#86
Being a hero is stressful. That much is common knowledge. How a hero goes about unwinding from said stress is a mystery no one has yet figured out.
The hero settles in one of the little chairs in the circle. The man next to her gives her a light nudge. “Let’s see what you made this week, then.”
The hero reaches into her bag to show off her latest stress relief—a giant blanket, knitted in the downtime between jobs, sporting a rainbow of colours in bright streaks across its face. Everyone oohs and ahhs appropriately before the rest of the circle gets to showing off their own creations.
It’s been nice to have a place that isn’t entirely consumed by work, the hero thinks as she nods approvingly at someone’s mug cosy. No worrying about tomorrow, no wondering where the villains might be.
Her gaze flits to the next person in line to show something off, and her heart momentarily stops as she meets her eye. At least she doesn’t have to worry about the latter of her thoughts right now.
What the hell is the villain doing at the hero’s weekly knitting club?
“Go on,” the woman next to the villain prompts. The villain huffs and makes a show of it, but she pulls out a cardigan with a ghost of a pleased smirk.
The hero only realised why she’s so self-satisfied when she catches herself gaping in awe. The villain’s little cardigan is elaborate in pattern, swooping waves lining its shoulders. The yarns meld together in a perfect cacophony of colour. It’s amazing, more amazing than anything the hero could do.
The villain soaks in the praise with a humble nod before setting her gaze on the hero. It probably looks hopeful to anyone else, but the hero can see the glitter of arrogance in her eye. Go on, the villain’s practically saying, tell me how great I am.
“It’s nice,” the hero says through gritted teeth, and the villain’s smile turns humoured.
The hero can’t leave fast enough. Everyone else is packing their projects away. The hero’s blanket gets folded thankfully easily and she’s out the door before anyone can stop her.
Fine. A new project. Something to advance her skills and show the villain that she’s not the hot shit she thinks she is.
It takes all week. The hero holds her jumper up to show the group. The villain raises her eyebrows from across the circle.
“Inspired by another knitter here,” the hero says with what could almost be sarcasm, and the villain snorts a poorly contained laugh.
The villain shows off her creation. A pair of mittens, the patterns lacy and the colours bright. The hero scowls. Pissed doesn’t describe the feeling.
Next week. A layered scarf from the hero. The villain wins everyone’s affections with a tiny knitted elephant. “For my niece’s birthday,” the villain says innocently. “She loves them.”
Leaving is becoming more of a race with each passing week. “Keep trying,” the villain comments brightly before the hero can escape. “You’ve plenty of room to improve.”
The hero considers strangling the villain with her scarf.
The hero settles at her computer that evening with a scowl and a cup of hot chocolate, mentally prepared to prowl the internet for several hours for ideas on how to one-up the villain. It’s madness. She’s meant to be out there kicking the villain’s ass, and here she is trying to out-knit her.
It’s been three weeks, and she’s only just realising that her stress-relieving hobby is suddenly a lot more stress-inducing.
“Fuck,” she hisses outloud, and she momentarily considers the idea of knitting the word into a coaster for the villain too.
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imagine you're luce, and you're born the heir to a mafia family. you're mafia-born, and so of course also mafia-raised, and then also a donna-to-be. you're raised to be able to take on the role, to be good and capable at it, are taught to make one of your core beliefs about how the many must come before the few, because the family must always come first. you're going to be the donna, of course you must always prioritize the family above all else, it's your foremost and most important duty.
if caring about the few too comes at the price of the many, comes at the price of the family, is it even worth it? if the happiness gained from it comes at the price of a greater suffering for others, is there even any meaning to it, even if it's your happiness we're talking about? you understand, don't you?
you're not sure if you do, but you care about your family, love it, want to do right by it once you become their donna, so you nod, listen and learn.
(you don't have to be taught the pain and loss and guilt and anger and bitterness is a fair price to pay for the pain you decide has to be inflicted and the sacrifices you decide must be made, including by yourself. it's the least you could do, even.)
imagine you're luce, and the gift of foresight runs through your blood.
you would not call it a gift. you did not ask for it either. and you'll never come to see it as something wanted by you.
you can see the future, and it happened exactly as you saw it would, so of course it's exactly the way you wanted it to go. you can see the future, and it happened exactly as you saw it would, so of course you didn't care to try hard enough to change it. you saw the future before the shape of it had yet to be breathed into existence, and who's to say it didn't come into existence only because you saw it happen? you saw the future, and it happened worse than it had to for it.
you can see the future, but you still can't make it anything else than what it was always going to be. you can even make the visions happen at your will, but you still have no say on what you see or how much you see. you still can only be the witness of it before anyone else can.
it does mean double and longer the happiness sometimes, means relief and gratefulness and hope beyond words, and it'd be cruel of you to voice out loud your feelings for others to hear the many more times it means something else.
you can see the future, and it doesn't make it any kinder on you than on anyone else, does not give you any more power or control over it than anyone else, but at least you can see the future. you're given the time to make peace with it, to brace yourself for it, to bargain with it, to plead and beg and fight against it however desperately and hopelessly, even if in the end it still happens exactly as you saw it would.
(you can see the future, and it still doesn't hurt you any less than anyone else when it happens, but you don't expect anymore for anyone to hold you any less responsible for it anyway. it would be nice for someone to do it one day, but you understand.)
you can see the future, and you decide it's a kindness to both yourself and others to keep it for yourself as much as possible whenever you can.
imagine you're luce, and your family has this set of rings they've looked after and protected for as long as your family has existed. they're one set of three of the most important artifacts in the world, ones that help in safeguarding its existence and balance. they're duty, the very first one and the most important one your family was created for.
the pacifier around your mother's neck is duty too, and the most important and powerful artifact among twenty-one in safeguarding the world and its balance. it's been passed down in your family too, from mother to daughter. it's duty, but less tied to your family and much more to the blood running through your veins. it's a curse, in fact, as it demands heavy sacrifices the rings don't, and one that can only be tied to the blood running through your veins.
(your mother looks at you as if expecting some kind of reaction from you, and you can only wonder at which point you weren't supposed to see it as a given. duty and sacrifices have been one and the same for you for a long time now. is it even duty if it doesn't require any sacrifices from you?)
imagine you're luce, and your mother dies for duty. she's the donna, and so she dies for your family. she's the sky arcobaleno, and so she dies for the world. she's your mother, but she dies anyway, doesn't fight it either, even knowing she will leave you behind, even knowing she won't ever get to see what you look like all grown-up.
everywhere you look, duty stares back at you, from your mother and the pacifier around her neck, her love for your family and the life she gives up for it, her love for you and how she dies anyway while you're still only a child. duty, from your family members and how they die for you and kill for you, how they do both at your command, how their lives are in the palms of your hands and how they weigh only as much as you allow them to at a time. duty, from the knowledge your foresight gives you and the shackles tied to the blood running through your veins.
your mother's only duty while she lives too. she loves you, but she'd have had to give birth to you anyway even if she didn't. she loves you, but she still gave birth to you even knowing the kind of life you'd have to live, the kind of hands you'd inevitably end up with, the burdens she'd have to lay on your shoulders, passing them down from her own. because she loves you, she finds the resolve to raise you to be able to face all of it head-on and come out on top, but she'd have had to raise you much the same way anyway even if she didn't.
(she doesn't die for you, doesn't fight to be able to keep living with you, and this, too, is your mother surrendering to duty one last time.)
(you're so sick of it, so angry at it, so hateful and resentful against it. you're so stifled by it to the point you've stopped being able to breathe for a long time now. or you would have been if they had taught you how to face duty in this way too.
it's for the better they didn't. a silver lining, sparing you pain that isn't necessary for you to go through. everyone you turn to only teaches you how to keep holding your breath longer, and you listen and learn, obedient and dutiful as you've ever been.
you're grateful for it too. really, you are.)
everywhere you look, there's no room for you to so much as question any of it, let alone anything more. duty is commendable, something you ought to look up to and strive towards, strive to achieve. duty is the right thing to do. of course it is.
(you exhale a breath of relief that shakes you down to your very core.
thank god, it's at least the right thing to do.
you're grateful for it beyond words. really, you are.)
imagine you're luce, and before it even happens, you know the choice you'll make when climbing that mountain, when standing on top of it, when waiting for a bright light to shine down on you from above. you know the choice you'll make then, even when pregnant with your daughter.
it doesn't matter since how long you knew, be it years, months, days, hours or minutes before. all that matters is that before you can even contemplate the idea of making another choice and all its implications and possible consequences, before the thought can even come alive in your mind, you already know the choice you'll make.
(you can see the future, but just because you already saw it, it doesn't mean it's now set in stone.
you can see the future, but just because you're given the chance to fight to change it, it doesn't mean it still won't happen every bit like you saw it.
it doesn't mean it can't still happen even worse than how you first saw it happen because you fought to change it, no matter how already dreadful it originally was.)
imagine you're luce, and before it even happens, you know they'll be others with you standing on top of that mountain. you're the only one who'll know it before it happens.
(because you can see the future.
and oh, you did not ask for it.)
they're strangers, people you don't owe anything to. adults who choose to show up at the first meeting, and to show up to every following mission after that. the chosen seven, whose ambitions and prides lead them to walk the path of the seven strongest too once laid down in front of them.
you don't force their hands in making any of those choices for them. you're not responsible for any of them.
you become coworkers then, accomplices, your hands stained in blood to various extent, but now dipping in the same pool of blood as you strive towards the same goal together. you have each other's backs, learn each other's strengths and weaknesses, learn each other's personalities, likes and dislikes. you keep having to spend more time together as the missions keep coming your way.
inevitably, you come to care about them. even more damning, they come to care about you in return. enough so they'll look after your daughter even after what'll happen on top of that mountain. enough so they'll look after your granddaughter too, warmly and fondly enough she'll call one of them uncle.
you're still the only one who knows they'll stand together with you on top of that mountain, not knowing what'll happen on it like you do.
and you do care about them, you swear you do. really, you do.
(you care about them the same way your mother cared about you, and how she still raised you to have steel in you and be made of sharp edges you know how to use. you care about them the same way you care about your family, and how you still send them to their deaths as needed so the rest of your family you care about just the same can keep on living longer and safely. this is the only way you've had the chance to learn how to care and love.
duty and sacrifices have been one and the same for you for as long as you can remember. it doesn't matter at which point sacrifices came to mean love to you too.
and most of all, you love your daughter more than anything else in the world.)
imagine you're luce, and this is who you are. this is who you've been raised to be, the only way you've been given room to grow up to be. this is the life you've lived and the kind of life that has shaped you as the person you are now. this is what you've been taught and told is the best version of yourself you could have grown up to be. this is who you ended up being by what you've been taught and told are all the right choices to make.
you're still the only one who knows what is about to happen on top of that mountain. it hasn't happened yet. the fate of the world hangs on what'll happen on top of that mountain, the same world you'll have to give birth to your daughter in. the same daughter you're currently pregnant with.
now imagine you're luce, look me in the eye and tell me you'd know how to even form the thought of the possibility of there being any other choice to make. look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't look at the only choice in front of you, and know deep in your bones it's the only right choice to make. that it is right of you to make it. because it simply has to be.
(imagine you're luce, and you're not doomed by the narrative. of course, you're not.
why would you need to be when the narrative has painstakingly shaped you all your life to become its perfect, faithful and dutiful sacrificial lamb?
and then, imagine you're luce, and you're even grateful for it, so, so very grateful it held up its end of the bargain too.
truly, you are.)
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hey something for my muts rq.
i try to be friendly but my social battery is also extremely small. i like writing a lot, but it's just another truth that i'm simultaneously pretty antisocial and hate 1-1 convo most of the time. it stresses me out and obliterates my focus. i genuinely don't have a lot of patience for prodding or online small-talk and would genuinely prefer if people just either immediately got to the point with anything they wanted from me (plots or muses) or at least talked in the replies/thread tags/my inbox so i can get to things at my leisure, rather than constantly dm with live commentary and expect me to dm back on every single thing i receive.
i'm not trying to make things personal, and i'm likewise a zero expectation rper in return. i don't care if you don't talk to me through any kind of DM for months, idc if you're busy and aren't active on tumblr and don't rp with me for a year, but still have every genuine intention to pop into my askbox or vice versa once in a while. it's fine. we're adults with other hobbies and jobs and a lot of my extremely long-time mutuals are like that, and i appreciate them very much.
but i've had people get frustrated and passive aggressive with me because i'm slow or sometimes absent, either in dms or ic, and i feel the need to reiterate that not only do i frankly hate talking because it disrupts my focus, but i also do have weak eyes that strain and ache very easily in front of any kind of screen, so i only get a certain amount of imaginary 'hp' that i can choose to spend either chatting or writing, which, again, most of the time i'd prefer to do the latter. i'm not blaming anybody in particular for anything, and i do understand that some people worry there won't be a relationship if they don't maintain social contact, but it's not the case with me. i'm a social cactus, i barely need anything to survive.
so i guess what i'm saying is nobody be too upset if i tend to focus on ic over ooc when i'm around. ik people have differing opinions about rp and being around to 'make friends and not just write,' but in my case, while i don't want to ever come off as outright hostile or inhospitable, i do ask for people's understanding on this. i don't have a lot of time or social sanity to spare, please don't get upset, but also don't ever worry from your end. if we're still mutuals, i promise my interest in you.
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