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hunterofthemist · 3 years

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Strength of the Meek

Carrying a paper bag Dave walks into the cafeteria. He looks around the room and sees Kotzal waving him over. He walks over to him and sits down with Kotzal at a noticeably empty table.

"Hey Dave, how are you?" Kotzal asks with a grin. "You dont have to rub it in, I had no idea you were a natural," Dave grumbles.

"It's just that when you showed me the rules I realized how similar they were to a game I used to play on Geon. Thrum If I remember correctly." Kotzal and dave talk for some time, the topic changes quickly from poker to physical ability.

"How strong are humans anyway? I've seen your movies but you said they aren't a good representation of human strength." Kotzal asks intrigued.

"Were strong enough. Enough to take down something bigger than us, at least with some planning that is." Dave answers. "I mean back when humans still dwelled in caves we took down wooly mammoths, which were beasts around three times the size of a human."

"Oh, I didn't know that. It's pretty impressive to hear." Kotzal says more than intrigued at this point.

"What about when a human has to do something impossible, just to keep the ones they care about alive. What do you do then?" He asks, his face getting a bit more solemn.

"We push on, do whatever it takes, even if it means we tear ourselves apart doing so," Dave says with a look of sincerity. He then breaks the look and smiles warmly. "What's got you asking a question like that?"

Kotzal laughs nervously and scratches the back of his head. "I dont know, I just heard stories over the Ether."

The conversation ends as the buzzer goes off on everyone's watch. "Shit thought we had more time for lunch break. That blows." Dave sighs.

Dave and Kotzal start walking down a hallway towards their respective stations. Halfway towards Dave's station, the alarm sounds, as well as an explosion in a nearby hallway.

"What was that!" Kotzal panics, immediately hiding behind dave and shaking. Dave reacts accordingly, not to the explosion but to Kotzal hiding behind him. "Woah dude, you good?"

"Oh sorry, my species is a prey species on my home planet. We get jumpy when stuff like this happens."

Dave chuckles at the thought, "you know if you did this around the others im pretty sure they wouldn't be able to see you." His attention focuses back on the sound. " We should go check out what happened, we're engineers after all."

Kotzal steps out from behind dave nervously and agrees. They walk down the hallway towards the commotion. Smoke billows out of the walls, embers pour out of the holes as well.

A hulking beast pulls its way out of the hole, it had to be around 8 and a half feet tall. Just as dave gets a look at it, several more come out of the walls. Kotzal grabs dave and pulls him around the corner, away from the beasts.

"Get down! Those are Tarvok pirates. We need to go, we do Not want to pick a fight with those." Kotzal is freaking out, likely having a panic attack. He tries to pull Dave with him. Dave doesn't budge, instead, he stares at the wall and puts his hand on it. "I cant."

Kotzal gets more anxious and frenzied, pulling harder on Dave. "No We have to go, David dont do this." In response, Dave grins and puts his head on the cold metal wall. "I said I cant, This station is my baby. I've fixed her more than anyone else. I can't leave her."

Dave turns to Kotzal and continues. "Not to mention the number of people these guys could hurt. You know how far the nearest guard post is, and how understaffed it is. If I turn tail and run countless people will die. But If I distract them, buy us some time. Maybe I can save a few lives."

"But you'll die! You'll get killed, I can't have you do that. I can't lose you, You're the only one who even respects me, let alone is nice to me." He says as tears start to form in his four eyes.

Daves grin breaks and he pulls Kotzal into a hug, Kotzal's small stature causing him to look like a small child not wanting their parent to leave. "That's not happening. I ain't gonna die." Dave thinks for a moment and goes on. "How about you help me, I dont buy this scared child Schtick. There's something there, something strong. I can see that."

Dave breaks the hug and pulls a knife from his belt, and hands it over to him. Kotzal stares at the blade for a second and takes the knife and nods in agreement. "Use your speed and stature to your advantage. there's a lot of smoke, try to use that."

Dave and total talk for a minute discussing plans and strategies after they're done he grabs a pipe on the wall and rips it off, but not before speaking to the station itself. "Sorry about this."

Walking around the corner Dave bangs the pipe on the wall, getting the army of Tarvok's attention. "Hey you brutes, eyes on me." He says, resting the pipe on his shoulder.

One of the Tarvok's starts walking over to Dave with a look of hunger and anger. Dave grins, this being a part of his plan, and stomps on a jagged and sharp piece of metal, launching it into the air. To which Kotzal leaves cover from behind Dave and grabs the piece of metal and throws it into the eye of the Tarvok.

"See, I told you no one would be able to see you back there." Dave jokes. He takes a step forward and inspects the now corpse of the Tarvok. "Oh damn, straight into the eye." Kotzal meekly responds to the compliment. "Thanks, it was heavier than Im used to so I didn't think it hit where I wanted to."

"You're a good shot, keep it up." Dave compliments. For a split second, Dave swore he could see Kotzal's cheeks turn blue.

Dave starts walking forward towards the rest of the army, beckoning them to come to fight him. One soldier takes a step forward to fight. The hulking beast throws a punch towards Dave but he sides steps it and slams his weapon into a pipe next to the Tarvok.

The soldier notices this and started to laugh but a second later the pipe bursts and hot steam starts to burn the soldier and causing it to fall to the floor.

The next one rushes Dave and throws a punch at him, he absorbs the blow into his shoulder and uses the force to spin himself around and slam the pipe into the soldier's skull.

At the display of force, the rest of the Tarvok's take a step back from the carnage. "Hey Kotzal, I think I fucked my shoulder up. It's your turn. " Dave says quietly so the brutes in front of them won't hear. "Yeah, let's do it." He responds, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

Dave starts to run towards the group of Tarvok's with Kotzal following. Before he gets too close he ducks down and arches his back and Kotzal jumps off his back and launches himself toward the enemy.

With one hand he throws a sharp piece of metal in the neck of one of the soldiers and with the other he stabs another with the knife Dave gave him.

The last one is in front of them, he's bigger than the rest. Probably the leader. "Let me handle this one," Dave says as he blocks Kotzal from moving forward with the pipe.

Looking at the pipe in his hand, Dave realizes that the pipe is way too damaged to continue to be useful. He takes a step forward and throws the thing as hard as he can. The pipe flies through the air and when it's about to hit, the leader catches it.

As soon as he threw the pipe Dave started running towards the beast but only noticed that he caught the pipe when he was too close to do anything. The Leader propels his knee into Daves's gut, the spike on it spearing into dave.

"Oh fuck!" He screams as the spike goes through him. He falls back and tries to stop the bleeding. Another scream is heard, not of pain but rage. "You Fucker!" It's Kotzal, with the look of pure rage in his eyes.

"I'll kill you!" He screams as he starts running towards him. As he reaches him he jumps at the leader to get a clear shot at him. In retaliation, the Tarvok grabs him by the neck and holds him in the air. Kotzal doesn't seem to notice, the anger blinding him. He starts slashing wildly at the beast in front of him, a good majority hitting their targets.

Kotzal gets a good stab into the arm of the beast holding him, causing him to be dropped.

While on the ground he stabs the blade into the back of the knee of the Tarvok leader making him fall to his knees, lining him up for a stab to the side of his head, killing him.

He keeps stabbing the now dead Tarvok, more out of rage than him being unsure he's dead. After a few dozen stabs he stops and takes a second to breathe and remembers Dave. He turns around and sprints towards Dave.

He starts trying to help him staunch the bleeding and stabilize him. "No, no-no-no. Dont do this, you cant." He starts tearing up trying to help him.

"It's okay, you did well. Didn't expect the fucker to catch the pipe. I think this is it" Dave says as he rests on the wall, trying to do whatever he can to stop the bleeding.

"Dont say that! You'll be fine, I know what im doing. I can help you." Kotzal says frantically.

Dave looks at him and puts his bloodied hand on his shoulder. "You can't save me, an injury like this is impossible to fix up."

"Shut up!" Kotzals shouts as he slaps dave. "We aren't in the medical dark ages, You know how strong modern medicine is." a grin forms on Daves face as he shrugs. "Whatever you say," he says as his vision fades to black and passes out.

Daves eyes open and the bright light blinds him, "hey your awake." a familiar voice says. His eyes adjust to the light and he sees that Kotzal is sitting on the chair next to his bed.

Dave groans in pain as he tries to sit up. Kotzal puts a hand on his shoulder and stops him. "Dumbass, you can adjust the bed." He laughs, handing him the switch.

"How long was I out?" He asks as he raises the head of his bed. "About two days. You had us worried for a little while." Kotzal responds with a smile.

"You can't kill me that easily, its gonna take a lot more than that, I still have work to do here." He smiles back.

"Oh yeah, like what?" Kotzal asks. "The engines been making a thunking noise for the past week, I still figure out what the hell the problem is." They both start laughing for a minute and after they stop a silence is formed between them, which is promptly broken ten seconds later by dave. "Hey after they discharge me, do you wanna go to the bar and get a few drinks? I'll buy."

"Sure thing, I'd love to."

#Aliens #humans are terrifying #humans are space orcs #writing #MY OCs #my wrtiting #oc #oc character #frienship #sci-fi #writerscommunity

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sundayswiththeilluminati · 3 years

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The unplanned fourth part to my apparently-a-series on Essek Thelyss in the context of real-world espionage (parts 1, 2, and 3), today we look at an aspect of his story that doesn’t always apply in a D&D world: how do you prosecute espionage?

Psych! That’s not the real question. The real question is: do you prosecute espionage? The answer is a) not as obvious as it might seem; and b) going to differ between D&D and the real world, because D&D governments are storytelling tools and IRL governments are...not.

The benefits of prosecuting espionage are obvious: the interests of justice are served, the person responsible can be punished appropriately and in accordance with the law, the full extent of their crimes are revealed (including potentially exonerating other suspects), counterintelligence gets to chalk up a win, and other people thinking about committing espionage themselves are hopefully discouraged. But there are a surprising number of arguments in the “against” column.

Some agencies that identify enemy assets want to leave them in place for their own purposes. For about 20 years during the Cold War CIA reserved the right to just plain not tell the Department of Justice if they had proof someone was engaged in espionage because they wanted the opportunity to turn them as double agents, feed them misinformation, etc. rather than outing and punishing them (President Gerald Ford ended this arrangement by executive order in 1976). This isn’t necessarily a good idea IRL, but it forms the bread and butter of RPG espionage storylines and is definitely something to think about in a D&D context.

In the real world, ideally someone can only be found guilty of a crime and punished accordingly after a trial, and an agency often finds itself with sufficient evidence to doubt a person’s trustworthiness but not enough hard proof to take to court. In those cases agencies may decide to leave that person in place but cut off their access to classified info. Ironically, sometimes this means promoting them - moving the person into a higher-ranking job in a different area that just so happens not to deal in secrets. Sometimes the asset realizes they’re close to being rumbled and goes along with the effort, maybe taking retirement early or changing jobs before they can be pushed, and the whole matter will quietly lapse without anything so formal as a trial. Sometimes someone makes a mistake and sidelines a loyal, competent employee. That’s a judgement call.

In the real world, ideally someone can only be found guilty of a crime and punished accordingly after an open trial. Given how severe the punishments are for espionage, civilized countries do try to stick to that even though holding such a trial carries risks. Providing proof that someone stole secrets generally requires talking about said secrets, which means revealing classified info in court, which may negate trying to keep the information secret in the first place. They may also not want to reveal in court how they figured out that person was a spy, especially if it was a double agent or cryptographic source that fingered them. In D&D-land where monarchs are common and still wield judicial power, fantasy rulers may hand down whatever punishment they please based on whatever evidence they (or the DM) will accept, so this isn’t as much of a concern.

Even a D&D monarchy that doesn’t have to worry about revealing secrets in court might think twice before publicly punishing a high-ranking spy, though, because the only thing more embarrassing than failing to convict a major spy is succeeding. A government having to admit that its people were compromised, especially high-ranking people, is a body-blow to its standing both at home and abroad. It damages trust in the government, makes the public feel unsafe, and makes allies hesitant to share information lest their secrets be leaked as well. Lower-ranking government employees may think, “My boss is selling secrets, why not me too?” or “Why bother to follow security protocol when some mole will give it all away?” Every decision and contribution made by the asset becomes retroactively suspect, even those that had nothing to do with whatever secrets they leaked. The foreign nation to whom they passed information inevitably gets drawn in as well, negatively affecting those relations. And of course everyone involved looks very, very bad.

All of which leads me to say I think there’s a chance - maybe not a good chance, but a chance - that Essek could privately confess the affair to the Bright Queen without major public repercussions. Leylas Kryn could simply declare him a traitor and order his public execution without justifying herself, but it would raise a lot of questions and none of the answers would help her or the ruling dens; Den Thelyss allowing Den Kryn to unilaterally execute a high-profile member - a child of the umavi - without explanation would stoke ferocious rumors about what Essek might have done and cast a major shadow over the entire den. But publicly declaring what Essek had done also doesn’t do the Dynasty any favors. It makes everyone involved look very bad - how could they miss a spy at the highest level? so close to the Bright Queen herself?? who can be trusted??? - especially Den Thelyss, which might lose its place among the ruling three as a result. Publicly outing such a high-ranking Kryn official as compromised might set off the Dynasty equivalent of a Red Scare, too, since the Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount mentions the constant and well-justified Dynasty fear of agents sent by Lolth to destabilize the Kryn out of sheer spite that they got away from her.

By the time Campaign 2 ended the latest clash between Empire and Dynasty had been settled and neither side seemed to want to stir it up again right away. The fact that both stolen beacons have been returned also bolsters the case for letting the matter lie. A confession from Essek clears up remaining doubt on the Bright Queen’s end - while he doesn’t know every Empire agent in the Dynasty, he can tell her exactly how the beacons were stolen and who else was involved, probably clearing the names of many currently under suspicion. Essek would have to resign as Shadowhand, of course, and leave the Dynasty (at least for a couple centuries), but he never seemed interested in being Shadowhand and he wants to go exploring anyway. Den Thelyss definitely wants the whole affair swept under the rug and would go along with whatever story made that happen. Other than Verin I don’t get the impression many people would miss Essek except as a lost opportunity. I hope they’d give him long enough before leaving Rosohna to pack up his cool leyline-weathervane though. He could totally mount that on Yussa’s tower. Or Allura’s!

And that concludes this particular train of thought re: Essek Thelyss in the context of IRL spies and espionage. Again, all of this is only as relevant to the campaign as the players decide it is, so don’t go giving people crap for being “unrealistic” about their versions of how the beacon trade went down. Frankly the last thing you should want here is realism, because “realistic” espionage is a callous world of deception, manipulation, and general human pettiness with no sense of narrative flow.

None of what I’ve talked about is an excuse for Essek’s actions. But it is a reason. It’s why and how a person entrusted with precious national assets could get into a headspace where it seems reasonable, even necessary, to trade them away to foreign enemies. It’s how a person of otherwise decent character & beliefs can end up committing terrible crimes. It’s why that person might sincerely regret what they’ve done, and not just because they fear punishment. The Warmind Rasputin paraphrases Octavia E. Butler saying, “Misdirected by accident or intent, intelligence can foster its own ecstasies of growth and decay.” In other words: sometimes you get too far into your own head. Without an anchor to reality, without perspective, your own mind gets twisted up. Sometimes you just need a friend (or seven) to grab your arm and say, “Breathe.”

(This accidentally turned into a series on Essek & IRL espionage: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

#Critical Role #Critical Role spoilers #not really but just to be safe #Essek Thelyss #CR meta #hey let's talk about Cold War espionage!#trufax #And That's What I Think About That.#words words words #I hope you like words #this poor foolish drow #bless this dumbass #it's been a long pandemic

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oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years

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Devout Worshipper: Dark! Peter Parker x Professor!Reader

A/N: So this girl here tried something else. I’ve been wanting to upload since long but this got delayed a lot and now I have several WIPs but finished this first. Sorry not proofread. I’m still discovering my writing style and my forte and thank you for staying and witnessing my experiments! Wear safety goggles please.

Summary: The best of all the educators yet, both smart and stunning, became Peter’s mentor in university. Peter grew too much of a liking for her, from a clingy scholar to her devout worshipper.

WARNING: STORY AHEAD HAS NON-CON, KIDNAPPING, POSSIBLE DRUGGING, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOUR, OBSESSION. DNI IF TRIGGERED.

You sat on the teacher’s desk, going through the latest thesis published by Dr. Banner last week. He had given you one of the several copies and asked you to go through it and your judgement on it. The classroom was slowly filling in as the scholars stacked in, their buzzes growing loud with each passing trice.

You were on the last paragraph of your current page when a slight thump made you break out of your stupor, you tilted your head up to find a brawny youngster leaning in front of you, with his hand planted beside your ass on the ebony desk. He had blonde locks with grey eyes and was definitely a sports’ team captain, basketball you believed, who had his own posse of wannabes behind him.

You kept the paper down in your lap and met his eyes again with an inquiring look. “Yes?”

“You seem new. Me and my guys will save you a seat at the back, so come there when your little reading session is over, babe.” He said smugly, his eyes brimming with mischievousness as they dipped to your cleavage not-so-subtly and stood there gawking while he awaited your response.

You paused to see the whole class had gone quiet watching your encounter with the jock. You gave him a sickly-sweet smile as you nodded shyly for show and he tapped your knee with his other hand before leaving. As soon as his back faced you, you rolled your eyes so hard at his antics you heard the first-benchers gasp. You could still hear him talking to his ‘friends’, “I love myself a badass girl like her.”

You returned to your thesis but before you could finish the last few sentences, the bell rung and you had to stop. Thanks blondie.

You got down from the desk, jumping on your black heels as you made your way over to the door, closing it as lock clicked into place.

The entire class was watching you with quizzical glances as you stood in front of your desk this time and wrung your hands together, “Good morning class and congratulation on making it to your second year in college, I will be your mentor and also your lecturer for biology for this semester and for those who pass, also their next one.” The entire class’ jaw slackened and you giggled lightly as waited for them to digest the news, and then told them your name.

“I know a lot of you see science itself as a chore but since you’ve already taken it, I suggest you try to pay attention as you will have to study it anyways. However, because I can relate to your struggles, I will try my best to be a companion or advisor, whichever way you prefer it, and help you get through the class with flying colours hopefully. So, ask me anything, no matter how stupid or absurd you believe your doubt or query is. I’ll answer as many times as you ask and trust me when I say that I am a woman of my word. You have any questions for the semester?” You finished with a bright smile on your face as you saw the students in the front relax slightly. At least you had their approval.

“Ma’am” The blonde kid started without raising his hand, stressing the word unnecessarily as he and his horde sniggered at some stupid inside joke, and continued, “Can I have your number?”

Some of the students gulped while the others leaned forward interested in your response. That kid thought he could fluster you by putting you in a weird spot. He smirked arrogantly, leaning back in his chair as you raised your eyebrows.

“That, Mr.?” You paused as you lingered for his answer, which came almost immediately.

“Flash Thompson, but you can call me whatever you want baby.”

His friends hooted at his pickup line, some praising his smoothness while some high-fived him.

“That, Mr. Thompson, is an excellent example of the stupid questions I mentioned formerly. Thank you for helping me make it clearer to the rest of the class, an extra point for you in the first grading assignment.”

His face fell as his jaw ticked and you turned to face the rest of the class again, “Though I suppose I will give you my number but for emergency purposes only, you can contact me on my e-mail though which I will be using most frequently. You are supposed to mail me majority of your papers this semester and the grading pattern is expected to change this time around but I will inform you of that when the time for the first assignment comes around. Any other questions, and if possible, a bit wiser ones?”

Peter knew he liked you that day. You were attractive and stunning, yes, that too in the natural way, without make-up and tight clothes. But of course, there was more to you than that, you were smart and witty, hence a young lecturer in this esteemed college and you being a science enthusiast as well was like chocolate chips on top of a well baked dessert. You were spirited and jaunty and your sardonic and sassy replies were never degrading or humiliating. The five-year difference between you and the class made you their elder sibling rather than professor.

The first benchers worshipped your intellect while the last benchers adored your sarcasm. Everyone could see how you gave your all to teach, every trick for learning, showing real skeletons and organs in formalin, easily becoming the favourite mentor ever. You could easily be labelled as the university’s crush of the year.

But Peter soon began to despise that. The perverted comments by the students and jealous, snarky remarks by the plastics irked him. He was enraged by the geeks admiring you but baffled all the more by the strange palette of emotions he had never suffered before.

The sheer envy he was sinking in had never even surfaced while he dated Liz or MJ. For him you were a Goddess, tons divine than his exes or any other female for that matter, who should be properly worshipped and treasured.

He knew these sentiments weren’t right, but in this twisted world where he had combatted with unnatural beings and seen unimaginable horrors, he began to believe morality is just fiction used by the herd of inferior men to hold back the few superior men.

It was the last day before spring break and no matter how much your pupils loved you, it wasn’t enough for them to not get distracted and murmur around. Only half of your entire class’s strength came and that half somehow managed to create more ruckus than usual. Even you were minutes late, not in the mood to teach this aloof and uninterested batch of youngsters.

You sat on the table and crossed your legs, which was somewhat your habit that you weren’t really proud of but continued to indulge in nonetheless, and cleared your throat times to catch the attention of the unmindfully fantasizing students.

The baritone of the males and shrieky pitches of the females made you clutch your head. You were sure going to end with disprin at the end of day. You clapped loudly and effectively so, gathered the class’s attention, but by the roll of their eyes and glares on their faces, you deduced they weren’t happy. Who would have thought?

“Okay, before you all slaughter me to the netherworld with your lethal gazes, let me make it clear that no teaching will commence today.” The class hollered appreciatively and whistled, while you paused to let them do so. Teaching on the last day before a vacation was like speaking to yourself only but with the consequence of your name being added to several hitlists.

“I’ll distribute the graded assignments submitted last Thursday and then, since I’m required to clock thirty minutes of educating at the bare minimum, we can play something, maybe you have some talents to show, principles to mock or some gossip to attend to.” The college kids laughed at your poor joke, perhaps too thrilled for their break that nothing could make their mood sour. “We’ll see accordingly, but first, raise your hand when I say your name, I want to learn at least the names of the students who bothered to come to uni on the concluding day.”

You distributed the papers back, making sure to associate each name with a face and the students took them stuffing it straight inside, not bothering to check their scoring and possibly wreck their mood.

“Peter Parker?” A hand raised in the second last row shyly, a flustered boy with glasses on his nose and a hoodie covering his head. He barely made eye contact and you smiled at his nervy, edgy form hoping to ease him a bit. Your heels sounded heavy against the few stairs as you made your way to the back, the class buzzing with laughs as students barely paid you any heed.

The draught of epinephrine Peter felt was unlike anything he had ever felt before, nothing like the anxiety on the battlefield or the excessive sweating while impressing Mr. Stark. The apprehension he felt was decuple that.

It’s not like he had never talked to you afore, he constantly asked clever doubts, which he knew the answer to already, of course, to make an impression on you, but that was with a two feet and 7.5 inches of teacher’s desk in between. Yes, he measured. He had even made sure a couple times, let’s be honest, more than several times that his Goddess had arrived her fascinating abode safely.

But this time, they’d be hardly half a foot apart and the anticipation was tearing him apart. He did want her close, in all ways possible, but was he ready enough to not make a fool of himself? All his previous conversations were thought out meticulously and beforehand but was ready for a spontaneous interaction?

“Good job, Smart Cookie.” You mused at Peter with a wink and dropped the paper on his desk as he looked at you with those innocent, doe-eyes of his, his cheeks and nose a tad bit rouge.

Peter’s hearing ability got lost as the sound of his heart pumping blood filled his tympanum. He could only watch you retreat back to the front of the class, your hips swaying invitingly in that damned black pencil skirt as you called another person’s name.

Smart Cookie was his favourite nickname now.

It was pretty late when you left the university premises, finishing up all you had to and even preparing for your first week of teaching after vacation because you knew how procrastinating errands went.

You couldn’t almost believe how you were on the adult end of things, making sure and guiding other people. With the job, came a lot of obligations that you had to fulfil and being responsible was hard, really demanding. You suddenly had a lot of reverence for all the teachers in your life, from kindergarten to your degrees.

You were on a sabbatical from research temporarily, signing a teaching contract for three years minimum and you were satisfies with the refreshment. Interacting young, curious minds was almost like a recreational activity you indulged in free time and the various angles they approached science at even taught you something. The scholars found it in themselves to even question well-established biology.

Slightly humming, you made a mental checklist of what all was left to do for your solo, self-discovering trip the next week. All that you should pack, clothes according to the weather in the hills and enough emergency eatables. Maybe you could revisit the work-in-progress papers of yours or maybe it would be a leisure excursion only.

Only you never made it to your flight.

The pounding of your head made a thrumming noise in your head, increasing its tempo and volume with each passing instant. Your eyelids felt heavy and opening them felt like a chore, which even more difficult considering the light that flooded your vision with every bit they opened. Your senses felt overwhelmed being burdened and strained with their everyday tasks after what you assumed to be at least hours of inactivity.

The sudden spike of pain shooting in your head made you jerk your hand to clutch your throbbing forehead, only to fail and find your hands bounded to something. They weren’t cuffed or shackled, nothing dug in your wrist either. Maybe a rope but the texture wasn’t rough enough. After what felt like minutes, you opened your eyes and sat up, as straight as your confined self could, and looked around.

The room was shades of grey and blue, a giant bed was where you were sitting. The giant ceiling to floor windows beside you, cast enough moonlight in the bedroom for you to see the entire bedroom. The view outside was so picturesque, that you had been gawking were you not afraid of your surroundings. You could discern you were high up, with how small the vehicles looked and another wave terror ran through you.

A white desk with a blue chair had a laptop atop it, also sitting beside several books. You would have noticed them being your subject and recommendation but you were scanning your brain as to how you landed here. With your vision now clearer, you saw your restraints to be like silk but no matter how hard you pulled, they didn’t snap.

You were full on panicking and staring wide eyed when the laptop entered your vision again. There was no other electronic except it and you calmed yourself to think rationally. Deep breaths, in and out. Your best bet right now was to hope that the laptop was connected to someone’s wifi.

You slid off the edge of the bed and tried to cut the weird silk ropes with bedside table’s corner. It took some time but you succeeded, your hands freed from the poster of the bed as you made your way towards the laptop, after checking the locked door of course.

Another wave of panic ran through you when the laptop wasn’t connected to anything and all available connections were password protected. You noticed the laptop to be brand new, and of a very expensive company that was out of your budget. You also noticed the OS was very different, not the usual Windows you ran. Your AI Cortana in this overpriced gadget, was named Karen.

You still refused to wait for your captor to show up and snooped to find something on the laptop, anything. There was no profile of the owner but you did manage to find at least three GB of videos and images.

Your hands froze and eyes widened when you saw the security footage of your building’s outside, the little bakery’s neon sign confirming the location. The videos were the same, of you entering and exiting every day, just the dates on the videos varied.

Another folder had clips with the same dates, but they were in the lobby of your apartment, your potted plants outside your door the affirmation again. It showed you getting milks and newspaper every morning, ordering take out several days and placing the garbage bags outside.

The earliest date in each folder was after your first month of moving here, second week of teaching probably.

When you opened the third folder, as the video started your hands covered your mouth as you tried your best to hold back the sob and making a noise. The screen showed two camera screens, both inside your apartment. The first showed the living room clearly and your kitchen and you concluded it to be behind some article on the bookshelf.

The other screen showed your bedroom.

You could still see the floral bedsheet with the white quilt atop it. Your red suitcase that you took out from the storage for your trip this morning, resting beside the wall. Your lamp switched on from when you mayhap left it on, already late for the last day of work. As the time hit 12 AM at the bottom of the screen, the video ended and played again. There were even more folders and you wondered how far would the surveillance go, till your bathroom?

Your abductor had live footage of your house being sent to his laptop and that scared you shitless. This was not a random crime, that ransom could end. You were here for something, some sick purpose you didn’t even know. Was this a hate crime? Would you even make it-

“I really wish you hadn’t looked there.”

The deep, familiar voice amplified your fear and you turned your head slowly, almost comically to look at him. Another gasp escaped your lips as you found warm eyes of your student and brows furrowed in confusion and fear when you saw the deranged lust in his eyes. Was this some sick prank?

“What am I doing here and what is this?” You gestured to the screen playing footages of the inside of your house. Seeing someone familiar and the probability of this being a prank should have calmed you somewhat but the revolting trick and the strange darkness in the boy’s eyes made you even more wary.

As he took a step closer, you hastily climbed out of the chair and backed away, nearing the bed again as he locked the door and closed in on you. He made a move to snatch you and you jumped to the other side of the bed barely missing him by an inch. You reached for the door hoping to find it unlocked but it didn’t even budge.

You pulled even harder while being painfully aware of how that kid from your class just sat on the bed and observed, having the utmost confidence in the door. Your frenzied state got a jump-scare when a female voice broke the silence, “Authorization to access locked doors is granted to Mr. Parker only, please refrain from damaging the property, Mam.”

So some tech-boy with a rich background is set on you?

“Please sit on the bed and I’ll explain, please.”

His doe eyes would have fooled you were you not extremely aware of your environment due to the adrenaline coursing through your arteries. He was an exceptionally good actor, you had to give him that. You prided yourself to be an excellent judge of character and here this guy had deceived you for three months.

The AI called him Parker, what was his name again?

Patrick? Peyton? Peter? Yes, Peter Parker.

“Peter?” You softly called out and his eyes widened as a blush crept up to his cheeks as he relished the fact that you remembered his name. You sighed internally, praying that this was a case of a harmless crush gone wrong and he was just innocently hopeful. The image of his dark, lust covered eyes crossed your mind to make an argument but you pushed it aside to calm your nerves and stay as relaxed as you possibly could with all that was happening.

“I know that this is all a big misunderstanding but you are really scaring me here. Can you please at least let me out of this room to somewhere open?” You looked at him, hoping to talk him down and get out. You didn’t think he would hurt you but you weren’t willing to take any chances with this maniacal youngster either.

“I’m sorry but I can’t do that, you’ll run.”

Of course, you’ll run, who wouldn’t?

“Peter, boy, listen to me-”

“No, you listen to me! I admit the situation isn’t ideal and you’re probably terrified because of your meddling but this is all for you! I’m here to protect you! The world out there isn’t safe and your heavenly self needs to be resuscitated.”

“Peter, you’re not making any sense. I’m an adult, older than you and you need to understand boundaries-”

“I’ve seen the way of the world, trust me, in fact, far more than you have! Did you know that raping and murdering women on Asgard is considered a common crime? How Hydra is kidnapping young, bright women to exploit them for breeding projects? How the Red Skull resurfaced and his ideals now include eradicating women from Earth as well?”

“Pete-”

“No, you don’t know! You are just blissfully unaware of this world, so oblivious you don’t even how know the perverted and debauched comments your own class makes?”

His outburst frightened you as you felt yourself losing control of the situation, maybe you never were in control. But now the unleashed fury on Peter’s face told you that had triggered an irrevocable topic.

“Calm down, it’s alright.” You said quietly, hoping to ease him again but his steps towards made you back up yourself to the other side of the bed.

“You, You are still scared of me, aren’t you? You still don’t understand, do you? I’ll show you, show you how much I worship you, the true extent of my devotion.” Every ludicrous declaration of his bit away your hope of getting out.

As he approached you again from the foot of the bed, you jumped across the bed again, hoping to reprise your stunt from before. However, your jumping halted midway as something glued your right wrist to the headboard and you jerked due to inertia of movement. As your eyes looked to your hand, the same silky rope met your vision.

You did not have the time or the wits to ponder over the fluid, about how your abductor shot it or how it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard you pulled. A hand on your ankle prompted you to try one last time as you screamed as loud as you could, for as long as your lungs allowed.

“It won’t work, Mr. Stark got me a soundproofed apartment. Pretty cool, right?”

A sob wracked through your entire frame as the tears descended, the frustration and hopelessness and dread, all attacking you at once. Your legs kicked and flexed and when your left fist swung, he restrained all your limbs after dodging, of course.

“I just want to love you, is it too much too ask?” He asked in a quiet whisper, his hands undressing you cloth by cloth; first unzipping the side of your pencil skirt and unwrapping it, then unbuttoning your blouse. When he brought out a pocket knife, your eyes instinctively closed, a “Please don’t hurt me” falling from your lips.

“Never.” He replied with absolute assurance.

The blade cut through your blouse first, leaving you in your garments while Peter sat back on his knees to admire you. You’ve been flattered with the adoration in his eyes had you not gone through the mayhem that you had.

His hand caressed your curves, feeling the soft skin underneath as he took his time admiring you, committing each feature to memory while your tears poured, your eyes never leaving the knife he held.

The blade invaded your privacy once again as it took away your last pieces of defense, leaving you utterly nude and your cries wreaked havoc in the otherwise quiet room. Your eyes found Peter face and you noticed his eyes twinkling in admiration trailing up and down your body several times. His disciple complex was scaring you, you almost bordered considering his Goddess belief.

“So stunning.” He whispered as he came down to kiss you, his lips meeting yours in this bruising embrace of both your mouths and as he began to undress himself simultaneously, his dramatics became the least of your concerns. The thought of the inevitable future made home in your mind and gave you one last bout of courage to try and fight.

The restraints on your limbs didn’t even budge and every fleck of hope deserted your body when you saw the chiseled abs on his scarred torso, his biceps bulging and silently warning you into staying put. He made quick work of his remaining outfit and his hard, angry member was bigger than you had anticipated.

You had not expected a stereotypical nerd to be packing, with muscles and brawns, hardly to even expect him to be the largest among the ones you had ever experienced.

“Please don’t.” You mumbled, defeated, knowing he would not listen. You closed your eyes expecting the intrusion to get it over with. You were caught off handed when you felt him shift and devour into your pussy. He feasted like a man famished, his tongue leaving no area unlapped. The sparks in your abdomen made you queasy and giddy at the same time, you could barely open your eyes due to the intensity of his actions and when he added two of his shockingly calloused fingers, you let go of the coil in mere seconds.

Your limbs sat limp while your vision whitened, your mind foggy and hazy, deprived of all sensibility. When his thick thighs rested on top of yours, your gaze ascended to meet his already staring pupils, the warm, honey brown orbs now a black abyss. You couldn’t even protest in your blissful state as lined himself and entered your cavern, which was lubricated enough courtesy of him.

The stretch burned but as he rocked himself and thrusted with a rhythm, the pleasure started building from scratch. Each push was sturdier than the last and every spot he hit managed to make your breath hitch. Your hands and legs freed as the fluid perhaps melted but the last of your energy was being used by you to stay conscious. When he descended to kiss you once again and trailed kisses to your collarbone, your hands held onto him for support, his biceps providing anchor to you, made of pure muscle.

His teeth bruised your skin as he lightly bit your neck, reaching his end and releasing his load. The warmth that filled you made you let go, his orgasm encouraging another one from you.

Your eyes drooped, your body filled with exhaustion due to all the struggling as you curled in to your side and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to forget your abductor and the forceful, mind shattering ecstasy you felt. Your refused to think about the guilt and the uncertainty of your impending doom in the hands of this maniacal student of yours. You just wished for sleep, for some peace alone.

The wish of yours was not granted when you felt Peter slide behind you, his hand wrapping around your middle as if you were lover. You still gave into slumber, but not before feeling him peck your shoulder with a promise.

“This devotee of yours will worship you forever and always, Goddess.”

#peter parker #peter #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #Dark Fic #dark mcu #dark!peter parker #dark!mcu #dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker x reader #dark!tom holland #tom holland #tom holland fic #dark!marvel #dark!spiderman #spiderman #teacher reader #mcudarklibrary #ray writes

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thexfridax · 3 years

Text

Recap/thoughts on L’Étang

Performed on 6th of June 2021, Holland Festival, Internationaal Theater Amsterdam / Rabozaal

I recently had the chance to attend Der Teich / The Pond / L’Étang written by Robert Walser and adapted by Gisèle Vienne at the Holland Festival 2021 in Amsterdam. The main reason I went was to experience the absolute force that is Adèle Haenel, but I was also intrigued about how she would interact with Ruth Vega Fernandez on stage (who I only knew from the Swedish film Kiss me / Kyss mig).

After a number of performances were postponed and subsequently cancelled in France, I wasn’t quite sure whether this one would actually go ahead. Luckily, the Covid-19 situation had improved sufficiently for a live audience to attend, albeit with a limited number of people.

Switzerland had hosted the world premiere of the play in early May, so a couple of reviews were already out (check out #L’Etang on @mlleclaudine’s blog, she has translated some of these reviews). I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect though other than French avant-garde theatre (= confusion 😊).

** SPOILERS **

The stage was dark, when the audience entered. You could spot some creepy shapes, some were clearly mannequins, but I somehow thought the actresses were already on stage, too. Watching us. (They weren’t.)

When the lights went on, a guy appeared and gently carried the mannequins off stage.

EXTREMELY loud electronic music followed, and in robo-walked Adèle as Fritz, and behind her Ruth as the mother (nameless, only her last name -Mrs Marti- is mentioned in the OG play).

They continued to robo-walk across the stage (somewhat synchronised), until everyone found their spot, very much apart from each other. You could clearly hear their breathing throughout this movement (also in the latter stages of the play).

Not much else was on stage but a bed with random clothes draped over it, and some other bits and bobs (for Fritz). There was also a wig and an ashtray (for the mother, alluding to her femme fatale status).

Adèle started to speak (in French), setting the scene for a boy who is somewhat disregarded by his mother, but longing for her…

FRITZ

Ich möchte fast lieber nirgends mehr sein, als so da sein. Nichts als böse Gesichter. Ist das ein Essen bei Tisch. […] Man darf den Mund nicht aufmachen, ohne fürchten zu müssen, den Anstand zu verletzen. Was nützt so ein Anstand? Der Paul, der darf wohl reden, der darf sich alles erlauben. An dem ist alles schön, artig, recht, nett. […] Ich muss ja glauben, nur er sei der Sohn seiner Mutter, und die Mutter habe keinen zweiten Sohn neben ihm. Nichts kann ich recht machen, ich mag mich anstellen, wie ich will. […] Wenn nur wer wüsste, wie es in mir drin aussieht. Wenn die Mutter mir nur einmal ins Herz schauen könnte. Vielleicht wäre sie erstaunt, vielleicht würde sie dann sehen, dass ich sie auch noch ein wenig gern hab. […] (Extract from Der Teich, Insel Bücherei Edition)

I’d rather not exist anymore than be like this. Only evil faces. What a meal. […] One isn’t allowed to open one’s mouth without being afraid of violating propriety. What’s the point of this kind of propriety? Paul, he is allowed to talk, he can do anything. Everything about him is lovely, good, proper, nice. […] I’m starting to believe that he is his mother’s only son, and the mother doesn’t have another one aside from him. I can’t do anything right, doesn’t matter whatever I do. […] If only anyone knew, how it looks inside of me. If the mother only looked into my heart. Maybe she would be surprised, maybe she would see that I still like her a bit. (My translation)

J’aimerais encore mieux être nulle part, plutôt qu’ici. … On n’a pas le droit d’ouvrir la bouche, de peur de blesser les convenances. À quoi ça sert, ces convenances ? Paul, lui, il a le droit de parler. Lui, il peut tout se permettre. En lui tout est beau, bien, correct, gentil. […] Je vais finir par croire qu’il est le seul fils de sa mère, et que la mère, elle n’a pas eu de deuxième fils en plus de lui. Rien de ce que je fais n’est bien, quoi que je fasse. […] Si seulement quelqu’un savait comment je suis à l’intérieur. Si ma mère pouvait regarder une seule fois dans mon coeur. Peut-être qu’elle serait étonnée, peut-être qu’elle verrait alors que moi aussi j’ai encore un peu d’amour pour elle. […] (Translated by Lucie Taïeb, in: Pièce (dé)montée : L'Etang, Gwenaëlle Hebert)

While Adèle talked, voicing multiple characters with ease (i.e. Fritz and his sister Klara), Ruth slowly walked around, and at one point intervenes in the quarrel between the siblings. She was a threatening presence, and spiteful to both of her children in the first act. Throughout the play you could see how scared Fritz was of his mother (the look of dread on Adèle’s face was shocking).

A dream like scene came next, where it wasn’t entirely clear (to me) what was happening. Fritz seemed to be dreaming of his family, being conflicted, laughing, angry, moaning … a disturbingly visceral and messy scene, where the characters all merge.

(NB: I may not remember the exact sequence of scenes or who played whom, as I was slightly stunned by this point..)

Meanwhile, Ruth transformed into the ‘good and kind’ mother of one of Fritz’s sickly friends, which made it even clearer how much Fritz suffers from the neglect of his own mother, and how isolated he is.

Maybe also by choice:

FRITZ

[…] Ich bin gern allein. Da kommen einem die Gedanken. Da stört einen niemand. – Mir ist immer, als hätte ich irgendwo etwas vergessen. Ich weiß, es ist nichts, und doch plagt es mich. Was kann es nur sein? Nichts? Da hab ich gut reden! Es ist was, aber das Dumme ist, ich hab es eben vergessen. Ich will dem Sächelchen nachgehn. Ich will zu meinem Platz im Wald gehn, vielleicht fliegt es mir dort wie ein Schmetterling zu. Warum muss man eigentlich denken? Man muss, es zwingt einen. Das ist so dumm, dass man was muss. Man sollte nichts müssen! Aber da hab ich wieder gut reden. Komm, Fritz, wir beide gehen. Ich bin doch nicht ganz allein. Der Fritz ist Fritzens Kamerad. Ich bin mir selbst mein bester Freund. – Was ich auch alles wissen muss. Eigentlich ist es zum Lachen. Aber im Wald will ich darüber nachdenken, was ich tun könnte, dass ich der Mutter – – – (as above)

[…] I like to be on my own. You can think. Nobody disturbs you. – It always seems to me, as if I had forgotten something. I know, it’s nothing, but it still haunts me. What can it be? Nothing? It’s all very well of me to say that. There is something, but the silly thing is that I forgot about it. I will look into the matter. I will go to my spot in the woods, maybe it will come to me like a butterfly. Why is it that one actually has to think? One must, one is forced to do so. It’s so silly that one has to. One shouldn’t have to do anything! But again, look who’s talking. Come on, Fritz, let’s go. I’m not quite alone. Fritz is Fritz’s companion. I am my own best friend. – Why must I know everything. It’s actually funny. But I will think about it in the woods, as to what I’m going to do, so that mother – – – (as above)

[…] J’aime bien être seul. Quand on est seul, c’est là que les pensées viennent. Personne ne vous dérange. J’ai toujours l’impression d’avoir oublié quelque chose quelque part. Je sais que ce n’est rien, pourtant ça me tourmente. Qu’est-ce que ça pourrait être ? Rien ? Facile à dire ! Non, il y a bien quelque chose, mais, bêtement, j’ai justement oublié quoi. Je vais suivre cette piste. Je vais aller dans la forêt, dans mon coin à moi, et peut-être que, là-bas, ça me reviendra ! Mais pourquoi il faut toujours penser ? On est obligé, c’est plus fort que nous. C’est tellement bête, d’être obligé. On ne devrait être obligé à rien. Facile à dire. Allez, on y va. Je ne suis pas complètement seul, après tout. Je suis mon propre meilleur ami. Et toutes ces questions que je pose. En fait ça me donne envie de rire. Mais dans la forêt, on va réfléchir à ce que je pourrais faire pour que ma mère... (as above)

And the plot thickens afterwards, his siblings become convinced that Fritz is going to drown himself in the titular pond (he hinted at it in a grand speech, according to his brother). The brother then chases after Fritz, urged by his sister to do the right thing.

Adèle is fully immersed in this scene, first voicing the siblings, then transforming back into Fritz, who is somewhat exhilarated by his own prank (she intones a sound or two, which makes me think that those singing lessons were quite successful). All to figure out if his mother cares for him or not.

It kinda worked. When Fritz returns home, he finds his distraught sister and parents. The mother sees her son for the first time as a real person (the father is angry). She calls him a man, and they temporarily connect as equals (the mother-child dynamic being interrupted). She wants this understanding to be kept as secret from the other siblings, to which Fritz agrees.

The siblings re-enact the fake drowning scene, Fritz is represented by a knife, Paul by a fork, and Klara by a little spoon. The story ends without the parents being included. (In the OG play, the mother observes this scene, and is quite moved that Fritz has kept his word of not sharing their secret. This is also part of the final act of the OG play.)

In another disturbing and weird scene, Fritz is (invisibly) choked by someone, Adèle pants and spits, but it’s not clear who the perp is (I thought, the father, but who knows). The mother(?) is standing by when this happens, and then leaves, repulsed.

At the end you can see Fritz observing his mother approaching his empty bed, picking up a pillow and holding it. Not a real closure for their characters, but it was a tender moment in a very compact and rather violent play.

Adèle seemed to have voiced the majority of the characters (children and adults), changing her voice accordingly to make them sound different in the same scene. She was often seen on the floor, stretched out, being in agony or another state of mind (or spitting). It was an intense and unsettling performance, but not to the extent that I wanted to leave the theatre 😊

Ruth did voice fewer characters (mainly the adults, maybe also one of the children). She cried heavily in one scene (sublime acting!), and by the end of the play her character seemed to have lost all of her harshness. We mostly got to know her through Fritz’s descriptions (or their interactions), she had maybe one monologue of her own (at least in the OG play). But she was omnipresent in Fritz’s mind and also during the play (she only left the stage once before the end), transforming from the devouring to the caring(?) mother. A more restrained, but still very effective performance.

I think, the (spare) use of electronic music and different lighting was in line with Fritz’s turmoil, and it wasn’t distracting from the acting. I was glad that there were subtitles, perfect for non-French speakers – though it didn’t give you a clue which character was speaking. You had to quickly switch from looking at the subs to Adèle or Ruth to figure it out.

All in all, it was great to be back in a theatre, to watch these two (plus Gisèle etc.) finally bring this obscure family drama to life with a vengeance.

I hope to watch the play again in Hamburg (Internationales Sommerfestival 2021, ticket information to be released in mid-June), as there were a lot more things I couldn’t unpack while watching, or even now 😉

Cover picture by @estellehanania Other pictures/video by @thexfridax

#L'Étang #Gisèle Vienne #Adèle Haenel #Ruth Vega Fernandez #Amsterdam #Holland Festival #Recap #I mean #This was not a pretty play #But well choreographed #NGL #I enjoyed seeing Adèle live with my own two eyes #My disjointed thoughts #And I had trouble with the tenses #Haha

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smash-chu · 3 years

Text

Updated the iceberg with some suggestions + more stuff i came across during research~ Might be doing a video to go along with it, cause it'd be fun (i have been capturing footage, so it'll likely end up happening :3 )

Explanations for each thing can be found below:

-Level 1-

The TV show - Some people’s first exposure to the franchise was the TV show, made to go alongside the games as a sort of advertisement. It was made by 4Kids and had a total of 2 seasons, starring the 4 main characters: Hudson Horstachio, Franklin Fizzlybear, Paulie Pretztail and Fergy Fudgehog.

Rare games easter eggs - There are plenty of easter eggs to other Rare games throughout Viva Piñata, the easiest ones to note are the broken arcade cabinets found in the first game as well as the various nods to Banjo Kazooie - such as the Bird and Bear statue, Mumbo statue, Breegull backpack and Bottle’s Glasses.

Stardos is Dastardos - The game never tells you this directly, but it’s an easy and obvious conclusion to make.

Twingersnaps and Fourheads - Without using a guide or looking it up you may actually be baffled on how to acquire these piñatas in game. There is no obvious hint in game to tell you to hit the Syrupent egg before it hatches on the third bounce, which means you either have to figure it out through experimentation or by looking it up.

Leafos False Rumors - Leafos is meant to give you good advice to help you out while you play the game if you talk to her, however not all information she gives is true. Some rumors include putting a Badgesicle in water will turn it into a Sweetooth, feeding a Doenut to a Pretztail turns it into a Mallowolf and so on. None of these actually work.

Piñatas aren’t permanently broken - When a piñata is broken it is magically repaired, at least when on Piñata island, reforming at the edge of a garden when broken at one. It is stated that piñatas are repaired after having been sent to parties, which would potentially mean that piñatas only magically repair themselves when on the island.

-Level 2-

The PC Port - Not very well advertised, there was a PC port released for the first Viva Piñata game. There are a couple of differences between the port and the original Xbox 360 release, which are touched upon later.

Piñatas are genderless - Technically no piñata is given a gender in game, all piñatas function the same. While in the show gendered piñatas are present it could potentially be that piñatas are naturally genderless and then if they are sapient can choose genders which fit their identity.

Burger king toys - A bundle of burger king exclusive plastic toys of piñatas were made and sold alongside the children's meals, some of the piñatas were Elephanilla, Sparrowmint, Goobaa and so forth. These toys are nowadays rare and sought after by people who collect the very small amount of official Viva Piñata merch that exists.

Wildcards - Wildcard piñatas are unique piñatas that have a feature which makes it stand out next to others of its species. There are a total of 3 variants of wildcards per piñata, some being exclusively gained through trading piñatas online. In the original game wildcards were extremely rare and there was only one variant, while they were made easier to acquire in TiP.

Both the games and show are canon - Just what it says, according to the creators both the games and show are canon to Viva Piñata lore. This makes for some strange implications, but that's for later.

TiP Fence Glitch / Exploit - A sort of well known glitch often used while playing Viva Piñata Trouble in Paradise. Fences normally do not stop Ruffians and Professor Pester from entering your garden, as they simply destroy them when they’re in the way. However, if arranged in a specific pattern in the area next to the volcano they enter from, the fence will make them permanently stuck. They will be stopped at the very edge of the garden at the fence, unable to properly enter or do anything. This can occur unintentionally as well in both the original game and TiP, as sometimes Ruffians and Professor Pester get stuck on seemingly random things and become unable to do anything.

Domesticated piñatas becoming un-domesticated - A strange difference between the original game and TiP is the fact that you can no longer buy domesticated piñatas from the Paper Pet’s store. Instead of being purchased they simply appear in the wild like any other wild piñata, whether this implies that these piñatas are no longer considered domesticated or is just a game design choice is unclear.

Jardinero and his family - In game a big part of the npc cast are Jardinero and his children, Leafos, Seedos, Storkos and Dastardos. They all play important roles in terms of the game mechanics, but also have their own stories which can be read about in the journal. The journal also mentions the character Mother, which is Jardineros wife and mother of their children. She is a seafaring adventurer that occasionally came to visit Piñata Island to see her husband and kids.

-Level 3-

Dastardos ghost theory - Because of Dastardos more ghostly abilities, such as floating around, being able to go through objects and not being recognized by his family, it is theorized he may either be undead or a ghost. The entry for the Dastardos shovelhead also implies this, calling him “untouchable” and only thanks to lining up to his frequency can the shovel hit him. This theory kind of makes the fact that Professor Pester being responsible for this even more messed up.

Extended / full version of Horstachio commercial - One of the more famous pieces of commercials to advertise the first game was the one featuring Hudson Horstachio, about to be broken by a couple of kids, that he offers a bunch of outlandish things to to convince them to let him down. There are apparently some different versions of the commercial which feature different things being offered, with a full uncut version that has all the offers in it.

Piñata cards - In Viva Piñata Trouble in Paradise there is a function which is called Piñata Vision, which utilizes the Xbox Live Vision camera. By scanning the card you can get the piñata or item displayed on the card, some of these cards feature the developers in the form of a piñata and characters from other games.

Language Dubs - The PC port of the original game has a lot of language dubs, translated into languages such as Dutch, Swedish, Spanish, Chinese and more. Some of these do not extend to the UI oddly enough, while for the majority of translations all of the game’s features are translated accordingly, with the exception of piñata names. The language chosen is determined by the language set for the computer, so if you want the game in a specific language you’d need to change the language of the computer before installing it.

PC port graphical downgrades - Oddly enough the PC port has some graphical differences compared to the original Xbox 360 release. Mostly the graphics being downgraded, even on the highest settings, such as the lighting and texture resolution on objects and the environment.

Miss Petula’s neglectful parents - The npc that runs the Paper Pet’s store is Miss Petula, who often lets the player know she’s not very enthusiastic about her job. Mostly because her parents have left the store in her care, and don’t seem to communicate with their daughter much aside from grounding her, as she mentions it in her dialogue. In one of her dialogue lines when the player leaves the shop she ponders running away from home.

Accessories graphical glitches - Some accessories have graphical glitches associated with them, such as missing pieces or being misaligned on the model during certain animations. Examples of this is the ribbon being missing when a Ponocky wears a tail ribbon (in the PC version), or goggles on Chippopotamus not moving properly when their mouth is opened.

Some piñatas are sapient, others not - Because of the fact that both the show and games are canon makes some things kind of weird. Though even if the show wasn’t canon this would still be a thing - as thanks to the existence of Langston and some of the show characters appearing in the DS game. Most piñatas in the games act like animals and cannot speak, however in the show and with Langston they are very much as sapient as a human. What causes a piñata of the same species to be sapient or not? Why does no character in the game acknowledge this strange difference? We don’t know.

Magic is real - In the Viva Piñata universe, at least on Piñata Island, magic exists. Seen in the form of Leafos and Jardinero summoning items, Bart transforming items into other things, Seedos and other characters teleporting and both Dastardos and Storkos being able to fly. There are other examples of magic, nobody really explains why magic exists or to what extent it is used or capable of being, but simply something that is commonplace on Piñata Island. If magic exists in other places is unknown.

The DS game - Known as Viva Piñata Pocket Paradise, the DS game came out after both the original game and TiP. It features a mix of piñatas from both the other games, however not all of them, because of the limitations of being on the DS. It is pretty much just another Viva Piñata game where you tend to a garden, now using the touchscreen to use your tools and so on.

How the fuck does the family not recognize Dastardos as Stardos - A strange phenomenon considering at least Jardinero considers Dastardos familiar and so does Leafos to an extent (he is in the "family members" part of the journal after all), but apparently none of the other family members have been able to figure out that Dastardos is in fact Stardos. Whether this is them just being very oblivious or not it’s still sad that they can’t even recognize their own family member after being corrupted. This is also even more strange considering Dastardos lives literally across the garden from his family, how have they not been able to tell by now? Though, if the ghost theory is considered, maybe it’s understandable why they have such a hard time recognizing him.

-Level 4-

Langston taking over the position of authority in piñata central from Jeffe - Apparently Jeffe used to be in charge of the piñata central and was later kicked off his position and replaced by Langston, this is to reflect how Jeffe was originally planned as the head of the piñata central before being replaced by Langston as influenced by the show. Why he was kicked off his position is uncertain, but theorized to be because of the fact that he turned into a piñata or half piñata from ingesting too much candy - though why this would influence him being kicked off i’m not sure. Maybe he abused the central for his own gain?

“They all wear masks, some are just more elaborate than others” - A statement from a developer when asked about the masks worn by the humanoid characters in the games, whether they’re their actual heads or some kinda mask. This was meant to clarify that all the human characters are fully human, however it still leaves some things unanswered - such as if they are masks then why can we not see Fannie Franker’s face inside the mailbox on her head? Or what does that entail for the Ruffians whose bodies are pretty much completely covered in their masks.

Squazzils name debate - A reference to how in game Leafos mentions that the name for the Squazzil was debated before you, the player, arrived at the island. Being apparently called Nonsquirrel as they were trying to figure out a name for the species. Whether this is true or not is uncertain, as Leafos does state untrue rumors sometimes.

The side characters in P-Factor - P-Factor is a minigame in TiP that is you showing off your piñata in a contest against other players or npcs. This minigame features both already existing npcs, such Leafos for example, as well as some made exclusively for the minigames. Some of these npcs include Maxime, Babochka, Nana Urf and more. They also make an appearance in the Great Piñata Paperchase minigame, however they are much more prominently presented in the P-Factor minigame.

Unknown blue flower - There is a blue flower which appears outside of the garden space as a decoration in the original game. This blue flower is not a flower which appears anywhere else, and cannot be planted in the garden either. Most of the flowers and trees found outside the garden space are plants that are available for the player, but this one flower is unique in that it isn’t part of those plants.

Leafos might be a lesbian - As it is very much implied that Leafos is the one who writes the entries for the items, objects, characters and piñatas in the journal one can glean interesting information and thoughts about Leafos. In the entry for the Pink Flutterscotch there is the sentence “A girl (that I may or may not have liked) once told me that the Pink Flutterscotch reminded her of a kiss.” Some people take this as an implication that Leafos may be a lesbian and or bi, which i personally think would be neat.

Viva Piñata Party Animals - A party game that stars the main cast of the tv show, it features a lot of different minigames and a mario kart-like racing minigame, kinda being a mix between mario party and mario kart except piñata themed. It’s very different from the other games in the series and has a lot of locations and items not featured in the other games as well.

Unused piñata concepts - There are plenty of piñatas that never made it into any of the games, as one would expect. Examples of piñatas that never appear in the game but had concepts made for them are a Giraffe, a Platypus that would’ve been acquired by breeding a Quackberry and Sweetooth together, a Hammerhead shark with a sour form and a Kangaroo. A goldfish piñata was also part of concepts, however this piñata does appear in the game - as the fish in the bowl on Miss Petulas head.

Ivor in the wishing well - In TiP Ivor Bargain is strangely missing, with the items he used to sell now being purchasable at Cost’o’lots. Ivor can however be found residing at the bottom of the wishing well object, which you can purchase after playing through the credits sequence. By donating chocolate coins you can get him to speak and throw items from the well depending on what amount you throw in. It is hinted that Lottie was the one who pushed Ivor into the well, likely because she doesn’t want competition selling items to the local gardeners.

-Level 5-

Banjo Kazooie Mountains - One of the rarer (hah) easter eggs to spot in the original game, in the distance across the swamp where Seedos lives one can see a mountain which has Banjo and Kazooie carved into the mountain. This is much easier to see in the Xbox 360 version compared to the PC port, because of the higher resolution textures.

Silent piñatas - Every piñata is voice acted, or are they? One might notice that there are two, well technically eleven, piñatas that are completely silent. The Flutterscotches and Mothdrops are fully silent, not making any noise. Why this is is uncertain, as other bug piñatas do have noises, such as the Taffly and Sweetle. It may be because normally no noise is associated with butterflies or moths in real life, or it may be because these piñatas are meant to be more akin to decorational than a “proper” piñata.

Dragonache flying away glitch - A glitch which is easily done in game, by making the dragonache engage in a fight with another piñata and using the menu to send it off from the garden. By opening the fighting view, which can be accessed to monitor the fight separate from the normal camera view, it will focus in on the two piñatas. The camera will become strange as the Dragonache flies away from the garden, letting you see out of bounds and see details otherwise obscured by things in the background around the garden. I recommend doing this after having done at least one mandatory fight beforehand, as you are forced to watch the first fight that occurs and will unable to do anything till it is finished. Thus if you do this glitch while forced to watch it you will be unable to access the rest of your garden for quite some time.

Giant Zumbug glitch - Not certain if a glitch or hack, there have been reports of a giant Zumbug in TiP which is acquired through unknown means. This giant Zumbug can be sent through the Xbox Live service, but more than that is not known.

Professor Pester is legit evil and fucked up - Even though he’s presented in the show as a bumbling idiot of a villain, he has done a lot of fucked up shit. Not only does he employ Ruffians to mess up other people’s gardens, including Jardinero’s garden, he is also the reason why sour piñatas exist. Making a sour goop which is used for creating sour candy, it is a candy which makes anyone who eats it sick and possibly corrupts them - this is evident in how he corrupted Stardos by giving him sour candy. He may have rather bland goals as a villain, simply wanting complete control of the piñata island and its piñatas, but he’s done some pretty messed up stuff to try and accomplish this goal.

Extra color variants - All piñatas, except for the Flutterscotches, have three color variants that can be acquired by feeding the piñata specific things. However, there are piñatas that have more variants than others, through being caught in the Pinartic or Dessert Desert, and then feeding those the same things. This will cause them to gain a different tint of color compared to their normal counterparts, as thanks to having a different default color because of being from a different region.

Money and Piñata duplication glitch - It is possible to duplicate money and piñatas by abusing the post office, by editing the contents of the boxes being mailed while they are shipped off. This can be used to quickly acquire master romance rewards and cut down on time spent making chocolate coins the normal way. This glitch appears to be the easiest to do in TiP, compared to the first game.

Giant and tiny seeds - You can gain a plethora of things from the mine, which includes seeds. Sometimes when the mine uncovers seeds there is a chance for the seed to either be bigger or smaller than normal, these seeds work exactly like their normal sized versions, but sell for different prices. The size difference can vary wildly, with really big seeds and incredibly tiny seeds that are hard to see.

Ivor has two mouths - Something that may be easily missed, but Ivor Bargain does as a matter of fact have two mouths. One for each “face” he has, for when he’s a beggar and a merchant, he can flip between the two by spinning his head, flipping his head up or down. This is a little freaky, and completely glanced over in game, left unexplained why he has two mouths or can flip his head upside down with no consequences.

Leafos is vegan - A very recent thing which has been observed through the rare cookbook that has been released, which features an array of rare game inspired recipes. Recipes which are vegan or vegan friendly are marked with “Leafos vegan approved”, which implies that Leafos is vegan.

Fudgehog cutscene - On certain days of the month a different cutscene will play during the opening of the first game on Xbox 360 and PC, replacing the normal Horstachio cutscene. Instead it is a Fudgehog being broken to reveal the rare logo, though there is a bug in the PC port that makes the Fudgehog cutscene not play.

Pudgeon romance dance - An oddity among the rest of the romance dances is the Pudgeon romance dance, which is the only piñata to actually wear the required accessories needed for romancing in the romance dance cutscene.

-Level 6-

Mousemallow sounds - The Mousemallow makes interesting noises, which may seem strange for a mouse, as they aren’t squeaks. They go “chu” because the developer voicing them is from Japan, where mice are vocalized as going “chu” instead of squeak.

Cut baby piñatas - Originally piñata babies were meant to look different from their adult counterparts, instead of just being smaller. However because of time constraints this was cut.

Humans can become piñatas rumor - In game this is presented in TiP with Jeffe, which is a human piñata or a half human half piñata, he states “If you eat enough candy and pull a face in the wind you'll become a piñata, I never want to see another piece of candy let alone a piñata full of it.” as part of dialogue during P-Factor. We cannot confirm whether this is actually true or not, but if Jeffe’s statement is true then it would imply that humans can turn into piñatas. This in turn creates a lot of questions, such as why does this happen? Has this happened to people outside of Piñata Island? Is this something exclusive to just the island or candy from the living piñatas? Can this happen with animals as well?

Tamed sour piñatas reverting via mail - A gameplay mechanic which is not commonly seen is the fact that tamed sour piñatas can revert back to a sour state. This occurs when you send a tamed sour piñata to a player which hasn’t unlocked the tamed version of that piñata, when the piñata is taken out of its mailed box it will be the sour version. This happens in all the main games, including Pocket Paradise as well.

Pitch black piñata variants - A once exclusive variant available through Piñata Vision cards, it turns a piñata completely black, even sour piñatas. This can be acquired without the use of cards through things like hacking or modifying the game’s files.

Piñata meat - Something mentioned in the journal and seen in the form of some piñatas attacking projectiles, eating piñatas in the form of eating their “meat” is apparently a normal thing on Piñata Island. Examples of this are the journal entries for Cluckles and Arocknids, which mention eating Cluckle legs, as well as the projectiles of Cluckles and Goobaa being chicken legs and mutton chops. It is also mentioned in in-game dialogue that Storkos eats piñata eggs if unable to deliver them, and other piñatas do consume piñata eggs. Are thus piñatas edible beyond just their candy? Or are the residents on Piñata Island cooking and eating paper mache animal parts and acting like that’s not weird?

Family mode - A mode found in the original game and TiP, which allows two people to play at the same time using two controllers. Simply done by connecting a second controller while playing the game, it’s originally meant for parents to be able to help their kids while they play without having to disturb the gameplay. This mode can be used to give yourself an edge in the early stages of the game in TiP, as the second controller will have the best tools available right away and is capable of things the first controller cannot, like filling a piñatas candiosity by performing tasks.

Dastardos and Seedos special interaction - When you’ve beaten up Seedos and gotten him on his bad side he’ll start to chuck weed seeds into your garden, and has a special interaction with Dastardos if both of them are in the garden while he is in his upset state. When Seedos has thrown a weed seed, the two of them will turn to face each other and do their laughing animation, presumably because both of them enjoy the chaos. Or maybe they have that slight family connection still? It’s rather sad though that Seedos only acknowledges his brother at all when he’s angry and upset.

-Level 7-

Viva Piñata Candy Stash - There are a few piñata games which aren’t widely known, for example this Adobe Flash tower defense game developed and published by 4Kids TV, known as Viva Piñata Candy Stash. This game features Professor Pester trying to steal the player’s candy using Ruffian robots, and to stop him the player builds towers invented by piñata characters from the tv show.

Petting piñatas - Exclusive to Pocket Paradise, you can pet your piñatas which makes them happy. Different piñatas like to be pet differently, and if petted the wrong way it won’t increase their happiness.

No 100% reward in first game - Both Viva Piñata Trouble in Paradise and Viva Piñata Pocket Paradise have a reward / reward screen for completing the game fully, by getting all the available rewards for the piñatas and plants. However, there is no proper completion reward in the original first game, there are rewards for various milestones but none for completing everything.

Piñata mascot suits - As part of promotions and promotional material there exists mascot suits of some piñatas, such as the Horstachio, Pretztail and Fudgehog. Whether these suits are kept in storage somewhere or have been thrown away we do not know.

Ruffians helping Helpers - Unless you mess with your helpers just for fun, you’re unlikely to ever see this happen. When a helper of any kind is stuck because of a fence or being surrounded by objects, they will constantly keep telling you they’re stuck. If you let them stay stuck for long enough a Ruffian will spawn in, no matter if you have a Captain’s Cutlass or not in your garden, that you cannot interact with. They will wander over to the helper and free them by destroying the object that’s in the way. Leafos will then berate you with a notification, saying “Shame on you!” for being such a jerk to your helper, and that the Ruffian and helper are running off; the helper leaving permanently.

Ruffians speaking - Ruffians normally do not speak, only making various grunts, but do have dialogue seen in Pocket Paradise.

-Honorable Mentions-

Miss Petula’s cat eyes - Miss Petula has a strange animation in game where her eyes go from having rounded pupils to having slitted, cat-like pupils. This is likely because of her cat theme, but is still strange considering she’s supposed to be a human.

Rare variant of logo cutscene - There is a version of the rare logo reveal cutscene played when opening the game, that features the rare logo itself exploding with candy. This is played in certain versions of the game, likely because of the fact that both the Fudgehog and Horstachio cutscenes feature a sort of dismemberment via them being smashed into bits which can be seen as inappropriate in certain regions.

All the shops have slot machines - A strange detail is that all the shopping menus are made out of slot machines, which might seem odd since slot machines usually have nothing to do with shops or making purchases, more so being related to gambling.

Unidentified voice actors - A lot of the voices provided for the games go unnamed in the credits, however we do know most of the piñata voices are members of the staff and developers. The missing voice actors for the npcs are listed as “Voices provided by 4Kids” with no names attached.

#viva piñata #viva pinata #vp #iceberg meme #meme #text #yeah i am planning on making a video #i normally don't make videos but considering i've watched a fair share of iceberg explanation videos n have enjoyed them i was like #why not do that too? i'm sure some people would enjoy it #also gives me an excuse to sit down n play the game some :b #unfortunately i won't be able to capture footage for TiP since i don't have a capture card #though maybe one day i'll get one so i can record n stream the game :3 #also if you see anything which is inaccurate on here lemme know! i wanna get things right #also thanks to all the peeps that gave suggestions it helped a lot n got me inspired

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ashketchup119 · 3 years

Text

Four Years To Get There

If you or a loved one remember when I used to write regularly for hypzag/zagnos, you may be entitled to a senior citizen discount-

I didn’t want to post all of my hades stuff, but I think this one is really cute. My fanfiction writing and my original story writing are two different styles, because fanfic is my domain to go crazy go wild.

“So, four years stuck with my brother? I don’t envy you.” Thanatos commented airily as he made coffee.

Zagreus, who had woken up ten minutes prior and was staring morosely at the countertop, looked up when Than started speaking, and frowned. “Hypnos isn’t that bad, Than. He’s actually nice to be around. And he hasn’t made ‘morning person’ into a personality trait, unlike other people.” He smiled after saying this, in a teasing manner aimed in the direction of Than’s back.

Than hmph-ed and said nothing more.

The rest of the morning passed by as usual- Than went to work, Zag went to the gym and to walk Cerberus, Than came back for an early lunch, and the two of them exchanged pleasantries at the junction between their personal schedules- Than half out the door, Zag on his way in. The two of them had been roommates for two years, and had become comfortable with this routine.

Earlier that week, though, Zag had gotten an email saying he’d been chosen to work as a bodyguard for a diplomat headed on a mission to a planet where rumors of attack had been swirling, with instructions on how to get to the port and what to bring. In total, it was meant to last about nine years- four years to get there, a year on the planet, and four years to get back. It was quite the commitment, but he didn’t mind overmuch. It’s not like there was much waiting for him on the planet he lived on currently- just his friends, who assured him they’d text and video call, and his dog, who had already been approved to come with him.

The evening before, Zag had found out the name of the diplomat he was supposed to work for. It was Hypnos! His roommate's twin brother! The two of them weren’t very close, but he was kinda relieved to know there’d be another friendly face on the ship.

After greeting Than on the way in, he began packing, using the sheet he’d been sent. He put music on in the background, and hardly noticed the passing of time, only breaking out of his reverie when Than came to remind him to eat.

A couple days later, he was ready to leave, Cerberus waiting patiently at the door. He gave a quick goodbye to his friends and his father, the former of whom gave promises to contact and the latter of whom just hmm-ed under his breath.

After the ship had taken off, he sat on his bed for a while, taking it all in. He was going somewhere new- how exciting!- but he knew he was going to miss his friends and family.

A knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts.

“Coming!” He said as he went to get the door.

On the other side of the door stood Hypnos, in full regalia. His departure had been much larger and more public, and Zag hoped that his brothers and mother had shown up. Charon he was almost certain of, and made a mental note to check his social media for pictures Hermes had most likely posted about his “almost-little-brother-in-law leaving us behind!! 😭😭.” Nyx and Than, though, were a little colder, and Than had made no move to leave when Zag had gotten on the ship.

“Hi!” Hypnos chirped, trying not to show the exhaustion he felt. It had been nothing but endless briefings for months prior to this, and the next four years were sure to be a nice, long break before doing it again for a whole year.

“Hi!” Zag replied, feeling slightly awkward in his far less formal tank top and shorts.

Cerberus came up between them and nosed at Hypnos’ cloak.

“Hi to you too!” Hypnos bent down and pet Cerberus to the best of his ability, mentally thanking the powers that be that he was a rather tall Doberman and not a small dog.

Zag knew that Hypnos was his friend and his roommate’s brother, but he still was at a loss of how to act. Hypnos was, for all intents and purposes, his boss now, and he wasn’t sure whether or not he’d be expected to act accordingly.

Hypnos ended all pretenses of formality by stepping into Zag’s room and quickly shedding all jewelry and reminders of his station, leaving him in a long, elegant dress that crumpled beneath him when he flopped on Zag’s bed.

Hypnos yawned widely, and shifted to where he had a view of Zag still awkwardly standing in the doorway to his own room. Cerberus climbed on the bed next to him, and laid his head on Hypnos’ stomach.

It was a scene which made Zag vaguely want to join in and rest, but he was too wired to do so. Instead, he pulled the chair out from the desk facing the bed, and sat down with the back of the chair pressed to his chest.

“You excited?” Zag asked Hypnos, lightly drumming his fingers against the cool plastic.

Hypnos made a noncommittal noise and seemed to settle into the bed more. “You don’t mind if I nap here, do you?”

Zag shook his head, and Hypnos nodded slightly before falling asleep so quickly it startled Zag. He waited a few minutes before beginning to unpack, trying his hardest to remain quiet so as not to disrupt Hypnos. After dropping an exercise weight rather loudly and realizing that Hypnos hadn’t even stirred, he abandoned all attempts at noiselessness and just began placing things, noise be damned.

He was so wrapped up in it he failed to notice when Hypnos woke up, studied him from behind for a few seconds (it was a nice view! sue him!), then rolled over and went back to sleep.

Zag was in the middle of organizing the desk when his communicator pinged, alerting him that dinner was being served in the cafeteria.

“What time is it?” Hypnos mumbled from the bed.

Zag tilted the communicator to turn the screen on and told him.

Hypnos sighed and sat up, yawning as he stretched. He sat and blinked for a couple of seconds, then said, “We have to go to a special dinner with the other politicians and stuff. After today we’ll be able to go to the cafeteria, though.”

“When does it start?” Zag asked, trying to remember where he’d put his formal clothes.

Hypnos smiled guiltily and responded, “Five minutes ago?”

Zag’s eyes widened and he sprung into action, grabbing his clothes from the drawer and stumbling slightly as he went into the bathroom to change. Hypnos began to reluctantly put his own uniform on. By the time Zag came out, striking quite the figure in the fitted vestments, Hypnos had managed to pull everything on, and was fiddling with the clasp of the cloak.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Zag offered, and went to stand in front of Hypnos, where he reached up slightly and fastened the cloak.

The two stood in front of each other for a couple of seconds, Hypnos mentally preparing himself for human interaction and Zag trying to recall his training. Then, Hypnos sighed and moved around Zag to get to the door, and Zag fell into position beside him.

A week passed with Zag at Hypnos’ side almost constantly (even in sleep, to an extent, as their rooms were next to each other) before Hypnos once again came to his room for a nap. Then, over time, this became a regular occurrence. Hypnos would nap on Zag’s bed almost every day, and when he wasn’t napping, the two of them talked. Zag told Hypnos about growing up with a father who simultaneously ignored and expected everything from his son; his mother, who he had only met again recently, who used to worked as a diplomat but had retired to a small, idyllic, relatively unknown planet; the important people in his life, like his mentor Achilles and his friends. In return, Hypnos told Zag about growing up in a family that seemed to excel at everything; days spent sleeping because he couldn’t disappoint people in his dreams; going to school to learn how to talk to people and accidentally gaining importance. They talked about loneliness and happiness, highs and lows.

It brought them closer together, and as weeks turned to months, Hypnos found himself looking forward to talks with Zagreus. He would wake up, giddy for their next interaction, and anticipate what he might say today. Maybe he’d make a comment about Zag’s haircut or a joke about how Cerberus like him better than Zag. Thinking about Zag made him smile involuntarily, and when the two of them talked, Hypnos sometimes felt his cheeks warm at Zag’s laugh and demeanor.

About four months into their voyage, he realized what this meant.

Oh.

Oh no.

It’s not like he hadn’t talked to Zag before- he did live with his brother- but the close quarters made everything… different. It felt like it was just the two of them, an island floating in a ship of 200 people. Maybe that was it- he just wanted to feel close to only other person on board he interacted with regularly. It couldn’t possibly be like, an actual crush, right? Yeah, no. It wasn’t.

That’s what he told himself, at least.

Zag, on the other hand, was oblivious to Hypnos’ internal struggle. He liked hanging out with Hypnos. They’d gone from acquaintances to best friends quickly, and Zag came to treasure their (many) moments together. He liked the teasing and jokes, and came to find his little yawn-stretches after a good nap rather cute.

He had a crush on Hypnos.

He didn’t try to deny it or push it out of his mind, but he also didn’t really acknowledge it either. Hypnos was funny and adorable and really, really disliked tomatoes but always got an extra helping of pasta or whatever food with tomatoes was being served so he could give it to Zag, who he knew loved tomatoes. Zag couldn’t imagine not having a bit of a crush on Hypnos. He figured most people who met him did, because how could they not? With his unruly curls and dimples he was classic crush material.

So the first year passed.

The second year began with a party, a celebration of “making it one year without any major incidents” (the ship captain’s words). Hypnos and Zag attended, once again in their stuffy formal wear, but ditched halfway through in favor of grabbing any food they could stuff in their pockets and talking in Zag’s room until long after the partygoers had trickled back into their rooms.

With the second year came new responsibilities. Hypnos’ monthly meetings turned into two, and he began to attend refresher courses on the language he’d be expected to use once the ship landed. Zag found himself standing outside rooms more often than not, and poor Cerberus’ walks went from three times a day to two. Their hang out time was cut in half virtually overnight.

So… why did Hypnos’ crush on Zagreus only worsen?

They were both interacting with other people, and he had work to do. Why couldn’t he seem to pry Zag from his mind? He had to focus! But all he could focus on was Zag’s smile, playing on repeat in some sadistic part of his brain, and he wondered idly if someone had invented some sort of “cure” for a crush. Zag was his brother’s roommate! Than probably had a crush on him or something, because there’s no other way he’d let anyone live with him. He’d barely tolerated Hypnos when they’d shared a room as children!

(Than did have a small crush on Zagreus, but was finding out quickly that distance did not, in fact, make the heart fonder.)

Hypnos didn’t sleep a lot at night. Normally, sleep wasn’t a problem for him; he’d always been one to fall asleep easily and deeply. Now, though, his thoughts played on an endless loop, and he only really slept when he was in Zag’s room, surrounded by the noises of Zagreus and Cerberus.

Zag found that his crush on Hypnos was quickly blossoming into something much deeper, and didn’t really mind it. He wondered, idly, if there was a chance of Hypnos feeling the same, but didn’t want to jeopardize the mission (they still had eight more years together!) or their friendship. Besides, there was something beautiful in just the feeling of spending time with someone you l- cared for. Cared for, and he figured it was better to enjoy it.

For a short while, anyway.

It was difficult to deny the dreams he had of holding hands with Hypnos and going on dates (among other, less wholesome things), and he began to wonder more and more often if those dreams had a chance of becoming a reality.

Probably not. Hypnos was busy and important; he probably didn’t think about Zag half as much as Zag thought about him.

Three years came and went, with the budding feelings between the two only deepening. It caused some slight frustration, but neither of them was willing to talk about it, and behind their backs, the rest of the ship began to take bets on when they were going to get together.

It didn’t happen in Year Three, when they were shoved into a closet “on accident” and spent the time talking about the things they had to finish that day.

It didn’t happen in Year Four, when Cerberus got sick and the two of them squished themselves into the same chair with Hypnos’ formal cloak draped on top of them like a blanket. It had been a cute scene, and was trending with #zagnos on social media for an hour before another diplomat had requested it get taken down.

Finally, the day came for them to land. The whole ship was abuzz with people hurrying to and fro in anxious attempts to make sure they and their belongings were ready to depart. They’d been told to leave the bulk of their belongings on the ship, as it was the same one they’d be returning to and they would still have access to it, but this left people unsure as to whether they should over or underpack.

Zag had decided that one backpack would probably be enough, seeing as they’d been told that decorations in the rooms they were to be provided were forbidden. He also had a tote bag with Cerberus’ things packed, and was more or less just waiting for the ship to be cleared to unload.

Hypnos, on the other hand, had three pre-packed, unopened suitcases filled with various clothes of the local fashion (enough to make sure they wouldn’t repeat; the higher-ups wanted to make an impression of their wealth); a bag of cosmetics and hair products (no longer would the unruly mess of curls reign); five briefcases with information he’d studied front to back multiple times during the trip; another duffle bag with sleep clothes; and a bag with all of his electronics.

Zag picked up as much as he could, and the rest was carried by an envoy sent from the local government, leaving Hypnos free to smile and shake hands and generally do the job he’d been sent there to do.

It was a stark difference from the Hypnos Zag had gotten to know, and it shocked him somewhat to see how quickly he’d changed from Hypnos, Zag’s best friend and the guy he’s in love with, to a charming diplomat with a winning smile that anyone would be hard-pressed to dislike.

Zag must’ve been hard-pressed, then, because he found himself disliking this version of Hypnos. There was something… insincere about it. It was all fake, a show put on to help Hypnos do his job better.

Well, he was only here to help Hypnos do his job, right? It wasn’t for him to like or dislike things.

There was to be a party for those who had finally touched down on solid ground, and as Zag changed into a less formal outfit for the event, he heard a knock at the door. He opened it, then frowned, realizing that there was no one there. He turned to go back to getting ready, but not even five seconds later, the knock sounded again. Again, he opened the door, only to find no one there. He went outside and walked around a little, but didn’t see anyone. He went back to his room, where the knocking sounded again, and realized that the knocking was coming from somewhere not the front door.

Five minutes later, he found a shallow dip in the wall, and when he touched it, a smooth voice asked, “Name?”

“Uh, Zagreus?” He answered.

A beep sounded, and the voice once again asked, “Name?”

“Zagreus… Plutonic?” He replied again, questioningly.

A ding sounded, and a portion of the wall swung outward to reveal Hypnos, still in the same outfit he’d been wearing earlier. Hypnos smiled widely at him- that same smile that he wore during their hang out sessions, not the one he wore as a diplomatic mask- but quickly flushed purple.

Zag raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“You’re uh, you-“ Hypnos stammered. “You’re not wearing a shirt, silly!”

Zag looked down and realized Hypnos was right. He smiled as he teased, “And? Do you like what you see?”

Hypnos just giggled, a high-pitched, somewhat frantic noise.

Zagreus put on a shirt as Hypnos moved into the room, sitting daintily on the edge of the bed because his ornate clothing stopped him from doing anything else. Cerberus came up to him and wagged his tail expectantly, and Hypnos reached out and pet his head, making sure to scratch the area behind his ears that he knew he liked.

Zag watched them fondly. He’d always taken it as a good sign that Hypnos and Cerberus got along so well, and had told his mom such. She’d agreed with him, with that bright look in her eyes that hinted she knew more than she let on.

When Zag was ready, the two of them left together, Cerberus asleep on the bed.

At the party itself, the two of them basically stuck to the edges, chatting with other people occasionally. Eventually, an alcoholic drink was thrust into their hands. Zag looked questioningly at Hypnos, who nodded slightly as he put his own drink down. Zag grinned and drank it all down in one gulp, to the cheers of the other partygoers. He began to mingle with the crowd, leaving Hypnos standing awkwardly in the corner. Some other diplomats joined him, and they spent time murmuring about upcoming responsibilities and travel memories.

About an hour later, Hypnos felt a tug on his arm, and looked up to see Zagreus, cheeks flushed, smiling widely as he pulled him to the dancefloor. Hypnos made half-hearted excuses to the other diplomats before turning and anxiously following Zag to the dancefloor, leaving several knowing faces in his wake.

The two of them danced for a while, laughing wildly and holding each other’s hands in turn, high on the music and each other’s company. Eventually, the two of them ended up in a different corner than they’d started off in, smiling widely, faces flushed with exertion.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. Hypnos was smiling widely and giggling breathlessly, staring down at Zag. Zag was looking up at him brightly, fondness crinkling the corners of his eyes. Zag pushed up, slightly, onto the tips of his toes. Hypnos leaned down, unconsciously.

Their lips met.

After a second, Hypnos jerked back. Zag was drunk, and Hypnos felt like he was taking advantage of the situation.

He cleared his throat and turned around, mood suddenly soured. “Let’s go back to the rooms, I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

Zag wrinkled his nose and slurred, “Nuh I haven’t.”

Hypnos grabbed his arm and led him out anyway, exchanging goodbyes with those who came to talk to them. When they got to Zag’s room, he watched him go inside, then went to his own room.

He slept, exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally.

When he woke up, he was still tired, but he got out of bed and forced himself to get ready for the day, even though he felt like sleeping for the next decade at least.

Zag woke up with a slight headache and a feeling of embarrassment. He really just… HAD to go and kiss Hypnos, huh? And Hypnos had clearly not felt the same and what HAPPENED to “I technically work for him so this is a bad idea”?

He really should’ve just… stayed sober.

“I fucked up, Cerberus.” He told his dog morosely, who just stared back at him.

He sighed, took some medicine, fed his dog, and put on his uniform, feeling slight dread as he exited his room. Hypnos was standing outside, and didn’t look at him as he began to walk to his first appointment of the day.

It was hard for Hypnos to muster up his usual charm, but nothing went sideways, so he took that as a win. Meals were awkward, what with Zagreus sitting in front of him but neither of them talking.

It continued like this for a week before one of them decided to break the silence.

Zag knocked on the door separating their rooms late one night, and opened it after hearing a returning knock. He walked into Hypnos’ room, noting the fact that it was messier than he’d ever seen it.

“I,” He began, then paused slightly. “I just wanted to apologize. It was wrong of me, and I can only-”

“Apologize for what?” Hypnos butted in, confused.

“Well… the kiss?” Zagreus responded, just as confused.

“Wait.” Hypnos said, eyes narrowing slightly as he continued, “I’m the one who should apologize to you, I took advantage of the fact tha-”

“Why are you apologizing to me? I’m the one with the-” Zag made a vague hand motion, “feelings.”

Hypnos stared at him. “I thought… I was the one with feelings?”

The two of them stared at each other for a while before breaking into laughter.

“We’re so stupid!” Hypnos exclaimed between fits of laughter, and Zag just laughed as he sat on the bed so as to not fall down.

After a while, their laughter ceased.

Hypnos leaned into Zag’s shoulder, and Zag put an arm loosely around Hypnos waist. Then he pulled away slightly, and asked, “Should we try this again?”

Hypnos nodded, purple flush rising in his cheeks, and the two of them kissed.

#hypzag #zagnos #hades game #uhhh yeah #fanned fiction #ash does shit

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dramaticviolincrescendo · 3 years

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Rewatching Shameless and i just watched 6x1 jail scene. Can I request a meta if its not too much trouble? I feel like reading a really good meta about that scene and you're one of the best we've got so.....

It’s never any trouble at all! That’s so sweet to say—thank you so much! <3 Kind of coming to terms with the idea that anyone cares about my opinion over here. You guys are too much!

This scene is actually extremely important to me because it and the response to it were what made me start writing Shameless fanfiction, specifically when I saw that my views regarding Ian’s behavior and how Mickey received it were so vastly different from what I initially read. (Insert shameless plug for “That Milkovich Reputation” here.) Now, I know you’ve told me not to do this before, but based on the controversial position in which this scene resides, I feel the need to present a couple of disclaimers for our audience at large.

I first fell in love with Shameless last March, a couple weeks before quarantine began. I didn’t know what it was prior to that and therefore was not present when Noel left the show, so I didn’t experience the disappointment of a beloved character leaving in a potentially permanent way and didn’t engage in the fandom or see how deeply upset people were by that until after I finished the series. I also don’t subscribe to the theory that there was something going on behind the scenes or any animosity between Noel and the creators, as I have not seen any relevant evidence from reliable sources to support that what happened was anything other than decisions made in pursuit of career goals on both sides. As such, my analysis of this scene has only ever taken the content and context of the story and characters into account. I have no interest in speculating on the motives of people I do not know in writing it or portraying it this way, and even if I did, this scene made perfect sense to me as it was written and performed.

I understand and appreciate that this is not a popular position to take and urge everyone to pass this post by if my position on that matter is offensive or upsetting to you. I do not mean to tell anyone what to think or believe, only to explain how I view this scene and the context in which I do so.

That said, let’s begin.

When Last Seen: Mickey

As in all things, context is important. Prior to the prison scene, the last time we saw Mickey was when Ian broke up with him and Sammi interrupted their heartfelt moment, which basically sums up her character in a nutshell. That was a rough couple of days for Mickey. He saw how devastated Ian was to hear his family talk about him as though he were just like Monica; was distressed in his own right to return for him and discover that he’d left the base with Monica; buried his frustration and sadness by sleeping around with other people, which seemed to exacerbate those emotions because those people weren’t Ian, nor had he and Ian broken up when he did it; and came running when Ian called him, only for Ian to end their relationship.

Mickey is a very sharp man—we know this. He can read people like books and manipulate or intimidate them accordingly. He knew Ian had feelings for him in s1 when he showed up on his doorstep seeking comfort rather than going to any number of other people he trusted. He was well aware that Ian loved him in s3, and that made what he felt he had no choice in doing that much more painful. He heard what Ian said and knew what he was doing in 5x12. Of that, I have never had any doubt. It wasn’t like Ian tried to hide that he didn’t want to break up but thought that that was what would be best. In fact, the way he initially framed it always made me think that one of his highest priorities was not dragging Mickey down with him, especially in the aftermath of being called “destructive” and similar to someone who “put them through hell.” That’s why Mickey’s response wasn’t to call him an asshole or get angry or beg. It was to reassure Ian that he was there for the long haul, that he loved him and wanted to take care of him no matter what that meant—and that they could make that work. All the sentiments Ian had tried to communicate before he got married, Mickey was reciprocating in his own way. Had they not needed to temporarily write Mickey out of the story and Sammi hadn’t shown up right that second, I believe that he wouldn’t have given up so easily. We do have confirmation of that being the case in the prison scene, but we’ll get to that shortly.

When Last Seen: Ian

Ian isn’t a selfish character. We know this, too. However, Ian needed to be selfish by the end of s5. What he had to come to terms with wasn’t something that anyone could fully help him with, much as Mickey desperately wanted to. To Ian, the enemy was within. It was inside him, in his brain, telling him what to do even if that destroyed himself and everything he loved. It’s terrifying. I’m not bipolar, nor do I suffer from any other diagnosed mental illnesses, but I admire and respect everyone who wakes up every morning and tackles these things. They’re heroes every single day. But by the end of s5, Ian doesn’t feel much like a hero. Instead, he feels like the villain, and he’s lost touch with who he even is anymore.

That’s not a healthy mindset to have in a relationship. Relationships require a level of give and take, and that used to be something that Ian and Mickey already struggled with. Ian gave more in s1-3 because he was able to, while Mickey had a limit on what he could openly give because of the environment in which he lived and the manner in which he was raised. In s4-5, those roles were reversed: Mickey was able to give so much more, but Ian was gradually falling apart. Neither of them are at fault for any of those situations. It is what it is, and they have a stronger relationship for it. Ian is a giver, though. He’s always been a giver. To be in a position where he doesn’t feel like he can give anything to Mickey because he doesn’t even know who he is was truly heartbreaking for him, and objectively, he needed to take a step back so that he could focus on himself. He knew it. Based on Mickey’s understanding of Ian’s reasons after watching him deny that he had a problem for so long, I think Mickey knew it too. This hurt both of them—Ian to say it and Mickey to hear it—but they’re not fools and they’re not naïve. In some ways, they know each other better than anyone.

Jimmy said that when you’re on a plane, they tell you to put on your mask before you help anyone else with theirs. Ian needed to put on his mask. His heart can’t keep beating if his lungs don’t work.

Starting Season 6: Mickey

Unsurprisingly, Mickey has settled into prison life just fine. We’ll focus on his interactions with Ian in a bit as that’s the meat of the scene, but there are major implications inherent in his discussion with Svetlana beforehand.

1. Mickey has accepted that this will be his reality for the foreseeable future. What else is he supposed to do? Besides, he’s known for a long time that the likelihood of ending up in prison was pretty high for him, as he alluded to in s2. He was a street thug. He stole from local stores, sold drugs, ran guns, operated a rub ‘n’ tug, created scam companies, and was a generally violent presence in the neighborhood for years. He was in juvie twice during the show, perhaps more beforehand. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that it would have been more surprising if Mickey didn’t get locked up at some point than that he did.

2. Ian has visited Mickey before. We won’t get too deeply into this yet, but he thanks Ian for “coming back.” The other times, he wasn’t even paid to do it. So, as far as Mickey can tell, nothing has changed. Ian is focusing on himself right now, but his love for Mickey hasn’t dulled at all. That’s an encouraging thought, and it certainly puts a smile on Mickey’s face.

3. Ever the opportunist and entrepreneur, Mickey really is doing just fine in prison. He runs a business, if you will, that appears to be quite lucrative already. This isn’t surprising either. Sadly, it’s a bad move. He’s already going to be in prison for somewhere around a decade, give or take a couple of years depending on his behavior. But his behavior isn’t good. He’s hurting people for money, and if he gets caught and brought up on more charges, not only will he serve the full fifteen years, but he could get more time added onto that.

4. Ian is aware of this arrangement. He has to be if he’s been going there with Svetlana, and they weren’t exactly hiding what they were talking about. Ian has been very consistent throughout the series: he’s not as concerned with the moral implications of Mickey’s behavior, just how it could potentially impact their ability to be together. He still cares about Mickey at the start of s6, and Mickey can see it on his face when he won’t say it out loud. (More on that shortly.) Once he’s in a better spot mentally, maybe they would have gotten back together had Mickey been on the outside. I’m of the opinion that they would have based on the context of the situation. It isn’t an option, however. This is Mickey’s reality, and he’s not doing everything he can to get out earlier. If anything, he’s tempting fate on not being released at all. (This, in hindsight, sounds rather similar to the issues they’re dealing with right now in s11.)

So, this is where Mickey stands at the start of the season: a prison hitman who is quite pleased that the man he loves has come to see him again, even if the latter is visibly not in a very healthy mental state.

Starting Season 6: Ian

Ian isn’t in most of 6x01. What we do see of him is typically sad or colored by his frustration, outside Carl’s welcome home party at the end of the episode. Even then, there’s an aura of discomfort that accompanies the family’s knowledge that things have changed. Carl came out of juvie a different person—they’re all different people after s5, and they’re not sure how to handle walking on eggshells around each other.

From the very start of the episode, we see that Ian is still struggling even though he’s had enough time to at least partially adjust to his medication, especially if he’s been on and off of it. It’s so sweet how Fiona gently wakes him up—it’s also a bit different. What happened to banging on the bunk bed and yelling for them to come down for breakfast? After behaving pretty normally with Debbie at the bathroom door, she’s almost handling him with kid gloves, and the punches keep coming when she reminds him that he (1) has to get up for work at a place he despises and (2) needs to remember to take his meds.

The kitchen scene is extremely telling of where Ian is at this point, and it partially shows why he’s somewhat standoffish by the time we reach the prison scene. Most of the family is gone or different. Fiona is repeatedly on him about meds and getting to work on time—Ian, Mister Responsible himself who was out of the house before anybody woke up to get to work on time as a kid. Lip is at college. Debbie is absorbed in her unconfirmed but likely pregnancy. Carl is in juvie, and Liam is playing with the switchblade he found under Carl’s pillow before they take him to pre-K. His entire support system is either gone or treating him like he’s broken. All he has is Fiona “going Fiona” on everyone. It’s clear that this is impacting him because he actually derails the conversation to say that they should go visit Carl the following weekend, which was the position Debbie used to be in when Fiona was in jail. Just like Lip shut her down, Debbie shuts Ian down, and he doesn’t say another word as he drinks his coffee—which he can’t finish because Fiona is once again on him about work, so he trudges out the door to another day of being a busboy with no dreams instead of a soldier who has a future.

Work isn’t much better. Svetlana wants him to go see Mickey when he’s determined to stay away. (We don’t have confirmation, but I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume that he wants to distance himself if Mickey is doing something that will potentially get him into even more trouble, especially given some of his reactions at the prison.) Sean is sending Fiona to nag him about not moving fast enough when the diner isn’t even busy. When Otis is chased down by the cops and slammed against the front window, Sean rather condescendingly tells him to, “take your rag and wipe the blood and snot off the window.” Ian—West Point-aspiring, ambitious, courageous, caring, intelligent, hardworking Ian has been reduced to wiping up someone’s snot by a boss who’s living in his house with a sister that’s treating him like he’s shattered glass and a family that is growing further and further apart these days.

That is the day Ian has had before he even arrives at the prison. Odds are that that is how most of his days have gone for quite some time, minus the blood and snot. …Maybe.

The Prison Scene

Now we come to it: what you actually asked about! It’s taken this long to get here because we can’t possibly interpret this scene effectively without incorporating all of what came before it. Mickey’s position is regrettable, but he knows that Ian still loves him and is at least handling his situation with all the grace and competence that we can expect from him. Ian is a bit of a mess who’s had a bad day and is now faced with the man he loves, who he is telling himself he can’t be with, sitting behind glass—where he’ll be for a good long while.

I’m going to divide this analysis into two sections. For a scene that many prefer to forget, to me, it’s a masterpiece of storytelling.

Physicality

The body language in this scene is remarkable—phenomenally blocked, phenomenally directed, and phenomenally portrayed.

When Mickey first appears, he’s visibly chomping at the bit to get to the visitation area. He’s peering out there while he’s still behind a locked door, and he only diverts his gaze to the guard because he’s waiting for him to unlock it. He’s cool about the whole thing—he’s very cool—but he’s obviously also here for one reason and one reason only. That reason is where his eyes go the moment he sits down at his stall and spots Ian’s coat where the latter is pacing behind Svetlana. Throughout their entire conversation, we see his eyes darting to Ian as he attempts to get the business out of the way so that he can indulge purely in the pleasure. It doesn’t matter to him that Ian is visibly tired and reluctant to be there or that he plays with Yevgeny instead of actively joining their conversation. It’s Ian, and all Mickey has to look at in here is a bunch of fellow thugs he hasn’t loved since he was too young to know what that meant. Damn right, he’s going to shamelessly watch him.

In Ian’s pacing, where we can’t see his face, I find it interesting that he keeps himself angled away from the glass. We see more of his back even though he’s moving side to side rather than away. He doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t want to be there. In s7, he told Mickey how hard it was to see him behind glass—that wasn’t an excuse. He wasn’t falsely trying to make it sound like he was suffering at their separation just as much as Mickey was. We can see that that’s the case right here in 6x01. Ian has never had a problem sitting still through difficult moments, not even when a potential court martial that would further ruin his life was on the table. But this? He can’t sit down. He can’t face that.

The first time he turns directly towards Mickey’s location is so that Svetlana can hand Yevgeny off to him, and Mickey is visibly loving the view. His expression gets a bit softer, and he ducks his head a little so that he can catch a glimpse of Ian’s face. He follows Ian with his eyes even though Svetlana tries to get his attention. What a blast from the past, right? Ian there with his son, taking care of him while he and Svetlana figure out their business? And just like before, he offers Svetlana all of the attention and input that he deems her worth—next to nothing. Ian’s over there. Ian’s keeping the kid entertained, playing with him and rocking a bit in their seat and leaning over his little shoulder to make sure he’s doing okay—but forget that, Mickey’s eyes are examining him from red hair to beat-up shoes. He only glances back to Svetlana because he has to in order to get the information for their next paycheck. Even then, he’s still back and forth, up and down.

And Ian? He can’t keep pacing. He can’t stay turned away, but he won’t look. He occupies himself more than Yevgeny because now he’s low enough that he won’t just see an orange jumpsuit—he’ll see Mickey, and he’s had a bad enough day with his family making him feel more alone than ever without adding that pain on top of it. (This is the third time Mickey’s been locked up for something directly or indirectly related to Ian. I’m sure it’s not unreasonable to suspect that he also feels somewhat guilty about that, especially when it happened right after he broke it off.)

When Mickey asks if Ian is going to sit back there the whole time and not interact with him, Svetlana turns around and presumably says something to get his attention. Their eyes meet, and Mickey gives him a look that clearly says, “What the fuck, man?” This isn’t the behavior of a man who is heartbroken at their relationship ending or questioning Ian’s love for him. This is the behavior of a man who wants the love of his life to get his shit together enough to come say hi to him—or at least look at him—because he can’t pretend that he doesn’t want to see Mickey as much as Mickey wants to see him. It’s impossible to hide that when Ian has let Mickey see so much of his heart over the years.

Ian’s response is so fascinating because he does meet Mickey’s eyes, and he holds that connection for a moment. Then, reading what Mickey is trying to tell him, he actually turns further away again so that Mickey gets his shoulder. This sets the stage for the rest of Ian’s development from now through s9. He’s doing what Ian does: he’s compartmentalizing. He’s taking the emotions he can’t deal with right now, wrapping them in tissue paper, and neatly stacking them in a box that he’ll put up in the attic where he can pretend they don’t exist. But they do. They really do.

If they didn’t, he wouldn’t have spent their entire conversation trying so hard to focus on literally anything but Mickey, because as we saw in the Hall of Shame flashbacks and as has been obvious since their first fight-turned-fuck, once they look, the battle is lost.

Dialogue

I’m going to be real with you guys: I adore this scene. I’ve watched it more times than I can count even though I haven’t rewatched much of the season in its entirety. There was so much said with so few words, and while I was sad at the end, I was also hopeful. This was an impossible position to be put in on both sides, and I truly believe that this was the best resolution they could get at the time. And yes, it hurt. It was painful. But why was it painful?

Because they’re so visibly, obviously, irrevocably in love.

Mickey’s tone when he tells Svetlana to leave because he wants to talk to Ian isn’t as harsh as it’s been for the rest of their visit. There’s such a disconnect between his words and tone: roughly telling her to scram while actually sounding a bit younger at the idea of speaking directly with Ian. Svetlana could tell. It’s so clear, and her smirk is super knowing. In that moment, we’re seeing the woman who stood in the doorway of what was supposed to be her bedroom and watched him make eyes at this unconscious boy she didn’t really even remember. Not in the tears and realizing she was in big, big trouble if he left her, but in the understanding that his heart isn’t in the body on the other side of the glass—it’s sitting behind her. There are a lot of things I don’t like about Svetlana as a person (as a character, she’s amazing), but since they reached their agreement in s4, she’s never had a derogatory thing to say about the love those two share, and I respect that. It’s actually a bit cute how she takes her time and is almost teasing in giving him what he wants. A bit.

As I have this scene running on repeat so that I don’t miss anything in writing this, I paused to type and ended up on such a meaningful glance at Ian’s face. Svetlana just took Yevgeny from him, and he hasn’t gotten up yet. He’s staring straight at Mickey, and he looks hesitant. Scared, almost. Then he looks up at Svetlana, nods a bit, and reluctantly moves into her spot.

Is it overkill to take this one exchange at a time? Probably. Am I going to do it anyway? Hell to the yes.

1. “Thanks for coming back.”/”Yeah… Svetlana paid me.” – I know that people hate this line and think this is painful. I know that it objectively is painful. I still laugh every time. Not because Ian agreed to come if he was paid. (He’s got medication to afford and no insurance. I can’t begrudge him wanting to make a few extra bucks any way he can.) Not because of the words, but because of what accompanies them. Ian will not look at Mickey—he’s lost so many battles lately, and he can’t lose this one too. Not when he started this one himself. He’s hemming and hawing, not looking up from the countertop and then twisting around to see if Svetlana is still there or anyone else is listening. It’s so stupid, because literally no one cares, but it gives you this sensation that Ian sees himself as being under a microscope the whole time. That’s his life anymore, at home and at work and now here. And Mickey? He doesn’t look terribly broken up about Ian accepting payment in exchange for coming. He gets this expression that I interpreted as, “Seriously? You’re playing it like that?” Then it settles into disappointment that Ian won’t open up or look at him like he normally would—that the glass interferes with the magnetic pull between them. But don’t worry, children. Uncle Mickey has just the thing to fix that: himself.

2. “You look good.”/*awkward silence* – I mean…what do you say to that? I actually felt so bad for Ian there because what must he have looked like these last visits if Mickey is telling him that he looks good now? What kind of mess was he then when he’s still sort of a mess today? And he can’t even return the sentiment because how can he? Mickey is in prison. He’s in a jumpsuit looking at being here so long that he’ll probably have a few grey hairs starting to grow in when he gets out. I don’t know how to respond when people tell me I look good on an average day, so I can only imagine how that must have felt in his position. And still, he won’t do more than glance in Mickey’s direction. Well, if that didn’t work…

3. Mickey chuckles and says he got a new tattoo. Ian’s eyes immediately shoot upwards, and Mickey slouches a little so that he’s in their direct line of sight—to hold them there, because once they look, the battle is lost. And Ian does lose. For a while there, he can’t look away again. First, because Mickey is courting some pretty nasty illnesses with his improper use of needles. Seriously, Mickey, a beautiful gesture but holy crap. Second, Mickey has his name (or a very close approximation to it) tattooed forever right over his heart. Ian had asked if Mickey was going to marry him, and Mickey told him to fuck off, but everything he’s doing points in the opposite direction. He promised sickness and health; now he’s made a permanent mark on his body for everyone to see. Mickey, who wouldn’t be seen in public with him once upon a time, has plastered Ian’s name onto his body. Ian tries so hard not to let that impact him, but it’s over. He’s lost the battle already, and he falls further and further. He’s smiling when he tells Mickey it looks infected, he teases him about the misspelling (which I think says more about how much that tattoo must have hurt than any inability to spell on Mickey’s part—I’d have a typo too), and he laughs at Mickey’s irritation that he messed it up. And it’s this sweet little laugh, not cruel or hurtful or mean. The wonderful thing about humor is that it can be used to cope with difficult emotions. We’ve seen a lot of people on the show start laughing when they’re in a bad place. Ian has been trying so hard to accept his life as it is even during the shitty day he was having. He tried so hard not to let himself fall into the trap of letting his love for Mickey rule his actions in the scene so far. That’s a lot. That’s denying himself to the point where I’m sure it hurts. And so he laughs, because Mickey did this crazy, absurd thing for him and yeah, it came out wrong, but he did it. This was all Ian wanted once upon a time (minus the felony), and now he has it—but he can’t have it. So he laughs. He immediately moves to hide it, but he laughs. He smiles more and has to bend away to pretend that he’s not—and Mickey lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. This is the moment that keeps me from seeing this scene or Ian’s actions as being cruel. They’re both hurting, and this is an awful position to be in. But Ian loves him so much, and Mickey was doing everything he could to make him show it. Not exactly how he saw that going, I’m sure, but he’ll take it.

4. “Been thinking about you.” – Knowing that he lost that one, Ian looks away again. While the end of this scene will hurt for both of them, especially Mickey, think about the pain he must be feeling in that moment simply because he’s not. He’s not hurting. For the first time that day, he feels good. This can’t last. Mickey isn’t coming home with him when time is up. This wonderful emotion that filled him up enough for him to laugh and smile after such a bad day will be gone the second he hangs up that phone. Then he’s going to go home and have Fiona breathing down his neck with nobody else for support. And Mickey will be here—behind glass. He can’t handle that, and he pulls that box out again and starts tearing off the tissue paper. He has to get rid of this feeling. He has to be the one to put it away before it kicks him to the curb. He’s stubborn, and Mickey can see him shutting down but also knows that he’s knocked enough bricks out of Ian’s walls to say something softer, something emotional and closer to the heart. Something he is willing to say where the other inmates can hear, which I don’t think is lost on Ian since he immediately looks up again. He doesn’t look away either, not even when Mickey asks if Ian thinks about him. He glances to the side and opens his mouth a bit, but nothing comes out. Mickey knows the answer.

5. “Gonna wait for me?”/”You’re here for fifteen years.” – There’s this thing Mickey does after he first says that. He chuckles, because he knows that that’s pretty unreasonable to ask and has already predicted Ian’s response. His comment about being out in eight is lighthearted, a serious matter spoken as a joke because…this isn’t juvie anymore. They’re not going to see each other in a few months. This is Mickey’s version of what Ian was just doing, only where Ian tried to withdraw and escape within himself, Mickey is making it more humorous. He’s always done that, make light of pretty serious things to avoid looking at just how messed up it is. But I didn’t get the feeling he was really asking for Ian to wait that long. Instead, I got the feeling that he was testing the waters, seeing if Ian would shut him down—which he didn’t. He offered the bullshit excuse that Mickey tried to kill a member of his family, and Mickey saw through that immediately. I think he knows that he can’t ask Ian to seriously wait and never be with anyone else for fifteen years, or even for eight. I think he knows what he’s saying is a touch absurd. He also knows that Ian’s excuse is extremely absurd, and he doesn’t buy it for a second. It gives him a little courage to do something…well, a bit absurd.

6. “Will you? Wait? Fucking lie if you have to, man. Eight years is a long time.” – I think the important part of this isn’t that Ian says he’ll wait when he doesn’t mean it, which is the popular take. For one thing, I don’t think we can ascribe that level of calculated behavior to Ian in this instance. There are a few things about this part of the scene that mean a lot to me: (1) Ian doesn’t get up and go. He doesn’t even move in that direction. He sits there with the phone after the buzzer sounds and before Mickey tells him to lie. His mouth opens and closes like he’s not sure what to say. Because what can he say? If Mickey serves the maximum, Ian will be in his mid-thirties by the time they can be together. At that point, he was either nearing eighteen or just turned. I still can’t fathom what I’ll be doing in my mid-thirties, and I’m a whole lot older than that. Ian looks just a little terrified here, and that’s because he knows he loves Mickey but has no clue what he’s supposed to do with that in the impossible circumstances they’re operating under. (2) Ian can’t even see himself moving on yet. He’s still trying to figure himself out, not think about a relationship. He has a job he hates, and his family is a different brand of chaos these days. He feels alone, yes, but not in a way that has him openly desperate for a relationship. Based on what he says to Mandy about Caleb, I think it’s pretty safe to assume that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be in a serious relationship at this point or even in a position for more than casual sex anytime in the near future. How can he say that he’ll wait when he doesn’t know where he’ll be whenever Mickey does get out? Maybe he’ll feel better. Maybe he’ll be out of his mind, roaming all over the place like Monica. Maybe he won’t just be standing on that bridge. It’s a huge question, one that has a lot of ramifications no matter what his answer is, and Ian clearly has none. He’s blindsided by that, which Mickey sees. That’s when he gets serious about those eight years, about how absurd their situation really is. That’s perhaps the first and only time in this scene where we can see that, for as successful as he is at navigating prison, his freedom means something to him. His freedom means he wouldn’t have to coax a glance out of Ian—he could kiss his dumb ass and make him stop being stubborn about how much he loves Mickey. But he can’t. He won’t be able to for a long time. And I think that is what really breaks his heart in this scene, not…

7. “Yeah. Yeah, Mick, I’ll wait.” – Did anyone else notice how Ian swallowed hard before he answered? How his voice gets hoarse when he first speaks? I paused again to type, and the video is sitting on his face staring at the counter before the second part of what he says. He looks like he might cry. He looks like his heart is breaking just as much as Mickey’s is, because he can do what he’s asking this time—reassure him with a lie. Not because he doesn’t intend to wait, but because he is buried so far under what life has piled on top of him that he can’t see the light these days, and he doesn’t see waiting or moving on. He just sees the daily struggle of being this shell of a person. Of being without Mickey even if they’re not technically together. (Admittedly, I think he knew they would be if Mickey weren’t in prison at that moment. Ian has no real self-control where he’s concerned. Lip told him as much, and he’s self-aware enough to realize it, hence his behavior in this whole scene.)

When Ian hangs up the phone, he doesn’t get up immediately. He looks at Mickey—really looks at him—and each of them watches the other’s heart shatter. I don’t see it the way a lot of people do, though. On Mickey’s side, I don’t see it as being because Ian lied. I think it’s so much bigger than that.

Ian looks at him when they can’t hear each other anymore, and if he didn’t seem ready to cry before, he looks it now. Why? Because there’s nothing he can do for Mickey besides that. Ian, ever the giver, can’t give him anything. At that point, he couldn’t even help himself. He can’t be what Mickey needs in that moment, just like he couldn’t be what Mickey needed while he was sick, and it kills him. It kills him to know that by the time Mickey does get out, he’ll be older than he can fathom being and has no idea if he’ll even be around that long. It kills him to feel like even if he is, he’ll still have nothing to offer because, in his own words, this is where he lands. And it kills him to have to walk away and leave what he loves most behind glass.

Mickey is watching this. He knows Ian, and as painful as it was to get exactly what he asked for, it’s even more painful for him to see what him being here does to Ian. Where Ian is a giver, Mickey is a fixer. He makes things better. When stuff is broken, he puts it back together. When there’s a problem, he resolves it. Ian was going to leave because he couldn’t be an unacknowledged number three in Mickey’s life anymore? He jumped to solve the problem by coming out. Ian was acting strangely and wouldn’t get out of bed for so long that Mickey realized something was wrong? He immediately went to hunt down Lip, who he knows is closer to Ian than anyone else in his family. Fiona tells him that Ian is sick and needs to be cared for? He jumps in to do it, even to the point where it did more harm than good. Sammi caused a problem that Mickey couldn’t solve? He fixed the problem of her being there at all. But here he sits, behind glass, watching Ian that whole time and knowing that he was trying to maintain some emotional distance—and, because it’s Mickey, knowing why. There’s nothing he can do about this. He can’t fix it. For the first time since s3, Mickey is absolutely helpless to fix a problem. He takes a breath as Ian walks away as though he’s about to say something, but what can he say? What can he do? Nothing. He can do nothing but hang up the phone and weather the storm.

In the end, the heartbreak in this scene isn’t about them hurting each other, from my perspective. It’s not about Ian being callous and cruel or purposely trying to hurt Mickey. They know each other too well for that. They’ve been through too much. To me, this is about two people who love each other more than anything not being able to be what the other needed when they needed them—and that’s a whole lot more painful.

#shameless meta #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

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gh0stiegirlie · 4 years

Text

synopsis: all it took was one glance at the hotheaded boy at the U.A. exam, and you were smitten. for deku, it was a single act of kindness that instigated his immediate attraction to uraraka. several months into school, best friends y/n and deku are left heartbroken when. uraraka and bakugou start a relationship. when you and deku find yourselves confiding in each other, a question arises; is this love, or loneliness? are you two better just as friends?

length: 3.5k words

pt. 2 ->

a/n: that moment when you start a new bakugou series in the middle of another bakugou series 🤡 I hope you enjoy the result of procrastinating on my other story and writing a little too much.

It all started the day of U.A.’s practical exam.

You were pushing your fingers down on every tender joint you could pop, loosening your body as much as possible for the physically strenuous activity ahead. When you bent over into the downward dog position, through your legs disheveled blond hair caught your eye. His hair was so spiky if you pricked your finger on a strand, it would draw blood. You stretched out your back before crawling your arms up your body until you were standing, then turned to examine the boy.

It looked like someone had glued a golden porcupine on his head, a hairstyle that on the majority would look hideous. But the way his bouncing spikes threatened to poke anyone who came too close as he stomped around, made it suit him. When you lowered your eyes to the rest of his body, that was when you discovered this pomeranian boy was not only super hot, but super fit. His tight black tank top hugged his upper body, and his shoulders and biceps alone were so bulky it looked like the straps may snap. Along with that, the flimsy top did nothing to hide his abs from the imagination. He had developed muscles in places you never knew muscles existed.

As you were not-so-subtly checking this guy out while pretending to stretch, another contender approached the boy. She was stereotypically hot, with full features and an unattainable sinched waist. A flare of jealousy hit you like a wave of heat, and you nearly used your quirk to warn the girl to back the fuck off. This feeling immediately dissipated when he aimed his hand at the girl and dismissed her... with a fucking explosion. Within seconds, she was in a dazed heap on the other side of the warm-up room with some minor burns. The whole room fell silent, turning to the boy with petrified expressions. He nonchalantly shoved his hand in his pocket, leaned on one leg, and clenched his jaw. Although his posture was shit and his pants were sagging, you could tell he wasn’t a fool.

“Now, if any of you other extra’s feel like messing with me,” his vermillion scanned the crowd for someone attentive and vulnerable, and they eventually fixed on you with a smirk, “don’t.”

He made your knees weak with one word.

That’s when you started falling.

When you discovered you were in the same class as Bakugou, you were ecstatic. Back then, your crush was a minuscule weed in your garden. It sat among the fully grown flowers of your aspirations, completely harmless.

You’re now halfway through your first semester at U.A., and your crush on Bakugou has fully blossomed. Whether it’s grown into the weed or a rose, you’re unsure. All you know is your love weed is now the size of a goddamn oak tree, and for it to grow to this extent, it has pushed the rest of your garden out of the way.

You spend half of your Math class stealing subtle glances at Bakugou, watching him repeat the teachers' lessons to himself in hushed mumbles as he writes down every word in his notebook. He has a habit of vehemently taking notes to the point of dulling out his pencil, groaning when he has to shove it into his pencil sharpener (he used to use the schools, but he grew too irritated of leaving his seat every few minutes), only for his poor pencil to require another sharpening moments later. Following Math is English, and during this class you enjoy gazing out the windows to daydream. Your English classroom was built with large oblong windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling to reveal the grand U.A. courtyard below and you tend to use it to study the upperclassmen. You watch the class of 2-A enjoy their lunch hour as they walk, eat, and hold hands around campus. Sometimes you imagine them as you and Bakugou. You think about holding his hand while dancing around the cherry trees, eating lunch with him and his ‘Bakusquad’ and much, much more.

Love is a strong word, and you’re hesitant to label your feelings accordingly. But damn, are your feelings strong for this boy.

Deku can say the same about Uraraka. He literally fell for her on the way to the practical exam. And even though she caught him, he’s continued falling ever since.

Everytime Uraraka spars during training, Deku gives her his undivided attention. Not because he’s a perv or anything-- he just admires her so much. Her quirk requires her resourceful and thoughtful, so she always has a brilliant plan up her sleeve. His favorite part about her battles is the way she smiles when she knows she’s won. It’s never a smile of egotistical pride; It’s a smile that displays she’s satisfied with herself. That she acknowledges she’s victorious, not because “she’s the best”, but because she worked for it. He can never hold back from beaming himself. When someone that cute smiles, how can you resist?

But, there is a difference between you two. Deku holds the advantage of being friends with Uraraka; You simply adore Bakugou from a distance, while everyone else hates him from that distance.

Until one day, Aizawa mentions the first-semester partner project. You already know Izuku is going to choose Uraraka, and you know Iiada wouldn't be caught dead partnering with you (even though the class calls you the 'golden girl', you're still a bit too 'rebellious' for his taste.) From the way Kaminarai and Kirishima smirk at eachother, you're pleased to see they're going to pair up, because this leaves Bakugou with no partner. A spot you would love to fill.

After class you don't rush to make it to Bakugou, knowing no one else wants to be his partner after what happened between him and Kirishima (Lots of Bakugou yelling how “shitty hair is an idiot!” and using textbooks as a weapon to smack Kirishima’s head). But you wouldn't mind. You would be happy just to be his idiot.

You're snapped out of your daydreams when Uraraka spontaneously approaches Bakugou. You smirk and lean against your desk, expecting a hilarious interaction that starts with a heated “GET AWAY FROM ME WEIRD GIRL!!” and ends with a very large explosion. I mean, at the sports festival, not only could he not connect her name with her face, he had absolutely no fucking clue who she was! But instead of blowing her away in a fit of rage, as he did with that girl so many months ago, they talk.

You and Deku never discussed your feelings for those two with each other, but you acknowledged them. You being his closest friend, it’s clear as fucking day that Deku is head over heels for Uraraka. And being your best friend, it’s obvious to Deku that you want to smash faces with the class hothead.

So, naturally, as the two of you watch this interaction unfold, there’s a mutual feeling of disgust. An unspoken what the fuck?! is exchanged between your eyes, until Deku’s lip quivers and he quickly looks away while you glare daggers into Uraraka’s stupidly hot body. After a few infuriating minutes, it’s grossly clear their conversation isn’t concluding anytime soon. You’re repulsed as you ask Deku to be your partner, to which he responds with a meek head nod. You sigh and hug the poor boy. Surprisingly Deku doesn’t start crying blood when you, a girl, touches him. Instead, he nuzzles his head deep into your neck, as by now he’s comfortable with your friendship.

"Hey, do you wanna go out for ice cream?" you ask when you pull away. You nudge him with your elbow. "I'll pay!"

Izuku blinks away his tears as he agrees, desperately trying to block the waterworks from leaking.

"Cmon, Zuzu." you coo, exiting the classroom. Before you and Izuku head to the dining hall, you shoot a quick glare at Uraraka, who is purposely shoving her tits out in Bakugou's face as she laughs at whatever he just said. At least you know he's better than to fall for that... Hopefully.

"One Yukimi Daifuku and one chocolate Sofuto Kurimu, please," you ask the cafe cashier. She mumbles the amount you owe, and you shuffle your hand around the change in your pocket before handing her a few dollars.

When you bring Izuku his icecream, he lifts his head off the table. He plays around with his food for a while before sloppily shoving a scoop in his mouth. You moan when you take your first bite.

"I swear, this ice cream is top tier!" you boom in enthusiasm. "Like, seriously, who allowed cafeteria food to be this good?!"

A short chuckle escapes Izuku's frowning lips. "That's U.A. for ya. The food somehow gets better every day."

"I know, right!" You use your spoon to point at Izuku's Yukimi Daifuku. "I feel like they handpicked that rice in your Yukimi from U.A.'s personal rice fields." you joke, which finally breaks Izuku's drab demeanor. He lets out a genuine laugh.

"I don't think U.A. has it's own rice fields." he rationalizes. The knot in his stomach loosens every time you make him laugh, allowing his appetite to grow. He takes a few eager bites of his Yukimi Daifuku. You playfully punch Izuku's shoulder.

"Really? This place is so fucking big I wouldn't be surprised if it had its own strip club or someth-MFF!" Izuku cuts you off by slapping a hand over your mouth. He pulls it back to his and signs "shh".

"Y-Y/n! Be quiet!" he warns, his face dark red from stifling his laughter.

"What?! You don't want to think about All Might gettin--" you stop here, because Izuku has buried his face in his hands in order to ignore you. You laugh. "Okay, okay Deku. I'll stop." You ruffle his hair platonically.

"Thanks. I was afraid I was going to throw up my Yukimi if you kept going." he expresses, to which you laugh again. There's a fleeting pause as the two of you take a moment to appreciate each other's presence. Maybe all you really need is each other.

Maybe, as long as you're just friends, everything will be okay.

"Thanks, Y/n. I needed this." Izuku smiles, and you can't help but smile with him.

One week later, the project is due and the weird partnership between Uraraka and Bakugou remains unmentioned between the three of you and Iiada. You’ve wanted to discuss it with her, but Izuku keeps holding you back. So the four of you engage in breakfast per usual; laughing, talking, and stuffing your faces. By this time, you assume Uraraka has forgotten about her little stunt. But it remains at the forefront of your mind, because what the fuck?!

Deku believes it to be a momentary lapse in judgment, but you know girls better than that. She had been plotting that move for a while. Uraraka probably spent weeks building up her self-esteem enough to talk to him, and then another few days encouraging herself to actually do it.

So, when Uraraka skips over to Bakugou that day, you’re not surprised. But, what she does next shocks you.

Uraraka kisses Baugous cheek.

You wait expectantly for Bakugou to send her flying out a window. Instead, he smirks and wraps his burly arm around her thin waist. Her waist is so thin, his arm fits around it like a bracelet. How can you even compete with that?!

And then, they walk out of the classroom. Just like that. Like a fucking couple.

That’s when the world crumbles around you.

Friday nights are always the days you and Bakugou attend the gym at the same time. Normally, his presence is a positive motivation to work harder, knowing he can look over at you at any moment.

Tonight, you bury your eyes into the back of his head and pretend he's the punching bag. You restrain yourself from using your quirk to explode his brain (you actually can’t do that, but still), as if he even has one. If he’s dating Uraraka, he must not. You understand she’s cute or whatever, but they’re so fucking different.

Apparently, this past hour you were hitting the punching bag vigorously enough in precisely the right places for it to tear. Sand pours onto your feet, and that's when you decide to call it night.

You manage bottle most of your emotions until you’re alone in your room. That’s when you shut off your lights, put on your sad vibes playlist, shelter yourself in fleece blankets and let the tears flow. Your shaking shoulders churn your stomach, and it feels like you’re vomiting out your emotions. Your heart stings with every beat, and every sob irritates your raw throat. You're not just another teenage girl crying over a stupid boy. You've grown up putting all your energy into improving your quirk, always two steps ahead of the rest of your class’ mentality. When you first saw Bakugou, you saw someone whos grown up always giving everything his all. You saw someone like you, and you fixated on something that wasn't just being a hero.

At this point you've been fighting for Bakugou for so long, he's grown beyond a dumb crush. Now that you've lost this battle, you realize how alone you feel. He’s a motivation. Not only do you train hard to improve your quirk, but you train hard to surprise Bakugou with your strength. You don't just study for good marks, but to impress Bakugou.

Your goal to be a hero has always occupied your whole heart, but Bakugou managed to slip in there somewhere.

And you can feel the hollowness of his gaping hole.

Eventually, you compose yourself enough to grab some Suppa-Mucho Premium Ponzu, a jar of Nutella (with a spoon to eat it out of, of course), and a cup of hot chocolate from the kitchen.

On the way back to your room, you hear sobs emitting from a nearby hall. As you follow the twists and turns of the dorm, the cry grows familiar. You soon find yourself standing outside Izuku Midoriyas' room. You quickly (but carefully) run to the kitchen to microwave another cup of hot chocolate before knocking on his bedroom door.

“Duh-Don’t come in!” his voice is nasally, but he lowers it an octave to sound like his usually preppy self. Although hero-training teaches you students how to put on an emotional mask, you’re able to tell when your best friend is faking.

“It’s me, Izuku.”

“Come in,” his raspy reply is barely above a whisper.

You jiggle the door handle open with your elbow and find Izuku wrapped in a blanket of feelings, like you were earlier. He wipes the tears off his cheeks and rubs his eyes, burying his head deep into the blanket to hide his sadness. Though his loud, shaky breaths give away the fact he was crying. Like you couldn’t hear him from across the dorms.

“Hey. It’s okay, Zuzu.” You’re standing behind the door, presenting snacks and two drinks with a somber smile. “I’m here.”

Izuku lifts his head when he smells the steaming hot cocoa. He grabs the drink that has whip cream with tiny marshmallows and flakes of caramel sprinkled on top, just the way he likes it. You set down the snacks on a nearby coffee table, then drink your hot chocolate beside him. When a sip leaves a small white mustache above his upper lip, you can’t help but giggle. He does the same.

You don’t ask why he was crying, and he doesn’t ask why you were walking around with comfort food late at night. Instead, you enjoy each other’s company. The events of earlier today have made you realize that things will always be the way they’ve been since the start of this year. That you’ll only ever have each other.

And maybe that’s why what happens next… Happens.

You are wrapped up in a blanket next to Izuku watching Whisper of the Heart and munching on a bowl of chips. Like some sort of cliche, the two of you reach for a chip at the same time. Izuku immediately pulls away, an incoherent apology spilling from his lips. You ignore it, overwhelmed with a sudden bubble of emotion. It was only extreme for a brief moment, but the remnants of the feeling linger. The electricity he transferred to you keeps your fingers twitching as you grab a snack. So now you’re pondering over the feeling while nibbling on a chip;

How come, when Izukus hand brushed against yours, you felt something?

Everytime you’re near Bakugou, your heart palpitates. Not only out of fear-- because the man is fucking terrifying --but of recognition of his power. Out of admiration of his intimidating, yet confident personality.

When you touched Izuku’s hand, your heart fluttered. A cocoon of butterflies erupted in your chest and tried to lift you off his bed-- but why?

Was it because now that Bakugous out of the way, your true scandalous feelings for your best friend are no long eclipsed? Or is it because now that Bakugou is out of the way your brain needs a new hot boy with biceps to focus on?

Izuku questions the same thing himself. If you took a second to look, the light of the TV would reveal the blush on his cheeks. His hands tremble in his lap as he hopelessly attempts to cover the growing boner in his pants, a side effect of thinking about you in this new romantic light.

All this time, has he been love with you, not Uraraka? Or has her sudden abandonment left a vacancy that needs filling, so he’s turning to his best friend?

You move the bowl and scoot next to Deku. Your body heats up as his tenses.

“Hey, do you wanna share a blanket?” You ask, forcing yourself to sound as casual as possible. Even though trying to flirt with your best friend is way out of your comfort zone.

“Uh--sure!” Deku squeaks as he wraps his blanket around your shoulders and you throw your fleece over your laps. You arrange yourself so the side of your thighs press up against Deku’s, and rest your head on his shoulder

He sweats nervously, and smells of bergamot and… Fresh laundry. It’s pleasant, though not as hypnotizing as Bakugous sweet caramel. Bakugous scent leaves you hungry for him, while Deku makes you feel… Comforted. Like receiving a warm hug from a friend. A completely non-romantic friend. A platonic friend. What the fuck are you doing?!

You repeat the words “platonic” and “friend” in your mind to remind yourself what Deku is to you. But the longer your bodies touch, the anstier you grow to touch more. Just to see what it feels like.

Yes, Zuzu has been your friend forever-- Doesn’t that the experience of dating him even better? Doesn’t that make you want to steal his first kiss, so he’ll forever hold you in his heart? Doesn’t that make feeling his body shudder from pleasure under yours even hotter?

You bite your lips at these thoughts, unaware Izuku is imagining the same. His face is practically the color of a strawberry-- his green hair really bringing the image all together.

You turn to one another in unison, searching for the answer in each other’s eyes; Is this love? Or is this emptiness? You and Deku silently struggle to figure out an explanation, though it doesn’t matter.

Because you kiss anyway.

As soon as you make contact, those sparks that frazzled you earlier return. When you push your mouth harder against his, they dazzle you.

Izukus lips are thin, but creamy. He’s the kind of guy who carries chapstick with him everywhere, and apparently his favorite flavor is vanilla, because when you run your tongue along his lip it tastes like ice cream. He whimpers at the feeling, and you take advantage of how sensitive he is. When you bite his lip he moans into your mouth and pulls you closer.

Kissing Midoriya is as gratifying as it is dissatisfying. Kissing someone so desperate-- so needy, for you, is empowering. It fills your Bakugou-sized hole with pleasure. But, his kiss is also cold and lifeless. The only emotion that fuels it is rejection. Behind this kiss, and behind your lips, is loneliness. You’re both anxious and uncertain, so you’re kissing what’s comfortable. And you keep kissing to replace these problematic feelings with something exciting.

Soon, your kisses become hollow. The sparkes evaporate. Izukus lips aren’t as delicious as they seemed when you first started, and the way you nibble on his lip begins to sting.

You slow to a mutual halt, deciding to bask in eachothers warmth through cuddles instead of kisses. Even though Izuku’s body is alive with the heat of your kiss, he feels cold.

You return to the movie, but the kiss leaves another question lingering in the air.

You’re best friends.

What does this mean?

Something has shifted between you two, and you can’t tell if its for the better or the worst.

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

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Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

To Cure the Inevitable

Summary: Roman is so tired of endangering himself and everyone around him everytime he changes. Logan promises to help cure him, an old agreement never straying far in his mind

Warnings: major character death, body horror, gore, injury, needle, injected euthanasia.

Prompt: Painful Transformation, requested by Nico on AO3

Ships: Logince QPR (Logan x Roman)

WC: 2303

“Logan if none of these work-”

“One of them has to.”

“Shut up and listen for a second.” Logan jerked his head up to meet Roman’s desperate gaze, his features softening as he saw the worry in his friend’s face. “I know how hard you're working and I love you so much for it but...if none of these work- Logan I can’t keep doing this.”

Logan knew. He knew how hard it was for Roman every month, saw it in the scars tracing his body and the guilty conscience he bore every time after. Months of repeating the same thing over and over again without coming close to what they wanted. Logan knew but he was still loath to hear it.

“If these don’t work I want to die.”

-----

“Logan.”

Logan jerked his head up to meet Roman’s desperate gaze, his features softening as he saw the worry in his friend’s face.

“Roman I- this is it.” Logan held up the syringe full of liquid, the smooth glass reflecting the full moon’s light shining through the window. The room was dim save for that; dim lighting didn’t make for accurate scientific endeavors but Roman hated the bright lights, especially when he- well, he cared more for his friends comfort than any rules he learned getting his degree. He supposed it was odd, going from working in a small research lab to making one of his own out in the middle of nowhere. An unassuming cabin with just enough homey touchy to assure no one would break in on the assumption it was abandoned. Enough furniture had been moved to it that it was a comfortable weekend stay to any who may wish it, fireplace stacked with wood and no perishables shoved into the cabinets for overnight stays. It was comfortable but he and Roman usually only came here once a month. Two days out of the month this was their home, though they usually stayed in the basement.

The basement that was also well stocked but with very different supplies. First aid kits lay on practically every surface with more advanced surgical supplies within easy reach anywhere you happened to stand in the room. Sterilized countertops were a;ways optimized to have something laid on them for examination and two big industrial sinks were set on either side of the room considering how messy the work often was down here. A dolly and cart sat nearby the steps to get any supplies Logan needed from upstairs to down in the basement and ample shelving space provided room for it all. The biggest installment however, was a rather large, iron and silver coated cage; Logan didn’t know if those metals really helped anything but when it came to this he wasn;t sure if “overprepared” was ever a word he’d use.

Roman sat cross legged in the middle, hair tousled messily from running his fingers through it all night from stress. His too large hospital gown pooled around and left him looking small and vulnerable, which was a far cry from his normally boisterous and extraverted self. He was only twenty-five but the lines on his face spoke a different story, wrinkles pulled far too many times from stress and pain and regret, bags sagging under heavy eyelids as he struggled to even look Logan in the eye. Par for the course when they were down here together, neither of them ever quite ready to address what they knew was coming whether they ever wanted it too or not.

Logan gripped the vile tightly, the needle covered for now as soft music played in the background. Everything was tuned to Roman as much as Logan could possibly make it. Soft disney instrumentals played to fill the tense air, lights turned dim so the brightness never hurt his eyes, hospital gown made by him and Logan themselves using softer but cheap materials so it was comfortable but didn't cost too much to fix or replace when it was torn to shreds. The clock was put in plain view for Roman to see since he often got time based anxiety when he was down here, which Logan could hardly blame him for. They had tried lining the cage comfortably with pillows and carpet and blankets a couple years back but it hadn’t gone over as well as they had hoped so they had spent a couple days extra at the cabin cleaning up the unexpected mess before agreeing that unfortunately, a bare cage worked best for their purpose.

“Logan.” Roman twisted his fingers together and looked up at him finally, face tight and eyes wide as they caught the time and the angle of the moon. “Can you...not the whole time obviously but...can I maybe hold your hand?”

Logan had always prided himself on keeping his emotions in check even through the most painful situations. Scientific research often had you making tough calls and difficult decisions that needed to be made fast with any guilt pushed to the background as you carried out what needed to be done. But hearing Roamn ask for such a simple thing, voice hesitant and quiet, his heart nearly cracked at the mere thought of denying him though they both knew how dangerous it had the potential to be.

“Roman, of course.” Immediately he was on his knees, vial stored safely in his pocket and reaching out with his now free hands to clutch at Roman’s desperately, squeezing every ounce of reassurance he had into the gesture as he smiled thinly. His chest grew tight at the realization that this really was all he could do, hold onto Roman pale, shaking hands through a cage while they both sat on the floor and waited. Both of them let the simple ambiance of soft violins wash over them as the minutes ticked away, their hearts beating rapidly through their hands.

“I said- I said goodbye today. Just in texts I- normal send off from talking about nothing. They don’t know that I might...I didn’t make it obvious.” Roman hung his head. “We don’t know if this one will be the cure right?”

Logan swallowed thickly, not daring to look up. “No, we don’t”

“If it doesn’t work...I don’t want to leave.”

“I know.” The last one hadn’t worked, and Logan was determined for this to be the most comfortable setting he could muster. He wouldn’t break, not yet, not while Roman still needed him. Over the past month he had hid his expenses from his friend, setting things up he knew Roman would enjoy. He could tell Roman had an idea it was his “just in case” plans and played along accordingly. Logan didn’t have the heart- no, the courage to tell him he had known it was the end a month ago. The last “cure” he had tried had failed to reverse anything like it was supposed to. Years of research carefully poured into a mix of perfect chemistry failing miserably and settling its weight on his heavy shoulders every time he had taken Roman to that restaurant he liked, or the park where they had first met, or the hill they had first danced on. All of the memories that brought joy and laughter to Roman’s face spoiled in Logan’s eyes every time the thought that he had failed him entered his mind.

He had successfully kept Roman in the dark however, knowing how hard Roman would take it. They had discussed this before, Roman knew on some level that this was coming, it was Logan’s job to tell him when. But...Roman had said his goodbyes. He had lived as best he could, he trusted Logan to know what was best. Even if Logan felt as if he was simply taking an old dog through the motions one last time, the thought made even worse with the fact that he had stolen enough euthanizer from a vets office to serve his purpose. But Roman was relatively happy, he was still hopeful, he still clung to Logan like a lifeline; so Logan couldn’t tell him there was no cure left. There was nothing at all but a syringe full of death that Logan would use when Roman had turned because it was easier to see the pain of a beast's eyes rather than the pain of the person he loved most.

He fell backwards suddenly as Roman shoved him away, face already twisted as his limbs began twitching. Logan forced himself not to look away- this was his punishment. He had to watch every second of this to burn it into his memory as petinance for what he had done, what he was going to do. He hoped it tortured his mind every second until he died and continued to do so while he burned in hell. He hoped Roman hated him for it, resented him and told him so in his dreams if he ever managed to sleep again. He watched wide-eyed and stiff as Roman curled into himself, a pained whine escaping through his mouth as his back spasmed and split, instantly soaking the gown he wore with thick, dark blood and splattering on the bottom of the cage. Twisting limbs slid on the slippery surface as joints popped and bones cracked under the force of his transformation, becoming longer and bent to accommodate for the hulking form finally shredding the gown as it flopped to the floor. His face was the worst, mouth open in a shrill scream that echoed in the soundproof basement as rows and rows of teeth shattered the pre existing ones and the jaw jutted forward to accommodate them all. Acid spilled from it, making the swelling tongue writhe in pain and temporarily cut off the scream, replacing it with a dull gurgling that had haunted Logan’s worst nightmares for years. His hair fell in clumps as his ears tore from their usual place to reposition themselves, becoming pointed and alert before folding back as his body shifted one final time to adjust itself to the beast it had become.

Roman’s new forn barely fit in the cage, twitching muscle pressed painfully into the bars as the skin worked desperately to knit itself back together, sticking to the bars in its haste and being torn away as he attempted to turn in the small space. Growling low the beast swiveled its massive head to look directly at Logan, as if he knew exactly what was going to happen as Logan slowly stood and wiped the annoying rivulets of water that ran down his face. He wasn’t crying, he needed to hold it together for Roman. Roman needed him right now, more than he ever had in the years after Logan had found out about this, in the years he had studied to be able to help him, in the months leading up to the final try. Roman needed him and Logan would be damned if he wasn’t there for him as he needed him to be.

Taking shaking steps forward he fumbled in his pocket for a second before grabbing the syringe and bringing it out. The beast looked warily at the needle as it was exposed, the glint from the moon flashing briefly in his eyes. Logan jerked his head up to meet Roman’s desperate gaze, his features softening as he saw the worry in his friend’s face. He took a steadying breath as he reached the cage, bringing his hand up slowly, both of their eyes locked onto Logan’s hand as he positioned it correctly on the plunger. With a quick movement the liquid disappeared from the glass, the caged beast jerking away as far as he could but only succeeding in distancing himself an inch or two. The empty syringe dropped to the floor at the same time Logan’s knees hit it with a resounding crack.

Logan jerked his head up to meet Roman’s desperate gaze, his features softening as he saw the worry in his friend’s face. He brought his hand up to lay on the bars of the cage, trying his best to smile in reassurance. Roman's eyes flashed once before they began to dull, muscles finally untensing as he slumped to the floor slowly. Watching as he closed his eyes Logan reached in carefully to take his deformed hand in his own, squeezing it gently despite the burrs that dug into his skin. He held it long after blood began to run from his much softer flesh, long after it grew cold in his palm and the blood dried and the fingers relaxed, long after the sun came up and went down again and enough time passed for whatever it was that plagued Roman’s body to leave once more leaving only a small, scarred form behind. A form that was far too cold and stiff to be Roman’s but one that Logan forced himself to accept that it was. His back hurt and his legs were numb while his stomach growled and his dry throat spasmed in unspoken sobs but he refused to move.

Moving meant he had control of his actions. And that meant he had had the choice of doing what he had done. He could have tried and convinced Roman to bear through the pain just a few months longer while he tried to find something else. But he hadn’t.

Logan jerked his head up to meet Roman’s desperate gaze, his expression set in death to haunt Logan with its misplaced hope and fear and trust. He hoped Roman had finally found peace even as he prayed he himself never would. The lights buzzed faintly as Logan looked at their hands still intertwined together as comfort for him or Roman he couldn’t remember.

This work is also available on AO3!

Logan jerked his head up to meet Roman’s desperate gaze, and let go.

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protectwoc · 4 years

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why all reylos are racist

y’all can go ahead and cancel me now because some of you are not going to like what i have to say and i am completely okay with that.

this recent gq interview with john boyega has incensed me. hearing all the things he went through, from disney and from “fans” and with no support from anyone… i’m livid. sometimes when i think about it for too long i start shaking, i’m so furious. and the response from the reylo fandom has infuriated me to a degree i honestly didn’t know was possible.

some of you may have seen my recent tumblr rampage. it’s reylo bullying hours here on my blog, and i’m not sorry either. one person threatened to post screenshots of my comments, which like… okay? i know what the fuck i said, it wasn’t that long ago. in fact i was going to include the screenshots in this post right here, but they blocked me before i had the chance. sorry. i’m sure somebody has them. anyway…

over the past two days in the star wars fandom we have seen something unprecedented: an outpouring of support for john boyega. both reylos and anti-reylos have joined forces to voice support for john in the wake of the gq interview (and the blm protests, let’s be real, some of y’all would not have given half a fuck if it wasn’t suddenly cool to be antiracist). and this showing of unity is one of the most rage-inducing things i’ve ever seen in a fandom (which is saying something; i have seen some shit).

reylo fandom, full offense intended, but where the fuck do you get off? you’re supporting john now? where was this support when tfa came out and you couldn’t stand the thought of him next to your white-girl-self-insert? where was it when tlj came out and your boy ryan completely sidelined him? where was it earlier this fucking year when y’all twisted a harmless joke (like yall haven’t spent years writing reylo-throne-room-sex-meta BULLSHIT) and ignored the vile racist shit coming from your own fav’s mouth? but you’re supporting him now? now that being antiracist is trendy? fuck outta here with that bullshit.

your fandom is the reason for the vast majority of the absolutely subhuman treatment john has endured over the last few years. your fandom influenced ryan (yes i know what his name is) to write tlj the way he did, you have behaved indefensibly here on tumblr.hell writing and drawing and fantasizing about all sorts of racist bullshit, and y’all have STAYED in his twitter mentions spewing hatred seven ways to sunday. but NOW, without a shred of self-reflection, you’re supporting him? now his experiences are valid?

the way that your fandom refuses to take accountability for its actions makes me see red. y’all stay on some “not all reylos” nonsense and i am SICK OF IT. i’m only gonna say this once, and i want you to hear me: you cannot be a reylo and be “antiracist”. you cannot participate in a fandom that has behaved the way yours has and say “blm, uwu acab.” you can’t. like do you think black people are dumb? that we can’t see right through you? we can.

“but rae,” i hear you whining. “you’re gonna say just because i like two characters together i’m a racist?” and of course not. that would be ludicrous. i think just because you knowingly engage and participate in a fandom that has racism encoded in its dna, you’re a racist. i think because y’all are in bed with racist harassers, racist trolls, and racist content creators, you’re a racist. that’s what the fuck i think. y’all lost the right to “it’s just a ship” me the instant you dragged john boyega into this.

here’s an example: i watched tfa about three days after it came out. i watched the first half, saw the obvious relationship set up between finn and rey, and thought, “aw, cute.” then i watched kylo and rey fight, watch him offer to teach her, and thought, “... interesting.”

when i got home i checked tumblr for finnrey content, saw the outpouring of love from black fans, all the cute fanart and fics blooming, and smiled. then, slowly, guiltily, i searched “reylo.”

BOOM. racism. the things i saw in the tag that night are tattooed on my brain. reylos rejoicing about the obvious rey/kyle pairing because “sw would never put her with that monkey finn”. calling him an “oaf”, “useless”, “bumbling”, “stupid”. reylos joking about how “when they talked about the Dark side, [they] didn’t think they meant that kind of dark.” “woke” reylos pretending to ship stormpilot in an obvious ploy to get finn away from kylo. and in between all of that, cute ship art. fun fics. talented gif makers. and nobody saying shit about the reprehensible behavior going on in their tag.

reylo is built on a foundation of racism. from that first week, racism has been woven into the fabric of your fandom, and it’s been going unchecked. and i don’t mean calling out other reylos. that’s not enough. i mean taking actual steps. y’all have been sitting in a cesspool of racism for five years, and its time for you to get the fuck out or shut the fuck up about being an “ally”. y’all need to leave this fandom.

don’t agree? here’s another story. in 2017, when i still watched supergirl (before i grew taste) i shipped karamel. for those of you who don’t know, karamel is the ship of kara zor-el (supergirl) and mon-el, her second love interest. when supergirl was moved to the cw for its second season, the decision was made to abruptly end her romance with jimmy olsen, played by mecahd brooks (a black man) and replace him with mon-el, played by chris wood, a white man, who was revealed to be, among other things, an alien slaveowner, as well as a playboy and all-around terrible person. and i shipped them. look, i’m not defending myself, but i never really bought the chemistry between jimmy and kara. even though mon-el’s introduction and the way that they carelessly disregarded kara’s feelings for jimmy made me uncomfortable, i thought the way melissa played her attraction to chris wood was more believable (and again, i’m not defending myself, but they are now married so it’s not like i was wrong). so i shipped them. simple as that, right?

well, no. not really. because the inherent racism in the way the writers wrote out her admittedly sweet romance with a black man in favor of a white slaveowner jerk kept bothering me. and finally i decided that it made me too uncomfortable to participate in. i never really reblogged any karamel fandom stuff, but i completely divorced myself from the fandom. i stopped reading karamel fic, and i switched to reblogging exclusively jimmy/kara content until the fandom died out/i stopped watching. i made a choice that real life racism is more important to me than a fucking fandom or a ship, and then i acted accordingly. simple as that.

and i’m not saying you have to stop liking the reylo dynamic. i still like the chemistry between kara and mon-el. i’ve shipped problematic ships before (bamon comes to mind) and i don’t think there’s anything wrong with that (to a point). but there’s a difference between liking a ship dynamic and engaging and contributing to a fan culture of racism. you have to stop participating in the fandom. y’all are in bed with people indistinguishable from confederate-flag-waving-all-lives-matter-touting racists and you don’t feel the need to get out of that environment? there comes a certain point where you have to decide if fandom bullshit is more important to you than fighting racism, and unfortunately, reylos have chosen wrong. that, ladies and gentlemen, is why all reylos are racist, regardless of what they say. roll credits.

except i have more to say, so i’m gonna say it. first of all, i’m not trying to hold myself up as some kind of paragon of virtue. i’m not holier-than-thou because all my ships are “woke” or whatever. chemistry is subjective, and we’re all going to be attracted to different ship dynamics, and there’s nothing wrong with that in theory. what matters is the execution. i finally had to say one day, “you know, this ship and the racist baggage it carries is actually less important to me than battling systemic racism on every level, including the fandom level”. y’all thought being antiracist was gonna be easy? that you wouldn’t have to make some actual changes, to make some actual sacrifices? sorry not sorry to disappoint. and if i, a normal-ass person with flaws and problematic thinking that i’m still dealing with and the whole ine yards, can make that decision, then other people should be required to as well.

(what really irks me is that the karamel fandom wasn��t even really that bad! i definitely could have gotten away with being a karamel stan in 2017. thankfully the supercat and supercorp shippers were doing the lord’s work and bullying them into submission (don’t think i’m letting y’all off the hook either, y’all have got some racism to deal with as well but that’s an essay for another day) but like most of the racism happened at the writing level; the fandom itself wasn’t engaging in racist clownery on the regular. but like the reylos are. y’all see racist bullshit coming from your neighbor, fav fic writer, artist, gif maker, whatever, and don’t say shit? don’t feel the need to distance yourself from them? gtfoh.)

i made this argument earlier when i was on my rampage (which i’m still on btw so don’t clown in my inbox, you will get your shit rocked) but i’m going to make it again because i feel like its important to note. when i pointed out that existing in the reylo fandom while you are aware of its racism makes you complicit in that racism, a white reylo told me earlier that (paraphrasing, my memory’s not as good as it used to be and i did mention that they’d blocked me) “you don’t solve a problem like systemic racism by ignoring it. leaving the fandom would be allowing it to happen.” when i pointed out that that’s police officer rhetoric almost verbatim, she (a white reylo) admonished me (a black woman) not to compare police brutality to a “ship war.” lmao.

look, clearly y’all need a refresher on what “systemic” means. it means, quite simply, that there are systems, large and small, allow for racism to exist, and it also means that allowing for racism to exist on the small scale means expecting it on a large one. like you think police officers spring fully formed from the head with racist ideals already ingrained? no! they learn it and learn to justify it with “well just because my friend made a racist joke doesn’t make me a racist” and “just because i laughed at my friend’s using a racist term in my video game doesn’t make me a racist” and “just because my friend is a racist doesn’t mean i’m a racist” and then we have people watching their coworkers kneel on a man’s back for 8 minutes with no remorse. i’m not gonna solve police brutality by fighting reylos on tumblr, but fandom racism is real racism with consequences on our world, and i don’t tolerate ANY type of racism. and the fact that you are so willing to not just tolerate it but justify it should say something to you.

and not all reylos are like this. similar to cops, good reylos don’t last. i have seen people grow so disgusted by the racism in the reylo fandom that they publicly turned their backs on it, and those reylos i respect. you’ve heard of “the only good cop is an ex-cop” well get ready for “the only good reylo is an ex-reylo”.

(and also like far be it from me to justify a cop but one could at least say they have their livelihoods to think about (not like they couldn’t just pick a nonmurderous profession but i digress) but you reylos can’t even choose between taking a stance against the hateful and unjustified bullying of a man who had the audacity to… get a job (?)... over a ship? come on now.)

the point of all this is, for all their posturing about “being antiracist” and “fuck 12” and “support john boyega”, reylos have decided that a relationship between two fictional people is more important than all the black and brown people who are hurt by that decision and the consequences of that decision. and before y’all pull some “b-but there are POC reylos!” (stop fucking using poc as an adjective, its a noun, it stands for person of color, please use it as such) internalized racism is a thing. busting out your token “reylo of color” (see how easy that was?) is not going to change my mind. all reylos are complicit in the racism of their peers, and being complicit makes you culpable. full stop.

and that is why the public support of john boyega from the reylo fandom has me seeing red. renounce your fandom or keep that man’s name out of your mouth. anyway, this was long and ranty and entirely stream-of-consciousness and i’m refusing to edit it so it’s probably completely incomprehensible to anyone besides me but if you made it this far thanks for reading ig. all reylos are racist, blm, fuck 12, acab, stan john boyega, don’t clown in my inbox unless you’re coming to bully me for being a karamel shipper, which i deserve (or do, i couldn’t give less of a fuck). good night.

#john boyega #anti reylo #raetalks

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thecandywrites · 3 years

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Blood For Gold Part 8

Get ready for some plot, and intrigue and conflict of interest. Again, thanks to @kriskukko for lending me the amazing picture of a regency era orc and letting me run wild. Thanks to @punkhorse96 for all the amazing feedback and everyone else who likes and reblogs this story. I appreciate it. Also do you guys have any idea how hard it is to find AN AGED regency couple? Thankfully Bridgerton showed that an older woman could wear the fashions of her own youth and didn’t necessarily have to keep with the most up to date fashions. So that allowed me to go find this pic of a qeen, Glenc Close in her movie Dangerous Encounters back in the late 80′s. I have never seen it, but IT’S THE AESTETIC. taking it, using it and lo and behold, we have our Gregori and Yalin, Ramsey’s parents who have taken a shine to Audra. But will their light shine on her so warmly when they find out the truth and find they might have less to gain than they thought? And will their wills be stronger than the Morrigans? And what will the Morrigans do to keep the status quo when their own past comes back to haunt them? We shall see.

Blood For Gold

Part 8

All the way to the Windsor Palace the Morrigans had nothing but “instruction” towards you and for Jane, all about minding your manners, acting in the utmost chaste conduct so that you would not bring shame or dishonor onto the family and to not leave each other’s side while they berated you for acting so “brazen” with the Dauphin for having eaten your dinner next to him as they accused you of practically shamelessly throwing yourself at him like a common whore by dancing with him for most of the evening, even though the Dauphin didn’t leave you with much of a choice. It was the Dauphin who practically dragged you to meet his family and the King and Queen, his uncle and aunt and their children and of course the host, which was Yalin’s sister, Infanta Evinelle DeuSavance and her husband the Infante Charles DeuSavance who was the king’s cousin and their children who were very nice and charming and welcoming as they all gave Ramsey a not so subtle nod of approval. And then at dinner, Ramsey dragged you to sit there between himself and his sister and Ramsey simply would not leave your side after Demsey dared to get you away for only a moment, Ramsey wouldn’t let that incident repeat with anyone, he capitalized on your time all night.

You didn’t even get to go to the restroom without his sister Charlotte and Jane following you like puppies with Lady Whitesale not being too far behind them, and you got the impression they were sent as eyes and ears for others and you barely got into a bathroom stall to get some privacy to breathe and even loosened your corset so that you could breathe easier because after two years, you had almost forgotten what it felt like to be the center of attention in a room full of people, you garnered more attention that even Calla and Bennie because of who you were with all night and the weight of their scrutinizing gaze was particularly heavy and now you were anxious just to get to Windsor just for the chance to breathe in the privacy of your room.

Ramsey’s behavior seemed to appear as instant infatuation or for the romantically inclined- ‘love at first sight’. But the feeling was far from mutual, you were simply not attracted to him, at least not physically, also there was a real sense of desperation in his manners. He was the one throwing himself at you and trying to make himself out to be the best possible prospect for you. Which you found odd, perhaps a little worrying and off-putting because you just couldn’t understand why he was so dead set on you. He was himself perhaps a decade out of his prime and just shy of twice your age, not that it made too much of a difference to you because Edward had been over three times your age, almost four actually, when you wed him. Moura women were brought up to think nothing of major age gaps between moura brides and their husbands outside of Dorierra and especially within the culture of the stables. In fact it wasn’t unusual for mouras as young and pretty and accomplished as yourself to go through the stables at least three to four times, gaining more and more value with each remarriage because each marriage was “experience”. There were some moura women who were on their seventh and eighth marriage but the obsession of “virgin brides” also had it’s universal appeal.

But after your disastrous marriage to Edward, you shuddered at the thought of going through the process again. That and Edward had known that you were hesitant to enter into that cycle even before you married him, that’s why he “bought you outright” so that you didn’t have to go back into that cycle, that once you survived him, you would be a free woman, free to do whatever you wanted to do, it was why he insisted that you drink pregnancy warding teas, and made sure to track your own cycle to make sure you would not concieve his child and be tethered to the Morrigans any more than you already were and made sure to afford you a comfortable living so that after his death, you’d have a good life, he had spent his whole life in service to his crown, country and king and business and at the end of his life, he was looking to set something free, instead of caging it forever, it was one of the biggest things you found to love about him. But sadly, he was one of the few people who really cared about what you personally wanted for yourself because he had genuinely cared for you and you felt, loved you, to a degree, at least in the beginning. But his own senility and madness soon erased it not long after.

With Ramsey though, he projected so much onto you. Because he had gotten not just the report that Edward had gotten, which each bride in the stables got a report, tailored to fit potential prospects, like cherry picking things on a resume but he had also gotten the master resume which had everything on it.

Moura brides usually had a very vast array of qualities and talents that were universal and the moura schools had some of the best teachers and professors in the world and as a child and up to a certain age, all moura children got the same top notch education that rivaled most scholars. However after the age of 12 or 13, schooling changed dramatically for the sexes. All men were pushed into either a service trade, commerce, engineering and technology or science or medicine, so that they all had a “useful” job within the country and of course military training but they were all pushed to serve in one way or another so that they could go into the many industries within the country, making goods and providing services and only the exceptionally musically talented men got to be “entertainers” which was an important service to the Dorierrian public.

Women on the other hand, since the moura stable’s exports was solely brides for foreign dignitaries, they were taught government and more importantly, how to govern everything from a household to a country should they need to be a queen some day, they were taught all the major languages, especially the common tongue and economics, business, because all government was business, but also the art of war, including self defense so that in the case of attack, they could defend themselves and their future families, but especially psychological warfare, intrigue, manipulation for future political court life, in addition to the usual music, musical instruments of all kinds, singing, dancing, composing, arts of all kinds, including acting, ceramics, drawing, painting, sewing, embroidery, fashion, culinary arts as well as some medicine and of course- what was taught across all sexes was childcare because even after the plague, moura mothers still had a successful birth rate of 99%, with very little to no birth defects in the babes, no matter the mix of species and fathers especially were brought up to be an equal parent in the household so that in addition to their jobs, they could still come home and care for their own households and families, especially since moura mothers always seemed to have a newborn at their breast or one or even two or three in the womb at a time and both partners were brought up to be completely devoted to their families and any hint of any kind of abuse was swiftly dealt with and never tolerated and the focus was on having a happy family life. So if couples were unhappy with each other, divorce was easily attained and granted. And even with that measure in place, most moura partners, when there was a love match, ended up being married for life. It was not uncommon for women to go off through the stables once, then come back in widowhood and settle down with a moura mate and stay in the country after that.

However there was an exception. For men and women who preferred sexual relations with the same sex as themselves, they could be entered into a smaller “private” school but it was for “concubines, consorts and courtisans”, otherwise known as 3C’s. that had all the training moura brides had but it allowed men to have the same higher educations women enjoyed if it meant that it prepared them for life as a king’s courtisan and concubine on their private privy council and it was usually only through 3C’s, that moura men were ever allowed to leave Dorierra under any circumstances other than war, which considering all the political alliances Dorierra had with every other nation in the world, was very, very seldom, but that didn’t mean Dorierra was lax, the moura brides were often Dorierra’s eyes and ears on the rest of the world and reported back to them accordingly. Even in the case of revolution where some royals and aristocracy could lose their heads, it was the morua brides and their children at least, who were always allowed to return to Dorierra unharmed and could be rescued in dire situations by either dragons, pegasus’ griffins, since Dorierrians bred all three.

So because of all of this education, which was better than most universities, a moura bride’s “resume” was very impressive and thus- cherry picked to suit the individual suitor based on the suitor’s culture. However all mouras had a master resume that accompanied their pedigree’s and lineage, which listed everything they had learned and had become proficient and excelled in. But even the master resume did not show what the individual moura really enjoyed and had a passion for.

And with Ramsey, you could tell he simply went off your own master resume. Just because you knew something or even excelled at something, didn’t mean you really enjoyed it. For instance, on your master- you were taught how to be a queen, navigate court, and rule it, but that didn’t mean you had the ambition to be a queen and you did not feel it was your destiny to be one either. Presiding over Mirador was more than enough to satisfy you in that respect. You had no desire for much more than that. But Ramsey seemed intent that you should have a more active political role and couldn’t wait to see how you would advise him to gain even more power and clout in the House of Lords as well as garnering the love and admiration of the common man so that he could have more political reach than he already had, the very prospect nearly sent you running, in fact it was that, that had sent you to try to gain some solace in the bathroom in the first place because you just felt he was dragging you into this and because of “polite society” rules for decorum, you couldn’t counter, you couldn’t really speak your mind to him. All you could do was simply hum and acknowledge what he was saying to you and agree with what you could, but that was all.

However to hear that Demsey, despite being a duke, was rarely ever in politics, in fact he seemed to spend all of his time and efforts into his family business, which to you was a very noble and honorable pursuit, had you even more drawn to him and make him even more desirable as a prospect to you.

By the time you got to Windsor, you were so relieved even to see Ramsey come get you from the carriage if it meant you could get away from the Morrigans as Ramsey had you on one arm and Jane on the other which the Morrigans were happy to see before the Dauphine and the Senior Dauphin came over to have a word with them.

“Well we must assure you that we will take the best of care of Jane while she’s here. And you must forgive our son, he’s been taken with the Sultana since her wedding to your late father Count Morrigan and then when he saw her when we went to the Savoy only a couple of weeks ago he has become quite obsessed ever since, in fact we were enjoying such a wonderful dinner there from our balcony at the Savoy where we seemed to look over your family in the main dining floor, however it was a shock and quite sad to see her eat so little that night.” Yalin noted with a frown to her husband.

“Oh she’s a moura, they have the appetites of birds, she rarely has any appetite since she lost Edward.” Agnes readily answered but the look Yalin gave her said that she didn’t believe that and made Agnes’ forced polite smile falter slightly because mouras were renowned for their healthy appetites and high metabolisms despite their petite frames but excellent body conditions, having a healthy ratio between strength, stamina but still retain some softness in their hips and bellies and for women, especially their breasts because that’s what the body needed to ensure healthy offspring and a moura’s mother’s milk was some of the most nutritious of all the species.

“Well we will certainly see to it she eats properly while she’s here, can’t have her growing malnourished can we? Because malnourishment leads to weak offspring and we can’t have that at all.” Yalin insisted to Gregori.

“Quite right my dear.” Gregori readily agreed.

“Oh, oh yes of course, we will also encourage her to eat well for the sake of her future.” Agnes reassured her, catching the Dauphine’s drift.

“What I found odd is that when Ramsey looked into the Sultana just after seeing her at the Savoy a couple of weeks ago and asked the stables themselves for her master resume, the report that he got back after Edward’s death when they re-evaluated her was most disturbing, for a nescia - or princess, to be downgraded to a shakan, such a demotion had never happened before except in cases of extreme circumstances, such as revolution and anarchy, is there any reason you can give for such an extreme change?” Gregori asked them pointedly as the Morrigans looked at each other, trying not to betray how worried they were at such an intrusive question.

“Well you see the Sultana is actually very, very delicate and mentally very weak, she took the decline of Edwards health so hard, and suffered so greatly from that loss that the stables gave her that, we surely didn’t have anything to do with it, in fact, we have done everything in our power to help her, including- moving her to Mirador and even increased the living that Edward afforded her so that she can live in the utmost of comfort, she even got to take her pick of servants from Broadcove that she grew fond of.” Richard tried to excuse as Gregori also gave him a look that he didn’t believe that either as Richard felt himself wither by Gregori’s intense gaze.

“Well then we will have to be careful with her as well. Ramsey has quite made up his mind about her which is a relief to all of us. And of course as long as there is no interference, especially on your end, it can go smoothly, and of course there might be a promotion of rank if it goes well, I’m thinking a Marquise at least, if not Duchy.” Gregori offered and the Morrigans practically had their jaws on the floor of their carriage and were drooling a river at the prospect as they gave each other a giddy look.

“Oh of course, of course, we will be giving every encouragement we can.” Agnes eagerly reassured them, because it was not uncommon for that to happen and it was just the opportunity they were looking for, because while they were disappointed that such a thing would be coming from you instead of Jane, they wouldn’t turn their nose up at such a prospect. Finally having a moura in the family would be paying off and worth it if it meant they could be Duke and Duchess and Jane of course could be eligible to be courted by all kinds of prospects and make the Dauphin Ramsey look like a lowly lord or knight, and a promotion such as that would push them onto the international Europa marriage market and could amasse even more power and money but from a much larger scale on an even larger stage.

“Well if that is the case, then it’s a very curious thing, why did Duke Voyambi insist to Ramsey that his whole family saw and heard you dictate a list to the Sultana about suitors to avoid. In fact when Ramsey pressed the Sultana for such a list, she was able to produce this very one, where Ramsey’s name is at the very top of the list of suitors to avoid. I understand that both of you dictated this list for Jane to write down. And then when we made other inquires of those who happened to be around you at not just the Savoy but all over London at various shops that you snubbed half the court. Of course if such a thing were to be handed over to the King and Queen I’m wondering how they would react?” Gregori asked his beloved wife as Yalin smirked at seeing the Morrigan’s pale and nearly shit bricks right there in the driveway as Gregori pulled the list from his own breast pocket and looked it over and pointed to where his son’s name was written down with a deep scowl before looking expectantly up at them to answer for it.

“Or heaven forbid Lady Bagum in the papers, surely if she got a whiff of this matter, she’d whip it up into quite the scandal, and if she ever got ahold of the list and if that ever got printed in the papers, I’m afraid what the repercussions of that would be, I would hate to see half of the court, and by that point, half of parliament, snub you publicly for such a thing.” Yalin added as Agnes and Richard looked worriedly to each other while they flushed with shame as Agnes and Richard both scrambled to find an excuse as they both instantly regretted everything they had said all evening and wishing they could take it all back and knew that the next time they got to speak with you, they would have to apologize and take it back and humble themselves before you, which was an act they loathed but it would save their skin. To gain a duchy in the future, they would make peace with being humble now.

“Well you see we did that because every suitor the Sultana does not go after is a suitor we can have for our sweet Jane, we were not trying to snub half the court, we were simply trying to keep the best of the best for our own dear sweet Jane, that is all, but who are we to stand in the way of love? If your Ramsey has set his heart on the Sultana, then so be it, please disregard that list and please tell the Sultana to disregard all instruction from us to withhold herself from the Dauphin, who are we to stand in the way of destiny? Please won’t you beg her on our behalf to forgive us for being so short sighted and so ignorant? Really we should have seen the Dauphin’s actions for what they were tonight, we were under the impression it was the Sultana who was pursuing the Dauphin too strongly and we didn’t want her embarrassing herself for others thinking she was too eager but we see now that was simply not the case and we will by no means stand in the way of the Dauphin and we will offer every encouragement possible to the Sultana.” Agnes quickly explained which those seemed to be the magic words that turned Gregori’s scowl into a pleased smile.

“Excellent, with your complete cooperation and no further interference, such a thing as this list and your simple misunderstanding could easily be forgotten, be dismissed as rumor and such evidence would surely find its way into a remote, abandoned trunk somewhere in a garbage heap or be ash in a fireplace, we wouldn’t want such damning evidence fall into the wrong hands would we?” Gregori offered as he put the list back into his breast pocket of his vest under his coat as Agnes and Richard knew that as long as you agreed to Ramsey’s proposals, it would be ok and forgiven.

“Oh, of course, we would never dream to presume to be anything but compliant.” Richard offered as Agnes nervously laughed as she nodded emphatically with her husband.

“Then you won’t be opposed to us looking into the Sultana’s welfare while at Broadcove, then will you? Because it is Ramsey’s dearest wish that she gain halmana status, which is for English- that of a dowager, like the queen dowager, or dowager empress, which surpasses even my own status of nescia and he can’t marry a moura with a status less than sayida actually. Also there is the very curious and honestly alarming and downright shameful fact that the Sultana’s correspondence with the stables and her friends within them has gone by the wayside and even their correspondence to her has gone awry, practically vanished into thin air and there has been a complete disconnect from the Sultana to her homeland.” Yalin began.

“According to Ramsey and the Czarina’s brothers that, even the stable masters have not heard anything from her since she wrote that she arrived safely to Broadcove immediately after the wedding, but absolutely nothing else ever since, even now at Mirador, her correspondence is going missing both too and from the stables and her friends within them, I wonder what kind of sum could be offered for every single piece of correspondence to be produced from wherever they might be at, we have investigators that are going through the Royal Mail Service as we speak, immediately dispatched the moment it was made known, in fact when it was made aware by the Czarina’s brothers and The Princesses brothers, they almost immediately pulled them both out of the ball and demanded to go home because such atrocities would never be tolerated and are demanding that such a thing be a crime punishable either in prison or public whippings and demotions which the royal family had no choice but to agree to.” Richard continued where his wife left off as Agnes and Richard gave each other a worried glance.

“And that’s because they had to pay a hundred and fifty thousand pounds just to get the new mouras out here, which was a non refundable fee, and one that the guilty party, when they are found, could be made to pay as well should that happen and the King and Queen immediately ordered for the matter to be investigated by the best detectives in the country along with Scotland Yard who at the very mention of bribes will immediately arrest and brought to the tower and will be investigating everyone who could possibly be involved, how many letters would you think a person can write in the span of two years?” Yalin wondered aloud and smiled wider when Agnes and Richard both faltered guiltily as they both seemed to fluctuate between pale and impossibly red.

“Of course if any of it has been ordered to be burned by either you or anyone in your household, even if that order were to be carried out within the Royal Mail Service, the royal family will have no choice but to hold you personally responsible and I believe that a sum of at least a hundred pounds up to possibly a thousand pounds, per letter, per every little piece of correspondence will be demanded from you since you are the Lord of the estate and it is you who is solely responsible for all things that happen within the estate. Especially since you are so rich, I’m inclined for the higher price, since you surely can afford it.” Gregori insisted to Richard whose eyes were about to pop out of his head and his own buttons on his waistcoat were about to pop off from the heaviness of his instant laboured breathing at such a prospect.

“But surely you can’t imagine that we would have anything to do with her correspondence going missing. We would never dream of doing such a thing or implicating the Royal Mail Service. Such a thing is madness and to hold us responsible for other’s mistakes.” Agnes pleaded, trying not to betray her own guilt.

“But this matter still involves the Royal Mail Service, which answers to their majesties and that they take immense pride in and is the mark of civilization in fact it was a charge of uncivilization that the Royal Mail Service was so profoundly broken that such a thing has occurred, such an oversight of one or two to go missing is understandable considering the volume, but for every single one to go missing, surely nothing but malicious intent is to blame and their royal highnesses are taking it as an affront and a personal attack and insult that a system that the monarchy put in place would fail it’s most valuable of subjects because they view that every moura in their society is a precious treasure and they immediately made that sentiment known to the Sultana and the other moura guests when they asked the Sultana about it directly and got confirmation directly from her.” Yalin countered firmly.

“Also in talking with the Sultana just this evening, she was completely unaware that there were moura social clubs in England, much less London, and had no idea of their existence, of course the belief that if you alienate one from others that you weaken the individual is completely false, if anything, it galvanizes the individual and can have very long lasting and far reaching negative effects because it’s the socialization that makes mouras more pleasant to be around and work with, but to deprive one of socialization is abject cruelty and will be something that their majesties are also looking into as well as the stables and such accommodations will make their ways into all future contracts instead of being implied because the honor of every Englishman is now called into question that we can’t even uphold our own rule of law and contracts which the Royal Family was affronted that such a thing has obviously been failed by you, which is why they are so intent on holding you personally responsible. So really, I can’t imagine the cost the royal family will demand for each piece of correspondence.” Gregori firmly insisted and his tone was almost snarling and had the Morrigan’s quaking in fear because he was after all, the brother to the King and had the commanding presence of his station as Yalin simply beamed proudly at her husband.

“H..how would you know such a thing of how many pieces of correspondence?” Richard paled as Gregori and Yalin simply smiled smugly.

“The Royal Family asked the Sultana directly to estimate how many pieces of correspondence, she estimated it in the thousands. So since it is the possibility of someone burning them, there are some magic practicing persons who can still be found, in fact they were sent for tonight during the ball and should be here in the next day or two and since the correspondances still at one point existed to begin with, they can be conjured up still. Such a thing is very costly but viable, and of course such a means can be used to pinpoint exactly who is responsible and of course if that is the case, the price for each one will double, even triple in value and be taken out of your income and out of your nobility since again, it is you who is responsible for all things at Broadcove and all your other estates and especially since it was your own servants that followed the Sultana to her new residence, they are now highly suspect as are you. And in such a case, may the gods themselves have mercy on your pocketbooks, much less your souls. And of course whoever else was involved in such a crime, is still viable to be denounced in court, all of their property go to the victim which in this case is the Sultana, and then they could be flogged, drawn and quartered in the public square, because the crime was committed against not just the Royal Mail Service but also against their majesties and a royal moura who after tonight, is closely associated with the royal family who just upon looking at her this evening have welcomed her into their fold and have gotten the nod of approval and the Queen herself said how “perfectly precious and exquisite she was, a sign of impeccable breeding”.” Gregori recited proudly.

“Oh yes, to get that kind praise from her, there are now two diamonds this season and one of them is halfway to being securely in Ramsey’s hands, really no safer place could be found in all of the court. And Ramsey is extremely protective of what is his.” Yalin practically cooed.

“Which Ramsey is looking to bolster up the protections for mouras in general, so that any abuse whatsoever will never be tolerated no matter the soil they stand on and no matter the status of the moura in question and of course we will also have to investigate all of your relation, for any evidence and any dishonesty will also have the same outcome. As we speak, Scotland Yard are on their way to your estate at Broadcove and to all of your other houses along with a special team of investigators who have come in from Dorierra just for the occasion. And any interference on your part will have some very serious, grave consequences.” Gregori warned.

“But of course, if you and your family are innocent, then you have nothing to worry about, just keep on encouraging the Sultana towards our Ramsey.” Yalin encouraged sweetly.

“Of course, of course.” Richard and Agnes shakily agreed.

“Goodnight then, safe travels, also if either you or any of your family try to flee the country, you will be hunted and brought back and imprisoned in the Tower of London and absolute guilt will be assumed and a public trial will immediately ensue and all details will be printed in every newspaper from here to Dorierra.” Gregori offered lowly as he stuck his head into the window to be eye to eye with Richard before he pulled his head out and patted the carriage and told the driver to drive the Morrigan’s home as Agnes nearly fainted.

“How long do you think it’ll take for them to start screaming at each other?” Yalin murmured as she and her husband waived them off and watched as the carriage drove away from their home.

“Oh they’ll probably wait until after they leave the gate.” Gregori mused with a chuckle.

“Have I told you that nothing is sexier to me than watching you flex your own power My Love?” Yalin cooed to Gregori.

“You can show me.” Gregori purred into his wife’s ear before he started kissing down from her ear down her neck which got her to giggle and gave her gooseflesh.

“Oh Gregori.” Yalin sighed dreamily as she pulled him into the palace.

“And?” Ramsey asked as you and Jane stood in the foyer with everyone else as you introduced Jane to all of your friends from the stables after Bennie and Calla had introduced their own brothers to Jane and the Voyambi’s as you were sure all of the Voyambi sisters were staring in awed wonder at Calla’s and Bennie’s brothers because they had never seen more handsome men in all their lives as even Kiera was hard pressed to find a single fault in them and staring at one had her ignoring every grudge she had accumalated against mouras.

“Well they didn’t sing like canaries, but we sure did dangle the carrot and practically walked themselves into a box to get it. And they will not be an obstacle anymore.” Gregori beamed happily.

“But we will still be pursuing it right?” Ramsey asked.

“Oh absolutely, they’re incredibly guilty and if Scotland Yard is on it, they won’t return without results, it’s probable cause at this point, and the fact that they made the Sultana sign a nondisclosure is proof that something very serious and most likely, very dangeorus to the Morrigan family name and honor transpired and I know the Morrigans will do anything to keep it buried and concealed, including continuing to pay the Sultana’s living after her marraige to you of course, and that dowry will set this family up nicely, give us a good chance to build for a glorious future, and with your verile seed in her young and ready womb, you’ll be father to a future King or Queen, because with the Sultana’s bloodline, that will keep us well out of too much inbreeding within the family. And give the DeuSavance’s a run for their money and give them some competition to put their heirs on that throne.” Gregori reassured his son with a firm clasp on the shoulder as Ramsey nodded nervously.

“It’s certain that the game is afoot and I’m wondering how many delightfully juicy scandalous things we’ll uncover and it would be a shame if any or all of it made it into the papers after it’s settled, everyone does love a good scandal after all, we will need some good gossip after all this business.” Yalin giggled as Gregori chuckled.

“For now, I think it best we keep the Sultana here for as long as we are keeping the Czarina and the Princess and of course we should keep the young Countess Morrigan here as well, since the Sultana insists on her innocence. We can’t go upsetting the Sultana now can we?” Yalin suggested to Gregori.

“I agree. It’s going to be a full house.” Gregori cooed before they decided to address the group.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you all for accepting our invitations, Sultana, you especially are more than welcome to stay here at Windsor for as long as the Princess and the Czarina are here as well, we know it’s been a very long time since you were with your friends and we want you to enjoy their company as much as you can.” Yalin announced as beamed a happy smile.

“Thank you, your excellencies!” You readily called back as Calla and Bennie were both on either side of you, all three of you hugging each other tightly.

“Also, we understand that the differences between Dorierra culture and English culture are stark and can be jarring, which is why for the six weeks the Dorierrans are here, the first two weeks will be spent in the Dorierra ways the following two weeks we will slowly shift from Dorierra manners to proper English manners and the last two weeks will be spent in English manners so that should any or all of the moura brides choose to stay, you will know what’s expected of you, also for our English guests, I petition you to keep an open mind and not take any offense in the difference in manners and culture but be respectful, and of course what happens here at Windsor stays at Windsor.” Gregori announced as all the Dorierrans beamed happily and excited smiles at each other.

“With that being said, it is quite late and we all should get some sleep. However if we may have a private word with Sultana Audravienne,” Yalin urged before the housekeepers came and took the group to their rooms that had been prepared for them as you bravely walked up to them.

“We just had a private word with Richard and Agnes Morrigan and they beg your forgiveness for advising you against the Dauphin and misunderstanding his actions and attributing them to you. They also agreed to no longer be a hindrance or an obstacle for you.” Gregori relayed which made you frown.

“May I ask what induced them to change their opinion?” You asked as you looked from Gregori to Yalin.

“Once they were made aware of Ramsey’s intentions towards you.” Yalin answered.

“I see, well, then their apology is accepted. Thank you so much for letting me know.” You thanked them before you curtsied again respectfully and returned to the group.

“What was that all about?” Jane asked.

“I’ll tell you later.” You promised her as you were shown your own room as you stole away in it and breathed in relief when you were finally alone as you happily stripped out of your clothes and slipped into your night gown and collapsed on the comfortable bed and barely got under the covers before you heard something click open which made your eyes snap open before you pulled a shall around you. If it was Ramsey you were going to lose your patience and beat him off with a candelabra. You couldn’t take another minute of him tonight.

“Who’s there?” You demanded because you sensed you weren’t alone anymore.

“It’s just us, Ramsey told us of the secret passages in this place, we wanted to talk to you without other eyes and ears listening and watching.” Calla informed you in marinai as she and Bennie came out from a secret door in the wall in the corner.

“Well come on in, the water is nice.” You laughed in relief before Calla and Bennie both climbed into the bed with you, leaving a candle by the secret door but otherwise left the other on the night stand as you hugged each other tightly.

“It’s so good to see you again.” Calla sniffled into your shoulder as you held her the tightest while Bennie hugged your back as three of you cuddled together in the bed.

“It’s good to see you too, and it’s great to see the boys too, I never knew how precious my time with my siblings was while I was at home, now, seeing them, makes me wish I could see my own brothers. I would give anything to see them again, even Axal.” You confessed as Calla finally withdrew from you as you all laid on your backs, admiring the mural on the ceiling.

“Why is a country so obsessed with propriety, show nothing but nudes on their ceilings?” Bennie asked.

“Psh, I don’t know, I’ve been here two years and English culture makes just as much sense to me as it probably does to either of you, which isn’t a whole lot.” You admitted as you burned with wanting to tell them more but you promised Ramsey that you wouldn’t. But at the same time, you couldn’t scare them off with horror stories just as they are getting here and getting to know these people, part of you still held out hope that your experience was a Morrigan thing, not an English thing.

“I broke into the stable master’s office.” Calla suddenly blurted out which made you and Bennie snicker a laugh.

“Why would you do such a thing?” You asked her.

“To read the report as to why you were demoted to a shakan. I almost didn’t answer the call to come here but once we found out it was to London and that you would be present, I couldn’t say no, not hearing from you, most of us have assumed the worst and with all correspondence to you going missing, because your parent’s health has declined dramatically since your demotion, when they demanded to know why they got different answers each time they asked, one was “it was in your contract not to return” another was “she has no wish to return” one even claimed that you requested that demotion so that you couldn’t return, which was clearly a lie, no one knows what to think.” Calla confessed as you guiltily bit your tongue.

“So what happened?” Calla pressed and you knew you would have to chose your words very, very carefully.

“While it is true that it was in my contract with Edward that he bought me outright and that when I survived him, I was free to do as I pleased, he afforded me a living of 15 thousand pounds a year, which is a very comfortable sum of money a year and more than enough to live on and I’ve managed to save a good portion of it, I’m able to live in comfort and peace with a whole house of my own. And if I were to go back to the stables, the cycle would just begin anew and I have no heart or stomach for it. I’m content with where I’m at and what I have. Besides, Edward stated in his will that when and if I choose to remarry, it will be love and I have every intention of honoring his wishes because they are my own.” You calmly answered.

“So why did the contract with Richard state that he would pay you thirty thousand a year?” Calla asked with a deep frown.

“Because of what transpired between him and I while I was married to Edward. If you read it then you know I can’t talk about it because it’s a non-disclosure. I’m surprised you came if you read it.” You returned.

“Ok, but just because you signed it and can’t talk about it, Calla, spill the beans, all the beans, I need to know now.” Bennie insisted as she sat up in bed and stared determinedly at Calla.

“Edward went mad shortly after Audra’s marriage to him. I consulted the new medical books after I read it, he had dementia, which is becoming common among the older ones and with dementia, comes aggression and violence, Audra suffered greatly at Edward’s hands. But Richard forbade Audra from telling anyone for fear of “tarnishing” the family honor.” Calla answered.

“And that’s why Richard doubled my yearly living, to buy my silence.” You sighed tiredly.

“But the Morrigans are rich, they could have hired doctors and nurses and caretakers to take care of Edward in that state.” Bennie argued.

“At first Edward did, but the more mad he became and the worse he got, the more the nurses demanded to care for him and instead of paying it, Richard dismissed them and viewed me as his already bought and paid for nurse and companion. But his decline was out of my depth. And all Richard did was imprison us both into Broadcove, I couldn’t reach out to anyone, even my messengerari wouldn’t work or reach out to anyone. He had some kind of disruptor in the house. But thankfully I was able to get some insurance against him, so that if he ever decides to stop paying for my silence, I can have a measure of revenge, so you see, never again will I ever be anyone’s pawn or play thing. And never again will I ever tolerate abuse of any kind. If I am to remarry it will be for love, no madness, no abuse, no control over me, no secrets, no intrigue, no disloyalty or unfaithfulness, I am a free woman, I do not answer to anyone and I have freedom. And I can’t go back to my old life, I refuse. I would rather be a free shakan than a caged nescia, no matter how big or gilded the cage may be. Even as one as nice as this palace. All I want is someone to love me for me, even as broken and jaded as I am, who won’t look at me and see wealth, or my dowry or even look at me and desire me for the sole reason that I am a moura, but will see just me, and be content with that.” You insisted sleepily as all three of you got comfortable cuddled together.

“Then I hope you get what you wish for.” Calla insisted sleepily too before all three of you drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile Demsey stared up at his own ceiling and huffed indignantly because he knew he was already beaten. How could his own estate of Whydahh had no hope of competing with the palace of Windsor. It had a hard enough time competing with Mirador and that was only because it had been built in just the last ten years and had all new, modern convenciences. His own London townhouse of Graveston didn’t really compare to Mirador at all. The Dauphin had...well everything, he was royalty for crying out loud and outranked him. What did he have that the Dauphin didn’t? What could he possibly offer a woman of taste and refinement and accomplishment such as yourself that the Dauphin couldn’t offer twice or three times over? Other than his own love, care and devotion? But call him a hopeless romantic, he wanted to try to woo you anyway. He had watched you all night and you didn’t give one genuine smile to the Dauphin all evening. You were polite but still so subdued. According to Amara when she too had followed you into the bathroom, you couldn’t even go to the bathroom in peace. And Lady Whitesale was so rude to Amara and all of his sisters. Before she had purposefully tried to befriend them as “sisters” but now that that seemingly was no longer a possibility, she immediately showed her own true colors to them and had turned all the other orc women in the court against them and had them shunned once they took up company with the jewel orc mouras. But what really sold him on you was how gracious you were in your own perceived defeat. You were still so kind and treated everyone in his family so wonderfully and respectfully and engaged with all of them while they were waiting in the foyer, especially his younger siblings. And even though Kiera had been begrudged against you, you were still kind to considerate to her. You were above reproach and you proved with your words and actions what an excellent woman you were and what he would give if he knew it wouldn’t start a scandal or call into question your own honor of just going to room and confessing all of his feelings to you this moment.

But as tempting as that sounded. That would surely insult your honor and compromise you, plus it would be unkind. He knew just by looking at you, that you were beyond exhausted. And having battled Ramsey’s affections all night and dodging the Morrigans meanness, it would be too much to try to battle his own advancements if you didn’t return them. You looked like you were ready to bolt out of the Morrigan’s carraige and you had sadly looked so relieved to even see Ramsey rescue you from their company, he wondered if you would have looked at him with equal relief if he had been the one to get to you first, but sadly he had been helping his Ma’ma out of her carriage.

But at the ball, just as you were leaving his side for the brief moment he was able to steal you away for, the way you held his hand, even for as brief of a moment as it was that evening, that simple touch had conveyed so much that words never could, but even now, he couldn’t put words to it’s meaning as he traced the outline your hand had been on his own hand, he almost didn’t want to wash his hands for fear it would wash your magical touch off, while it was true that the gold plague had ridden mouras of their magic, he could almost sense that at least a little bit still lived in you, it had sent the most delightful electric shocks through his whole being and had his soul craving more contact, just another touch, another glance, another anything. But Ramsey blocked him, all night. But despite Ramsey’s best efforts, the few looks you shared, especially over dinner, he was sure he saw longing and affection and dare he hope desire in your eyes when you looked at him. It had him feeling like you were the only woman at that ball that existed, let alone that mattered.

That being said he was keen to see you behave the way you were raised to and wondered what kind of differences there was between Dorierran customs and English ones. His brothers had talked about the Dorierran national sport, something that involved flaming swords. If he got to see you weilding a flaming sword, the Dauphin be damned, he was going to probably fall head over heels in love with you and probably propose to you as soon as he could. because at least in orcish culture, weapons were sacred and a shieldmaiden weilding a sword or a battle ax was seen as the epitome of sexy. Of course just thinking about it had his shaft rock hard, again, great, something else to satisfy again before he could get some sleep.

#Blood For Gold #Blood For Gold Part 8 #Oh yeah #now we are getting into intentions and interests and how those are gonna clash #mwahahaha #Regency orcs #regency era orc period drama #orc fantasy love story.#orc love story.#moura

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