one of the biggest names in r&b doesn’t have much time to bud at all before it’s rudely plucked from the plant and stepped on.

she finds herself blinking at fiona in confusion as the words take some time to process. “you want me to do what?”

xi.

raleigh balks at his manager, shaking his head emphatically. “no,” he spits out, “absolutely not.”

xii.

“cadence, it’s not a big deal,” fiona tells her, very nearly rolling her eyes. “everyone does it. you go on a few dates, play up the relationship for some photos, social media eats it up -- boom, you’re a star.”

“i don’t know,” she answers hesitantly, mind drifting back to the photographers that have already been following her around, screaming about avery when she ducks into the car with him. things with raleigh are... new, and complicated, and do they really need to add public scrutiny into the mix as well? “i just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“it’s a great idea,” fiona sighs, shaking her head. “all our focus groups agree. the label thinks it’s best, what with your single taking so long to put out.” she opens her mouth to protest -- it’s not like she’s dragging her feet on purpose -- but barely has a second to get a word out before fiona continues, “besides, raleigh does this all the time.”

her teeth bite at her bottom lip uncertainly. “he does?”

“of course. chantal clearwater? she was a pictagram model when they met, and now she’s opening shows at paris fashion week. it’s just business.”

it’s not, though. it could never be just anything, for reasons no one else knows about except the two of them, for reasons she’ll never tell. “well... what did raleigh say about it?”

xiii.

“i said no, frank.” he’s annoyed, now, and his manager knows it, raleigh’s arms folded across his chest and his eyes set into a glare. “n. o. no.”

“and i hear you, but is it really the end of the world? she’s exactly what we’re going for, and i know you already get along --”

“which is exactly why i don’t want to do this. so pick someone else. anyone else.” he’s not going to let his label turn her into one of the girls he has to be seen with for fake photos and mutually beneficial positive press.

for so many years, he’s watched people fake feelings and use each other -- willingly participated in the using himself, too, more times than he can count. he never cared about any of it before.

but being with cadence doesn’t feel fake, and he doesn’t ever want it to. and he knows that if he agrees to this, everything he enjoys about spending time with her will disappear in favor of the ugly, plastic decay that’s eaten away at so many of his personal and professional relationships before. organic, genuine time with her will become strolls near celebrity hotspots, angling just right to help the cameras get the perfect shot. he’ll show up to support her at shows because her publicist called him, and their time together will become some manufactured narrative meant to push their labels’ agenda, until six months down the line they don’t even recognize themselves or what might’ve been if they’d done things a different way.

“look, there isn’t anyone else. her team’s already agreed to it, and i’ve got brunch set up for sunday. all you have to do is play nice for two fucking months, raleigh. is that so impossible for you?”

yes. already he feels a deep-seated desire to go somewhere and break something, to tear through the flower beds in central park with his motorcycle and wink at the cameras when they catch up to him.

instead, he storms out of the office he’s in, and into the sunlight, tugging the hood on his jacket up and melting into the crowd on the corner so he can be as anonymous as possible when he picks up his phone and calls cadence.

“hey raleigh,” she chirps as soon as she picks up, sounding far too cheerful for someone who’s likely had an equally as miserable early morning meeting on a friday. “guessing you heard the news?”

“can’t i just call you to say hi?” he grumbles, ducking his head as he strolls through the intersection with the mob of people crowded along fifth ave, turning down the next side street so he’s alone again, with no one following, just like that.

“well, you can,” she teases, and some of the anger he’s carrying around with him fades, dissipating into nothing and evaporating like smoke. “but you’re not.”

“no, i’m not,” he agrees with a sigh, shaking his head. “you sound surprisingly cool with it, though.”

“should i not be?” cadence laughs, but he can detect a thread of nervousness in her tone. “i already want to hang out with you. we have the same friends and work in the same industry. we’re... probably going to go on dates anyway, so... how hard can this be?”

god. she has absolutely no idea. part of him thinks it’d be cruel to burst her bubble, but he should warn her, shouldn’t he?

she sounds so optimistic about it, though. it’s hard to feel anything but hopeful when her voice turns up like that at the end. in the back of his mind, there’s a voice that’s not his suggesting maybe this time, things will be different.

surely he knows better than to think something as ridiculous as that, though, right?

“well, i guess it’ll be interesting, at least,” he muses, slowing his steps by the entrance to the subway.

he’s going to lose his signal just as soon as he heads underground, and he’s not quite ready for that, yet.

xiv.

time with raleigh flies by.

it doesn’t feel like they’re fake-dating -- they do everything she hopes he’d want to do with her anyway, like go out to eat at fancy restaurants and take walks through the park and bounce melodies for songs off of each other, facetiming late at night from their apartments or on the days he visits her and micah in the studio.

he’s by her side for the release of her first single, and her first music video, and through it all, raleigh plays the role of the doting partner perfectly, holding her purse on the red carpet and feeding her paella at a strategically-placed outdoor table and fetching her coffee order when she’s too busy to stop writing for even just five minutes.

in the blink of an eye, it’s time to put out her album -- just like that.

raleigh’s perfectly charming through that process, too. he shows up on time, says all the right things, and keeps a drink in her hand all evening long, so that when she’s finally done making the rounds and can enjoy herself after the entertainment and the networking and the schmoozing she’s giggly and touchy, doing her best to steal him away from the crowd.

“what were your other relationships like?” she asks, half expecting him to brush her off, though he’s always indulged her before. they’ve never really gotten this personal. “fake or... otherwise.”

“they’ve all been fake,” he shrugs, “and i can say with confidence that you’re the best one i’ve ever had.”

“really?” cadence smiles, chin propped up on her hand as she leans over the bar. “be honest. what did you really think, when you realized it was me?”

“what?” he asks, pushing the empty rocks glass in his hands around on the bar top, “you mean this thing?” he gestures at his arm, covered in expensive, custom tom ford, and the tattoo laying innocently beneath it.

“uh huh,” she confirms, “‘cause i was totally like oh shit.”

raleigh laughs, loud and wild, the sound swallowed up by the noise of the party around them. no one nearby is paying them even an ounce of attention, and it’s fun, to be anonymous at her own party, invisible to everyone in the room except for him. “i can imagine. i wouldn’t want to be stuck with me either.”

cadence shakes her head -- that’s not what she’d meant. but before she can protest, he rolls his glass between his palms and thoughtfully continues, “i guess i was a little surprised. it felt like i’d been waiting forever to meet you, so part of me was like, fuck, we’re doing this now? and i never thought it’d be someone so...”

“boring?” she suggests, eyebrows arching when raleigh’s expression immediately twists into one of disagreement, his nose scrunching up with distaste.

“no,” he huffs, “so... good, i guess.” she stares at him as he reaches for one of the waiting tequila shots on the bar, pulling it away from the line he’d set up for the crowd he’d been with before she’d tugged him to the side to talk, leaving the drinks untouched. raleigh knocks the shot back -- no salt, no lime. he’s had twice as many drinks as she has, and she’s definitely feeling them -- she has no idea how he’s even still upright, no worse for wear other than a few slurred words here and there. “but you just are. it’s like every song i’ve ever written was about you, and i just didn’t know it yet.”

the noise of the party fades in favor of the pounding of her heart, loud like a kick drum in her ears. she bites her lip and stares at him, watching as raleigh shakes his head at himself, dazed. “you okay?” she asks quietly, leaning in a little across the bar.

raleigh’s quiet for so long she has to wonder whether or not he actually heard her. just as she clears her throat and opens her mouth to repeat herself even louder, he nods, reaching across the bar and squeezing her hand before dragging her back over to the line of tequila shots waiting for them to enjoy.

the night is a blur after that, and there’s patches of the evening that are fuzzy in her memory the next morning, but she knows she’ll never forget the gentle kiss goodnight raleigh gives her when he helps her stumble into the car back to her apartment at dawn.

xv.

things go really well, until they don’t.

they have a blissful six months together with more fun than he’s ever had with anyone. slowly, he learns every single thing about cadence and returns her openness with honesty of his own -- honesty that feels strange and unfamiliar but weirdly thrilling, in a way, made easier every time one of his stories pulls a laugh or smile from her.

it seems unnatural, having a honeymoon period that goes on for so long. in the entire time they’re dating, he doesn’t destroy a single thing -- doesn’t even want to, which is the weirdest part of it all.

there are some moments that catch him completely off guard. more than a few times, he hardly even recognizes himself, she turns him into such a different person.

he doesn’t hate it, though -- just the opposite, in fact. raleigh realizes he’s really starting to like the carefree, far from jaded person he is when he’s with her, though it only hits him for real when he’s watching her storm away from him on liberty island, eyes fixed on the angry sway of her hips.

he stews on it on the long ride back to his penthouse; the game had, admittedly, been starting to wear on him. but he’d gone along with it because it was supposed to benefit her -- he’d agreed to the stupid public breakup and following the rules and not seeing cadence in public for the foreseeable future because it was what she wanted, and -- frankly, it felt like a stupid fucking decision.

not that it lasts long. he starts texting her just as soon as he’s done washing electralite out of his hair and doesn’t make it more than twenty minutes when they first see each other again at the moda gala before he’s sneaking off with her, ducking under the velvet rope that demarcates the planetarium as ‘off limits’ with her hand tucked neatly in his.

“maybe this is better,” cadence muses between sips of her drink, her eyes on one of the stupid glass exhibits he couldn’t possibly care less about. “now we can just be together -- no pressure. our relationship is ours again.”

their relationship. is that what this is? they’ve spent a lot of time talking about who they are and what they like and don’t like, kissing and touching and holding hands. throughout it all, he’s done his best not to buy into the ‘soulmate’ bullshit too heavily, but over the last few months it’s been hard to deny that there’s a reason he was meant to meet her, that she’s been changing him from the inside out.

“what’s on your mind?” she asks, turning towards him with an open look of genuine curiosity on her face, like she really wants to know.

“it’s nothing,” raleigh answers at first, reflexively, like he has so many times before. no one has ever really wanted to know. but cadence’s eyebrows arch, and she waits, patiently silent, and then the words tumble out of him. “it’s just that -- my whole life, i’ve watched other people use each other. so many people are just interested in the concept of celebrity status. so i played the game. never trusting anyone.”

he shrugs. a hand lifts to rub his jaw, and he looks back to meet her gaze just in time to see the little smile playing at her lips, like she already knows what he’s about to say. “but it’s different, with you. you make me not want to be that person anymore. when i’m with you, it’s the only time i feel anything real.”

“raleigh,” she murmurs, her expression flickering before her face does something that cracks his chest wide open. her eyes go all shiny and sparkly and her cheeks crease with a grin, and the way she laughs is so ridiculously joyful the hand he has stuffed in his pocket curls into a fist to stop him from doing something stupid. “i feel the same way. i just... this whole thing, i know it doesn’t always -- work out, but... with you i really want it to. i’ve never felt this way before about anyone, and i think...”

there’s a pause as her lips purse thoughtfully, and then she says the words that make it impossible for him to do anything but close the distance between them and kiss her over and over again: “i think even without this tattoo it’d be you, anytime, anywhere.”

xvi.

being raleigh carrera’s (real, confirmed, 100%-authentic) girlfriend feels almost too good to be true.

raleigh is... everything she never knew she wanted in a boyfriend, wrapped up into one tall, dark and handsome package, with a loud, goofy laugh and a deep, sexy voice that sends a shiver down her spine whenever his mouth so much as lingers near her ear for too long.

it turns out that, despite their differing status in the industry and her initial assumptions that they came from two completely different worlds, they’re actually on the same page about pretty much everything. she finds that the pressure of the word she’d held in such high regard for so long -- soulmate -- disappears entirely where he’s concerned because being with raleigh is just fun.

there’s motorcycle rides and boat trips and hours up late talking about everything and nothing; facetime calls with his mom and shopping trips where the stores are kept open late for them so they can shop alone, in an empty boutique, like every teen movie she’d ever watched growing up.

there’s late nights in the studio and either of their apartments where they both noodle around on their guitars and improvise half-hearted duets, content to just work in the same orbit as each other for as long as possible.

raleigh’s texting one night on the couch in her living room when she plucks out the melody to who i’ll be on her old acoustic, sitting on the floor in front of the tv.

he looks up before the first verse is over. “what’s that one? it sounds good.”

“oh -- just a song i wrote in college,” cadence hums, already downplaying it as she lifts her shoulder in a shrug. “i got stuck, never finished it. ellis made me sell the progress for some other writer to finish.”

he frowns, pushing up onto his elbow. his phone is tossed carelessly somewhere among the couch cushions. “why?”

“because i was taking too long with the odyssey,” she sighs. “it was kind of my only option. it’s weird, though -- thinking about someone singing something that was so personal to me.”

“play me what you had so far,” he says, and so she does, hesitating for only a second before strumming the chords, singing the lines she had slowly.

when she’s done, she looks up to find that raleigh’s slid to the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees as he leans in as close as he can get with the coffee table in his way. “okay -- that was beautiful. you should finish it.”

she shakes her head, setting her guitar down. “i can’t. they already sold it. and even if i wanted to... i don’t know how it ends.”

raleigh’s legs spread in invitation and she stands to walk around to the couch, slipping into his lap and leaning back against his chest. his hands are tender as he rubs them across her shoulders, sliding up her back before one lifts to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear, his pointer finger pushing her glasses up her nose affectionately. “maybe one day you can write something else with the same theme,” he suggests, and she tries her best to smile even though it feels like a dream lost, somehow -- a ridiculous thought, given that she pretty much has everything she ever wanted, but the way she feels all the same.

“maybe,” she sighs, the kiss he drops to her forehead a bandaid on a wound that’s been doing its best to heal for what feels like her entire life.

xvii.

he’s never brought a date to the vinyls before.

there’s been plenty of after parties he’s stumbled out of with a girl on his arm, sure, but cadence is the first person to sit by his side during the ceremony, and he’s surprised by how much he likes having her next to him.

then again, he’s self aware enough to realize he’d like being pretty much anywhere, with her.

still -- the awards are a lot less boring with her around to kiss and stroke his hair and make snide commentary about the rest of the attendees with, and when she squeezes his hand goodbye to rush backstage and get ready for her performance he misses her instantly.

what happens next makes him endlessly regretful of the fact that he’s not backstage with her.

he rushes around just as soon as he can, pushing his way through security and frantically scrambling technical assistants to find her exactly where he thought he might, between ellis knight and fiona, looking lost with her head in her hands.

she seems equal parts broken and pissed in a way that tugs at his heartstrings and makes him a little bit proud. raleigh shoves through the crowd to get to her and slips an arm around her waist. he’s only caught the tail end of the conversation they’re all having, but he knows enough to know that “you can’t bench her. that’s bull.”

ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter how much they stomp their feet. she’s under contract, their hands are tied, and he walks away seething at the unfairness of it all, this shitty industry that’s turned on her when all she ever wanted to do was make music.

she cries in the car back to her apartment to pack her things. there’s no way he’s letting her go home to iowa or idaho or indiana without him, and he barks at his team over the phone until they agree to move his appearances around so he can make that happen, his free hand clasped tightly in hers until he physically has to let her go so she can unlock her front door with trembling fingers.

cadence tosses clothes haphazardly onto the bed and he silently and precisely moves to folds each piece for her, until she gives up and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, defeated.

wide eyes filled with tears lock onto his, and he watches her bottom lip wobble before she says, “you really don’t have to do this. come with me, i mean. i know i messed up, and -- you have so much else going on. i don’t expect you to --”

“i’m coming,” he states firmly, setting the sweatpants in his hand down and stepping closer to her, sitting beside cadence on her bed. “what happened tonight was fucked up, cadence -- it shouldn’t have happened at all. i’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

“but --”

“but nothing,” he says, and before the words have even left his mouth she’s falling into his arms with a soft sound of gratitude, mashing her face into his chest as she sniffles.

“thank you,” cadence mumbles, sounding so unsure of herself it makes him wonder if she’s ever had anyone show up for her when it mattered most before, or if that’s yet another thing they unfortunately have in common.

xviii.

raleigh tries his best to cheer her up, but it’s still hard, feeling like she’s let the entire world down. her fans. herself.

there’s something embarrassing about showing raleigh her apartment back home and the person she was before she met him -- all the places she felt most uncertain and where she experienced some her worst self-doubt, the room that still has the smoothie star apron hung up in the closet.

but there’s also something exciting, about being totally off the grid with him. no one knows they’re here and there’s no paparazzi waiting to snap photos of them -- especially given the fact that they don’t leave her building for the first three days she spends moping around while raleigh orders all the takeout he can get his hands on.

it sort of reminds her of when they first met, and there was nothing to do but learn about each other, though now there’s a familiarity to him she relies on, a unique raleigh-ness that feels more like home than this shitty apartment ever did.

still, she struggles, and the weight of the world doesn’t let up until zadie shows up with her fanmail and avery does his best to make her smile with a beach trip and some fancy new toys and a day in the sun with a drink in her hand.

eventually it’s just her and raleigh again, out by the fire after everyone else has gone to bed. her stomach is full of s’mores and her cheeks hurt from smiling for the first time in weeks, and it’s a shock when she realizes she feels content, even after everything that’s happened -- almost as though things will all work out for the better no matter what happens next.

“oh my god,” she gasps suddenly, cutting off what raleigh had been saying as her eyes light up and she hastens to stand. “i’ve gotta -- i need to -- oh my god.”

just like that, she knows how her song ends.

recording it is a process, but raleigh calls in some favors and gets them studio time and agrees to be featured on the song even though she knows he’s still working through a sound change that he feels unsure about.

but it means a lot to her, having him crammed in the booth at her side, singing into the same mic. they sound almost unbelievably good together, too, raleigh’s harmonies on the words that finally resolve that lost feeling she’s been harboring her entire life making something deep within her wriggle up happily, wagging its proverbial tail.

the fact that raleigh remains by her side throughout the entire fight with her label, the long nights of despair agonizing over what her next move is going to be and even the moment where they decide to break into indio, of all places, means more to her than she can ever say. she feels markedly less nervous about the entire thing every time she turns her head to the side and sees him, right there next to her -- right where he’s been this entire time -- smiling encouragingly and squeezing her hand hard in his.

though it’s not until they’re up at the top of the ferris wheel that she realizes how precious what she has really is. it’s not until he looks her dead in the eye and says, with that same soft earnestness he’s awarded her since they first met at the one in a million auditions that feel quite literally like a hundred years ago, “cadence, everything you want is on the other side of fear. and i want you to have everything you want,” that she truly understands that’s what between them is special and rare.

not because of any tattoos, or any preconceived destiny. not because of who they are and their status and the fact that people take pictures of them when they’re out in public together.

but because of this -- all these real moments of genuine connection they’ve been fortunate enough to share since fate threw them into each other’s paths.

“raleigh, i love you.” the words are said easily, not a moment’s hesitation behind them.

just before she crosses over in the cart to kiss him until they’re both breathless, raleigh gifts her the brightest smile he has and says, “i love you, too.”

xix.

the night is a blur from the moment he first takes the stage with his old bandmates to when he finally finds himself alone with cadence in a rundown old motel a few miles out from the festival in the desert.

he can’t recall ever being so happy, so of course he doesn’t remember every agonizing detail of the evening, though he does know he doesn’t feel the need to have a single beer with cadence around, twirling barefoot in the grass and giggling when she leads him up to the room they’ve borrowed.

afterwards, when they’re sitting on the roof together in the blanket they dragged off the bed, he reflects on the wild year they’ve had with her in his arms, fingertips tracing the delicate very funny scrawled across cadence’s collarbone.

he feels... free. completely liberated. like there’s absolutely nothing and no one that can get to him, now, like he’s untouchable, like he doesn’t care about a single thing that happens after today and how perfect things have been.

“i think i’m actually freer than i’ve ever been,” he muses, where his lips are pressed into her hair, “i can take my sound in any direction i want.”

“i’m so happy for you, raleigh,” cadence returns genuinely, tilting her head back so he can see her upside-down smile.

his arms tighten around her. “i’m so excited for what you’re gonna be doing, too. i’m excited for us.”

“yeah,” she sighs, “who knows what’s next, right? now that ellis let me out of my deal...”

he can hear the thread of worry undercutting the words. he shakes his head, hands rubbing up and down her arms. “you can worry about that tomorrow. for tonight, just enjoy the comeback. what you did out there was amazing.”

“what we did,” she corrects, and he blinks up the stars as he realizes she’s right -- they’re a we now. he’s part of a we again, after being on his own for so long.

the phrases bounce around in his head, unfamiliar and foreign. me and my girlfriend, he thinks to himself, cadence and i. we’re going to be late. we’ll be away that weekend. we just started watching that show. we, we, we.

“what we did was amazing,” raleigh amends, the words slow to come out but feeling right all the same. “whatever we do next will be amazing.”

“absolutely,” cadence confirms, with conviction, like it’s something she believes wholeheartedly.

and though he has no idea what to expect or what it might be, a large part of him is inclined to agree with her -- she’s been right about everything else so far.

xx.

one year later, she’s finishing a set in berlin, the last stop on a sprawling european tour that had taken she, avery, micah and raleigh across the continent for dozens of performances to sold-out crowds of thousands screaming her lyrics back to her.

if her contract with overknight had been a dream come true, signing to wilshere records is heaven incarnate. cadence’s trip through the u.k. with her new label is proof enough, and the chance to meet new fans with new stories to share that she could connect with is one she’s taken to with enthusiasm, the experience made all the sweeter by the fact that her favorite people get to be by her side throughout it all.

berlin’s crowd is one of the best, and she fully expects to end the tour on a high note, head banging to the last few notes of ‘knockout’ before raleigh’s planned entrance for the last song of the night, so they can sing the duet that’s closed out every show they’ve had on the tour together.

when he struts out with his guitar, waving and grinning at the crowd, she can’t stop herself from smiling stupidly at him, just like she does every time she sees him join her on stage, every time she realizes that this is their life, that this is something they do every night, now.

though her grin falters when raleigh pauses in front of his microphone and asks, “berlin, do you mind if i talk a little bit before i start the song? no? cool, because i’ve got an important question to ask.”

her eyes widen. cadence’s mouth drops open and doesn’t close throughout the entire speech raleigh gives her, even though thousands of people in the crowd are filming every moment of her gaping like an idiot, snapping close-ups of her shocked face.

the arena practically vibrates with screams when he drops to his knee, popping the box in his hand open so she can see the giant diamond ring nestled inside of it.

“so?” raleigh asks, and cadence can just barely hear him in her in-ears with the way her heart is beating frantically up into her throat, as wild as the crowd’s raging around them and then some. “whaddya say, babe? will you marry me?”

as if the answer could ever be anything but yes. she nods, laughing as she launches herself into his arm for a kiss that’s too grand to be given on stage, though that’s hardly going to stop her -- not tonight, at least. tonight, she’s okay with the whole world watching their every move, just one more time.

“oh, i don’t know if it’s going to fit,” raleigh jokes as the ring slides easily onto her left hand, amping up the theatrics for the fans still watching them avidly, even up in the cheap seats.

cadence rolls her eyes playfully at him. “very funny,” she praises, and the grin he offers her in return is so loving -- so knowing, with the secret that only the two of them share and every weird piece of their history included in it -- that it takes everything she has to shove him away so they can perform instead of dragging him down to the floor to kiss him over and over again.

clumsily, she flubs a few notes of love who i’ll be on her guitar. from across the stage, between the bridge and the chorus, raleigh jeers, “someone hasn’t learned to play with the extra weight on their left hand, yet, i see,” and when she flips him off while belting out the last lines of the verse, his raucous laughter is all the harmony the final few bars of the song needs.

#platinumweekend #platinum #raleigh carrera #raleigh carrera x mc #cadence dorian #raleigh x mc #raleigh x cadence #myfic #long post #well. this sure took me a long time DFJGHDFJHGDFJKGH so i hope you guys like it !! it was kind of a new style for me 😳

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agentrouka-blog · 4 years

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I agree that Ned treated his daughters as more "child like" than his sons. Even then he had a scene with Arya, where he warned her of the danger they were in, winter is coming and the pack survives, all that. He bonded with Arya better than with Sansa. Among all his children, Sansa was the most sheltered one. No wonder, she was so naive!

One of my side-theories is that Sansa’s insistent preoccupation with love and songs, her escapism into fiction and her desire to trust in ideals, is related to Ned’s “bastard” son.

She is naturally romantically inclined, and she grew up witnessing her parents sharing a loving relationship. And at some point this happened:

He missed the girls too, even Sansa, who never called him anything but "my half brother" since she was old enough to understand what bastard meant. (AGOT, Jon III)

So Sansa, somewhat sheltered, learned about the meaning of bastard in a way that may have been similarly traumatizing to her as it was to Jon.

That morning he called it first. "I'm Lord of Winterfell!" he cried, as he had a hundred times before. Only this time, this time, Robb had answered, "You can't be Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born. My lady mother says you can't ever be the Lord of Winterfell."

I thought I had forgotten that. Jon could taste blood in his mouth, from the blow he'd taken. (ASOS, Jon XII)

Not on the same scale and not for the same reasons, of course.

But the realization that there was a chink in that love, and a very vicious power imbalance between her parents, would have been traumatizing for a Girl who knows her Destiny is to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

THIS is the mindset Cat grew up with:

Many men fathered bastards. Catelyn had grown up with that knowledge. It came as no surprise to her, in the first year of her marriage, to learn that Ned had fathered a child on some girl chance met on campaign. He had a man's needs, after all, and they had spent that year apart, Ned off at war in the south while she remained safe in her father's castle at Riverrun. Her thoughts were more of Robb, the infant at her breast, than of the husband she scarcely knew. He was welcome to whatever solace he might find between battles. And if his seed quickened, she expected he would see to the child's needs. (…) She had come to love her husband with all her heart, but she had never found it in her to love Jon. She might have overlooked a dozen bastards for Ned's sake, so long as they were out of sight. (AGOT, Catelyn II)

The mindset of duty, of sexism, of pragmatism. It is an ugly mindset for romance. There is a contradiction there that cannot be resolved between them because Ned never gives Catelyn a resolution on Jon. He refuses to share information and he refuses to spare her the sight of the son of the “woman he loved” and apparently cannot let go of. So his mother remains and shadow and Jon remains a thorn in her side. Catelyn can not do anything about it. Ned has all the power. This power Imbalance, and Ned’s willingness to take Advantage of it, is anathema to romance. Cat blocks it out, most of the time, because it is how she was taught to live.

But the expectation of infidelity and pragmatism is not the marriage Sansa and Arya witness, the idea of marriage they are shown by their parents.

He looked at her uncomfortably. “My aunt Allyria says Lady Ashara and your Father fell in love at Harrenhal—” “That’s not so. He loved my lady mother.” “I’m sure he did, my lady, but—” “She was the only one he loved.” “He must have found that bastard under a cabbage leaf, then,” Gendry said behind them. Arya wished she had another crabapple to bounce off his face. “My father had honor,” she said angrily. “And we weren’t talking to you anyway. Why don’t you go back to Stoney Sept and ring that girl’s stupid bells?” (ASOS, Arya VIII)

Arya deflects, she cannot resolve the contradiction there, either. Because it shadowed the marriage of their parents.

So, Sansa - and this is another beautifully wrought example of trauma shared in the family and wreaking havoc on everyone - grows up with the necessity of accepting and blocking out contradictions. Her father is a good man, so his absolute power and his use of it cannot a bad thing. But Jon clearly causes her mother emotional pain, so this contradiction must be blocked out. Arya does the same, never ever having dwelled on where Jon came from, while still deeply aware of how bastardy is a bad thing.

When Arya had been little, she had been afraid that meant that she was a bastard too. It had been Jon she had gone to in her fear, and Jon who had reassured her. (AGOT, Arya I)

“Half-brother”, Sansa will always insist on calling Jon, never bastard and never full brother, a compromise, but that is the extent of what we see on that subject. There is zero textual evidence of any animosity between them.

And yet we have Sansa dreaming of romance, of Jonquil and Florian, of Aemon and Naerys, of knightly valor, of true knights.

She pulled a chair close to the hearth, took down one of her favorite books, and lost herself in the stories of Florian and Jonquil, of Lady Shella and the Rainbow Knight, of valiant Prince Aemon and his doomed love for his brother's queen. (AGOT, Sansa IV)

This is her coping mechanism with trauma.

Learning about the power imbalance between men and women, between her parents, about her potential future of having to bear humiliations and infidelity from her husband with no recourse, that may well be one of the roots of her “head in the clouds” insistence on romance and songs. It may be one of the roots of her somewhat distant relationship with Ned, too.

If her life is a song, then her future husband will be a source of truth and of love without abusing the power he is legally bestowed on her.

Of course, starting in his first chapter, Ned proceeds to arrange the opposite for her:

"Gods, Catelyn, Sansa is only eleven," Ned said. "And Joffrey … Joffrey is …" (…) "Sansa must wed Joffrey, that is clear now, we must give them no grounds to suspect our devotion.” (AGOT, Catelyn II)

He outright hands her over to a family he distrusts, to a future husband he knows is not kind, for pragmatic reasons. He uses his absolute power over her in a very careless way.

I think it is pretty reasonable to assume that Arya’s rejection of the entire Concept may be rooted in the exact same traumatic realization. Unlike Sansa, her Coping mechanism is to back away from the female social role altogether. Ned is equally unhelpful with that until he at last grants her lessons with Syrio Forel. He never has the Chance to make up for his mistakes with Sansa.

Ned and Cat’s marriage, and Sansa and Arya’s reaction to the visible power imbalance is such a big aspect of GRRM’s feminist message in the books. Jon unlearning at least parts of his sexism, his relationship with Arya, his respect for different facets of feminine power, his appreciation of soft power and his failure as an “absolute monarch” when he “kills the boy” as Lord Commander at the Watch, as well as Sansa’s journey examining the feminine social role and power abuse in general, all of that is a dismantling of the Hero and the Lady in oldschool romances. Deconstructing and reconstructing.

They are all being reforged, like Ice, pared down. Oathkeeper goes to Brienne, the true Knight. Widow’s Wail stays behind.

#asoiaf #sansa stark #eddard stark #sexism #parenting #jon snow #arya stark #Family therapy would have been a great idea #catelyn stark

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rumor-imbris · 3 years

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Hello, Lady Connor! I want to ask out of unbearable, suffocating curiosity in my heart, even though in the previous post you already said to not mention "that certain comic". Could you please enlighten me about your view on that comic and what you despise about it? I would love to read your detailed thoughts about it even if just once. But if this is too triggering for you, I'm truly sorry for your discomfort and you don't need to answer it.

Hello, dear Anon and welcome ^-^ It's weird you naturally called me Lady Connor, as usually only my little fairy @giuliettaluce does. Well, I guess her magic put a spell on everybody here!!

If you really care to know, I'll answer, but brace yourself, it's going to be very long, almost an essay, because I can be very detailed about that comic being a failure in its every part. There's so much to say. You're right, as I mentioned before, it can trigger me, but I have attentively analized it and I know it makes not a single atom of sense. So nothing can actually bother me that much, don't worry ^_-

First of all, my general consideration of the AC Reflections comic issue #4, (yeah, that thing -.-) is that of a mere attempt to desperately make Bayek's remote vision through Senu's eyes a canon feature. It was created and published in 2017, the same year AC Origins was released and yes, they needed an excuse to make believe Connor's alleged daughter inherited a skill someone (who isn't even their direct ancestor!!) that lived 1700 years ago in ancient Egypt had! OMG, this should be funny enough, but I'll go on. Also, I think it was likely a carelessly arranged way to satisfy those AC3 fans demanding a "happy ending" for unlucky Connor (quite 5 years later, of course).

I'll better go step by step to figure out where to start from, seriously.

1) In the comic, when Otso Berg opens the file related to Connor, the scene is set in "1796: Upstate New York." Now this is chronologically and spacially incoherent and illogical. We see Connor still wears his assassin outfit in it, right? According to AC Initiates (2012) in 1804 Connor invites the Dominican assassin Eseosa at the Davenport homestead to provide him some advices and further training as he's involved in the leading of the Haitian Revolution. That's a really cool character, read about him, if you want!

So, until then Connor is still an assassin, probably the mentor (by now) of the Colonial Brotherhood. He still runs the homestead and he still commands the Aquila, I guess, he's the captain still. I calculated the distance between the homestead and the then upper NY frontier territories is approximately 260 miles (quite far nowadays with cars and planes as well). Then, why the hell should he have a family located in the forest upstate NY? It sounds very unconfortable to run back and forth to reach them and go back to take care of all the Brotherhood matters, doesn't it? Unless he knew about teleportation!!! Also, wow, he lives all alone in a nice massive villa with all the comforts of that time while his children and wife still live in a Native village constantly menaced by settlers wanting to steal their land? Beside the fact that Connor, at least in my point of view, seemed at last very familiar with european way of living by the end of the game, this leads us to the next point.

2) By the time the game and the comic are set (second half of 18th century), most of the East Coast Native tribes were facing the tragic and forced migration to western and northern territories (mostly towards Canada, protected by the British) because of all the consequences of the Revolutionary War (lost territories, failed alliances, settlers advancing and buying their lands and so on). So tells us history, unfortunately. It's a fact. And this is wisely showed to us in the AC3 main game when, after all the Kanien'kehá:ka tribes had left the territory around Connor's village (yes, even those near New York, to be clear) even Connor's own tribe at last migrates west, leaving an empty ghost village. They had remained all along to protect the secret temple, but in the end they as well were forced to leave. So, to me it's highly improbable that in upstate NY, one could still find a tribe and even if so, that Connor would let his family live there and risk their safety everyday.

3) The whole comic plot revolves around the fact that Io:nhiòte has a "special gift"... She inexplicably knows how to read the ground and find animal traces, she also can perform a perfect twisted acrobatic flip in the air and land unharmed to the ground. Do we know why? No, don't ask! xD She simply knows U.U, even if right after the next scene she slips and falls miserably down a cliff xD, but... ok!! Beside that, when Connor is far away to search for some water and is about to be attacked by a wolf hidden in the grass nearby, she sees the whole scene from the eyes of an eagle flying in the sky above her. As I said before, this reminds us of Bayek's (never clearly explained) ability to see through his eagle Senu's eyes and spot dangers and enemies. Now can you tell me why the hell this little girl has super powers and a skill Bayek had? As I said, they are not even directely related, as Bayek is not one of Desmond Miles' ancestor, we know him simply because Layla's new Animus is magical and can inexplicably read fragmented DNA from people who died a thousand years ago (it can also prepair coffee, I think!). So, where did she get that from? Magic? Mysteries of life? Convenient improbable connections for marketing's sake? We'll never know and you should simply accept that and ask no question!

4) From her height, way of speaking/moving/running, I assume Io:nhiòte is at least 8 years old, 8 - 9 minimum. She's the youngest of three siblings, who must be at least two years older than her and than each other (according to a human woman pregnancy timing!). If the comic events are set 12 years after the main game ending (1784, when Connor also starts to train the young ex-slave Patience Gibbs, arriving at the Davenport homestead with Aveline De Grandpré, according to AC IV Black Flag bonus mission with Aveline), so, this means that in that same year Connor must have found hastily the love of his life in a Native village (as if he was easy to open himself with other people after all he's been through), married her, impregnated her and seen her give birth to their first child, all in the same year when (let's not foget! xD) he still is the leader of the Colonial Assassin Brotherhood at the Davenport homestead training novices. Now, this may even be possible humanly speaking, (well, if you force the things a bit and hurry up!) but highly unlikely to happen!! xD

These are the main problems affecting the logic of the comic in my opinion, the points making its foundations crumble apart. Though I'm sure there are many little others to point out, such as Otso Berg "opening" Connor's files... like what? Where did those data come out from? I remember playing AC IV Black Flag and uncovering a file where Abstergo researchers themselves closed access to his memories as there was "nothing appealing to this character anymore"! So, if no more researches were conducted on him since 2013, where did Mr Berg magically or conveniently discovered such data in 2017?

Or... do we want to talk about the cover? It shows Connor in the spirit outfit from the Tyranny of King Washington DLC, which has apparently nothing to do with the comic, since it is set in his present day and he wears his assassin standard robe. Now, I think that can be either a simple marketing choice to make the comic more appealing, as... well, that cover is so cool, let's admit that, or maybe the subtle suggestion that the events told in it are just a parallel Disney-like reality and are not to be considered true at all! xD i don't know, maybe both explanations are right.

I'm sure that the deeper i dig, the more nothing rational I'll find!

If you played the old games, if you know well the franchise and its lore, the true, good, old AC lore, you definitely realize by yourself how that comic is useless and senseless.

This doesn't mean I do not wish an "happy ending" for Connor. But I'd rather accept something coherent with the main game events and AC chronology. Also, it doesn't necessarily needs to be a "happy" ending, as they conveniently created to please complaining fans. I wished for something real... coherent with his personality, acquired life-style and endless sense of duty and values.

Maybe that's what pushed me to write my FanFic novel in the first place, after all... To give him MY OWN cohesive ending, including my love, for love is always needed, I guess.

I'm so sorry if the answer took this long in time and words, but you were warned! ^w^

Though, thank you... Seriously, thank you so much for asking. You made me reflect once more about this matter.

Come visit me again, if you want. Take care

- Rumor Imbris 🦋

P.S. Oh, and if you're interested, this is my "jelousy song", for when things like this trigger my inner witch!! xD

#ask #ask me anything #I Am the Storm!!!!#AC3 Reflections #why it sucks #why it makes no sense #thanks for asking #anon ask

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bau-rookie · 4 years

Text

a close examination of Hotch and Foyet

in which Hotch’s greatest strength becomes his fatal flaw.

(a/n: super long essay, because i don’t know how else to consume media apparently lol. i’ve been sitting on this since “100″ because it is really sad and I just wanted to make sure I get all my thoughts in order. It is, to my discovery, Aaron Hotchner’s birthday today, so what better way to celebrate than by explaining all the ways the Foyet arc reads like a Greek tragedy and how Hotch is an amazingly well-written character. Sorry the only way I can think about paying tribute is by making myself sad. Oh there’s GIFs too! I made them and that’s neat :D)

I. Ingredients for a Greek tragedy.

Greek tragedies stem from classical plays, usually about the nobility, and is centered around their struggle against the Gods/Fate. The noble character has a hamartia, or a fatal flaw, usually their own arrogance, that brings upon their own downfall.

Technically, Criminal Minds would fall under the category of modern tragedy which focuses more on common people and everyday problems. (Though you could argue that being a BAU profiler isn’t your typical career, which makes our characters noble not by blood, but in spirit.)

In modern tragedy, there is less of an emphasis on the involvement of a higher power or Fate. Every bad thing that happens is of mankind’s own making, and this is something that CM discusses often, that evil isn’t necessarily brought upon by a higher power. It’s brought upon by ordinary people choosing to do terrible things.

And Foyet is no different. He chose to kill all these people because he wanted to, but his fascination with Hotch and how his plans for him play out, entrap Hotch in a tragedy more Greek in nature.

What Foyet ultimately does is take Hotch’s greatest strength—his stoic resolve to serve justice—and uses it to hold him personally responsible for the death of his ex-wife, all while bending the hand of Fate to his will.

II. Hotch as a noble character.

In “Omnivore” we are introduced to the Reaper and the many ways he tries to exert control and power over his victims. After killing so many times loses its appeal, the Reaper decides to toy with detective Tom Shaunessey by offering him a deal—if you stop hunting me, I will stop hunting them.

While we sympathize with Shaunessey simply trying to save lives, he does so with the knowledge that he is deliberately letting a serial killer go free. The fear and the guilt eats away at him until his death.

Hotch, on the other hand, quickly establishes himself to be a resolute pursuer of justice. We don’t get to make those decisions. We don’t let them get away with it. He holds onto the idea that they have no right to decide who lives or dies and that the victims that unsubs like the Reaper takes, are not something he, or anyone in his line of work, should feel responsible for. Their sole responsibility is to stop them.

This isn’t to say that Hotch is unaffected by the increasing number of bodies. When he turns down the deal and the Reaper attacks the bus full of people, he is visibly shaken by this, so much so that we see Hotch cry for the first time. It takes Rossi delivering some tough love to remind him of what’s important.

Look, if you want to end up like Shaunessy, like Gideon, blaming yourself for everything, you go ahead. But that voice in your head—it’s not your conscience. It’s your ego. This isn’t about us, Aaron. It’s about the bad guys. That why we profile them. It’s their fault. We’re just guys doing a job. And when we stop doing it someone else will.

Hotch and the team in general, are faced with constant reminders that they are only human. They are fallible and cannot control every outcome.

Not everyone can handle the stresses of being a profiler. Despite the horrors, the chance of failing, Hotch’s greatest strength is his stoic resolve. He’s become our beloved Unit Chief, the person on the team who takes on the most pressure, takes it upon himself to, at times, shield the rest of the team from the greater burdens. Personally, he’s arguably also the one who sacrificed the most to have this job, having lost his marriage.

Yet despite the horrors, despite the toll, Hotch shows up for the job anyway. Because he can’t imagine letting the bad guys get away with it.

III. Foyet as a representation of Fate

“The Eye of Providence. A symbol adopted by the U.S. Government with the words: Annuit Coeptis. Latin for “Providence or fate has favored our undertakings.” The Reaper seems to see himself as the personification of Fate.” — Dr. Spencer Reid, “Omnivore”

From the beginning Foyet is shown to have a flair for theatrics. He leaves markings of the Eye of Providence, writes Fate in blood, calls himself the The Reaper. He has delusions of grandeur and posits himself as a higher power, one who gets to decide the course of other people’s lives. Everyone who has the misfortune of coming into contact with the Reaper, becomes another chess piece in his twisted game of Fate.

In another life, Hotch would never cross paths with Foyet. But because he did, Foyet acts as Fate, bringing down divine intervention in the form of driving Hotch into a tragedy of his own making.

Foyet acting as Fate is, paradoxically, also an argument against the actual existence of Fate. Everything that happens is a result of Foyet’s choices. It is him, a man, and not Fate who is choosing to kill, maim and be cruel.

When it came to Shaunessy, Foyet also emphasized pinning the blame of the death of innocent lives on the failure of law enforcement. It isn’t Fate when there’s something you could do to stop it. Shaunessy took the deal because he felt personally responsible for the possible loss of lives, an outcome that Foyet pretty much predicted, but one that doesn’t really affect him. Shaunessy agrees, he gets off on controlling the police. If he doesn’t, well, he can just keep on killing.

Foyet repeats the deal with Hotch. Offers him the deal, which Hotch refuses then immediately murders 7 people on the bus, setting a chain of cause and effect that makes it seems like Hotch’s actions led to this gruesome outcome. Again, placing the blame personally, on Hotch. And Hotch does blame himself, if momentarily.

Later, once Foyet escapes and corners Hotch in his own apartment, he makes it clear, you should have made a deal. Foyet acts as a vessel for Fate, a vehicle through which the consequences of Hotch’s actions are served.

Foyet takes it a step further, when he puts Haley and Jack in witness protection. Left all the usual clues, to simply say your wife and child are in danger because you never took the deal. I hold all the cards here, your fate will come for you eventually.

Then Foyet disappears, and waits. Leaving Hotch filled with guilt over endangering his ex-wife and child, at the mercy of Foyet’s arbitration of Fate.

IV. Dominoes and fatal flaws

By the time “100″ rolls around, you’re so captivated by the action happening on screen that it’s easy to overlook how we got there. When I first watched this season, I had assumed that Foyet would be put on the back burner until the end of the season. His quicker-than-expected return seems to be happenstance, the writers behind-the-scenes doing some plot magic, but if you reexamine the events that lead up to “100″ we see Foyet’s greater machinations at play.

On the surface, the preceding episode “Outfoxed” seems to be a straight forward throwback to an earlier case. Faced with a family annihilator, Hotch and Emily visit the original Fox in prison, believing the current unsub might be a copycat. The episode seems to be about the mental toll being a profiler brings, with Emily contending with a sense of disgust at having to get intimate with a serial killer (post-”Lauren” this reads very differently, but I digress). Until right at the end, when they reveal the admirer letters were actually from Foyet, and the one being outfoxed is Hotch.

When the events of “100″ go down, we hear Foyet repeatedly blame Hotch for what happens with Haley, calls out what we see as a noble resolve to instead be Hotch’s fatal flaw. It was the same thing that led Haley to leave him, a failing borne from Hotch’s own ego, the part of him that insists that it be him who catches the bad guys, that it be him who risks it all. And Foyet uses that to his advantage, uses Hotch’s resolve to trick him into thinking that maybe he did cause all of this tragedy to happen.

One small detail that caught my attention, and set me on this Greek tragedy path, is when they try to track down Foyet in “100″, Garcia notes that he had set an internet search alert for the name “Peter Rhea.”

At this point, Foyet was ready to go after Haley and Jack. He already had pictures and surveillance of the U.S. Marshall in charge of them. He could’ve gone and killed them anytime, but that’s not how Foyet operates. He needs Hotch to feel personally responsible for things ending badly. He set the bait with the letters and simply had to wait for Hotch and the team to get close enough, to find Peter Rhea. This is, of course, incredibly risky. The team could catch him before Foyet gets anywhere close to Haley and Jack, but Foyet is sure of himself and is an extensive planner. He made sure he was always two steps ahead.

The irony is that Foyet would never have gone after Haley and Jack if Hotch and the team didn’t get close to tracking him down. There’s an added layer of Spencer figuring out Foyet’s alias using his genius anagram deciphering brain and Garcia’s expert tech analyst skills. Foyet managed to hurt Hotch because this specific BAU team are just too damn good at their jobs.

Foyet set up dominoes that only Aaron Hotchner could tip to fall. He does it so well it almost feels like Fate.

V. The inevitability of fate

“Men heap together the mistakes of their lives and create a monster called destiny.” — John Hobbes, “Omnivore” closing quote.

A key aspect of Greek tragedy, is that Fate is often the result of divine intervention. They cause certain events to happen in certain ways so as to result in the most tragic outcome, usually death. It’s designed so that the audience is aware of what’s to come, and can see no other way for the story to end. The tragedy is supposed to feel inevitable.

One could argue, that there is no such thing as Fate. Life is simply a sequence of random happenstance, but our need to prescribe meaning to the chaos cobbles up stories of predetermined destinies. Especially when the idea of owning up to our mistakes and their consequences is too much.

All of this was the result of one sick man, George Foyet, choosing to be so cruel. And Hotch was simply a victim of circumstance because if Foyet wasn’t going after Hotch, he’d be going after someone else.

But what are the odds that Hotch’s first case as lead profiler happens to be The Boston Reaper? It was from that moment that Hotch’s fate was really sealed, he and Foyet would be forever intertwined.

Hotch, being who he is, had inadvertently, made the Reaper personal. Even when his BAU team was sent away, his resolve wouldn’t let the Reaper simply disappear. It led him to build his profile, alone and over many years. Any other person might’ve just let the case go, but not Hotch.

So when Shaunessy died and the Reaper resurfaced, the only person in the world who knows enough about the Reaper to track him down, is Hotch. It’s what leads him to George Foyet, a victim at first glance, and Hotch comes to him unaware that he is promising The Reaper a new, worthy adversary, one a decade in the making. And everything, from his prison escape, to his attack on Hotch in his apartment, plays out exactly as Foyet expects it to, because as much as Hotch can read him, Foyet can read his behavior too.

At the end of 5x03, “Reckoner”, Rossi talks about what could have been when it comes to his childhood sweetheart to Hotch. About how he was too obsessed with his job, with the hunt that he gave up his chance of having a family. Rossi warns Hotch, don’t make my mistakes, kid.

You have a family. When all this is over, what are you gonna do to make sure you’re not a lonely guy wondering why you let the purest thing in your life get away?

My initial reaction was that they were setting up for Hotch to leave the BAU for good. The man who hung on to the job so much that it cost him his marriage, for the first time, actually considers leaving it all behind him. Because what Rossi says to him, driven by the circumstances that Foyet has created, is too profound for him to ignore. Foyet is too big of a thing to just move on from once its over.

Of course, my hopes of Hotch riding off into sunset to live a quieter life and watch his son grow up were optimistic at best. It’s a fantasy that purposely ignores the reality of who Hotch is, simply because I want the alternative to be possible. By the time Haley is buried, and Strauss offers Hotch retirement, we already know what his answer is going to be. Because everything we know about this man can only lead us to one conclusion.

Aaron Hotchner is the man who goes after the bad guys, the man who doesn’t let them get away with it. No matter how much I yell at my screen about how Hotch should just retire and spend all his time with Jack, deep down I knew that was never going to happen. Him losing Haley and still going back to work, seems like the only logical outcome. It’s almost feels inevitable.

VI. Catharsis

The point of tragedy is, according to Aristotle, to achieve catharsis. The purging of emotion through the telling of another person’s suffering. And that’s what “100″ does (unless your heart is made of stone and you somehow did not tear up even once).

Others would say that tragedy is meant to teach us a lesson. Meant to teach us the limits of our mortal abilities, to warn against hubris and arrogance; to remind us that they are higher powers and unseen forces beyond our understanding or control.

Criminal Minds doesn’t try to give us that lesson. Like in so many previous cases, the premise of a crime procedural is really a way of examining human nature. Why do people do bad things? More often than not, though our profilers can figure out how an unsub goes from doing thing A to thing B, they don’t have a satisfying answer for why.

In Foyet’s case, he does all of this to Hotch because he can, because he enjoys making him suffer. It is evil, unnecessarily cruel. There is no sense to be found in what happened.

But “100″ does not deliver pure tragedy. It ended in the death of Haley but it also provided hope in the survival of Jack. Hotch finally rids the world of Foyet, though the way it went down, you can’t help but wonder about the price of justice, if the cost is too much for this one man to pay. But then the show reminds the audience, that this one man isn’t bearing that cost alone.

Aaron Hotchner has his team, his family, and with their support, a chance to recover from the tragedy that Foyet wrought.

I used to think that, despite being dead, George Foyet still won. He set out to hurt Hotch, and that’s exactly what he did. We’ve only seen Hotch openly cry twice at this point, and they both were directly caused by Foyet. And I suppose that’s still partly true. It’s hard to really tell with our stone-faced unit chief, but it’s hard to see how Foyet wouldn’t linger.

But that victory isn’t absolute. Foyet is gone, and he loses every time Jack gets to spend another day happy and alive. Foyet loses, every time Hotch shows up for the job and doesn’t let another unsub like him get away with it.

And maybe that’s the lesson. That though good doesn’t always triumph over evil, there is a way to move past tragedy. And that path lies not in solitude, in carrying the burden alone, but in the solace of our friends and family who can bear witness to all that we must face.

For all all my waxing poetic about how Hotch is a noble hero, this entire ordeal just shows how human he is. Yet despite his flaws and the tragedy, the core unassailable truth of who he is, the values he represents, remain unchanged.

He is Aaron Hotchner. The guy who hunts down guys like Foyet. The guy who doesn’t let the bad guys get away with it. The guy who, despite everything, managed to save his son. The guy who will keep his promise to the woman he was once married to, to teach their son that love is the most important thing. The guy who makes sure that his son knows that good people do exist.

Aaron Hotchner is the guy who, despite all the hurt, the pain and the loss, chooses to be the hero. And that’s the farthest thing from tragic.

#did i spend all day thinking too much about a fictional character?#hell yes #i don't know how else to be #i just think aaron hotchner is neat ok #and he deserves the happiest of birthdays #maybe i'll write a fic about it tomorrow #but for now i rest #criminal minds #charlie watches criminal minds #aaron hotchner #david rossi #george foyet #mine: gifs #criminal minds gifs

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firemblem-fics · 4 years

Text

parents? PT. 1 | claude

firstly this is the longest thing ive ever written yay

secondly, this is only a part one. this is kind of introducing it! the good stuff will happen in part two i promise just give me a bit! thank u

Warnings: cursing, death, angst, claudes an asshole but also so are you at times, Claude makes a jab at single parenting just for the sake of the story I’m sorry

— — —

The village was in ruins. Nobody was spared in the fire as three demonic beasts rampaged through the rubble. The Golden Deer house fought valiantly to save everybody, but oftentimes such a thing simply could not happen. The beasts were too strong, knocking out four of the team’s own fighters before they finally defeated them.

Many people, like Marianne, were visibly distraught at such a tremendous loss. She was being comforted by Lysithea, who only held a rather troubled look in her eyes. Ignatz seemed crestfallen as well, as did some others. You, on the other hand, were rather angry. You were furious at the destruction around you. The fires, the destroyed homes, the lost lives.

It was under Claude’s leadership that these people weren’t saved. The professor was dealing with other matters, so she couldn’t be there to lead. Mistakes were made and they cost people their lives. You’d never truly cared for the boy, finding his “schemes” and his cocky and nosy personality rather annoying, but this was the icing on the cake for you.

Bristling in anger, you marched over to said boy, pointing a harsh finger into his chest. “This is YOUR fault.”

“My fault?” Claude nearly laughed. “Yeah, sure, some things happened, but that's what happens in battle, Y/N. This was a collective failure.”

“Those things cost people their lives, Claude. I can’t believe you’re so inconsiderate.”

Claude’s eyes lit up a little in frustration. “I'm inconsiderate? As if I didn’t try my hardest to save everyone? I’m new at leading. I’m only 17, if you don’t fucking remember. It’s not like I knew this was going to happen-“

A loud wail interrupted him. You furrowed your brows, looking at Claude before turning and looking around.

“What’s that?”

Claude shrugged, “A survivor, I hope.”

You ignored him and ran in the direction of the noise, stopping at a charred house. The fire had stopped, but the crying hadn’t. As you walked inside the burnt skeleton of the house, you hoped that the fire didn’t seriously hurt someone. They’d have trouble making it back to the monastery to be healed.

Another cry sounded as you moved into another room of the house. There, underneath a small, wooden-framed bed, laid a child. He was no older than 6, tears making trails down his ash-covered face. You kneeled down, trying to make yourself less intimidating to coax him out.

“Hey buddy,” You reached a hand out, internally grimacing as the little boy flinched away, “We’re not here to hurt you. We need to get you somewhere safe.”

The little boy looked around. “Wh-where is everybody?”

Your heart broke and you looked back at Claude, who had followed you, your eyes pleading for help. He sighed and knelt down beside you. “They all had to leave. It was really, really dangerous so they had to keep you safe. We’re here now to keep you even safer.”

That seemed to have calmed the little boy down at least a little. He slowly and shakily walked towards you. You held out both arms, silently asking to pick him up. He obliged and nearly crawled into you and you wrapped yourself tightly around him, whispering reassurances as he sat on your hip. You looked at Claude next, your face asking, “What the hell do we do?”

Claude only shrugged and walked back to the rest of the team, leaving you to trail slowly behind. You’d take him back to the monastery and go from there. The orphanage was rather full- there was no way they’d be able to care for another one.

--- --- ---

“We can’t help him in the way that you’re asking, Y/N. I apologize.”

Your heart dropped. Rhea had asked you to talk to the lady at the orphanage anyways, hoping that she would be able to accept him. Unfortunately, she couldn’t.

“Then what’s the purpose of an orphanage?” You didn’t want to yell seeing as the boy- August, you’d learned- was sleeping on your hip. “Aren’t you supposed to take in kids? Help them? Raise them? He’s lost everything. And now he can’t even get a home?”

The lady only sighed. “I’m really sorry. He wouldn’t be getting the attention that you’re asking me to provide. I’ve got other children to tend to.” She went to walk away, but then stopped. “Just keep him to yourself if you’re that worried about him.” She huffed, slamming the door closed behind her.

Keeping him? You thought. I wouldn’t be opposed, but I’ve got class. And fighting. And I’m seventeen. Ah, fuck it. My parents would love him.

You walked away, careful not to wake August, and made your way to the audience chambers where Rhea was. You’d only hoped she’d let you take responsibility. But you’d never given her a reason not to trust you, right?

“Absolutely not.”

Wrong.

“What? Seteth, why not? I’m responsible.I can do it- August’s well behaved. And- and I’ve got my friends too. They can help a little. He’s not a helpless baby and he can do things on his own, he just trusts me a little more to help him.” You pleaded. At this point, you knew that nobody would take care of him. You couldn’t just leave him.

“You’re just a child yourself, Y/N. You know nothing about raising a child.” He argued back.

“Neither do new parents! What are you gonna do next, tell new parents that they can’t keep their first child? Please, I’m responsible. Lady Rhea, tell him I’m responsible.” You turned to the Archbishop, who was simply standing there.

“I believe this will be a good experience. Y/N has never given me any reason to distrust her.”

“Lady Rhea, this is absurd-”

“However, she has to find someone to assist her if the workload becomes too much to handle. I, on the other hand, will take a look into the orphanage to see what we can do. The only absurdity here is how they have turned away children.”

“Thank you, Lady Rhea. I won’t disappoint you.” With that, you left the chambers and walked through the yards, ignoring the strange looks that people gave you as you headed back to the Golden Deer Classroom. August stayed on your hip with his head resting against your shoulders, his small fingers twirling your hair around.

You stopped outside of the classroom and called the little boy’s name, waiting until he looked at you to continue. “We’re gonna go learn now, but you’ve gotta stay quiet. If you need to talk, whisper to me, okay?”

August nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

Hm, he has manners. That’s perfect.

You quietly opened the door, hoping that nobody would notice. Your hopes were in vain. Everyone turned around at the sound of the giant doors, their eyes moving from you to the little blonde boy on your hip. Reactions varied- Hilda practically cooed at him while Lorenz could only watch you take the only open seat with disgust. You were disgusted too, but it was because the only open seat was next to Claude. As Byleth resumed teaching, Claude slid a note over to you.

‘Was single parenting on your bucket list?’

You rolled your eyes, looking over at August to make sure he wasn’t watching you write before replying.

‘Fuck you. Rhea said that I need to have someone help me if I have trouble, and just for that comment I’ll ask for it to be you.’

Claude read the note and chuckled quietly, crumpling it up and putting it in his pocket. You assumed that the conversation was over, so you allowed August to crawl into your lap and lay against you to have a small nap. The poor kid had a long day, after all. This didn’t stop Claude from leaning over to you and whispering.

“So, does that mean you’ll call me daddy?”

You choked on your own spit suddenly, waking up August and making your other classmates look at you. Byleth turned around and gave you a look, but you could only wave them off as you kept coughing. You glared at Claude, who had a grin on his face. God, he loved watching you suffer, didn’t he?

He kept smirking at you, but lost it when you grew your own. If he was going to tease you about helping a kid, you were going to make sure he’d pay the price. As his eyebrows furrowed a little with worry, you asked, “Can you walk with me to see Lady Rhea after class?”

--- --- ---

“Lady Rhea, I told you she wasn’t responsible enough. Look, she comes back two hours later and already requests for assistance.”

First of all, Fuck you Seteth. Second of all, this was just revenge.

“Okay, listen, I don’t know why I’m here either-”

“I’d like to request assistance just in case. Say I have to take a shower or do something and August can’t be with me? I’d like to be able to have someone else help care for him when I might not be able to for a bit.” You interrupted Claude.

“What makes you think that Claude is a good candidate to help you? Why are you choosing him?” Seteth retorted.

Spite, you wanted to say. “He’s the leader of the Golden Deer. Heir to the Alliance. He’s been able to take care of us through battles and such, how much harder could it be to help take care of one child? Even then, I’ll only need his help for a few minutes at a time.” You said. Damn, you were good at acting like you actually tolerated him.

“Lady Rhea, Seteth, please, I don’t want-”

“Plus, would you really trust anyone else in the Golden Deer to help me?” You cut him off again.

Claude could only glare at you as Rhea weighed her decision. You smirked before turning to check on August, who had occupied himself by spinning in circles around a column. You whispered August’s name to get his attention, holding out your hand as he came towards you. He placed his smaller hand in yours and stood patiently in between you and Claude

Rhea’s face soon bloomed into a soft smile. “Whenever you need assistance, Claude will be there.”

You thanked her and bowed, following behind the Alliance heir as he nearly stormed out of the chambers. When you got outside, he whipped around to face you.

“What the hell was that?” He growled, “Revenge? For what, one simple comment? A little joke? And now I’m stuck waiting on you if you ‘ever need my assistance’, whatever that bullshit means.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, pulling August close to you. “First of all, watch your language. He’s only six. Secondly, I think your comment was insensitive. You were making fun of single parents and my bucket list- which you know is a big deal for me.”

“Alright, whatever. I’m sorry for saying something about single parenting, I shouldn’t have, but I think I have the right to have an opinion about your dumb little list.”

“Claude, you don’t even know why it’s important to me, you just want a reason to make me upset-”

“Well? You deserve to be upset. I’m upset too, because now I have to help a brat take care of a little brat. I didn’t ask for this shit.” Claude rolled his eyes and walked away.

You stood still for a bit, watching him leave with angry tears in your eyes. You snapped out of it when a tiny hand pulled at your shirt. You looked at August.

“Can we go ‘M sleepy.” He yawned.

“Of course. We can go to my room and you can sleep for the rest of the night.”

You made a mental note to grab dinner for the both of you once he was asleep and scooped him up, letting him doze off again against your shoulder as you walked back to your dorm room. The poor boy had a very rough day- and so did you. A nap sounded very nice.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem three houses x reader #x reader #fire emblem three houses imagines #claude #claude x reader #claude von riegan imagines #claude von riegan #claude von riegan x reader

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dascarecrow · 3 years

Text

The Failed Raid - A Gentle Recovery IV

The fervor from the failure of the raid was still going strong. The staff of UA were still trying to come to terms with what had happened. The students were still trying to understand what exactly had happened to begin with. And into this havoc had arrived two concerned souls.

“I swear I’m gonna tear the next idiot that gets in our way in half!” Well concerned if unblessed in social niceties. The two walking through the halls were Inko Midoriya and Mitsuki Bakugou, the mothers of Izuku and Katsuki who had been on the raid. They had seen Izuku’s injuries on the news report and had charged over to the school the instant they had been able to process what they saw. After Mitsuki had revived a fainted Inko that is.

The concerned mother of Midoriya hadn’t said much, too worried over her son to express many words. It was a sad fact of her life that Izuku tended to wind up injured on his path to becoming a hero. A fact that had become increasingly harder for her to cope with by herself. Izuku moving into the dorms had only increased her fears as she wouldn’t be able to see for herself that he was fine each day. Her husband Hisashi loved his wife and son dearly but his job overseas kept him from being involved as much as he wised to be. She was thankful she had Mitsuki and her husband to speak with about her concerns or she may have gone crazy with terror for Izuku.

“Do you think Izuku is okay?” the fretting mother asked her fiercer friend. Mitsuki’s already furious face grew angrier. “He better be! I swear if that kid doesn’t have all of his pieces I’m going go take down the punks responsible myself!” That was one benefit of the friendship between the two mothers. Mitsuki was hot blooded enough to get mad for both of them, unleashing her fury on the unsuspecting fools who dared look at the Midoriyas with anything less than kindly expressions. This wasn’t without it’s downsides of course. When a receptionist stopped them for a security check and was far more rude than they had any right to be in Mitsuki’s opinion she had let loose on them with verbal tirade that would terrify even hardened Villains. Unfortunately that had only inspired more attitude from the receptionist. Mitsuki’s husband had to step in to deescalate the situation. Surprisingly enough once she was calmed down he had grabbed the receptionist and threatened to tear out their kidneys and eat them raw if they weren’t allowed into the school. It had done the trick.

The duo finally arrived at the door to Izuku’s room and opened it, not prepared for what they would see.

------

Izuku’s snack time was going well for himself he thought. Uraraka and Eri were cutting up fruit and feeding it to him, not able to even slightly move his arms right now. He chanced a look at Uraraka. She had lost her smile, her mouth settled into a small “o” shape. Her eyes were half lidded, looking like she was intensely focused and yet not fully in reality. She appeared to be in a dream to Izuku, who couldn’t help but find her face like this entrancing. He blushed a bit at his staring and looked away but couldn’t help glancing back.

“Here you go Papa. A nice tasty strawberry!” The little unicorn who had declared Izuku her father offered up the sweet fruit with a just as if not sweeter smile. The pattern here would be Uraraka would cut up the fruit and Eri would feed it to him. As enjoyable as it was Izuku was starting to feel a bit too coddled. He wanted to at least try feeding himself. His arms weren’t feeling as sore so maybe he could at least try.

“Open up Papa the little bunny is going to it’s burrow.” Eri held up an apple slice cut to look like a rabbit. Izuku decided now was a good time to work on using his arms again. “Actually Eri why don’t you let me feed myself.” The young girl looked at him confused. “But you can’t use your arms right now Papa. We have to feed you.” “She’s right Deku.” Uraraka took notice of Izuku’s attempt at assertion. “Well they’re feeling a bit better now. So I’d like to try feeding myself.”

Uraraka’s face took on what could be called a caring glare, her effort at looking authoritative. “Oh no you don’t Deku. We are here to take care of you so don’t even think about overdoing it.” The green boy wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “It’s fine. See.” He went to grab the apple slice and despite great strain was able to pick it up. An unimpressed Uraraka easily took it away from him. “Now enough of that. We are your nurses. Right now our only concern is taking care of you. Now eat up.” She held up the apple slice for him to eat. Izuku was still trying to be stubborn. “But...” “Stop being stubborn. You can’t feed yourself right now. Let us do it for you. Now stop misbehaving or your nice nurse might have to punish you.” She said the last words with a bit of a teasing grin. Izuku was caught off guard by her brazen words. Uraraka held the apple rabbit up for Izuku to eat again. “Come on Deku. Open up.” She was almost sing-song in the declaration. Izuku decided it would be easier to humor her than fight on this and was about to do as she asked when he noticed the door to the room open, seeing his mother and Aunt Mitsuki standing there. They both seemed surprised by what they saw and the latter took charge of the situation.

“Whoops didn’t know you were busy. We’ll come back in a bit.” With that she quickly shut the door, leaving an embarrassed Izuku and Uraraka to wonder about their presence.

-------

Mitsuki broke out laughing after closing the door. “Hahahaha! Aw that kid. Here we are fretting over if he’s okay or not and that kid’s having the time of his life.” She looked at Inko who was sporting a relieved smile. “Thank goodness he’s alright.” Mitsuki smiled at her friend’s relief, internally happy her honorary nephew wasn’t in worse shape. “Okay let’s go in and see if we can’t embarrass the kid the to death.”

The room’s residents had been surprised to receive visitors but they weren’t when said visitors returned. “Hi Nana! Hi Auntie!” Eri was about the only one already in the room who wasn’t slightly bashful at their visitors. She ran over and got a hug from her adopted grandmother, Mitsuki silent with literal stars in her eyes at being called “Auntie”. She absolutely adored the little unicorn, the closest she was going to be getting to grandchildren for the foreseeable future given her son was pretty much a goblin. Inko looked at Eri with a playful curiosity. “So what are you doing?”

Eri smiled and spoke with pride and joy. “Me and mama are being Papa’s nurses!” Inko spared a look at her son and the girl she was quite certain would one day be her daughter in law. The round faced girl stood up from where she was sitting once the mothers had walked in, not wanting to create a bad impression. Inko then turned her attention back to her honorary granddaughter. “Oh are you now?” The kind smile never left Inko’s face. Eri nodded happily. “Yep. We’ve been making sure his bed is nice and soft and we also fed him cause he can’t even lift his own food. We even blew bubbles with him!” The young girl was excitedly going on about how she and her mother had been tending to her father. It was a sight that would melt even a heart of stone.

Mitsuki finally exited her cuteness induced stupor. “Oh aren’t you a good girl. Making sure your Papa gets all better. Do you know what good girls get?” Eri shook her head in confusion. Mitsuki smiled widely. “They get cuddles!” The hot blooded woman scooped the little unicorn up in a great big hug, rubbing her cheek against Eri’s. The young girl certainly didn’t mind, happy with the contact.

Uraraka was now rather nervous. Her crush’s mother had seen her actually acting like a nurse to him! She desperately wanted to escape. And an idea for how to do so just popped into her head! “Ah-uh... Tea! I should get some tea for you! Eri would you like to see how you make tea properly?” The young girl eagerly nodded, always happy to spend some time with her mother. She managed to squeeze herself out of Mitsuki’s arms, much to the passionate woman’s disappointment. Inko smiled at the mother-daughter duo. “Why don’t I join you dear? We did stop by unannounced.” Uraraka raised her hands and shook her head. “Oh no that’s not necessary. You came all the way here. I don’t mind. Really.” But Inko would not be deterred. “Oh but I insist. You’re already doing so much for Izuku. I want to help as a thank you.” What was it with mothers being able to make you feel guilty no matter what you did. Having surrendered this battle of wills that she never stood a chance in Uraraka led the way out of the room, her daughter and the woman she was certain would one day be her mother in law following her.

Left in the room were Izuku and Mitsuki, who took a seat next to the injured boy. She brought out a wide smile at him, her head in her hand. “Well someone’s having fun now aren’t they?” At Izuku’s confused look she continued. “Got your own personal nurses and everything. I swear this school really does go beyond when it comes to service. Mmh, mmh, mmh. I mean really you get an adorable unicorn fussing over you. And that Ura girl. Oh it’s so precious. She’s helping you heal and tending to you like a dedicated wife.” Mitsuki was waving her head back and forth through her statement, excited over the young romance she was witnessing.

Izuku was far less pleased with her words. Blushing dark red at her words he tried to convince her otherwise. “Oh nonononono. It’s not like that between us. It’s just... Eri is usually so withdrawn and not outgoing. It was a surprise that she pushed for something like this and we didn’t want to discourage her. That’s all.”

Mitsuki lost the teasing grin on her face, now sporting a frown at the boy. “You know you’re allowed to enjoy this right?” Izuku looked at her in surprise and a bit of confusion. Mitsuki sighed at his dense nature. “You are just like your father in the worst ways. That girlfriend of yours didn’t get dressed up like that because of the kid. She did because she wanted you to see her in it.” Izuku was disbelieving to say the least. “What? No. That’s not... It’s just because of Eri isn’t... Do you really think that’s the truth?” Mitsuki looked at him with sympathy. “Of course it is. Take advice about women from an actual one alright.”

Izuku thought over his honorary aunt’s words. Uraraka wasn’t doing this whole thing just for him... right? There’s no way. It was all for Eri. But there was a part of him that honestly wished she was doing this for him. Not just because their adopted daughter was pushing for it. “Now...” He got taken out of his thoughts by Mitsuki’s voice. “Let’s talk about how you’ve been treating your future wife.”

Izuku really wished he could always remember that Kacchan’s mother seemed to live and breath by her hobby of trying to embarrass him to death.

------

It was a tense silence as Uraraka and Inko were preparing the tea and coffe. Tense for the floating girl at least. Inko seemed quite content, which did nothing to put the young hero in training at peace. She had decided to work on the tea, adding some lemon flavor to the current brew. Inko meanwhile was working on coffee, having just added a french vanilla creamer to her concoction. Eri watched on with rapt attention, honestly quite curious at how tea and coffee were made. Whenever Aunt Yaomo had a tea party with her the tea was already made. It was something special for the young unicorn.

Finally Inko decided to end the silence. “There’s something I’d like to say to you young lady.” Uraraka instantly stood up straight and turned to look at Inko. This is exactly why she wanted to get away from the plump woman. To avoid being interrogated! “Thank you.” Those were not words Uraraka was expecting to hear. “Izuku... hasn’t had an easy life.” The older woman didn’t turn around, so neither of the other occupants of the room could see the sad look in her eyes.

“For his entire life Izuku has always loved heroes.” She gained a gentle smile on her face. “He admired them so much. And it wasn’t because of their Quirks or how they seemed invincible or anything like that. He respected that they were people who chose to help others no matter what. And he wanted nothing more than to be just like them. Ever since he first learned to walk and talk.” Uraraka wasn’t surprised but now had a look of confused worry on her face.

“He wanted nothing more than to be a hero. But... the world seemed to have other plans.” Inko lost her smile. “For so long we thought he didn’t have a Quirk. And the people around us... they were less than kind.” And that was certainly underselling it. Memories of her dear baby boy being pushed down and called names when children thought no one was watching. Memories of how other adults would look at her with pity or condescension or whisper insults about her “lacking child” when they thought she couldn’t hear them. “He was... is... so kind. He just wanted to be a hero because it would give him a chance to do the right thing for others. And all anyone ever saw was how he would never fit into their view of society.” Inko had to stop to keep herself from crying.

Uraraka grew saddened as well, and internally a bit angry. Deku was the sweetest guy she ever met! So what if he didn’t have a Quirk for most of his life? He was still one of the most noble, caring and heroic people in the world! There were a lot of Pros who could take lessons from him in being heroes!

“It wasn’t easy for him.” Inko was able to continue on. “I was always there and did my best to give him the support he needed but it just wasn’t enough. My husband, bless his heart, was there for us as much as he could possibly be but his work kept him far busier than any of us would have liked. No one really wanted to be friends with a Quirkless child. The only one he really had with him was Katsuki.” And Inko suspected the child of her best friend hadn’t been the greatest friend to her son.

“And then one day that all changed.” Uraraka perked up at the apparent change in course. “After he started here at UA he started talking about the people he met. The friends he made.” At that Inko couldn’t stop the smile on her face. “And the first one he ever spoke about was you.” And now there was a light blush on the girl’s round face. Along with a gentle smile. “The first time he ever told me about the girl who saved him during the entrance exam. It was the happiest I had ever seen him in a very long time.” Oh Deku had to stop being so flattering. “As his time here has gone on he told me more and more about the friends he was making. But you were always the one he told me about the most.” Oh dear it seemed the floating girl’s heart was fluttering on wings now. “So I wanted to say thank you. For being my son’s friend. And for seeing him. Not just what he can do.”

Uraraka had to turn around. No longer willing to risk letting her face be seen. She was embarrassed, elated and uncertain all at once. Geez Deku made her sound so... amazing! She brought her hands over her heart, hoping it would slow it down a bit. “You know... Deku saved me.” Now it was Inko’s turn to look at Uraraka, who was facing away from anyone else. “In the entrance exam I got stuck under some debris and couldn’t escape. Everyone else had run off when a giant robot appeared. But Deku charged in to save me. He didn’t have a single point but he did everything he could to save someone in trouble.” Uraraka’s face was now sporting a gentle smile. “Izuku... is a true hero.” She almost whispered it out, given how softly the words were said.

Inko had to keep herself from crying. Ever since that fateful day at the doctor’s Inko prayed for someone, anyone, to look at her son for the kind and caring young man he truly was. Not at how he how he couldn’t measure up to the standards that society had deemed were needed for excellence. And it appeared that the powers beyond had a moment of sympathy and compassion for her child. ‘Izuku... You’ve made some wonderful friends!’

Eri looked between her mother and grandmother. She did understand what they were saying. To a degree. Apparently Papa wasn’t treated too nicely (which made her sad) until he got the school and met Mama (which made her happy). Though she was wondering what any of that had to do with tea. And she decided to voice her thoughts. “Is the tea ready yet?”

The two older women were snapped out of their reverie by the youngest of them speaking. Uraraka looked at her with a smile. “Yes it is sweetie. Let’s go take it to your Papa.” With that declaration the women grabbed the brews they had been working on and made their way back to the room housing the boy who connected them together.

--------

The three females had finally returned to the room, carrying hot beverages. “Okay tea’s ready!” Uraraka said cheerfully. “Yeah. Now we have something nice to drink for Cookie Time!” Count on Eri to make adorable childlike comments. Mitsuki had to hold herself back from cuddling the unicorn girl to pieces. “Oh how thoughtful of you all. I haven’t enjoyed a Cookie Time in ages!” Yeah Mitsuki wasn’t definitely enthralled by Eri’s inherent adorability. Hard to blame her. Sweets and sweet drinks with an adorable unicorn like Eri. Who could resist that?

Mitsuki’s words had triggered something in Eri’s mind. She had an idea form that was inspired by a cookbook picture she had seen. She proceeded to tug on Inko’s skirt, getting her grandmother’s attention. Said grandmother looked at her with a smile. “Yes sweetie?” Eri beckoned with her finger, leading the older woman to bend down. The little unicorn whispered her idea into her Nana’s ear. Said Nana clearly thought it was a good idea.

“That’s a fine idea sweetie.” She stood up to look at her son. “Eri here has something she’d like to do for Cookie Time and wants my help for it. We’ll be back in a bit.” As unicorn and grandmother made their way out the door Mitsuki got up. “Hold up you two I want in on this.” Izuku looked at her a bit surprised. “You want to go with them?” Mitsuki gave him a look accentuated by a mischievous grin. “What you thought I was here for you? Heck no. I want me some cuddles! And the only source of those for miles around is on her way elsewhere. So later!” The fierce tempered woman quickly made her way over to her friend. Eri took Inko’s hand, leading her forward. “Come on Nana it’s this way.” Inko smiled indulgently at her granddaughter and said nothing as she was lead along. Mitsuki shot one last teasing grin at Izuku before closing the door. “Have fun you two.”

With her final words Mitsuki had made Izuku and Uraraka keenly aware that they were by themselves in the room. Said realization had them nervous and starting to blush, wondering how to process this development. They wouldn’t have to wait long before they had company yet again however.

#My Hero Academia #It Took A Village #The Failed Raid #A Gentle Recovery

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 3 years

Photo

14th April >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on John 3:16-21 for Wednesday, Second Week of Eastertide: ‘Light has come into the world’.

Wednesday, Second Week of Eastertide

Gospel (Except USA)

John 3:16-21

God sent his Son into the world so that through him the world might be saved.

Jesus said to Nicodemus:

‘God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not be lost but may have eternal life. For God sent his Son into the world not to condemn the world, but so that through him the world might be saved. No one who believes in him will be condemned; but whoever refuses to believe is condemned already, because he has refused to believe in the name of God’s only Son. On these grounds is sentence pronounced: that though the light has come into the world men have shown they prefer darkness to the light because their deeds were evil. And indeed, everybody who does wrong hates the light and avoids it, for fear his actions should be exposed; but the man who lives by the truth comes out into the light, so that it may be plainly seen that what he does is done in God.’

Gospel (USA)

John 3:16-21

God sent his Son that the world might be saved through him.

God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him will not be condemned, but whoever does not believe has already been condemned, because he has not believed in the name of the only-begotten Son of God. And this is the verdict, that the light came into the world, but people preferred darkness to light, because their works were evil. For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come toward the light, so that his works might not be exposed. But whoever lives the truth comes to the light, so that his works may be clearly seen as done in God.

Reflections (5)

(i) Wednesday, Second Week of Easter

The gospel of John frequently refers to Jesus as light. On one occasion, Jesus says of himself: ‘I am the light of the world’. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus says with reference to himself: ‘Light has come into the world’. In one of the most memorable statements of the New Testament the gospel reading declares that the light that has come into the world in the person of Jesus is the light of God’s love, ‘God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son so that everyone who believes in him… may have eternal life’. The light of Jesus is not the probing light of the grand inquisitor that seeks out failure and transgression with a view to condemnation. Indeed, the gospel reading states that God ‘sent his Son into the world not to condemn the world’. The light of Jesus, rather, is the inviting light of God’s love, calling out to us to come and to allow ourselves to be bathed in this light, and promising those who do so that they will share in God’s own life, both here and now and also beyond death. At the beginning of our gospel reading, Jesus speaks of himself as the Son of Man who must be lifted up. It was on the cross and in his resurrection that Jesus was lifted up, and it was above all at that moment that the light of God’s love shone most brightly. Those who attempted to extinguish God’s light shining in Jesus only succeeded in making that light of love shine all the more brightly. God’s gift of his Son to us was not in any way thwarted by the rejection of his Son. God’s giving continued as Jesus was lifted up to die, and God’s giving found further expression when God lifted up his Son in glory and gave him to us as risen Lord. Here indeed is a light that darkness cannot overcome, a love that human sin cannot extinguish. This is the core of the gospel.

And/Or

(ii) Wednesday, Second Week of Easter

We can certainly notice a stretch in the evenings these days. All of a sudden it is bright beyond 7.00 pm. Most of us like the light. We are pleased to know that the daylight is lengthening every day at this time of the year. Our heart sinks a bit when we realize that the days have begun to get shorter. Even though most of us like the light, the gospel reading declares that people have shown they prefer darkness to light. The evangelist is referring there not to daylight, but to the one who declares himself to be the light of the world. Our calling is to ‘come out into the light’, in the words of the gospel reading. This morning’s gospel reading makes the very generous statement that all who live by the truth come out into the light. All who seek the truth are already standing in the light of Christ, even though they may not be aware of it. The gospel reading suggests that people of faith, those who seek to be guided by the light of Christ, will always have something very fundamental in common with all who seek the truth with sincerity of heart.

And/Or

(iii) Wednesday, Second Week of Easter

One of the great verses of John’s gospel is to be found at the beginning of our gospel reading this morning, ‘God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son so that everyone who believes in him... may have eternal life’. That statement has been a source of inspiration for many believers over the centuries. The evangelist declares that Jesus, God’s Son, reveals God’s love for the world and for each of us individually. All authentic love is life-giving, and God’s love, revealed in the coming of Jesus, is life-giving to an exceptional degree. God gave us his Son so that we might have life and have it to the full, what this morning’s gospel reading calls ‘eternal life’. Therein lies the gospel, the good news of God’s loving and life-giving initiative towards us. The fourth evangelist is also clear that God’s initiative needs our response if it is to be effective. We need to come to God’s Son, to come out into the light, in the words of gospel reading. Having come to God’s Son, we need to remain in him, to remain in his love, and we do that by keeping his word, by living out his new commandment to love one another as he has loved us. God has given his Son to us; it falls to us to give ourselves to God’s Son. Then we will indeed have life and have it to the full.

And/Or

(iv) Wednesday, Second Week of Easter

The words of Jesus to Nicodemus in this morning’s gospel reading are one of the strongest and most positive statements in the New Testament about God. It speaks of God’s love for the world, of God’s generous way of expressing his love by giving the world his Son and of God’s desire that all people would experience eternal life through receiving God’s Son in faith. It is a hugely positive image of God and of how God relates to the world. It is a verse worth pondering and reflecting upon at length. Yet, the gospel reading we have just heard acknowledges another reality. It recognizes that people can refuse God’s love, God’s gift of his Son, God’s offer of life. In the words of the gospel reading, ‘though the light has come into the world, people have shown that they prefer darkness to the light, because their deeds were evil’. God can only do so much. We have to open ourselves to God’s love, receive God’s Son, enter into the light and allow it to shine upon us. God wants our response, but God cannot force it. Yet, God is prepared to wait, as Jesus was prepared to wait for Nicodemus. Heonly gradually came to believe in Jesus as God’s Son given to the world out of love. His first tentative step was to come to Jesus by night. His last appearance in the gospel is alongside Joseph of Arimathea, as they both arrange for Jesus to have a dignified burial.

And/Or

(v) Wednesday, Second Week of Easter.

A common security measure in many homes and businesses are strong lights that come on at night when somebody comes within a certain radius and breaks the beam. It is based on the presumption that light is the enemy of anyone who might want to break into the premises. Those who might be up to no good prefer the cover of darkness. In the words of today’s gospel reading, ‘everybody who does wrong hates the light and avoids it, for fear his actions should be exposed’. Light exposes wrong doing. In a sense, it condemns the wrong doer. According to the gospel reading, God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world. Jesus speaks of himself in this gospel as ‘the light of the world’. When the gospel reading says that ‘the light has come into the world’, the reference is clearly to Jesus. Yet, the light of Jesus is not primarily a condemnatory light whose primary purpose is to expose evil. The light of Jesus is a light of love, the light of God who so loved the world that he gave his only Son. When we step into this light, there is a sense in which our sins are exposed. To see ourselves in the light of Jesus is to recognize how far we fall short of the person God has created us to be. Yet, the primary purpose of this loving light is to take away our sin. Jesus, the light of God, seeks us draw us to himself so that we may have life and have it to the full. The Lord’s light is not in any way threatening. There is a fullness of life there from which we are all invited to receive.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

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neverheardnothing · 4 years

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rewatching joe iconis and family lincoln center performance at 4 am instead of packing or sleeping just to feel something and i have so FEW and so MANY thoughts and yall are gonna hear em all. no i will not put this under a cut. im going to be an absolute bastard about this.

i love the story joe tells about why he's singing mitb as the first song so much. like. the spite of it all. the defiance of it all. the pride of it all. the dig it or fuck off and disappear of it all. the joe iconis of it all.

“i know exactly the song im going to sing as my first song at the american songbook series.” i love that he highlights the fact that this is the american songbook series.

then immediately jumping right into broadway here i come with molly hager, the other song he is most known for!!!

every time i think about this performance i think about how this was the first (?) time this song was performed by them since the closing of bmc.

and then lance rubin comes up to sing try again. which is the only time that i know of that anyone but joe has sung this song.

i remember a remark made during watching it live that having someone else sing the song made it seem so clearly more about joe and his career. but also having lance sing it immediately makes me think of bbh closing early which yeah is part of joe’s career but also lance’s.

and also the line “if you’re an actor and another actor gets the part you auditioned for” reminds me of how lance found the auditioning process of acting and the whole [not acting part] of an acting career to be terrible which is why he quit to then become an author and the juxtaposition of him singing try again is Something. but also he DID try again he is just applying his efforts to a different creative field and it’s working out great for him. good for lance rubin.

lol i haven’t even talked about the actual performance aspect of this song anyways it’s very different from the two versions ive seen of joe doing it. he plays it a lot more comical. i love it.

sidenote not specific about this performance, but i love love LOVE the line and the music at “use the stairs, walk to the street. see the people, feel the heat, and apply yourself again.”

and also the line “when they cast you out to sea, there’s a lifeboat manned by me called try and try again” will never not make me think of bsol/last on land and bonus lance was also in that show! it just keeps circling around.

everything about these past 3 songs performed at this venue in this set list order in this moment at joe’s career is honestly so wonderful. like you had a songs about an anxiety attack, a suicide/loss of self in success, and repeated failures before this song all sung by individuals. two of these songs were written at points where joe felt frustrated/sad with his career. one written in the aftermath of specific frustration about the first closing of be more chill. one an actual song from bmc. like what a SETLIST for your first three songs! fucking michael in the bathroom, broadway here i come, and try again. truly something.

THE WHISKEY SONG!! i love hearing joe sing so much. while i think we can all agree he’s not the most skilled singer there’s something special about hearing a composer perform their own work. he adds like 3 levels of charm to make up for lack of singing skills lol. just a very charismatic guy.

lance rubin back on tamborine for the next bit of the song and he’s like laughing through it. not completely sure what he’s laughing about honestly but this Is a comedic song (after 3 real downers of songs) and also joe was playing it up.

jared weiss down on the floor with his guitar playing along. that’s its own bullet point.

audience cheering as more family members start coming on stage! i love that the band is getting cheers. love that!!!

the camera isn’t on him but from the audio, nick blaemire is presumably running around giving high fives to people in the audience.

i can’t exactly tell with the camera angle and the lighting but i think that more family members get up from different seats in the audience or at least enter in the back and walk through the audience to get to the stage during this instrumental break. reminds me of how joe loves theater that physically touches you. giving you high fives in this case.

love liz lark brown. she plays it pretty like. frenetic and frazzled. love it.

amara, badia, danielle, will, and nick are just chillin sitting on the steps of the stage. 100% contributes to the vibe of this song. top fuckin notch.

SOMEONE screams AH during the drunk part of the song and i cannot figure out who but it gives me so much life.

jared pulling lance down to the floor with him.

jason going “man.... this place is a dump” like i LOVE the irreverence.

everyone actually getting back up and also converging On the stage during the (kind of) acapella break.

and now your whole gang is up on the stage at the fancy ass appel room singing your what sounds like a mostly upbeat fun song but is actually about self medication with alcohol and it’s a fucking jam. i love the 3 solo songs and then bringing in everyone for a big group number.

sidenote not about this specific performance: the lyrics “i’ll pour some more and then—AND THEN?—i’ll pass out and then—AND THEN!” the and thens were not on the things to ruin album and i wonder why not ALL the time. was it just deemed extraneous? or was this an innovation after the album was recorded?

i love that you can see the band singing along.

yesterdays / i can’t relate. i love this song i fucking love it. i love the synthy keyboard that was an active choice made. which means that joe is not the one accompanying jared in this song.

jared: i hate today. joe: *snorts in the background*

“i like music you can hold” -> old records black suits, susannah’s obsession with music which was of course in vinyl format back then

will once said hearing lgw was very exciting because he’s first and foremost a fan of joe’s so he was hearing a new joe song for the first time and the world got just a bit larger and i think about that quote a lot in relation to this song because i was like Oh i Get What He Means now because this is the first new joe song i heard since like getting into his work and i felt that world getting a bit bigger.

jared’s monotone chorus on top of the girls underneath is so good. it’s so fucking good i cannot.

liz lark brown velociraptor fuckin classic. specifically in this performance the weird ass electric guitar noise at “there’s a dinosaur” is SO good. i love it.

i know people say Trans Vibes from next song (jeff) but this song also gives me trans vibes. i think joe inadvertently writes stuff trans people relate to because of his propensity to write for People Who Are Different.

people cheering as will takes off his jacket hell yeah.

i am way more used to the jeremy morse version of this song and really consider it more his so it’s so fun to hear will sing it.

i love the canon of the “oh”s so much.

after will sings “i go to the window looking out and what do i see? myself just staring back at me.” and someone in the audience AUDIBLY goes “oh.” like what a MOMENT. way more subtle than when someone screamed “WHAT” at the “naked korean girl” reveal during the pipe night performance but on the same tier of Great Audience Reactions.

smooth fuckin gliss bro i love it. arms out by side. i love it.

Classic Jason Sweettooth Williams Singing Helen. but this time they added like some REAL like. oh god i have no idea how to describe it. electric crunchy electric guitar noises. and it’s so good.

i havent mentioned this yet but in the background of every song people who are not in it or are backup vocals are just sitting and jamming along and it’s so nice because me fuckin too.

honest to god just have to give a timestamp for this but bullet point for whatever the fuck eric is doing in the background here.

will and katrina circling each other singing directly into each other’s faces. so good.

the Unexpected dynamic change and following crescendo i am Living.

katrina rose dideriksen riffing up top. yes. YES.

joe starting to play helen sharp and then forgetting part of his introduction to the song is so good.

the inevitable laughter at any performance of this song at “it is not lost on me you’re all here at my show”

i know nothing about the movie death becomes her so i honestly always just think about joe when this song gets performed. also thinking about how in the youtube premiere of this song, joe was talking about how lauren was shouting out the names of all the musical theater composers joe is jealous of.

right place/wrong time. i read a bsol review a while ago about how katrina rose dideriksen was underutilized and gotta say i Agree holy Shit let her sing More.

i also remember how joe once said this song felt the most personal to him and that he cried when writing it

police siren piano.

the first time in this entire song they sing in sync is at the line “i wonder if his/her life is just like mine” and i just start screaming.

when eric and katrina turn to each other for the first time and start singing At each other!!!!!!!!!!!

honey! thinking about jen ash tep talking about how Each performance of this song gets Wilder and Wilder.

love it when nick just gets off the stage and starts singing to people in the audience. apparently one of the people was will’s mom lol.

ACAPELLA BREAK!!!!!! joe just fully gets up from piano and starts WILDLY clapping along!!!!

woman of a certain age! i remember when the live show happened the album had not come out yet and then when the yt premiere of it happened it Had been out for a week or so.

piano note elevator bell

the electric guitar is doing some fucking weird ass things in this song and i am living so fucking much for it.

the riffs badia does are so fucking incredible i immediately paused this video to go and watch her sing big fat ruby again just because i wanted more badia content.

the story behind old flame is so good and joe waiting until the last fuckin moment to give her the song is so fuckin funny.

i love love love these types of joe songs that are like 7 minute long story epics like right place/wrong time and the actress and ammonia and old flame.

“the best way to get past the past is to shoot it in the head” and then the audience cheers and i fucking love it. my commentary is getting shorter. it’s 6 am and i’m tired can you tell. i also just had a lot of thoughts about this early on and less thoughts about later on.

revolution song. the deep ass fucking electric bass is So good i Will go apeshit. like honestly that might be my favorite smaller detail of this song. like i imagine if i were in the room it might be loud and deep enough that i could feel it In my chest. like you can Feel the revolution coming.

i love the faster tempo revolution song has in the cabaret version.

i also love the cabaret specific lines of “evolution in the institution”

joey is a punk rocker was honestly not ever on the list of songs i thought would get performed here but im so glad that they did. like the obvious choice would have been veins for annie golden but they went this route. obsessed with this choice. obsessed with the fact that amphibian replaced this song as the act 2 opener. obsessed that annie is the one singing this.

i am never not screaming about wave and yall know this. just throwback to me losing it in the tags in a reblog of picture of the wave passage going on about how it really does mirror joe’s career and bmc specifically. and again this song being performed for the first (?) time since bmc closed makes the “so today on a hill in las vegas” and onward part SO fucking sad i literally just started crying. the entire song being in past tense up until that part. i will just go die now.

will in the yt premiere talking about texting the line “our energy would simply prevail” in the leadup to bmc coming back.

find the bastard. for some reason when this happened live i thought it was gonna be outlaw that was performed.

i swear to god it is literally physically impossible for me not to AT LEAST mouth along to “what’s your name, what’s your name” during this song

NAMES ARE FOR ACCOUNTANTS.

MY NAME IS AWFUL LONG AS IT’S THE LYRICS OF THIS SONG.

the goodbye song. it’s never not sad. i love love love that this song is the final song every concert. i also love the recent lore of finding out that penny dreadfuls was the encore song at concerts before they became too long and it had to get cut.

finally gonna mention the background car lights. what a beautiful backdrop.

also since im always on my wrol bullshit i love how fucking clearly you can hear him at the end

accelerando accelerando accelerando. insert [joe iconis peaked when he wrote the accelerando in the goodbye song post of mine].

katrina singing an octave up is always SO fucking impressive i am so impressed by her voice she is so fucking good i love her so much

the bows are so fucking sweet i love them.

goodnight it’s 7 am.

#teresa talks #also as my life gets Increasingly busier i decide to come back #social media truly a cesspit i can never escape #many no thots head empty full yes no <3 #im very tired #iaf #joe iconis

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libraryofvenus · 4 years

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Four Quartets: East Coker - T.S. Eliot

In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass. Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires, Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth Which is already flesh, fur and faeces, Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf. Houses live and die: there is a time for building And a time for living and for generation And a time for the wind to break the loosened pane And to shake the wainscot where the field-mouse trots And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto.

In my beginning is my end. Now the light falls Across the open field, leaving the deep lane Shuttered with branches, dark in the afternoon, Where you lean against a bank while a van passes, And the deep lane insists on the direction Into the village, in the electric heat Hypnotised. In a warm haze the sultry light Is absorbed, not refracted, by grey stone. The dahlias sleep in the empty silence. Wait for the early owl.

In that open field If you do not come too close, if you do not come too close, On a summer midnight, you can hear the music Of the weak pipe and the little drum And see them dancing around the bonfire The association of man and woman In daunsinge, signifying matrimonie— A dignified and commodiois sacrament. Two and two, necessarye coniunction, Holding eche other by the hand or the arm Whiche betokeneth concorde. Round and round the fire Leaping through the flames, or joined in circles, Rustically solemn or in rustic laughter Lifting heavy feet in clumsy shoes, Earth feet, loam feet, lifted in country mirth Mirth of those long since under earth Nourishing the corn. Keeping time, Keeping the rhythm in their dancing As in their living in the living seasons The time of the seasons and the constellations The time of milking and the time of harvest The time of the coupling of man and woman And that of beasts. Feet rising and falling. Eating and drinking. Dung and death.

Dawn points, and another day Prepares for heat and silence. Out at sea the dawn wind Wrinkles and slides. I am here Or there, or elsewhere. In my beginning.

What is the late November doing With the disturbance of the spring And creatures of the summer heat, And snowdrops writhing under feet And hollyhocks that aim too high Red into grey and tumble down Late roses filled with early snow? Thunder rolled by the rolling stars Simulates triumphal cars Deployed in constellated wars Scorpion fights against the Sun Until the Sun and Moon go down Comets weep and Leonids fly Hunt the heavens and the plains Whirled in a vortex that shall bring The world to that destructive fire Which burns before the ice-cap reigns.

That was a way of putting it—not very satisfactory: A periphrastic study in a worn-out poetical fashion, Leaving one still with the intolerable wrestle With words and meanings. The poetry does not matter. It was not (to start again) what one had expected. What was to be the value of the long looked forward to, Long hoped for calm, the autumnal serenity And the wisdom of age? Had they deceived us Or deceived themselves, the quiet-voiced elders, Bequeathing us merely a receipt for deceit? The serenity only a deliberate hebetude, The wisdom only the knowledge of dead secrets Useless in the darkness into which they peered Or from which they turned their eyes. There is, it seems to us, At best, only a limited value In the knowledge derived from experience. The knowledge imposes a pattern, and falsifies, For the pattern is new in every moment And every moment is a new and shocking Valuation of all we have been. We are only undeceived Of that which, deceiving, could no longer harm. In the middle, not only in the middle of the way But all the way, in a dark wood, in a bramble, On the edge of a grimpen, where is no secure foothold, And menaced by monsters, fancy lights, Risking enchantment. Do not let me hear Of the wisdom of old men, but rather of their folly, Their fear of fear and frenzy, their fear of possession, Of belonging to another, or to others, or to God. The only wisdom we can hope to acquire Is the wisdom of humility: humility is endless.

The houses are all gone under the sea.

The dancers are all gone under the hill.

III

O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark, The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant, The captains, merchant bankers, eminent men of letters, The generous patrons of art, the statesmen and the rulers, Distinguished civil servants, chairmen of many committees, Industrial lords and petty contractors, all go into the dark, And dark the Sun and Moon, and the Almanach de Gotha And the Stock Exchange Gazette, the Directory of Directors, And cold the sense and lost the motive of action. And we all go with them, into the silent funeral, Nobody's funeral, for there is no one to bury. I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre, The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness, And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama And the bold imposing facade are all being rolled away— Or as, when an underground train, in the tube, stops too long between stations And the conversation rises and slowly fades into silence And you see behind every face the mental emptiness deepen Leaving only the growing terror of nothing to think about; Or when, under ether, the mind is conscious but conscious of nothing— I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love, For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting. Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning. The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry, The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony Of death and birth.

You say I am repeating Something I have said before. I shall say it again. Shall I say it again? In order to arrive there, To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not, You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy. In order to arrive at what you do not know You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance. In order to possess what you do not possess You must go by the way of dispossession. In order to arrive at what you are not You must go through the way in which you are not. And what you do not know is the only thing you know And what you own is what you do not own And where you are is where you are not.

The wounded surgeon plies the steel That questions the distempered part; Beneath the bleeding hands we feel The sharp compassion of the healer's art Resolving the enigma of the fever chart.

Our only health is the disease If we obey the dying nurse Whose constant care is not to please But to remind of our, and Adam's curse, And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse.

The whole earth is our hospital Endowed by the ruined millionaire, Wherein, if we do well, we shall Die of the absolute paternal care That will not leave us, but prevents us everywhere.

The chill ascends from feet to knees, The fever sings in mental wires. If to be warmed, then I must freeze And quake in frigid purgatorial fires Of which the flame is roses, and the smoke is briars.

The dripping blood our only drink, The bloody flesh our only food: In spite of which we like to think That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood— Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.

So here I am, in the middle way, having had twenty years— Twenty years largely wasted, the years of l'entre deux guerres Trying to use words, and every attempt Is a wholly new start, and a different kind of failure Because one has only learnt to get the better of words For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which One is no longer disposed to say it. And so each venture Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate With shabby equipment always deteriorating In the general mess of imprecision of feeling, Undisciplined squads of emotion. And what there is to conquer By strength and submission, has already been discovered Once or twice, or several times, by men whom one cannot hope To emulate—but there is no competition— There is only the fight to recover what has been lost And found and lost again and again: and now, under conditions That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss. For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.

Home is where one starts from. As we grow older The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated Of dead and living. Not the intense moment Isolated, with no before and after, But a lifetime burning in every moment And not the lifetime of one man only But of old stones that cannot be deciphered. There is a time for the evening under starlight, A time for the evening under lamplight (The evening with the photograph album). Love is most nearly itself When here and now cease to matter. Old men ought to be explorers Here or there does not matter We must be still and still moving Into another intensity For a further union, a deeper communion Through the dark cold and the empty desolation, The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.

(For help understanding this poem, check out this article: https://voegelinview.com/a-pattern-of-timeless-moments-pt-1/)

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pandorasyndrome · 4 years

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♖ prompt 001

Domeric Kilcairn

i. what do their quarters look like?

Domeric’s room at the Rosegate is large and airy, with large sloped ceilings painted a cream-colored white. His walls were a baby blue, lined with portraits and tapestries, hand painted and tailored by the best artisans that money could buy. In the exact center of the room was a raised platform, where his four poster bed stood proud, opulent, and tall. The bed was a dark, wooden oak with royal blue curtains that framed each side, giving him even further privacy in the comfort of his bed. His sheets were silk and the color of gold, and his blankets were always carefully made due to the careful work of Eden’s servants.

ii. where does your character hail from? do they still live there?

Domeric hails from Eden. He does still live there, though in recent years he has found himself visiting other noble courts, extending the hand of friendship to his family’s allies.

iii. if your character still lives there, do they enjoy it? or do they feel trapped & would prefer to live somewhere else?

Domeric loves Eden, and he loves Belhaven, and he loves his family’s castle of Rosegate. Though he finds himself travelling often, to return home is the sweetest feeling every time.

iv. are they religious? if so, what religion? are they devoted?

Domeric is performatively religious. It isn’t that he does not believe in the Gods, because he does. But he also does not spare too much of a thought towards them. However, even with that being the case, it is not rare to see him bow his head for prayers. To be godly only helped to sharpen the courtly perception he so loved to give off.

v. what is their occupation? how long have they been at this position?

Domeric does not have any official occupation beyond his duties as a member of House Kilcairn. He has yet to fight in any war, but should the occasion arise, he is prepared to take up arms and lead his family’s soldiers. In addition, he often takes it upon himself to maintain his family’s diplomatic ties, and makes it a point to keep in contact with other influential nobles in the realm.

vi. how physically threatening are they? emotionally threatening?

Domeric is not particularly threatening physically, at least no more than any other nobleman raised in the art of swordplay. He would certainly be very threatening to a baker holding a pitchfork, but the fight would be a lot more even with someone who had training, proper weapons, and experience. Emotionally, however, Domeric is much more threatening. He hunts for secrets and wields them over the heads of others, threatening to bring discord and strife into their life and relationships.

vii. is your character more extroverted or introverted?

Domeric is certainly more extroverted. He likes small talk and conversation, and hearing what other people had to say. However he does not find it a huge bother to be alone.

viii. do they have any scars? tattoos? birthmarks? other unique physical features?

Domeric is free of any significant scars, nor does he have any tattoos. The most unique look about him would be the way he adorned himself in expensive jewelry. His fingers were lined with rings, and his neck was often adorned with glittering amulets.

ix. do they have any family? if so, how close are they to their family?

Domeric loves his family fiercely, but even more so, he loves their family legacy. He is proud to be a member of his house, and everything he does is an attempt to increase their power and standing. He isn’t very open or transparent to them about his plans and motivations, but he is affectionate, most especially to his sisters, and likes to believe that they would all feel free to come to him, for whatever help they might need.

x. have they ever been to the capital? if so, what was the occasion?

Domeric has been to the capital on many occasions. Most often for celebratory events; weddings for important nobles, tournaments and jousts. Though since he’d grown, more and more often he found himself there to attend court, so he could report back to his parents on the goings-on in the heart of the kingdom.

xi. have they traveled much in their life? if so, what is the best thing they saw on their travels?

He has certainly traveled more than the common peasant. He’s explored most of Belhaven, finding it fun to ride off in a band of other knights and squires when he was in his late teens and early twenties. He’s been to the capital, and to capital cities of the other important regions, or the closer ones anyways.

The best thing that Domeric ever encountered during his travels was a peasant wedding near the western coast of Belhaven. He was riding towards the beach, with a mid ranged entourage of various courtiers and soldiers. They happened upon a village in the throes of celebration. The commoners had turned their town square into a dancing ring, and they all hopped and swung and spun each other around. Meat, a rarity for poorfolk such as these, was on display and there were torches and decorative bales of hay all around. He’d never been to something so… quaint, and ended up stopping to join the party with the rest of his people.

xii. have they ever been in love?

Domeric has never been in love the way the stories say. However, he is quite fond of his betrothed.

xiii. what is their greatest achievement?

It was Domeric who pushed for his own engagement. He was not forced into it like so many others, and instead embraced this opportunity to bring more prestige and power to his dynasty. Calida Celtigar came from the richest family in the land, and she made a great match. It was his own plotting and pushing that led to his parents agreeing to the match. He’s quite proud of the entire thing, really.

xiv. what is their greatest failure?

A bit of blackmail gone wrong. Three years ago, at the age of twenty three, Domeric played his cards too heavily, and threatened a minor nobleman in the city of Eden with exposure. The noble was funding illicit poaching, and getting ahead of himself, Domeric propositioned the man before having concrete evidence in hand. He lost the upper hand when the nobleman killed his accomplices and ran away to a land overseas. He never did inform his mother about the poaching, or the noble, or his own part in it. Lest she see something in him that she would not like.

xv. is you character literate? if noble, did they tend to their watcher’s lessons or did they slack off? do they enjoy reading, or hearing stories?

Domeric is literate, and can both read and write in fancy, curling script. He fidgeted through his lessons much as any small child might, but ultimately he paid attention to his watcher. He prefers to read over listening to stories. He reads faster than others can speak, so he would just prefer to do it himself.

#domeric #domeric.prompt #domeric.prompt001

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stillness-in-green · 4 years

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Changeling: The League (1/3)

Being some errant nerdery combining two things I love very much into one thing that is exponentially more nerdy than either thing on its own: My Hero Academia villains as Changeling: the Lost characters!

This will(/should) be a series of three posts containing some mid-length write-ups on the League of Villains, the Metahuman Liberation Army, and some odds-and-ends on other characters/alternate takes.

Some prelude: The most prominent question that kept coming up as I was brainstorming the write-ups below was, “Is this retelling the story of My Hero Academia using Changeling: The Lost’s mechanics and world, or is this exploring Changeling: The Lost’s themes using the My Hero Academia cast?” Would these versions of the characters be NPC villains in Izuku’s story, opponents (or possibly eventual allies) in some grand, epic clash between Heroes and Villains as begun with All Might and All for One? Would it be the story of a corrupt system, pulled down by the PC group that was Shigaraki and his motley? I had ideas for both, but in the end, I decided that, rather than oblige myself to the MHA canon, I was ultimately more interested in just letting the implied “story” focus on the League and their histories of loss, trauma and recovery, so that’s the spirit in which these are written. (Though things do get a bit plottier when their story intersects with the MLA’s.)

Lastly, these are, of course, completely AU, but if you don’t know who the Liberation Army is, you’re probably still going to trip over manga spoilers, so be mindful.

First, let me lay down some backstory! Specifically, the story of All for One, One for All, and the lives they drew into their story...

THE PROLOGUE

There is a realm in Faerie inhabited by a pair of binary-matched Fae, All for One and One for All, styling themselves as warring brothers. They’ve been fighting for many long generations, each in their own fashion. All for One has tended to keep his power mostly within himself, employing many underlings, but sharing his power with very few of them. One for All, conversely, has shared most of himself with a succession of users, and in each generation, the pair clashes, with OFA not very "present" for the battles (and thus at less risk), while AFO is able to bring more of himself to the fights. Before each battle, each user of OFA would be "freed" for a period to find and designate a successor (who would inevitably go missing a few weeks later), before returning for the battle. They often did this with deeply tormented feelings, but saw little escape from the pattern. Each one hoped that they might be the one strong enough to break the cycle, as OFA told them each time was a possibility--patterns grow stronger for being repeated, after all--but none of them was able to do so until recently. Toshinori Yagi refused to designate a successor, and finally, for his stubbornness, was recalled to do battle without one--without having passed even a fragment of OFA's power on, he was finally able to defeat AFO.

In his defeat, AFO was cast out from Faerie. He had little memory of who and what he was, but retained a sense for fae matters and a limited grasp on his powers. He spent the next several years setting up shop in the local freehold, dabbling with Spring and Autumn Court matters as his fancy took him, and racking up a fair amount of renown with the latter in particular when the former found him too ruthless, and not only with humans. One day, though, he stumbled across what would eventually become his way home--a little boy who felt startlingly familiar, black-haired with a mole on his chin. AFO struck up a friendship, and when he eventually met the boy's father, things began to click into place--he knew this family because he once fought their matriarch, and that connection was the key to his return. As he was once defeated by this bloodline bearing his brother's power, for his rise, he had to defeat someone of the bloodline--but he couldn’t just do it straight out. With his brother, there were pacts in play, old bargains and arrangements. He couldn’t just waltz in and kill Shimura Kotaro.

One of them needed to ask.

THE LEAGUE

Here are the League roughly as we might find them when they’ve been out long enough to build a motley, solidify their bonds somewhat, and start taking on bigger, toothier problems. All have 7 dots of Contracts except Shigaraki, who has a modest leader bump. Just assume he’s been out doing some level-grinding the others haven’t.

Shigaraki Tomura

Quote: “There’s always a win condition.”

Type: Gameplayer Wizened. A trophy/souvenir of AFO’s time on Earth, Tomura survived a durance filled with little but tests in the guise of games. Survival, combat, endurance, manual dexterity, reaction time, strategy, academics, even odd trivia--he learned them all under his Keeper’s tutelage, in preparation for the next battle with his brother's champion (AFO having seen that his brother's way of doing things has its merits). Tomura grew up believing himself responsible for his family's deaths (though he's blocked most of the specifics, he knows in his gut that he's responsible somehow) and watching the realm celebrate the champion who'd defeated Tomura’s Keeper, but who hadn't done a thorough enough job to prevent the cycle from resetting after all.

Toshinori, for his part, initially had no idea that AFO had returned with a child, a new champion. But he did know that AFO had returned (the realms are connected enough that you can't really miss it), and so waited for the next battle with some impatience. He thought that he, perhaps, just hadn't done well enough, that he'd be more careful, more thorough next time. After all, patterns become stronger when they repeat. He doesn't truly understand that All for One can't be killed--not in Faerie, at least--and so there will be no end to the cycle as it stands. Eventually, he got tired of waiting and sought out AFO on his own--and was shocked to find a kid, just a kid, where he expected to find AFO. AFO did not think Shigaraki was ready for this yet, and was not prepared to watch several years' worth of effort and his cute keepsake get slaughtered (and he probably would have been; Shigaraki could have all the lives he wanted in training, but an official battle against the sanctioned bearer of OFA would have been different), so he ejected Shigaraki from Faerie and fought the battle himself. As to what happened afterwards, Shigaraki has no way to know, but the gradual return of various other servants of AFO may eventually begin to shed some light on the subject…

Shigaraki is, when his story truly begins, still figuring out his current game--outside of Arcadia, second chances are harder to come by--but he’s a sore loser and a quick learner, so he never stays down for long, and he’s already made a friend in Toga, who he met in his escape from the Hedge. He still has very ambivalent feelings about his Keeper, which makes him something of an outlier amongst changelings, who typically feel only terror and loathing for the Others that upended their lives and scarred them in ways that will never--can never--fully heal. No one, including Shigaraki, has quite realized his connection to the Emperor of Darkness who caused so much havoc in the freehold when he escaped back to Faerie five years ago. Likewise, Tomura’s fetch, only ten years old, is still in a mental care unit in juvie for the murders of the Shimura family, but dealing with that mess will have to wait until Shigaraki can stomach the idea of even looking at that version of himself.

Tomura looks much as he does in canon, thin and covered with scratching and scarring. Behind his tousled white hair, though, his red eyes gleam and flicker as if they’re forever reflecting the dancing lights of a screen. His masked form has black hair rather than white, and eyes the color of dark, old rust.

Court/Mantle: Autumn, the season of fear. Shigaraki’s entire durance threatened him always with the fear of failure (and the fear of the consequences of failure), and he himself would rather intimidate than charm, but he also shares the Leaden Mirror’s inquisitiveness and discerning eye. As such, even when he first emerged from the Hedge, it was with a strong Autumn mantle, and it’s only grown stronger over time. He’s often trailed by dead, desiccated brown leaves, and Hedge foliage that’s in his presence for any length of time visibly begins to wither--but his mantle flares up even more when he’s being actively combative. Chilly, dry bursts of air can wring involuntary chills from those on the receiving end of his wide grins and dire promises. When he’s feeling more playful, one can sometimes see small flickers of light in the shape of unknown words or hear odd little strains of music from unrecognizable (albeit somewhat tinny) instruments.

Contracts:

Fleeting Autumn I. He’s not so concerned with becoming some kind of symbol of fear that he’s pursued this Contract very much, but it never hurts to get an idea of what your opponent’s afraid of.

Eternal Autumn I-III. It takes time, glamour expenditure, and good dice rolls, but he can kill people this way, withering them down to nothing. Conversely, he can also make plants bear fruit. It’s occasionally useful.

Hours I. He’s figured out how to consciously botch the activation of this clause so as to decay the targeted object instead of restoring it. It usually works, but sometimes randomly backlashes onto him instead, causing him injury--the bigger the object, the worse the damage. The Wyrd doesn’t like being toyed with.

Lucidity I-IV. Clarity is a fluid, malleable thing for Shigaraki, which can make him extremely frightening--he can thank his Keeper’s lessons in control. With this series of Contracts, Shigaraki can and does laugh off the kinds of deeds that would make other changelings quail back in fear of what their own minds would do to them in the aftermath. He can also be shockingly perceptive for someone who by rights should have terrible trouble distinguishing the boundaries between Real and Unreal, Self and Other. However, his use of these powers does make him somewhat mercurial and difficult to predict, even to his motley, as derangements come and go with the artificial inflation or drain of his Clarity. It’s a downward slope, but one he’s taking more slowly than would otherwise be the case.

(Hypothetical Powered-Up Shigaraki: Adds two 5-dot Goblin Contracts, Blood-Binding and The Fatal Transformation. Be it the power of glamour or the breath of life itself, if Shigaraki wants an enemy drained and is willing to pay his pound of flesh, Goblin magic will provide. It’s a good thing he’s got friends to back him up, as both of these powers leave him in a pretty vulnerable state.)

Toga Himiko

Quote: “I met someone cute today. Don’t wait up!”

Type: Mirrorskin/Leechfinger dual kith Darkling. Toga served her durance in the chrome-tinted underbelly of a glass-and-brass dystopia full of mirrors, learning to steal life as easily as she stole food, and to slip from one form to another to keep ahead of everyone who’d chase her down for doing it. More free than she’d been in her old life, to be sure, but still not free to truly do as she pleased, she dreamed of being able to hunt people down the way she’d been hunted down, with no one to answer to for it. In time, she managed her escape and, on her path back through the Hedge, crossed paths with Tomura--distraught, lost, but still with plenty of fight left in him. Each decided that the other was dangerous but sympathetic enough to be a better ally than an enemy, and they teamed up to find their way back to the real world.

Back in that real world, Toga is learning to put herself back together. Getting back home only to find something waiting there wearing her face was a shock to her system, but after some agonizing (and a bloodbath in her parents’ kitchen), she’s decided it’s for the best. If going back to being that girl means giving up the amazing psychic buffet the world now presents her, it’s not even a debate.

Toga in her masked form is dark of hair and eye, a school girl with a wide smile and swift, excitable hands. In her true form, everything bleeds paler--she’s china white, even her hair turning paler than flaxen fiber, most of her features seeming somehow insubstantial except for the long points of her teeth and the gas lamp yellow of her eyes.

Court/Mantle: Spring, the season of desire. Toga, more than anyone in the motley, has embraced the fact that she wants things now that she never would have before, that she has desires that no human would ever understand. And why not? She doesn’t kill people, after all; she just likes to taste. The air around her is always infused with heady floral scents, and when she walks, phantom flowers trail up behind her. Hemlock and cypress vine, spider lilies and nightshade--all lovely, to be sure, but the language of flowers does give her away.

Contracts: Everything about Toga’s Contracts heightens her skills as a predator, and she’s unquestionably the best in the group at it.

Mirror I-II. Allows her to shape her form with more specificity and finesse.

Darkness I-II. Makes her targets more suggestible.

Fleeting Spring I-III. Lets her pinpoint what her targets want so that she can shape those wants or her reflection of them as needed.

Bubaigawara Jin

Quote: “Nothing’s too much for my friends!”

Type: Truefriend Beast. Jin’s human life didn’t differ much from his canonical backstory, minus the super power, but went drastically off course when he was hunted down--even on a motorcycle, hunted down!--by a monster on horseback and the various other monsters tumbling before it. His changeling life consisted of one cage, one chase after another, and while most of the people around him were shaping themselves into being better vessels for coursing, baying, sharp-toothed menace, what Jin most wanted was the pack solidarity. His Keeper thought this was funny but not a very useful trait in a hunting hound, so they started taking him to dog fights instead, hoping to scour the excess sweetness off of him. Lacking a pack to stay for, he escaped, but the wanting for one never left him.

Toga basically tripped over him his first night out, and her kindness then meant he was more than happy to follow her home. He later made the acquaintance of Mr. Compress and Magne on a bar crawl and, wanting all of his friends to be friends together, introduced them to Shigaraki and Toga. He’s also trying to make friends with his fetch, who is finding the whole experience of having a clone pop up at him at unexpected times to be unbelievably disorienting and nerve-wracking. Which one of them is the real one, anyway…?

His mask looks much as Jin does in canon, though his scars are in different places. In mien, he always looks a bit rumpled, with short, sandy brown fur and bright, emotive eyes. He’s dog-eared (literally), one alert, the other floppy, and his hands have stubby, darkened nails. Unbelievably expressive and more overtly doggish body language--he didn’t keep a tail in his flight back through the Hedge, but people tend to remember him as having one anyway.

Court/Mantle: Courtless. Jin’s too mixed up in his own emotions to pick just one to focus on. He likes the idea of Spring, but he’s also skeptical that just wanting is enough to keep people safe, and that fear is rooted deep. He’s also not without his old sorrows. Of the High Court emotions, wrath is his rarest visitor.

Contracts:

Fang & Talon (Dogs) I-III. Jin’s got an undeniable rapport with dogs. He loves them and they love him. There’s practically no mutt he can’t get some words out of if he asks nice. He’s also still got a hunting hound’s nose, when he needs it.

Hearth I-II. Deeply dedicated to his friends, the Contracts of Hearth make advancing the goals of the motley (or hurting the chances of their enemies) even easier.

Eternal Spring I. Easier to be a people-pleaser when you know what pleases people! Toga taught him this one.

Moon I. It’s good to know what people want, but it’s also good to know what kind of crazy people (fetches especially) might be sitting on. This one also helps the group nail down where Shigaraki’s head is at on any given day.

Spinner

Quote: “What a mess. Where are we even going with this?”

Type: Steepscrambler Beast. Spinner spent, by his best reckoning, four years in a Faerie jungle. It was always sweltering, sickbed heat with air so wet you could choke on it, and after a few close calls with the serpentine river dragons and over-large birds of prey that prowled the place, he’d all but given up trying to search for a way out--the sea of trees just went on forever anyway. A long-tongued madman named Stain convinced him otherwise, with talk of hidden trods and clues found in the bellies of gutted fish. When Stain went missing, Spinner resolved to try again, and though he can no longer remember the method of it, whatever he did seems to have worked. He got back to his shitty hometown, but found it just as bad as ever, if not worse, with a fetch still cooped up in his old bedroom, spiralling ever further into depression. And so, fed up with the state of his life and the apathy his fetch reflected back at him, he did something that very few changelings are capable of doing--he left home.

Finding his way to the nearest big city with a proper freehold, Spinner gravitated to the Summer Court and got set up with an apartment in a small complex the freehold maintains for newbies to stay in while they get their feet under them. Not too long after, Shigaraki and Toga wandered into a Summer recruitment drive, with Shigaraki immediately managing to get on Spinner’s nerves--which made it all the more exasperating when Spinner went home and found the both of them moving into the apartment next door to his! Spinner’s still trying to figure out what he thinks of the mercurial and difficult Shigaraki, but they have been bonding over video games of late.

Spinner’s mask is a sun-darkened young man with a prominent nose and a thin, terse mouth. He’s straight-backed but with a certain nerviness in his eyes, a stance that suggests he’s ready to throw the first punch. He has a street punk look--pointy fingernails and pink hair--that people without the sight to know better assume is achieved with a nail file and hair dye. His mask looks exactly like canon!Spinner with one exception--changeling!Spinner has ears. They’re pointy, green and finely-scaled, but otherwise normal humanoid ears and they make his face look just a little wider and more humanoid than canon!Spinner’s lizard profile.

Court/Mantle: Summer, the season of wrath. Spinner’s angry about a lot of things--the state of the world, the injustices served to his motley and the wrongs of his life in particular--but he’s also wrestling with a lot of self-loathing. It’s easy for him to slip into fatalistic thoughts and get mired down in apathy, and every time he thinks he’s gotten past it, someone or something comes along that throws him off, and then before he knows it he’s back on the ground wondering how he’s ever going to get past this. Leaning into Summer’s hot anger helps keep him focused. His mantle is relatively weak, tending to manifest as a warm, dry wind only when he’s particularly fired up or activating Court contracts.

Contracts: Spinner’s well-rounded, but that’s because he has a hard time settling on anything. His ridiculous spread of Contracts illustrates this.

Den I-II. Not interested in leaning into his animal instincts and learning to talk to lizards, Spinner has instead leaned into possessive territorialism. Unfortunately, he still feels like a small fish, so it’s hard to muster up the swagger that would allow him to progress this Contract further.

Fleeting Summer I. Need to pick a fight and score some quick glamour? This is the clause for you! Just make sure Dabi’s not around; that guy’s angrier than the whole rest of the motley put together and it skews the readings.

Eternal Summer I. Makes Spinner a walking thermostat. Yes, sometimes Toga and Mr. Compress take advantage.

Oath & Punishment I. There’s a certain capital-R romance to this Contract that Spinner likes, but he’d need to find something (or someone) to whole-heartedly devote himself to first. At least he can do sick parkour jumps in the meantime.

Artifice I. Temporary repair magic. Handy around the house and when you fight with cheap knives.

Dream I. Useful facts about the local Hedge and he’s generally content to leave it at that--he doesn’t have a lot of use for dream-spinning, not when Magne’s so good at it.

Dabi

Quote: “You’re mad, huh? So what are you gonna do about it?”

Type: Gravewight Darkling. Once upon a time, there was a barren couple who wished desperately for children. For many years, it was only a wish, until Todoroki Enji finally found someone who offered him a solution. Nine months later, Todoroki Touya was born, to be followed by a string of children, each haler and heartier than the last. Seven years later, the firstborn child was taken away in the night. No fetch was left behind--after all, the Other was only claiming the price they’d been promised. Fifteen years after that, a changeling calling himself Dabi dragged himself out of the Hedge, having spent most of his life lighting funeral pyres and digging graves in Faerie until he dug his way out.

Dabi fell in with the rest of the League motley after being found by Magne after a fight went sideways. She patched him up and offered him a group to run around with for a while rather than doing the solo act. He accepted, but his pledges with the rest of the group are a bit different--more paranoid, less supportive. Dabi is distant from the motley, and only time will tell if he eventually lets them in or not.

In mask, Dabi’s a beanpole, wild black hair and bright blue eyes with a caustic grin, skulking about in a succession of black coats and heavy, workmanlike boots. In mien, he’s even taller, a too-thin gaunt with great swatches of skin burned away by restless soul-fires, which still cling and flicker blue around his hands. His skin fits him a bit too loose, and he wears staples to keep it all in place.

Court/Mantle: Summer, the season of wrath. Could it ever be anything else? Rather stronger than Spinner’s mantle, Dabi’s manifests as heat distortions in the air around him and, when he’s particularly riled up, blasts of hot air like you’d get opening up a hot oven. He has some trouble advancing in the Court proper, though, as he prefers to only fight battles he knows he can win. He feels, all the time, sick with rage, but until he proves willing to make stands even when the odds are against him, the Iron Spear’s time for him will be limited.

Contracts:

Shade & Spirit I. If he’s going to see ghosts around all the time anyway, he might as well be able to talk to them. They’re only sporadically helpful, but as a skeleton in the closet himself, he has some fellow feeling for them.

Elements (Fire) I-III. He brought fire with him out of Faerie, but it’s a difficult thing for him to master, foreign to his seeming despite sometimes feeling as if it’s nestled in his very bones.

Fleeting Summer I-II. Dabi’s much at home with wrath, and very willing to shape it to his own ends. Whether or not he sticks around for them, he likes starting fights.

Punishing Summer I. An odd branch of Summer magic, but one that he feels has some promise for him. Compared to the more straightforwardly righteous Contract of Eternal Summer, this feels harsher, longer-burning, and that sings to him in ways he finds very appealing.

Mr. Compress

Quote: “If we’re going to break the law, why shouldn’t we do it in style?”

Type: Larcenist Fairest. A simple stage magician of modest fame once upon a time, right up until he was offered a promising and lucrative gig by a stranger who thought he deserved a better stage for his talents. The stage in this case turned out to be--well, you can guess. His client (Keeper) wanted things stolen--they seemed to enjoy the taste of things ill-gotten--and there was always some new diamond or painting or antique. Sako’s time in Faerie (which he came to share with Magne) was like a string of heist films: glamorous and bubbly and thrilling, but the underside was rife with lurid, impossible violence waiting on the slightest error, the stakes always seemed to be climbing, and of course you could never say no… But one thing you can say for heist films is that they always allot a proper amount of time for planning, and so over time Sako and the others planned their last heist--the one to steal themselves into freedom. If asked, Sako will tell a dozen different stories about how it went, but the truth is his memories are fuzzy, and the only thing he knows for sure is that he and Magne emerged from the Hedge alone.

Sako’s a bit disjunctioned in time--many more years have passed in the real world than he spent in Faerie, and he spent a good many years in Faerie. His fetch washed up in a nursing home in the meantime, riddled with palsy and Alzheimer’s, and though Sako is not by habit or preference a violent man, the sight of it filled him with a primal loathing. And it’s so easy, in an overcrowded environment, to make a mistake with a dosage… Sako still has a piece of the detritus left over, just to remind himself of how his story could have ended, and how determined he is to not let such a future come to pass.

In his mask, Mr. Compress (well, he needed a new stage name) is a handsome, auburn-haired man in his forties who gestures constantly, frequently toying with a short white cane, and speaks in refined if somewhat dated language in a rich, theatrical voice. He always dresses a bit more nicely than he needs to, preferring clothes with hidden pockets and long sleeves, and is rarely without a hat to flourish. His mien mostly serves to heighten all of that--he becomes impossibly graceful and compelling, his voice catching the ear like a song, and his clothes are revealed to be Hedgespun, the feather in his hat belonging to no bird an ornithologist could name, the buttons on his coat and the stone accentuating his bolo tie shifting slowly in pattern and shade the longer you watch, and the cane almost certainly a low-level token of some kind. The most eye-catching thing, though, is the mask--he wears a white mask that always seems to have a different pattern on it, though it never moves while you’re looking directly at it. He doesn’t seem able to actually remove it all the way, though he can slide it around enough to eat or theatrically squint or blink his eyes (dark and bewitchingly expressive). If it’s forcefully pulled off, it’s only to reveal another one beneath it--though he’ll complain that it stings and ask you to refrain.

Court/Mantle: Autumn, the season of fear magic! Mr. Compress didn’t come out of the Hedge with a particular Court affinity, but he was drawn towards Autumn like a compass needle finding true north. He’s only a limited interest in fear (though his response to his fetch shows that he has his share of it), but he’s endlessly fascinated by the ins-and-outs of faerie magic. Trinkets, tokens, pledge-craft--if it’s a clever trick, he’s interested. His mantle shows as pops and starbursts of light, and frequently as a cool, trailing mist about his feet.

Contracts: The only person in the group more focused than Toga.

Separation I-IV. Escape magic fit for Houdini himself. If it looks like Compress is locked up or restrained, it’s almost only certainly because he’s allowing himself to be.

Forge I-III. Sleight of hand is even more impressive when you’re using magic! Extremely convenient for those times when he needs a passable ID or a house key he does not in fact own.

Magne

Quote: “Take it easy, honey. I’ll handle it.”

Type: Metalflesh Elemental. Magne was a criminal before she was a changeling, and it was in that capacity that she--like Mr. Compress--fell prey to an offer that should have been too good to be true. The heist team needed a bit more muscle, is the thing; they were getting caught too often without a good combatant. And so came Magne, given a sturdier body (that could, incidentally, meld through safe walls when necessary) through processes she only remembers in her nightmares. An odd thing happened with her, though--what Magne felt the pull of in Faerie was less the element she became and more the stuff of Arcadia itself. Where her Keeper expected her to become hard as steel, instead she embraced dream conjury; where she was instructed to protect the rest of her band, that protection took the form of healing as often as it did squaring up for a fight. It’s hard to argue with the results, though--Magne is a fierce and stubborn defender of any group that wins her loyalty.

Currently in a live-and-let live relationship with her fetch--she feels a bit sorry for the poor creature, and would rather see her find a way to break free of the image she was forged in and make her own path than kill her. It’s painful to be around her, though, so while Magne’s willing to extend some help from a distance, she would rather the fetch keep her distance. Time will tell if her fetch--who has her own desires and very much shares Magne’s willingness to bust some heads over them--is prepared to abide by this.

Magne in mask looks much as she does in canon, though she can afford nicer clothes. Her preference for butch presentation is unchanged, but the jeans are designer and the shirts elaborate silk prints. She has a collection of fetching sunglasses for any occasion. Her mien is a gleaming ochre bronze, flesh hard and smooth, her hair (a bit darker in color than the rest of her) always a bit stiff but, on the other hand, difficult to muss. Her body is in all ways a more chiselled, more perfected version of the body she went into Arcadia with, which Magne has mixed but overall relieved feelings about. The flesh-to-metal transition her Keeper forced on her was bad enough; whyever would she trust the Others with gender affirmation?

Court/Mantle: Spring, season of desire growth. Magne’s desire is to never be held down by any sort of repression or expectation forced on her by others (the Others in particular), and this pride drew her strongly to the Antler Crown. While she doesn’t exhibit the flowing, graceful beauty so prized in women of the Emerald Court, her passion for self-expression and her unstinting support of those fumbling their way towards the same has certainly won her her share of admirers. Magne’s mantle takes the form of fresh-scented air and pleasant breezes. She doesn’t leave flowers where she walks, but you can sometimes find ivy where her hands have been.

Contracts:

Dream I-III. By leaps and bounds the most talented dream-weaver in the motley, Magne’s oneiromancy is light-hearted and nonjudgmental while her oneiromachy is formidable. Everyone in the motley can soothe one another’s nightmares, but Magne is the best at it. She usually has at least one or two dream-task pledges active with mortals, too, so she rarely struggles to keep her glamour reserves--or her wallet--full.

Elements (Metal) I. Magne’s retained only the minimum level of connection with the metal she was forged from; in truth, her body is less important to her than what she does with it.

Eternal Spring I-III. Easing fatigue, curing wounds, and even bringing in a gentle rain--Magne’s deeply in touch with the rejuvenative aspects of her Court.

BONUS TIDBITS:

Shigaraki experienced more deaths in Faerie than any other member of his motley. After all, you might know the cheat code for unlimited lives, but that doesn’t mean you never die. And it did feel like death, every time. Of course, sometimes failure just meant Sensei shaking his head and Being Disappointed. That still felt a bit like dying too, though.

Over the course of her durance, Toga had more than one knife fight with a cyber hero adventurer hunting through the city’s underbelly looking for a power core. Also, changeling!Toga is much less murderous than canon!Toga because if she were as murderous as canon!Toga, Clarity loss would rapidly render her unplayable.

Spinner was pulled into the motley over a planned playdate heist to see how well Shigaraki and Toga could work as a unit with Mr. Compress and Magne. Being very familiar with heist stories by that time, Sako and Magne decided the group needed one more guy to provide muscle, and as it happened, Shigaraki and Toga lived next door to just such a one.

I have not decided on whether the Todoroki family are a mundane equivalent of the way we see them in canon, all deeply damaged by Endeavor’s ceaseless drive to fulfill his goals by way of his children, or whether they’re actually pretty normal and well-adjusted with the exception of Enji’s one dark secret. Either way, Natsuo is the only one who has any inkling that there was anything “off” about Touya’s death/disappearance. He has no inkling of the truth, obviously, but he always felt that Enji didn't react quite the right way to Touya's death, or thought Enji was behaving suspiciously on the night Touya vanished.

The League’s basic motley pact includes the dreaming pledge, so they frequently take mental voyages into one another’s dreamscapes to clear out the nightmares and indulge in silly, impossible-in-reality lucid dreaming adventures. The exception is Dabi, who would rather have nightmares than people in his head.

Mr. Compress doesn’t jokingly call himself an old man anymore because he’s too traumatized by finding out what he’d actually be like in old age.

Shigaraki, while beginning the story in a fairly ambivalent, uncertain place, eventually finds his way towards a goal of helping to free loyalists--from their hopeless circumstances, from their learned helplessness, from their starstruck adoration. He finds this goal over the course of his late-game encounters with Kurogiri, Gigantomachia, and Re-Destro, and it is through helping them that he’s finally able to begin to process his own feelings of attachment and affection towards his Keeper. It may well be that the fetch of Shimura Tenko is Shigaraki’s final boss.

#bnha #shigaraki tomura #toga himiko #bubaigawara jin #iguchi shuuichi #dabi #sako atsuhiro #bnha magne #bnha spinner #mr. compress #league of villains #changeling: the league #changeling: the lost #my writing

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megashadowdragon · 4 years

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on lukes moment of weakness and how it is fitting for luke among other comments

Personally I TOTALLY believe that George's Luke would have been VERY similarly to Rian's Luke.

And here is the reason why.... Luke has almost always been George's insert (lucas pronunced luke S ) and it makes total sense for Luke to be "exiled" and secluded away just as George became with Star Wars after the backlash of the prequels. But at the end of it, he comes back and stands up for what makes Star Wars what it is. Which is what Luke does for the Jedi and themes of Star Wars by the end of TLJ. He has learned from his mistakes, atoned for them, found redemption, confronted those he has failed, inspired hope, and learned to show compassion once again.

Now while George may have done it differently, I do believe that Luke being in exile was a metaphor for George's own relationship with Star Wars and its fandom.

www . reddit . com/r/StarWars/comments/ebb4f3/lukes_momentaneous_thought_of_killing_ben_solo/

I know I'm stepping on dangerous territory here by talking about The Last Jedi, and I only do this because I think this is an interesting take on a key moment of the movie. Just bear in mind that I do not intend to make my point-of-view the absolute truth of it. After all, this is just my opinion.

We all know very well how divisive Episode VIII was, with many people pationately hating that movie. One of the main reasons of complaint is the fact Luke Skywalker had attempted to kill his apprentice and nephew, Ben Solo, because he sensed the Dark Side to be too strong in the latter. Luke Skywalker, the only person in the entire galaxy that saw there was still light in Darth Vader, tried to kill his relative. When even Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda had lost all hope Anakin could be saved, Luke helped putting him on the path of redemption, helping Vader turn back to the Light and fulfill the prophecy of the Chosen One. It seems to be an insult that this same character gave up on his nephew so easily and tried to kill him.

I believe things must be analyzed more carefully.

I've just finished marathoning the Skywalker Saga (by the way, I STRONGLY recommend the Ersnt Rister order: IV-V-I-II-III-VI) and noticed something very interesting while watching Return Of The Jedi.

During the final moments of Luke and Vader's duel aboard the Death Star II, we see the young Jedi Knight wants to avoid fighting his father so as not to fall in the trecharous web of Palpatine, who wants to turn the young Skywalker to the Dark Side. Luke is hiding beneath the Emperor's throne. Vader chases him and, through the Force, reads Luke's thoughts to lure him into confrontation:

You cannot hide forever, Luke. Give yourself to the Dark Side. It is the only way you can save your friends. Yes, your thoughts betray you. Your feelings for them are strong. Especially for... sister! So, you have a twin sister!

In this moment, we see Luke's face and he's completely terrified by the idea Darth Vader found out about his sister. It is something new and Luke fears for Leia's well-being. Also, we hear from Vader's words that he cares a lot about his friends, the people he loves. Vader continues:

Your feelings have now betrayed her too. Obi-Wan was wise to hide her from me. Now his failure is complete. If you will not turn to the Dark Side, THEN PERHAPS SHE WILL!

Now we have something different. Since he was brought before the Emperor, Luke had been constatly confronted by Palpatine and Vader with the idea of him turning to the Dark Side. When Vader talks about the possibility of that happening to Leia, it's not a threat directed to him, but to someone he loves. In this moment, Luke loses it completly and attacks Vader viciously, totally enraged. The Sith Lord can't stand the power of his son, fuelled by hate and falls to the ground, defeated. In this moment Luke is prepared to make the final blow, but then he hears Palpatine laughing and clapping. This makes him go back to his senses and realize what he's been doing. He then turns off his lightsaber and refuses to kill his father.

"I'm a Jedi, like my father before me" and so on... we know what happens, so let's fast-forward to The Last Jedi.

When Luke is confronted by Rey, who demands him to tell what had happened between him and Kylo Ren, we learn how things unfolded through Luke's perspective:

I saw darkness. I sensed it building in him. I'd seen it in moments during his training. But then I looked inside, and it was beyond what I ever imagined.

In this moment of the flashback we see Luke's hand reaching out to his lightsaber, almost unconsciously. He then proceeds:

. He would bring destruction and pain and death, AND THE END OF EVERYTHING I LOVE BECAUSE OF WHAT HE WILL BECOME, AND FOR THE BRIEFEST MOMENT OF PURE INSTINCT, I THOUGHT I COULD STOP IT.

Here it is again. Like in Episode VI, we see Luke reacting in a similar way by the notion of something posing a threat not to him, but to the people he loves and cares about. Luke feared Ben would destroy everything he cherished, just like Vader had threatened by turning Leia to the dark. And, just like in the OT, it was a passing shadow:

It passed like a fleeting shadow, and I was left with shame and with consequence. And the last thing I saw were the eyes of a frightened boy whose Master had failed him.

I've already written way more than I expected, so I'll just conclude here. I've realized the act Luke commits in the Sequels is the same (or at least VERY similar) as from the OT: he attempted to kill Vader then his nephew, out of fear of seeing what/who he loved destroyed. He repented and managed to stop himself in the act in both situations. And he was ashamed. So, at least regarding this point of the movie, I see the same Luke Skywalker.

(luke had more to lose now then he did before

another example which I saw dont remember where I saw it but I saved the comments unfortunately I didnt put in the links:

edit: (now I remember www . reddit . com/r/StarWars/comments/9a3hdl/)

Luke considered killing Ben for about two seconds in a vulnerable moment

Sort of like he almost got baited into killing Vader by a few mocking words, and cut the hand off his own father in blind rage.

Luke is still just a person. If we've learned anything in Star Wars it's that the Jedi are not superhuman paragons of virtue and perfection, no matter how they might appear to the unwashed masses in the SW universe. They have the same flaws, temptations, failures, etc as anyone else. Yes the Force can help them overcome some of this, but they're far from perfect. Luke could have, and I agree should have grown in a positive way, but it's not impossible or even unbelievable that he didn't. He just had his life's labor wiped out in front of him and blamed himself for it. All those years of finding lost Jedi knowledge and artifacts, being what he believed to be the last Jedi in the universe with the responsibility to restart the order on his shoulders alone. All those lives that he took under his protection and guidance as the Master of the new order, wiped out in one night. Because of him (at least in his mind). Everything he was working towards for years just totally undone in a few hours and it was all his fault.

So he leaves and says fuck the whole lot of it. He lives by himself, stews in his misery and regret, retreats into himself and rejects the most foundational principle of the whole concept of being a Jedi: to help people. He's the most powerful Force user alive and he's wasting away by himself on some desolate rock, swearing off the rest of the galaxy because he thinks that he's a failure, that he wasn't strong or good enough, that he can't win, that it's not even worth it to try anymore, and that even at the height of his wisdom and power, it was all undone, and by himself no less.

another comment

Stuff has changed, I mean he’s quicker to come to his senses. I wouldn’t call that his flaw though. His flaw is one of his greatest traits, his care for his friends and family. It’s a flaw cause it causes implusive actions, lashing out on Vader, leaving Yoda, a single thought that he could stop a horrible fate in Ben.

I personal struggle with a temptation in my life, a temptation to do something my faith says is wrong to do. I may have overcome it some days, but other days, whether the same circumstances or not, I might fall into it. Temptations are a constant battle, not a one and done thing. Flaws are similar, you don’t just grow past a flaw after one instance.

Because a day may come when you will brought face-to-face with that temptation or flaw again, but the circumstances will be different, and it won’t be so easy to overcome.

You mentioned Toy Story in a post, and that’s a decent example when it comes to one facet. Woody might not get jealous when another flashy toy comes along that gets more attention like Buzz did.

A better example of the nagging of a temptation, like Luke dealt with, is in Lord of the Rings. The Ring is a constant temptation to the bearer and those around them. At least by the film, Frodo may have resisted the urge to use it under the tree, but he still was tempted to use it at other times, and it was a constant battle. Same with Bilbo. Bilbo held the ring for 60 years. And the temptation of it held him greatly. He drops the Ring in Bag End, letting it go. If he was viewed similarly to how people viewed Luke tossing the saber, that’d mean he freed himself from it’s grasp and from the temptation to take and use it. We see in Rivendell that isn’t the case for him. He has a moment of wanting to take it back, and even at the end of his time in Middle Earth, he inquires about it, although more innocently curious.

That would be more similar to Luke’s case. To fall to the dark is a constant temptation that Jedi should always be aware of, and if you get close at one point, there’s the possibility that it’ll happen again, and if you aren’t prepared or it comes in a different form, you’ll either fall or get really close.

That turned out longer than I meant it, but I see this idea and..it’s just not the case.

another comment

Just because you get older doesn't mean you necessarily get wiser and better.

Jedi are still people (and some aliens, but you get the meaning), and the prequels (and even the OT) showed that even the oldest and wisest among the Jedi were capable of mistakes and misjudgments.

I think it's unreasonable to assume Luke should have become incapable of making, or even repeating mistakes and succumbing to emotion.

Right because people only get better as they get older and we grow past our flaws and doubts permanently right?

You guys are weird.

Luke overcame that moment of doubt before he almost struck Vader down and you think what ....... Luke got some kind of videogame like powerup where that character flaw would never come back again?

Some of you have a very black and white (boring) opinion on life and human growth.

Spoiler: People have flaws, we don't all overcome those flaws.Your boy Luke is no exception.

Consider what nearly proved to be his downfall in Return of the Jedi: for all the Emperor's taunting about the Rebel Alliance's imminent demise, it was Darth Vader who finally pushed his Berserk Button by discovering that Leia was his twin sister and suggesting that if Luke didn't change sides, he and his master might have better luck turning her. Then, when Luke went berserk, it totally worked: he curb-stomped Darth Vader and still didn't go evil in the end. His father's killing off the Emperor also put an end to a whole lot of the Empire's evil and birthed the New Republic.

Flash forward thirty years, and once again someone is threatening everyone and everything Luke loves, and killing the guy would surely preempt a whole lot of trouble. In his heart of hearts, he doubtless remembers what Yoda taught him about how easy and seductive the Dark Side is, but he also remembers how Yoda's mistake of hiding the truth about his lineage from him nearly brought his downfall. He also remembers how killing the Emperor solved so many problems the way he'd better not try to solve them this time... Well, what's so tempting about that?

Luke had more to lose at this time. He knew what a relatively free, peaceful Galaxy looked like, and had other students to care for besides Ben. Instinctively, he was acting out of concern for them. Luke makes an important point when he gives Rey the truth: it is a split second. Luke is a hero, but he's human. He was impulsive and acted on instinct in his youth, so the fear of Ben turning is enough to push him to the edge for a second.

hopeforben . tumblr . com/post/623000635980333056/theres-a-significant-portion-of-the-fandom-that/embed

@emeraldspiral

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#star wars #star wars the last jedi #luke skywalker #star wars meta

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