#and it handles that well and it is usually more...'some of these characters use underhanded tactics but theyre doing what they believe is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

easy-there-leftovers · 7 months

Text

I See You, Darling (4)

[Astarion x reader] A little longer than usual, I hope that’s fine for all of you :,DDD I didn't want to cram too much into the post though, so the segment at the end might be continued in full detail, or maybe not! Let's see.|Word count: 2.9k.|

Content Warnings: Mentions of cooking, handling knives, blood, allusions to sex, a few ooc characters, reader being a dumbass and wahtnot.

Part 3 here!!

Masterlist here!!

A party is being held at the camp in the heroes’ honor, which greets you with a lively crowd that you’ll hopefully meet again soon. And with a gathering this large, you’re bound to garner attention. But with a constitution as poor as yours from the night before, a round of drinks is the last thing you want.

Alternatively: A bloodless human tries to balance respectfully participating in a drinking party, while also not drinking at all.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

The sun rises, the warmth of its rays gently waking you in the absence of the campfire’s flames. The soft chirping of the birds greet you a good morning as your eyes slowly open, ready to greet the day as a new opportunity arises.

Is what would have happened in a more idyllic scenario. Instead, you bolt awake with a pounding headache, worse than any hangover could possibly feel like, and quickly rush to get up. By the sheer brightness of the light that burns your newly opened corneas, it is far later than when you usually wake. And breakfast still hasn’t been made.

“Well, good morning sleepy head.” One of your companions, Gale, says as he fixes his belongings. Readying himself for the skirmish that was about to take hold later on in the day.

“I’m very sorry for waking up late. It won’t happen again.” You bow your head low for a moment before he waves you off.

“Oh come now, we all have our off days. Besides, I think the rest would agree with me when I say what you made for us last night was more than enough to last us ‘til morning.” His statement is punctuated by the lively sounds of the others training. Ready and well rested for whatever may come.

You look around. None have seemed to mind your temporary absence, so you endeavor to double check with everyone leaving and ensure that they had a sound strategy with the necessary materials and weapons should there be a need for failsafes. You remind them of certain notes that some of them have informed you about but failed to share with the rest of the group.

‘While goblins typically go down faster than other opponents, they have no sense of honor nor pride which gives way for them the opportunity to use more underhanded tactics. But they also aren’t very bright, so you can convince the others to let them infiltrate the camp and eradicate them from the inside out.’

As the rest disperse, finalize their plans and check their supplies, your favorite character approaches you much like he usually does every morning. Only this time, you see that he looks very pleased. A more vibrant spark in his eyes as he opens his mouth to speak.

“Thank goodness you’ve finally woken up.” He looks at you, in the same way an old friend of yours would when they’re seconds away from telling a joke.

The look fades soon enough though as he breathes out. You wonder if it’s because the joke isn't funny anymore, or if he never had a punchline to begin with.

“You looked a little ill last night, but you’ve certainly recovered.” Recovered isn’t the word you would use to describe your current state of feeling almost half dead, but you don’t bother correcting the details.

“And you look particularly vibrant today, Astarion.” The itch of your neck intensifies as you return a pointed look at him as he frowns.

“Oh, of course! Now, don’t be so upset. I will admit that I got a little carried away, I apologize.” He pauses. The frown remains on his face for a while before it is erased with his usual expression of confidence.

“But let’s not fall out over this.” He moves to stand closer to you, taking your hand to his as he nears it to his lips as he continues.

“We need each other.”

And whether its done purposefully or not, you see his fangs peek out from his mouth and a shiver courses through your body.

You slip your hand out of his own in a panic and interject.

“I know that much already, and I trust you not to let what happened last night happen again. I also apologize for not noticing sooner and dealing with the situation better.” You hold your head down a bit to apologize but quickly meet his gaze gain. “But I do need to know what we’ll have to feed you from now on.”

The look of confusion, and perhaps even shock that was once swimming in his eyes dissipates before you can notice them when he swears upon his resolve. “No innocents, you have my word. After all, you know what I am now. I can fight with all my weapons–” He grins, allowing you a clearer view than what you had earlier. “Teeth included.”

“And if I happen to drain the occasional bandit during a fight, what's the harm? They’re just as dead.” He makes a very compelling argument, at least to your standards.

You sigh, satisfied for now. You’re confident that none of your party members would end up at the mercy of his fangs, and you’re more than sure they would be able to overpower him more than your attempts did. But the same sentiment cannot be shared for possibly important, plot driving, characters that you might meet later on.

So you propose something to strengthen your trust that the unlikely will stay the unlikely.

“Look, I’m–” You breathe in, almost as if you're trying to suck back whatever courage washed over you back in as you steeled yourself for what you were about to say next.

“I’m not against you feeding from me, but!” You punctuate the last syllable as you see his grin growing wider. “We need to discuss things beforehand. No prowling over me while waiting for me to wake up or to sink your teeth into.”

The proposal greatly delights him, as is evident in his response. “Of course! That sounds eminently reasonable. I shall wait patiently until you suggest we… dine together. But until then: no more late-night surprises. You have my word on that.”

After that, he makes a joke about feeling ‘peckish already,’ and quickly gathers the rest of the party to leave on their adventure.

You promise them a feast when they came back as the victors that they are. What you forgot, after what felt like weeks in the real world, was the crowd that would come filtering in to celebrate their heroes’ achievements as well.

————————————

When you saw the tieflings from the grove traveling alongside your companions, you knew they had come to celebrate. And you blanched at the thought of the provisions they’d be seeking to pair with their drinking. It’s been so long since you went through this event, and you no longer recall if they even ate anything during the party.

You look at your bubbling cauldron–– a bigger one as you had anticipated a few acquaintances accompanying them–– but you wager that at least a little extra things to nibble on won’t hurt to have. You still have quite the amount of camp supplies in the trunk, but you keep it reserved for the camp’s use only. So you smile at your returning comrades and alert the others that stayed behind for your reason to leave and that they can begin eating dinner.

While others told you it wasn’t necessary, the rest just nodded with a smile and yelled that they’d wait for you to return. You return quite too quickly though, all the while informing them why you’re keeping the communal chest in your tent as you spy the child that tried to steal and swindle the group a few days prior approaching with the rest.

They have a laugh and you quickly proceed with your plan to find at least a few consumable berries and nuts or seeds to accompany the drinks later on.

But foraging for said consumables near dark is a choice not for the faint-hearted. You came to realize this when you heard the low grumble of a large animal, thankfully far from your form. You turn to look behind you, taking great care to do so as slowly as possible so as to not alert the mysterious creature.

In the clearing, you spot a rather dark looking bear and you feel a cold sweat begin to form on your temple. Hands, growing wet in the dangerous situation you’ve placed yourself in. This wasn’t the same as being drained to death by a vampire, that, you could at least reason with. But a wild animal? With your lack of magical prowess and lesser knowledge of connecting with nature and the wild, you would be finished if it were to follow you.

The small pouch of nuts and wild berries stayed holstered on your waist, but the bear’s eyes that were previously low on the ground are now trained on you. Almost as if it were caught doing something it wasn’t supposed to be.

You freeze. You forgot what the basic policy was around brown or black bears and therefore couldn’t do much about your current predicament. There shouldn’t be a bear around this area, not unless they had traveled from far away, or that this bear was one of your future companions.

And while the latter isn’t impossible, you most certainly did not want to gamble your life on a possibility. So you tried to compose yourself, returned the gaze of the bear with a shaky and careful nod, and turned back to return to camp. Figuring that the amount of tidbits you gathered would have to suffice.

When you return, the company you shared seems to be in high spirits. Some more than others. But conversation was plentiful and you smiled as the tieflings cheered for your comrades. You quickly got to work and began to chop the nuts into thinner pieces. Something you learned to make the appearance of something look more abundant than it really is.

While you were chopping away unfortunately, you nick your finger along the way and silently curse. Unfortunate, but not an unforeseeable outcome given the booming drums of the bard that plays oh so nicely with your bloodless state. You quickly, but neatly, arrange the provisions on two small platters, and position them near the larger gatherings.

“Flitting around like a hummingbird as always, I see.” A familiar, but not immediately recognizable voice greets you as you pass them. You turn and you see an unexpected acquaintance with a bottle in their hand and an incredibly charming grin.

“Dammon! How lucky of me to run into you.” You genuinely were elated to see him. You didn’t see much of him later on in the game, and being able to interact with him beyond the opportunities given to you was certainly nice.

“I could say the same. Though you’re as lively as you usually are.” There’s no malice in his tone, only an innocent observation, yet you feel embarrassed to have been seen scuttling about like a bug.

“I– promise I’m more organized. I just didn’t expect us to be having any guests.” He takes notice of how you push your fingers into your palms repetitively, a small action that soothes you.

“I think you’ve done more than a fine job already. The celebration is for you all, and it was us who planned to come and might’ve put your friends on the spot.” He later takes notice of the cut on your finger as well.

“Speaking of,” He gingerly grasps your hand, looking to you for permission, but you’re too confused to respond with anything he can understand. “Shouldn’t you be taking it easy for the night? You’ve done enough. And if what happened at the grove tells me anything about you, I’m sure they’ll survive even if you settle. Just for a bit.”

He leads you nearer to the water and produces a small washcloth to clean a bit of your finger as you respond. “The grove? They did that on their own. I just um, take notes.” You sit on a fallen tree, your head still fuzzy, as you observe his crouched form. Inspecting the cut as he cleans it.

A curious interaction. Not one that you’d expect from an non-romanceable NPC, but an interesting one nonetheless. And it would seem that someone had found it equally as interesting, if the way he scrutinizes you had anything to do about it.

He chuckles in turn. “If modesty is how you like to live, then I won’t impose.” He smiles and gets up as you continue your conversation. You don’t recall if the tiefling has ever had this much screen time, but his voice is rather lovely so you don’t complain about it.

You end up discussing quite a bit, but you focus on what can be done about your party. Specifically Karlach as you worry for the future and you’d like to have answers for her when he isn’t around during your journey. He doesn’t have much idea of what else can be done, but he does mention that he should have something by the time you meet him again in Baldur’s Gate.

You do remember that you might meet him a lot sooner, but you don’t mention it explicitly. You do, however, advise him to be extra careful around the oxen as they can be rather unpredictable this time of year.

As you continue, you notice his eyes flit up every now and then. Like something was catching his attention ever so often. You ask him about it and he actually laughs at your genuine inquiry. “It looks like I was wrong. Your friend there looks like he’d like his turn for your company.”

You turn around and you don’t immediately eye anyone looking in your direction. You were never the subtle type, so you looked around, blatantly searching for someone. It was a bit odd to see.

Your eyes do eventually train on his, but he doesn’t necessarily look like he wants to talk to you. Sure, he’s scowling away, though that’s not out of the ordinary at all. Besides, he has a bottle of something that you hope is helping him relax.

Still, perhaps Dammon saw something you didn’t so you politely thank him for his company and excuse yourself.

You greet the others that regard you as you walk past them. Declining the offers to drink and excusing yourself politely when you were asked to stay a bit.

As you approach him, a tiefling tries to strike up a conversation with him. With a bored look, he dismisses them and turns to look at you. He takes a sip, sneers, and begins his rant now that you’re situated in front of him.

“I hate it. This is awful.”

“The…wine?” He looks at you as if he should be mad, but a hint of amusement surfaces past the expression anyway.

“There’s that, but I’m talking about the tieflings. We killed some goblins to save the others. The tally of lives didn’t change much. But what do I get for my hard work? A pat on the head, and vinegar for wine.” He looks down the neck of the bottle, swirling its contents before handing it out for you to take.

You look at the bottle, then him, warily. Modern alcohol is already a wonder to you, and this medieval mead could only do so much worse. Still, you take the bottle, and take a very small sip.

It’s a heavy, rich, red. Dry and sharp. You make a small sound of shock as you keep the liquid in your mouth. Offering him an awkward smile and a nod as you do.

“Ugh, see what I mean? Awful.”

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?” You would think that after an entire day of fighting whatever was out there he’d be tired. Apparently not.

You sigh, ready to reprimand him and that he should just enjoy the night, but you stop when you feel his unburdened hand reach out to you. Eyes, boring into your own as he propositions you.

You’re here. Face in the grasp of a character you’ve longed to romance with what little time you’ve had away from your scholarly pursuits. Yet meeting him in strange, yet not all too unfamiliar, territory stirs uncertainty within you. Because while he doesn't have a knife at your throat like he did when your character first met him, it certainly does evoke the same sentiment.

‘To, “make me his”, is that right?’ While the idea is tempting, that statement alone can have various interpretations. And you didn’t want to hedge your bets on the one that made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

Thankfully, he releases his hold on your visage. Only the gods know how much his touch alone can influence you, and you struggle to stand upright.

“I’m– very,-- truly, sorry, but don’t you think you have the wrong person? I mean,” You gesture to yourself with both hands, a cut visible from the labor in the few hours prior to the large festivities going on.. “Uh…in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly in a position to make any um, lucrative offers.”

He looks at you, a familiar expression graces his face. He leans his weight on one leg, and you struggle to recognize what his body language is conveying. This is one of those instances you wished you had the dice roll mechanic of the game at your disposal.

“Why, that hardly matters, darling. What matters is that you’re here.” He takes a sip from his bottle, the very same that he allowed you to partake from moments prior. Only this time, without the sneer at the aftertaste as he continues.

“But then again, what’s a sinner to do when faced with the very embodiment of chastity?” A smile graces his face, but it’s one that is all too perfect. As if he’s rehearsed the same song and dance enough to save him lifetimes.

“Let’s wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep we’ll find each other.”

You have no idea what to expect. Well, you do, but you’re not very sure if this is necessary. You’ll just have to find a way to continue the story without having to go through with this. For now, at least.

“We’ll see about that, Astarion.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, @tiannamortis, @aoirohi, @sarkara211, @jane-3043, @h3110-dar1in9, @h3ll0k1ttyl0ver333, @mimziethealien, @squichymochi, @sharabay, @furblrwurblr, @dork-of-the-universe, @thedevilssinner, @fuckalrighty, @queenofthespacesquids, @perseny, @goldenplutus, @h4nluv, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer, @auszimbo, @maruichio, @iamsexytrash, @craig-mywifeisdead-boone, @grimissleepy, @fandomsfanman, @bitchyzombienacho, @r1kk, @ancuninstar, @izuoyarmin, @gracemisconduct, @kiinokochii, @marina-and-the-memes, and @life-is-hard-m8 for asking to be tagged!!

#astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x mc #aware!astarion #baldur's gate 3 x reader #astarion x you #bg3 x reader #bg3 x reader isekai(?)#possibly also a Dammon x reader?#slight!!#Slight Dammon x reader

518 notes · View notes

semper-legens · 18 days

Text

30. Revealed, by PC and Kristin Cast

Owned: No, library Page count: 306 My summary: Neferet has been exposed. Disgraced, abandoned even by Darkness, she flies to safety under a tree to regroup and rethink. Meanwhile, Zoey and her friends have problems of their own. After the shocking death of their friend Erin, splinters have formed - can Zoey and her friends accept more red fledgelings coming to the Light? And Aurox is becoming more like Heath, causing Stark's possessiveness to go into overdrive. Zoey's got a lot on her plate… My rating: 1/5 My commentary:

So! Close! To! The! End! The last book is on its way to the library, but it's coming from outside my county so it's probably gonna take a while. Which means both I and you will have a break from it for a bit, thankfully. The penultimate book in the House of Night series. It's all coming to a dramatic climax, you guys! By which I mean more teenage angst, more circling around the same five plot points, and more dumb bullshit drama for no reason. As is the trademark of this series. So, without any further ado, let's get into…all of that.

First off, this book comes with a helping of Neferet's backstory. And it's stupid as hell! See, apparently Neferet was abused by her father as a child before being Marked. This is all kind of glossed over in a few paragraphs, no need to focus on it. Because the real pain for her came from when her cat died. She prayed to Nyx to save the cat, and Nyx gave her the ability to soothe pain…but the cat still died. And that was Neferet's start of darkness. Because God didn't save her cat. She then goes on to be a slutty slut slutterson, getting with different creepy guys for no particular reason other than to feel power. One of whom is a vamp Warrior who, like, is a masochist - literally, sexually - and that's both his whole characterisation and a bad thing for some reason? Because he's into being hurt? And then she drives one of her would-be suitors to off himself, because he annoyed her? For a subplot that should exist to make Neferet less one-dimensional, it's really not succeeding. She's just an oversexualised villain, at the end of the day. And seriously, girl, why was the cat the breaking point here?

Zoey's anger issues are a large part of the plot here, especially the later plot, but as usual they are not really handled well at all. The idea is that Zoey is getting angrier and more influenced by Old Magjyk (ugh) and will eventually end up doing something bad that she can't come back from. Aphrodite sees this in a vision and, despite her entire characterisation being 'blunt bitch mean girl who is reluctantly on the side of Good', doesn't say anything about it and instead recruits Shaylin to stalk her for a bit and spy on her magical aura in both an underhanded and unsubtle way which just makes the situation worse. Once again, characters picking up the idiot ball for drama. And the explosion comes with Zoey accidentally using her Seer Stone to kill two homeless guys in a park, which…one, I feel like if it's accidental it kind of negates the idea of it being a facet of Zoey's character if it was an unintended magical side-effect. Two, we've literally had this plot point before when Zoey smashed a car into some guys, and she didn't face any real consequences then? And three, it comes pretty much out of nowhere - there is a build with Zoey becoming more pissed off with everything around her, but it's not that unreasonable a reaction to her environment and the things that are happening to her. Once again, a minor character trait is introduced as a massive flaw just to give the characters some extra drama.

One big thing that Zoey et al keeps going on about with Thanatos is that 'We're not bickering kids!' - she wants herself and her friends to be taken seriously as adults and as sensible people, and resents being infantilised. The problem is that Zoey and her friends are just acting like bickering children constantly. They care more about their interpersonal issues than anything more important. They bitch and moan at each other constantly. They deal with everything like a stereotypical teenager from a mean girl Disney Channel movie. It's so obviously meant to be a 'don't underestimate teens!' style power fantasy, but the kids aren't being smart about anything they do. That kind of power fantasy only works if the teens do have a point and are being talked down to by the adults in their lives! Not if the adults are being pretty reasonable and the teens are making everything worse!

Stark's possessiveness rears its head here - by which I mean, shows up again because we gotta have a love triangle. Man, one of the very few things I was going to give to this series was that it seemed to have dropped the love triangle bullshit in the later books but nope, here it is again, this time between Stark and Aurox. Which is dumb for several reasons, mostly that Zoey doesn't consciously want to be with Aurox, she's just got the spiritual hots for him because he's Heath and soulmates are a thing apparently. And Stark is pissed, despite the fact that Zoey is trying to talk to him about it and trying to open communication about it and trying to work through it, and Stark is just doing the caveman NO ME ANNOYED thing, and it's exactly the goddamn same as every fucking time that a love triangle has shown up in this series. Exactly the same! It wasn't even interesting the first time!

And finally - hey, remember how there's been this whole thing about Erin going over to the bad guys for no real reason and none of her so-called friends seem to care about her? Yeah, so she dies at the start of this one. Just, boom! Neferet ghosts through her and she dies. And the gang get over it pretty damn easy. Shaunee is the only one who actually seems to give a fuck. Meanwhile, her replacement is coming in with the form of red fledgeling Nicole, who wants to come over to the good guys also for no stated reason. And she kisses Shaylin, I guess? Just as I was about to criticise the series for not realising lesbians are real. Still, this is a penultimate-book romance between two incredibly minor characters - if you were going to add lesbians, why not have Stevie Rae and Aphrodite be a thing around when they were Imprinted, or have like Erin and Shaunee get together or something? Not these two girls who got introduced very last-minute who I don't care about and have no connection to.

Next, something thankfully different - a trip to the North Pole.

#Revealed #PC Cast #Kristin Cast #bookblr #book blog #book blogger #1

2 notes · View notes

fandom-scatteredthoughtsonpaper · 2 years

Text

So, I'm going through events that I didn't finish or skipped, and I'm reading through the Angelic event right now...

Yeah, I still really fucking hate it lmao

I will defend my position on the fence with liking, disliking, and understanding Diavolo, but I absolutely hate when he pulls shit that the brothers aren't comfortable with and just uses his authority to steamroll over their resistance. The fact that he should have known the brothers wouldn't be comfortable in their angel forms isn't even an argument up for debate. He was there from the beginning, he knows what the brothers lost during the war and what they suffered through, and despite his urge to do fun things that usually comes at the cost of Lucifer and the others sufferings, this should have been a line he knew better than to cross.

Simeon, on the other hand, has had three strikes with me, and I find him less than likeable. At the start, I tolerated him as a character mainly because I didn't have much opinion of him like I did with strongly disliking Lucifer and being uncomfortable with Asmodeus and feeling protective and simping the hell out of Mammon (opinions and feelings that have changed and intensified). Now, however, I can safely state that I don't care for Simeon at all. I hate some of the things he says or does, and I can easily name three points.

1. When Mammon and MC fake break-up, and Simeon calls Mammon useless. Like, Mammon loves MC so much and the progress he made to that point was exciting to see, and it makes me mad that Simeon would just insult Mammon like that for no other reason because Mammon didn't want to break up with MC, real or fake. He even mentions Mammon loving MC

2. When he insulted Levi and was kinda a dick to him during the TSL event

3. How he reacts and is just okay with what fucking happens with the brothers not only being forced to wear clothes with bad memories of a tragic time in their lives, but how he also just smooths over the fact the brothers are being altered from their personalities. He knew those bangles were imbued with a spell and didn't say anything about it until after the conflicting results of Michael's spell and Diavolo's magic. Disregarding the fact of the disaster, Simeon knew that the spell on the bangles changed the person wearing it to be more "graceful and elegant" or whatever. That's still a bad taste in my mouth that he didn't mention the spell until after the brothers had put them on. Simeon might not be intentionally underhanded (which he is) or conniving, but it was still shitty to not warn the brothers at least.

This event really disgusts me for the blatant disregard and uncaring attitudes Diavolo and Simeon (and Lucifer at the end) have regarding the brothers being essentially brainwashed to act as their old selves. No, not even their old selves. Lucifer alone has stated several times he'd rather disappear than return to heaven or ever be an angel again.

The boys aren't happy. They aren't comfortable or enjoying the influence the magic spell is having on them. They're being manipulated, and their lives are being "corrected" when they go against the angelic effects of the bangles.

Satan, for one example. He's never been an angel. He was born from Lucifer's rage and hatred as he fell (presumably from the UR+ card), so Satan ends up having an existential crisis. He was never an angel. There is no old version of him before being a demon for him to act as, so of fucking course he's going to be confused and uncertain about what is happening to him. He's being forced to be something he never was!

Poor Satan retreats to his room when MC admits him not being able to get mad actually unsettles and scares them. He already basically has Imposter Syndrome. Satan doesn't need to be forced to be at ease or peace. He handles his wrath really well.

Belphie sleeps a lot, yes, and he can be lazy and unmotivated, but he still gets shit done. The dude wrote a fucking analysis thesis on humans in What Sort of Cake? that Diavolo praises as a work that will be studied generations later. Belphie, despite my lingering feelings of unresolved tension, is a decent fellow under his persona. He does love Lucifer despite their issues, and he knows his brothers care about him. He has ways of displaying his appreciation and love, but the spell makes him choose to do all the outgoing things he says he'll do. So, it's... not fake, per se, but it's not authentic.

Beel. Beel has fucking PTSD because of the Celestial War and what happened to Lilith. He's deeply impacted from the loss and devastation, even centuries later. He holds himself responsible for Lilith's death. He chose to save Belphie, and he believed that Belphie blamed him for Lilith's death too. He has a fear of losing Belphie in the same form of Lilith. It brings him to such a state that he screams in desperation. It's his biggest fear.

Not to mention how this effect from the bangle technically helps Beel in the worst way. He says when he fell to demonhood he felt something "let go" and he just started eating continuously. With the bangle, he doesn't desire to eat everything, but he becomes selfless and wants to cater to others. That's not a bad thing, but it's not his actual choice and not how he was as an angel. As an angel, and in general, he's deeply caring, very loyal, and loves his family.

If Beel gets a character growth arc like Mammon, if Beel can move away from constantly eating to fill the emptiness he feels, I want it to be done in a way similar to how Mammon has changed with only being happy having money. The way he is in the event, wanting to cater to other people more and foregoing himself, isn't natural or growth.

Levi, as well. He starts to give up and forfeit everything he enjoys. I'm not saying being a hikikomori is a healthy thing (it's how Solmare has described Levi), but he is who he is, and he's a reclusive otaku that loses himself into anime, manga, games, books, and 2D fiction. It's his comfort, it's what he loves and cherishes. He gives that all up to mend his actual relationships, and I'm definitely not saying that that's a terrible thing to do, but it's not his choice.

In my opinion, Levi is very relatable to how he uses 2D content to escape from reality, and it hurts to see him lose that sense of connection, especially against his will. Of course I want Levi to be able to tell MC how he feels about them, but I don't want that at the expense of him losing his sense of identity or through magic that makes him act as he admits his feelings, as honest as that admission might be. It's not Levi saying it through free will.

On the same note as Levi, let's talk about Asmo. He also gives up a lot of his materialistic possessions. Asmo has a sense of security of self and pride in those things, i.e. his clothes, make-up, etc. He just gives that all up to MC. Asmo feels like he has to be the best at all times or otherwise people won't love him. The fact he wants to give that up and start loving himself for who he is on the inside instead of being vain on the outside is a good step forward, but he didn't come to that conclusion himself.

Mammon. Mammon isn't Mammon if he's not Mammon-ing. Of course I don't agree with him stealing from his brothers and acting devious in ways that pulls others into his schemes that backfire, but Mammon isn't all that terrible. @thalfox said it best (I tried finding the post they made to quote them, but I can't) that Mammon is the most human among the demons and angels. He's too bad to be an angel, but he's too good to be a demon. He's caring, he's nurturing, he's loving. He has a soft spot for his younger brothers. He can handle kids well, and he practically gives child support to witches to take care of a little girl. He's selfless and emotionally empathetic. He loves MC to death and back, and he is so in love with them that he's changing in his ways. He says so many times, and I don't just mean him being shy and embarrassed with his feelings.

Of course he's greedy and selfish and arrogant, obnoxious, purposefully does the wrong things, he's sneaky and conniving, a thief, a liar, and a gambler. That's all aspects of him being a demon, and we know little of him being an angel. He was content with a lazy job despite being hardworking and more capable than he showed, but I don't know how much we don't know about him as an angel and how much of him has actually changed from his fall to demonhood (like how Asmo was still vain in his looks as an angel).

Mammon, aside from the stuff I already stated, doesn't need to change anything. He doesn't need to turn into a philanthropist to be better. For as selfish and greedy as he is, he's also thoughtless and giving. He doesn't need to be forced to alter himself.

What makes this event hurt more is the fact that even after Lucifer gets his senses back, he takes advantage of his brothers still being under the spell. He knows how it felt to be forced to act against his will, and as someone he hated being for the most part.

Like, I can't bring myself to enjoy it, and I wonder who actually did, minus for the outfits

I can sense the irony of this rant turning into an analysis of how the brothers are versus how they could be as angels with 100% good intentions, and that was probably the point in a way (and I hate to admit this works in my favor as an antithesis for my Dark Obey Me AU) but the attitude of everyone minus Solomon gets under my skin, and I will never like this event for the manipulation and detached mindsets the characters have.

#obey me #obey me simeon #obey me diavolo #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me beel #obey me leviathan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me lucifer #obey me analysis #obey me analysis: devilgrams

304 notes · View notes

theatresweetheart · 4 years

Note

For the bad thing happens bingo prompts: broken wrist and analogical? could you make it g/t too, somehow?

Student Struggles

Summary: He knew it was illogical and ridiculous to make such an emotionally biased decision. Yet, Logan did it anyway.

Warnings: Broken limb (non graphic), humans treated as lesser, main character referred to as an “it” (non malicious), fear.

Pairings: Platonic Analogical

Characters: Logan, Virgil

Word Count: 3463 words

——————————

It was a precarious predicament.

It certainly wasn’t everyday he tried to sneak out of his university’s anthropology lab harbouring an injured and terrified human in his pocket.

As one of the more respected senior’s of his class, most of the professors that were still there hardly paid Logan another look as he left the lab for the evening.

Still, that didn’t change the fact that he was nervous. Smuggling a human out of the lab without a professor’s explicit permission was an offence punishable by suspension. The suspension itself wouldn’t last much longer than a couple days, but it would leave a bad mark on his crystal clean school record. It would change the reputation he had with his professors—all of which he had so carefully tailored right from his first year in the program.

In fact, most of them greeted him warmly. Asking about his classes earlier, wishing him a good weekend and giving a teasing reminder to study for the upcoming midterms. None of these conversations lasted longer than a few minutes and normally, Logan would have been glad to speak with them. But as of that moment, the longer he was stuck there standing with them, the larger the chance was of him being found out. He knew his professors were very well trained in spotting things that seemed off—an example would be students sitting in the very back row, the furthest away from the lecturer and still getting called out for not paying enough attention.

Long story short, if Logan got caught he was risking his entire future in this field.

A part of him still questioned if this whole thing was even worth the risk. Humans got hurt all the time in his practicum; especially when other students weren’t being careful enough. It happened, so why was this one any different?

Why was the human that had looked up at him with wide frightened eyes any different than the others?

Still, whether or not it was worth the risk, Logan was too far into it now to backtrack. Retracing his steps back to the lab may be considered suspicious, so it was all or nothing whether he wanted it to be or not. Besides, he was also positive that the doors would be locked anyhow, so backpedaling would be pointless. Not that he didn’t have a key to get back in if he truly needed to.

Logan ducked around another professor expertly and he went unnoticed, as the professor in question seemed to be engaged in a particularly interesting conversation.

Or so he thought.

Just as he was about to push the door to the building open, he heard the man bidding his quick farewells for the night before easily catching up with the student.

“Logan,” his professor greeted him with a grin, pushing the other door open before Logan had the chance to escape.

“Dr. Coleman,” he replied after a moment, shouldering his book bag a little more securely.

“You seem to be in quite the rush,” Dr. Coleman said, pulling his coat closer as the cool autumn air swept in through the doors. “Mind if I join you to the parking lot?”

As if he had a choice. Logan only gave a nod.

The squirming in his pocket started up again, this time with more vigor. Slightly paranoid that the little motions would show through the soft fabric, Logan make the quick decision to fully wrap his hand around the human—keeping it still and silent. While that stopped the slight movement from the outside, he could still feel the terrified motions pushing helplessly against his fingertips. Trying fruitlessly to budge his fingers. Of course, to no avail.

While he did feel bad about physically restraining it when it was so obviously in distress, Logan really couldn’t risk being found out this far into the endeavor.

He only hoped the little thing’s heart wouldn’t stop entirely.

However, during the entire ordeal he kept his features mindfully neutral, careful to keep from alerting Dr. Coleman of his current plight.

Dr. Coleman didn’t say anything for a long moment, his eyes flickered over the student and Logan pretended not to notice. Acting off would only make the professor suspicious. Something he really did not need right now.

The professor only hummed softly before turning his attention forward, toward the cars sitting silently under the streetlights illuminating the parking lot in a warm yellow glow. Logan must have spent more time in the lab than he had meant to, if twilight was already falling.

“Busy night tonight, I assume?” Dr. Coleman finally broke the silence and Logan only shrugged nonchalantly.

“You could say that,” he relented. While it technically wasn’t untrue, it wouldn’t be school work like the professor would assume.

Dr. Coleman snickered, reaching into his pocket to draw out his car keys. He clicked the buttons and his car’s headlights flashed in response. “Getting some studying done?”

In a way.

Logan forced himself to relax a little, knowing that the professor had no idea of his little stowaway. “Certainly. Can never be too over prepared for an exam.”

“True,” Dr. Coleman stuck his hands into his pockets. Logan felt relief wash over him when the professor reached his own vehicle. This was the very type of interaction he had been trying so hard to avoid. “This is why you’re one of my favourite students, Logan.”

The praise was nice, but really not what he needed right now. “I appreciate that, Dr. Coleman. But I really do have to get going, as pleasant as this conversation has been.”

As stinted as it had been too, it seemed. Usually, talking with Dr. Coleman didn’t take that much energy. He had engaged the professor in many heated debates over his four years of study. And he would be glad to engage in those types of conversations once more! Just as soon as the human was no longer on his person and in range of being confiscated, only to be placed right back into the same area where it had gotten hurt in the first place.

Whether or not this whole thing was the correct course of action, Logan was sick of witnessing humans getting injured and then being disposed of as if their injuries made them completely useless.

If given the proper treatment and time to heal, they would have a far less percentage of humans succumbing to their injuries or illnesses.

It was unfortunate that so many of his peers thought of the small creatures as disposable. While, no, it was not difficult for professionals to retrieve more right out of their lives on earth, it didn’t make the practice any less morbid or underhanded. Anthropology students should be learning how to assist humans in healing and recovering, not tossing them the minute they were no longer “perfect” in their eyes.

“Fair enough,” Dr. Coleman said, stepping back and placing a hand on the door handle of his car. “I won’t keep you from your studies any longer. Have a good night and take care of yourself. Don’t you be pulling all-nighters, understand?”

“I understand,” Logan repeated back as if on instinct. It wouldn’t stop him from doing it, but it was…nice, he supposed, to know that the professor cared.

It wasn’t like he didn’t have friends that wouldn’t check up on him, he did, but it was different when it was someone that was higher status than you were. Held more sway over what happened in the department. Dr. Coleman was the dean of the anthropology department and he had a lot of power.

The professor nodded his head with a grin, before pulling open his car and stepping in.

Logan let out a breath and turned on his heel. Quickening his pace to his own vehicle, he fished in his bag for his keys. He found them after a moment of struggling one-handed and unlocked his car. He slid inside just as Dr. Coleman’s headlights flashed over him and the professor pulled out of the parking lot, disappearing over the hill leading down to the highway.

Letting his head rest back against the seat’s headrest, he finally released the human from the confines of his hand. Using his now freed one, he ran them through his hair before pulling his glasses off.

What was he even doing?

So what if there was a cruel practice going on at the school underneath everyone’s noses? Just because he was privy to it didn’t mean he had to do anything about it. He was just one person. Logan had friends that were very much human rights activists and into studies and politics concerning the creatures, but none of their campaigns had really gotten the traction necessary to make a true difference. It was a difficult field of study to be in when there were people opposing everything you did.

While Logan always made sure his interactions with the creatures were careful and calculated, a part of him wished he could say the same thing for his classmates.

You would think, at a senior level of study, students would be taking it more seriously. Many of them did, but many of them still used this advantage to handle the humans they dealt with rough and carelessly. To which, the creature would get injured and would then be gone by next morning.

The human currently stuck within the confines of his pocket had been one of the unlucky ones. Injured thanks to a student who had been working in the lab outside of class just a few feet away from Logan—who had conducting his own experiments—they’d dropped the human from a dangerous height on accident, causing the little one to cry out.

His classmate had panicked immediately, obviously unsure of what to do or where to go from there. They’d even gone as far as to check over at Logan to gauge if he’d seen anything and snitch. The student had then gathered the human up as if nothing had happened. They’d packed their papers, shoved it all into their backpack and then deposited the human right back into the large glass terrarium in the middle of the lab, just waiting for someone else to find the injured creature in the morning and get rid of it.

Logan didn’t even have any connection to the human currently struggling to right itself in the soft fabric. Hadn’t conducted any studies with it, observed it or anything else of the such. He’d only heard the helpless cry and decided he wasn’t going to let it suffer in its own agony all night.

The move was illogical and he knew that. Yet, he was still risking absolutely everything for this one little human. His future career was banking on the hope he never got found out.

Logan slipped his glasses back on before sliding the keys into the ignition.

“The amount of trouble you could get me in is unbelievable,” he mused after a moment, unsure if he was talking to the human or not. Either way, the only reaction he got for his efforts was more struggling. So, pulling the gear shift out of park, he made his way back home.

—

“Oh, would you stop fighting me for five seconds,” the student groused, quickly managing to corral the human between his hands again without fully touching him. “If I wanted to hurt you, don’t you think I would have done that by now? Or perhaps, better yet, just left you back in the lab’s terrarium for someone else to find?”

The human only twitched away from his hands, just as he had been doing for the past fifteen minutes. Logan really didn’t want to have to pin him down to get the fidgety creature to be still, but he was quickly running out of options and patience.

“I don’t want to restrain you,” Logan’s voice finally seemed to get the human’s flickering attention. However, now the human’s eyes were locked solely on him, with an uncanny ability to follow his every miniature movement with unwavering attention. It was, all things considered, slightly disturbing to be watched so intensely with such obvious fright and distrust. “But I will if you force my hand.”

The human’s face contorted in an expression that resembled a sneer, before he tucked his injured wrist closer to his chest.

Logan pulled his hands back to himself, watching quietly as the human flinched further into himself. It was very much obvious the little one was touch shy and Logan really wanted to refrain from handling him as much as possible– lest he frighten the human so bad his little heart stopped altogether. “You must understand that leaving your wrist like that will only do you more harm than good. I can assist you in starting your healing progress.”

The human seemed open enough to the idea and Logan carefully extended his fingertips forward, a blatant show of nonaggression and allowing the creature to come to him in its own time. Giving the human the slightest semblance of control may make this entire interaction even the tiniest bit easier on them both.

Its eyes flickered uneasily from its wrist back to Logan’s outstretched hand. It twisted to look over its shoulders, as if searching out an escape route. It hadn’t worked before and Logan knew trying to escape wouldn’t work again. His reaction time was much faster than the human’s, so it wouldn’t make it very far anyhow.

The human in question turned back to Logan, almost as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to act like any other careless student that was ready to mishandle him. The human’s wrist was thin as it was, but now that it was injured (and Logan speculated, broken), it was even more vulnerable than before. Giving up a vulnerable piece of you was a frightening thing and Logan could hardly imagine looking at it from any other perspective but his own. Though, he could safely assume that he, himself, would not be very fond of this situation either if their positions had happened to be switched.

Truthfully, there would be nothing about the human’s life Logan would enjoy. Depending on whether or not he came straight from the earth’s surface and nicked directly from his own life, or if he had been born into a breeding facility.

In all reality, he understood the hesitance in letting him assist. If the human had been handled as recklessly as Logan theorized he had, coming face to face with someone that wouldn’t mishandle him purposefully would be unknown, suspicious and daunting new territory.

“I’m not going to ask you to trust me,” he said finally, the human’s eyes flickered up to meet his own. Surprise lingered in those colourful eyes. “I know you’re frightened and that’s alright. It may be hard to believe, but I really can help you. Only if you’ll allow me, of course. Though, I do think you and I both know that sleeping on that hurt wrist of yours would be uncomfortable at least.”

The human’s good hand clenched, showing Logan the inner battle the little one was facing.

Wanting to ease a little more of it’s stress, he quietly urged; “I will not hurt you, you have my word.”

A moment passed and the human hesitantly stepped forward, his wrist extended enough for Logan to start bandaging.

—

“Why’d you do it?”

The sudden voice very nearly startled Logan out of his thoughts. Virgil had been sitting so quietly next to him, that he’d almost forgotten the human was even there in the first place.

When Logan’s attention fell down to said human, Virgil wasn’t looking at him. He was instead focused intently on his wrist, carefully wrapped in bandages and hanging in a makeshift sling, the best either of them could have done. Logan had almost no experience bandaging such a small subject, so getting it done and in a place where he was satisfied with it was difficult. And Virgil had been working one-handed, so getting the sling to hold properly had been a fight all in itself.

Though, the question was what really nabbed Logan’s attention. “Do what?”

Virgil gave him a look—Logan was getting very familiar with Virgil’s looks and they all usually meant something different—which was a mix between annoyance and genuine confusion, as if Logan really didn’t understand what he meant; which was untrue “Smuggled me out of the lab,” he clarified a moment later, his fingers trailing over the white piece of fabric wrapped around his arm and shoulder again. “You didn’t have to do it, we both know that. I just want to know why you did.”

That was the true question, wasn’t it?

An inquiry that had been on Logan’s mind since that night’s ordeal.

In all honesty, Logan wasn’t entirely sure what had metaphorically possessed him in that particular moment. And while he wanted to be able to give Virgil a straight answer, he didn’t have one.

Logan sat back in his chair, hands resting idly in his lap. The silence was thoughtful, if a bit awkward. As far as they had come in their acquaintanceship (maybe even going as far as saying tentative friendship), there were still pauses that felt tense and heavy. Virgil had certainly come a long way from the first time they had met and Logan was grateful for it, since he was no longer having one-sided conversations.

There were, of course, some topics that Virgil was still too sensitive about to really learn anything, but they were getting there. Logan really hoped that he would eventually get to learn more about what it was like for the human, and be able to go off of that firsthand information to do something. However, until then building his trust was Logan’s priority.

“I don’t exactly have an answer for you,” Logan said after a moment’s pause of brief deliberation. He knew that giving Virgil solid answers was more preferable, since it would ease his anxiety. But this topic was one where Logan, regrettably, didn’t have any solid answers to give.

“Oh.” There was that dejected slump of Virgil’s shoulders, a position Logan was also very familiar with when dealing with him. Disappointment was clear in Virgil’s tone, but he made no move to push for further answers.

Logan felt as though he had let him down somehow. Which was certainly not something he would let stand. He took a long moment, carefully mulling over and debating his next words. “I suppose I did what I did because I couldn’t stand the way they were treating you anymore.” Now that seemed to have drawn Virgil’s attention right back up to him, though he had a brow quirked in question. So, Logan continued. “I know we didn’t have a working relationship prior to my thoughtless, albeit successful, actions. Though, I do feel… better, knowing that you’re safe here.”

Going from whatever kind of relationship they had established here now, Logan couldn’t bear the idea of someone else getting their hands on Virgil. Especially if they meant him any harm. While he could be mean and sharp, there was that anxious and unsure side to him, which proved that a lot of his bark was worse than his bite.

It also did give him peace of mind that Virgil was safe in his care. No more mishandling, no more purposeful injuries and no more testing with stuff that shouldn’t be anywhere near a human.

Virgil’s nose scrunched. “That makes no sense.”

“I suppose it doesn’t,” Logan relented, the ghost of a smile gracing his features. He leaned forwards once more, returning to his laptop to type again. “Though, I’m sure it’s nice for you to know your arm will heal properly.”

Virgil shrugged his good shoulder, leaning back on his hand and looking up toward the student. “Still hurts,” he mused.

Logan hummed. “I’d be surprised if it didn’t.”

The two fell back into a more comfortable quiet. It was broken periodically by soft conversation, but it was mostly filled by the sound of Logan’s keyboard click clacking.

“…thanks,” Virgil eventually said, gently enough that Logan had almost entirely missed it. He paused his typing and his eyes flickered over Virgil’s form, whom of which was tucked comfortably into his hoodie, his eyes looking anywhere other than Logan. “For doing it, I mean. Even though you didn’t have to.”

Logan didn’t force Virgil to meet his eyes, as that would only put unnecessary stress on him. “You’re welcome,” he replied, “I find that your company is quite pleasant.”

While the consequences of his actions were still a very real threat, Logan couldn’t find it in himself to regret his decision.

——————————

225 notes · View notes

retvenkos · 4 years

Text

amends pt. 4 // ricky bowen

High School Musical: The Musical: The Series - Slow Burn Ricky Bowen x Stage Manager!Reader Fic. Summary: That’s asking a lot of the theatre gods. Then again, it does include a lot of drama, so maybe it might just work out. pt. 1 // pt. 2 // pt. 3 // pt. 4 // pt. 5 // pt. 6 // pt. 7 // pt. 8 // pt. 8.5-ish // pt. 9 // unfinished

To say that you had been having a hectic week was a gross oversimplification. Ricky and Nini drama aside, the entire main cast was at each other's throats. Gina was sabotaging Nini by making the role of Gabriella an oversaturated triple threat with dances that were impossible to memorize, Ricky and EJ were trying to give each other concussions with basketballs, and at any given moment, all four of them would jump at each other’s throats to secure the lead. Part of you was glad that you never became an actor yourself. Underhanded tricks and backstabbing blows were not things that you were eager to have on a daily basis. That doesn’t stop you from being in the middle, though. Perks of being in charge! You get to deal with everyone’s drama.

To top it all off, you had two essays due the next day, and you had only started on one.

The only one thriving was Seb, who was perfect every time you saw him - onstage and off. You tried to figure out what his secret was, but according to Carlos, there wasn’t one. Perfection simply happens to ‘unproblematic cinnamon rolls’ naturally. What a concept.

But all shows hit stormy, turbulent waters at some point in the rehearsal process. Hopefully, it would be smooth sailing from that moment onward. You didn’t think you could handle much more. That’s why you were so relieved when you got a text from Ricky’s friend, Big Red, asking if he could be a part of the crew. An extra pair of hands was just the thing you needed.

Turning the corner to where Carlos had said rehearsal was going to start, you almost ran into a few, wide-eyed ensemble members. It was only after you started to weave your way to the front of the group that you realized why they had looked so shaken.

Nini and EJ. Standing a few paces away from the group, a pointed space between them as they argued. Their voices were low, but any conversation that had been happening in the hallway had stopped as everyone listened to them with bated breath. You moved to stand next to Big Red, vowing to talk to him after you finished listening to what happened between Nini and EJ. In your defense, it was your job to know what was happening between your leads chemistry wise. After all, Ricky had texted you to let you know that he was going to be late to rehearsal (it was a group text to you, Carlos, and Miss Jen. It’s not like he had any reason to text you personally. It’s not like the two of you had been texting all week and he was the only reason you were sane or anything…). So Nini and EJ were going to have to be Troy and Gabriella, and this betrayal of trust was complicating things.

“Summer’s over.” The tension in the hallway was palpable. Nini’s face was set in harsh lines, and although you couldn’t see his face, you could imagine his eyes widening in panic as his jaw worked soundlessly, trying to come up with an answer.

You turned to Seb as he pretended to be reading from his binder. He looked at you, his head never moving. “Are they…?” you whispered, trying to remain inconspicuous as Nini now faced the group. His nod was almost nonexistent, but the look in his eyes told you everything. Great. So much for clear skies and smooth sailing. You looked at how EJ looked at Nini longingly, the realization of how badly he messed up dawning on his face. Then you looked at Nini, her face solid stone while her head and heart raged within. A hurricane was coming, that much was certain.

Carlos and Natalie ran out of the room that everyone was waiting outside of, effectively disrupting the dark mood that hung in the air. You took that as your cue to start getting Big Red up to speed on where the musical was. If there was going to be a disaster, you needed all hands on deck.

…

“Since when was blocking like going to hell in a handbasket?” Gina chuckled slightly at your remark as you watched scene seven of your beloved musical crash and burn. Well, not the entirety of scene seven. The first part was great. The ensemble did a killer job being comically terrible at their audition. They Sharpay and Ryan audition was ridiculously good, and Ashlyn killed it as Ms. Darbus. But then it happened. Miss Jen (insisting on using the names of the characters) ushered Sharpay and Ryan offstage and called for Troy and Gabriella to enter stage left. That’s when it all started to go downhill.

You looked down at your notes for the scene as Miss Jen tried to work with the lovely couple onstage. Was it even worth fixing? Part of you wanted to scrap the scene entirely. I mean, sure, maybe it was worth mentioning to Nini that she needed to be more natural in her movements, but did you really need to tell her and EJ to actually look at one another when they sang? If they couldn’t pretend to even be apathetic strangers, could they really transform themselves into being pretend lovers by opening night?

“No, dear, that would be upstage.” You looked up as Big Red furrowed his brow, moving so that he could push the piano in the correct direction. Another note: make sure to teach Big Red blocking terms. Nothing would ever get done if the basics couldn’t be handled.

Your phone buzzed and you tore your gaze away from the mountain of corrections you had. It was from Ricky.

from: ricky

(3:15 p.m.) i’m on my way. my mom got an earlier flight, got held up with family stuff.

You bit your lip as you read his text. Things were very confusing with his family, but you didn’t exactly know how. There had been hints of it at auditions and when the two of you talked about meeting up to practice lines or study for math on the weekends (not that you would ever have the courage to actually get together with him), but Ricky had never explicitly told you much. Not that he had to or anything - you were just worried about him. You could tell that it bothered him. You figured that you would get there in time. Friendship takes time to grow, and personal stuff like that was usually disclosed later on.

to: ricky

(3:17 p.m.) we’re in the little theatre. get here as soon as you can.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should you tell him that Nini and EJ broke up? You fought with yourself; it wasn’t your business to tell, but it would give a reason as to why he was needed so badly. But then again, if Ricky thought that Nini was available, wouldn’t he try and pursue her again? And wouldn’t that cause her to quit the show from the drama? Wouldn’t that then lead to EJ dropping out too? The last thing you needed was people dropping out or calling it quits. There were only so many actors, and the last thing you needed was a change in dynamics this late in the game.

(3:18 p.m.) miss jen is about to go off the deep end.

Ricky texted back a panicked emoji and you smiled as you locked your phone. It wasn’t a lie, that much you realized as you watch Miss Jen try and salvage the scene with some good, old fashioned girl talk.

Carlos turned around to look at you, a distressed look on his face. “If we can’t get this together soon, we’re going to be behind your schedule.” You sighed, flipping to the schedule at the front of your binder. You had spent hours making sure there was a time for everything. You even color-coded it.

“Maybe we could get some of the individual choreo learned outside of rehearsal time?” You gave Carlos a knowing smile. “You and Seb still have to learn Bop to the Top.” You winked at him jokingly and he laughed, a blush growing across his face.

…

You and the copy machine were good friends. Especially at this point in the rehearsal process. So when Ricky said he needed to borrow someone’s copy of scene seven, you had grabbed Miss Jen’s key off of her desk and made toward the copy machine in the teachers' lounge. Most of the teachers recognized your face in there at this point - you had been making copies for teachers since your first year as a TA for Psychology.

You grabbed the warm pages off of the copy machine and made sure to align them before stapling them in the correct order. Then you sat down at a table and (getting out your pens) started to mark down the entrances and blocking for Troy. Lord knows EJ wouldn’t help Ricky - especially after what went down earlier.

You felt bad for what happened if you were being honest. EJ and Nini were never the perfect match. They both needed someone different. You just weren’t sure if that someone that Nini needed was Ricky or not. They had history, sure; they also had chemistry in spades. But it takes more than that. You knew that. Love was hard.

You let your mind drift to Ricky, with his small smiles and sad eyes. You remembered how happy he used to be. All you wanted was for him to be that happy again.

A teacher walked into the lounge and pulled you from your thoughts. The scene. Ricky.

You quickly finished writing the blocking with a few additional notes and stuffed your pens in your backpack. You made a mental to-do list for when you got home as you walked back to Miss Jen’s office. You stopped outside and rose your hand to knock, but heard something inside before you could make a sound.

“My parents are splitting up.” You knew that voice. It took everything in your power not to gasp. “For real.” You stepped away from the door slowly, letting the voices from inside the office muffle with each step.

You weren’t meant to hear that. You shouldn’t have been listening in on their conversation. If he wanted to tell you he would have. But poor Ricky. It all made sense now. What he said at his audition. The snippets of conversation you heard when he and Nini fought. The reason he could be so despondent. Why he was so afraid of losing people.

You looked down at the copied scene in your hand. Rifling through your backpack to get a pencil, you wrote a note at the top corner of the last page.

--- taglist:

@snowman-spidey, @dinsey-chanel, @ruefulposts, @mightdielater, @ggukstoe, @wallacetdog, @onceuponafanfiction, @goodnight-n-dayglow, @prttybitchin, @loyalucas, @hxney-bunches-x, @hxzstxles, @parkeroffline, @madamestarlet, @parkerharrington, @fudgemesteveharrington, @hobistigma, @farfrom-peter, @fangeekkk, @tori-marie, @amxx44, @onceuponafanfiction, @softpeteparker, @filmqvakers, @wcnderwoo, @stitch-flo, @liberty01, @kxhliforniaa, @ilymarkchan, @complete-trash-101, @dystopianchic13

#hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #ricky bowen #ricky bowen x reader #x reader #fic #fic series #slow burn #stage manager! reader

324 notes · View notes

meltangospelhour · 3 years

Text

Notes on Reverie & Discipline: Chapter 1

Format: 1st Person Narrative

Chapter Rating: R / +17 [Implied Sexual stuff/it's smut]

Summary: This story was written after and based upon the 2020 GOFest that's been collecting dust. It's a first person recollection of thoughts after certain events, as well as repressed feelings coming to the surface between three characters in particular.

Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Blanche

Comparing notes is how we’ve come to conclude our daily routine. It has been logical to do so; our research overlaps quite a bit. As you know, I oversee the handling of evolutionary components and deducting the requirements; Spark is an expert when it comes to breeding and handling Pokémon in their infancy; and Candela, in matters of improving overall stats of a Pokémon, which can involve a combination of stardust and candies.

To address it as Spark would: “Candy makes the candy.”

...Ahem.

So, because candies can trigger the evolutionary outcome of a Pokémon, it is inevitable and without question that I would be working alongside Candela quite often. It’s a fate inescapable. Even if we’ve discovered nothing new, she and I will come together out of a habit that’s formed over the course of these years. If one of us is too sick to appear in person, we’ll connect virtually. In all matters of candy, stardust, and now Rockets, there is always something to discuss.

Such evenings are somehow intense, yet still quiet. Cozy, if you will. The way my partner shifts from being so analytical in one moment, into a giggling fit the next, was a pattern that alarmed me in the beginning. Are you really a scientist, I’d wanted to ask countless times during our first sessions. Now, I’m happy to be a witness to the gamut of personalities that find themselves called into the field that are Pokémon studies.

Candela is far more crafty and even more calculative than I had come to imagine. If she loses, she still somehow wins. I have to work hard for my victories against her; she loses gracefully, but you will have most certainly earned that victory. Countless times, I have created elaborate defenses, counting on her weaknesses--proven and potential. And, repeatedly, I have seen her sidestep them before she’d even touch the surface of my hard work.

As if I were the purest ice, she sees right through me.

With her, there is no hesitation in matters of reading my face, my eyes, the way my fingers move, the pace of my breath, the tone of my voice, the quivering of my lips. Even down to the way I dress, she knows the language I speak past my mask, intentionally and not.

I could, at times, feel where those eyes went. It was distressing, yet oddly… alluring. That reaction has yet to change.

Within six months of observing me, she once asked of me: “You’re upset; aren’t you?”

“And why do you think this?” I sharply quipped.

“Your braid; it’s underhanded. When you’re in a better mood and have your hair braided, you’d usually opt for an overhand technique. Right?”

I found myself paralyzed; she was right. My Lapras had come down with Pokerus. While the virus itself is generally beneficial, it doesn’t make the course of the disease any easier to endure. Seeing someone you care about in pain and discomfort weighs heavily on the mind. As always, I kept my more guttural emotional responses suppressed. The issue of anyone knowing what my Lapras was going through wasn’t the problem; the issue was the potential of my raw emotions stifling my work.

I found myself angry; I had lost control. To opt for a euphemism so many are wont to make: she thawed past my glacial barrier. With this knowledge, would she take advantage of it?

She did, only…not in the way that I’d feared.

Candela stopped by to make sure my Lapras was comfortable, and told a story about how her Infernape, then a Monferno, came down with it. The Pokémon's massive head now resting in her lap, my research partner sang to it a lullaby that I’d never heard--Only to realize along the crescendo that it was Lugia’s Song in a different key. My Lapras, for the first time since falling ill, found enough will to make sound beyond agonized moaning and hummed along with her.

I looked on at the scene that churned impossible-to-pinpoint feelings from within: a woman who I’d feared, and, in a panic, further embraced water-types into my repertoire. Only to find that she seemed relieved I had done so while jovially complaining about needing a real challenge. Now doting upon the very Pokémon who could potentially, with its gains in its newfound recovery, could likely better withstand her team, if not devastate it, if I calculate my strategy accordingly.

It dawned upon me that she saw herself as a small part of something much bigger. If we were strong together, it was all that mattered to her.

She’d said to me some time ago, not the exact words, but akin to: Battles are frequent. They are won, they are lost. But war only has one victory, and that is the victory to focus upon.

That resonated true, especially now.

The feeling of partnership and friendship remained stable. However, something else within felt threatened.

...Something deeper that I’d repeatedly denied myself.

❄❄❄

I’ve worried. I’ve found myself knotting up within. I hadn’t fallen ill. I began to follow the pattern that was behind this sudden nuisance. One of the GO Rocket leaders we were up against is a person from Candela’s past. Someone close to her. A rival and a close friend. In a passing and annoyingly irrelevant thought, I immediately processed the possibility of them being doubles partners in that not-so-distant past.

I found myself thinking about it more, wishing to see the fight they’d engaged in in that field. I thought more about them than I did Cliff. I feel so terribly sorry for Cliff; Giovanni is unworthy of a man that loyal. But I found my thoughts wandering more often to a point that could be deemed unhealthy at worst, counterproductive at best.

The Salamence were the ones that drove my thoughts into this descent. Candela had one that she loved so dearly. That is not to say that she didn’t love her Pokémon equally, but her closeness and address of the dragon seemed so very unique in of itself. To compare, she addressed her Moltres with a certain deference, as we often did with our signature birds. To further illustrate the relationship, one could say that they were our patrons and we, their scions, in a sense. With the Salamence, however, there was a certain reminiscence and determination that I could never understand--

--Until I learned of Arlo’s possession of a Salamence. Though, his was tainted--as far as I was aware. Likewise, this could all be fallacious; I could be bringing up Sierra and Candela’s Houndooms, mine and Sierra’s Lapras, or Spark and Cliff’s Tyranitars. These coincidences potentially had just as little-to-no grounds for concern.

...Right? Of course. Of course, I’m right.

The Salamence themselves shouldn’t be a detail worth my mulling over; however, it drove my curiosity as to who filled the ranks of Arlo’s non-tainted team that Candela had, from what Willow said (who recounted what Candela told him) requested to battle. For old friends who dedicated themselves to the world of Pokémon battles to have matching Pokémon, or Pokémon who were romantically involved, it was often seen as what one might call a ‘cute’ gesture.

A cute gesture between old friends…

...Old friends who could be considered to be of ‘marrying age,’ no less…

To share a pair of dragons was no small matter in certain cultures. After all, Arlo is presumably Kantonian, or perhaps Johtonian; Candela is--

If the dragons are or were mates, then, possibly--?

(I still do not know Candela’s exact age. Her appearance is considerably younger than Spark’s, despite her being the eldest. I attribute this to a number of factors alongside her own healthy habits. One of my admins even teased that Valor’s old guards biologically engineered their higher ranks to fit a certain ideal, to which I immediately dismissed, but considered the potential sciences for my own personal application in terms of enhancing my own mental aptitude permanently.)

In addition, I suppose Spark being very open to discussing Sierra, but Candela’s withholding of Arlo, fuels my ruminations. Spark and Sierra have shared no past, but the level of transparency he was willing to offer is to be appreciated.

“...Has she mentioned him to you?” I asked Spark while watching Elekid and my Metagross play together.

“Nope.” He was careless and quick to reply. I wish he’d not assume before speaking.

“...You’re aware of whom I’m asking about?”

“Yeah,” Spark laughed. “Candela and Arlo. It’s all over your face.”

He wasn’t being careless, and I was wrong about him.

Sporting the audacity to gesture around the proximity of my own face with his finger just to drive his point home, I felt anger well inside of me. And yet, I wasn’t sure who or what I was angry towards. I quickly deducted that I was mad at the situation itself; that I had let my feelings over the situation shatter my façade. He didn’t need to ask “who” due to the fact I had, apparently, exposed my emotions out in the open more than I’d anticipated.

“I suppose that Professor Willow is the only one that Candela had spoken with in-depth about him. Are you not curious?” I asked Spark.

“Of course I’m curious!” he said as Elekid went flying. Nonchalant, Spark raised his hand to catch the flying ball of flailing and laughing energy. He was many things, but the manner that his ‘mother Beartic’ side often activated, as effortlessly as taking a breath, never ceased to impress me.

“You know what, though? When Candy’s ready to speak, she’ll speak! ‘Sides, it’s not like she’s got anything we can actually use! I mean, what’s she going to say? Dude likes boxers over briefs? What are we gonna do with that? Mail him thongs?”

I was fortunate that my anger had found focus. Spark was right; it was pointless. The thirst for my knowledge was driven by my own selfish desires, nor was it hampering Candela’s performance. If anything, it was a fuel.

And yet, my desires persisted. And grew.

...How would she know what sort of undergarments he preferred? Why would you even use such a crass example, Spark? They were only close friends. Nothing more.

I have had days where I absolutely abhorred Arlo. I’ve yet to speak with him; and yet, the reports from trainers and the fact he’d hurt Candela was beyond enough.

I had nights where I reveled in our time -- OUR time -- comparing notes with one another. That time Arlo could have shared with Candela, had he behaved and not fled like a spoiled coward, now belonged to me. Her closeness as she leaned over to see my work along the scattered papers and array of holo-screens...

...The firm, caring squeeze of her hand upon my shoulder;

...The warmth voluminous breasts brushing against my back when she leaned in for a closer look;

...The tenderness and melody of her voice uttering my name, telling me how proud she was to be my partner.

...The scent she wore that often compelled me to lick my own lips.

...I’ve experienced guilt for this indulging. We are working. I always kept still and drank in those moments. I dismissed the apologies from her when she soon realized how close she leaned over me as I worked in my seat and at my desk. For the record, I do not like it when anyone invades my space uninvited. I’d not prefer it.

But this? This was acceptable.

Desirable.

I always kept my voice to a whisper when I forgave her, and kept my face close to hers. At first, it was never planned; a pleasant accident. But, after conducting enough research regarding such gestures, I found that it was a way to sate this growing need for her I had within. To quell the steam without crossing the professional line, so to speak.

I began to realize that part of myself had lost control for her. Close to my proximity, I could feel her warmth, combined with that warm, sweet, spicy perfume that most certainly had traces of Salazzle pheromones imbued within. Alone and in the darkness of night, I then found myself yielding to the temptation of vivid fantasies and succumbing to the will of my own wandering hands.

I felt safe to do so.

Then, from within a dream, something clicked.

Awakened by epiphanies is the norm for my course of sleep. I keep a notebook upon my nightstand for such moments. However, this was the first time I felt too horrified to write. I didn’t want the degradation of my thoughts towards carnal desires to be committed to any tangible memory.

Still; it was a thought that felt as if I were gazing down a void that could envelope me at any time. I kept wanting to know just how close they had been.

Why are the notes on him so vague?

Why so much hatred just because of Candela?

Did she break your heart, losing a Pokémon battle?

Or stealing your potential title?

Am I missing something?

You seriously cannot justify abusing Pokémon because you lost against her!

You wanted the leadership position; didn’t you?

No, that’s too easy. That can’t be it.

Sometimes that’s all there is to it, Blanche.

Perhaps I’m committing the sin of over analyzing things. I still recall Cliff’s message, chiding me for ‘thinking too much.’

(While his observations are… sound, that did nothing to gain the upper hand against me in our previous battles.)

Perhaps these concerns I ruminate upon weren’t merely carnal desires. Perhaps they were more...

[He is sly and manipulative.]

That note. Who’s being manipulated? Why mention this useless detail in our dossier?

I can only compare him to anything but. I’ve met Rattata who were more sly than he.

Small. Loud. Does nothing but preach. Preoccupation with humiliation, and announces frequently for his desire to not be embarrassed. And yet, he seems so simultaneously proud and disgusted of Rocket. That isn’t very manip--

“Wait.”

My need to annotate took precedence over my stubbornness. This might be important. I took only a few notes; short ones for column [A]; extensive ones for column [C]. [C] would come to explain [A]. I will make [C] explain to me [A].

And yet, weeks later, we found ourselves standing beside one another. The subsiding heat from the summer sunset radiated upon us in the glow of victory as we watched the GO Rockets flee. With the aid of Victini’s blessing, we were able to overwhelm what could have become a potential disaster beyond words. One may call such a scene ‘romantic.’ Perhaps that would have been the moment where I should have confessed to her. Perhaps share a kiss? That’s how that sort of thing works; yes? Two warriors, victorious in their pursuits, succumbing to their long-repressed desires. In those stories Candela loved so much, it always seemed to play out that way.

Almost always. There was that one spy novel she complained for an entire week about.

Despite my successful duel with Cliff fresh upon my mind, I set aside enough space to recall what I’d observed of Candela and Arlo.

(Due to the sheer number of witnesses, Spark and Sierra’s battle was not worth recalling and was quite straightforward; to this day, and apparently to Sierra’s chagrin, people still speak of it extensively.)

I had witnessed the Valors; leader and traitor, from a distance; the unreadable faces; the wordless, pre-battle lingering. The reflection of the sunlight in Arlo’s spectacles from my position obfuscating the legibility of his emotions--while Candela, so expressive as can be with her enrapturing eyes, was no more different from when challenging one of our trainers. She radiated so much vivacity; and yet, she told me absolutely nothing.

...That was the point; wasn’t it?

My recollection was suddenly interrupted by that familiar voice so warm and bubbly: “I guess we won’t have any notes to compare tonight, huh?”

“...I suppose not,” I replied. Of course not; we were uncovering details at an amazing pace; my personal concerns aside.

Still, my chest began to ache, caused only by what I could only ascertain was due to tension. Candela; invite me to something after our dinner with the Professor. Ask me something, anything. A showcase battle? A doubles battle with Spark and the Professor? Chess? Would you… Care to spend the night? Anything? I couldn’t look at her. I looked at everything and everyone else around me but her. I knew that if I did, she’d call me a Piplup and ask what was wrong. Not that I minded, but I wasn’t ready to allow myself to react to that the way I desired to do so in public.

She said nothing.

Before I could take command of the situation and extend my own invitation, I finally directed my eyes where she was supposed to be.

She was already gone.

I last glimpsed her waving to Spark and Professor Willow before mounting her Rapidash and taking out beyond the valley’s treeline.

I took a step forward to call out to her, to simply give her the similar dismissal/greeting that I often did by announcing her name; but the echo of the sound of my heel clicking down on a flat rock seized me by surprise, thus disrupting my usual vocal range into a far more embarrassing octave.

It was the reverberation of both my voice and that step that suddenly alarmed me. Something about that echo, in my mind’s auditory hallucinations, made it feel as if I were speaking in a chamber.

No, a theatre.

What would have been something of a charm in a natural, open space--to hear one’s voice echoing in such a way--triggered a visualization of all the notes that I had taken, and what I had bore witness to today.

Something’s up. I was now beyond determined to find out just what it was.

Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

#pokemon go #fanfic #blanche #spark #candela #pokemon fanfiction #leader blanche #leader spark #leader candela #my writing #candela x blanche #candela x ???#leader arlo #ship fic #love triangle #smut

1 note · View note

gemstoneslesbian · 3 years

Note

I love you Matt hcs so much! So much inspiration for mine too!

Have you got any post-cannon hcs? (Maybe angst/Whump one? But that’s not so important I would love to hear any ^^)

Thank you sm!! :D

All right SO, my main niche in the fandom is fleshing out the Ace Attorney prison, examining the relationships between all the characters there, fleshing everyone out, considering their character arcs, etc. It’s definitely something I put a lot of thought into and get excited about ^^

I imagine there being three main prisons:

Prison A

The canon prison shown in Ace Attorney Investigations: 2. Prisoners are allowed one animal companion, there’s a supplier with influence over the warden (and, imo, the guards as well), it’s overall a prison that can be interpreted as more relaxed--with limited corruption, due to the fact that, in my opinion at least, Sirhan Dogen wouldn’t put up with much BS. Although he can’t control everything, Dogen has a decent amount of power that he uses to make his prison livable.

Prison B

This is the opposite of Prison A. Damon Gant is in charge, but in a different kind of way; after being Chief of Police for so long, he still has a lot of power and connections, and many officers hold respect and / or fear towards him. The prison is a hierarchy of power and control with a lot of corruption, and anyone who doesn’t work for Gant is in danger.

Prison C

The women’s prison. Dee Vasquez has the upper hand here, due to her outside connections with the mafia. She handles things in a more manipulative, underhanded kind of way--isn’t so much focused on the prison at large, but moreso on securing her own matters. She uses protection or exploitation sparingly, and when she does, she deflects attention off of it as much as possible. While the prison isn’t as horrible as Prison B, it’s not as safe as Prison A.

Now that the environment has been established, time to get into the details about Matt:

‎

Matt Engarde went to Prison A.

In Ace Attorney, fame and riches seem to make little difference when it comes to putting someone behind bars. However, the game does show that it can add complications, and affect things to a certain level. With that said, here’s how I imagine things went over with the arrest:

Things are a whirlwind of chaos and fear and pain at first, but it doesn’t take him long to get a deal set up with the prison. Sometime within the first week of his imprisonment. Thankfully, this is done quickly enough that his assets haven’t been transferred to his parents, yet.

His sentence is 10 years. No death penalty or life sentence, because the deal is that, for each year that Matt Engarde is alive and healthy, the prison receives $500,000. This would give them ample reason to take measures to protect him from De Killer.

Matt doesn’t have an endless amount of money, and he also doesn’t want to be stuck there forever. In his mind, hopefully De Killer would be behind bars or dead by the end of those 10 years, and if not... well, he’ll figure it out when he gets there.

He’s given the cell down the hall from Sirhan Dogen, the infamous assassin. This scares the HELL out of Matt at first, but the guards assure him that it’s for his own safety:

However, since he’s placed in this cell before the deal is made, there was an ulterior motive as well. Due to the fact that Shelly De Killer is another infamous assassin, Warden Roland considered it a possibility that he’s one of Dogen’s outside contacts. If Dogen were to rat out Matt’s location to him, the prison would be prepared to capture and arrest De Killer, and it would be confirmed that they had been contacts.

Obviously, Dogen could rat him out no matter which cell he’s in, but it’s more convenient to place Matt there as bait since the hallway is monitored so heavily--they’ll be prepared to restrain both De Killer and Dogen if/when that time comes.

If the deal were made beforehand, he likely would have been sent to Prison B; even though it’s a harsher atmosphere, no one in there is presumed to be a contact of De Killer’s. While he could have been transferred at this point, it’s decided that they’ll stick to their regular plan, just with added precautions and safety measures.

Matt, although suspicious, never has any sort of confirmation that he’s being used as bait--at least, not until years later.

BUT ANYHOW.

‎

Interactions and Reputation

I get into it a bit in this fic*, but the gist is this:

There’s no point in continuing to act charming when everyone knows it’s BS, and any chance of Toughness or Good Standing he could have had are kinda... shattered by his frequent (very loud) panic attacks late at night.

For the first year, he doesn’t bother trying to make friends. He doesn’t care about them, they won’t care about him, and he’s not interested in playing a tug-of-war with power dynamics when he knows he won’t always necessarily come out on top. So he’s kind of a loner here. Occasionally entertains himself by picking fights.

*(Spoiler warning for AAI2 in the fic I linked!!)

‎

Character Arc

From this point, I can see it going in several different directions. I have two different fic AUs where things turn out differently in each one, and I also have an extensive role-play I did with a friend of mine. In terms of imagining his “canon” life and his future, I definitely learn towards the events that transpired in the role-play, so I’ll focus on those.

(My friend and I made a post analyzing his personality and character arc, so most of the things I’ll mention here have been mentioned in this post in greater detail. HOWEVER the post is EXTREMELY long and also contains major spoilers for AAI2. So if you want to avoid spoilers and also want a summed up version, feel completely free to just read the summary below!) (oh also, with relation to the post I just linked, tw for?? a variety of common triggers)

I should mention that this might not be COMPLETELY spoiler-free, but I do avoid saying the spoilery name. It’s hard for me to accurately gauge what is and isn’t revealing, since I already know all the spoilers haha.

And, without further ado:

-Everything about his world has been turned upside-down. Instead of being adored, he’s despised. Instead of being the one with power, he’s the one under the thumb of others. Instead of a life of comfort and privilege, he’s confined to small, uncomfortable areas, and is barely paid anything for his labor. Additionally, he could be killed at any moment at any hour at any location--and this is something he’s forced to endure for years on end. The entire situation is incredibly stressful and traumatic for him.

-About a year after his arrest, a guy moves into his cell with him. Things align in just the right way that a friendship of some sort is formed between them: the guy is friendly, pretty, relatable, into some of the same hobbies he’s into, and he has power within the prison walls. It’s beneficial to form a friendship with him... and the guy isn’t annoyed with him for his (now much less-frequent) panic attacks, but rather, shows sympathy.

-Neither of them particularly trust one another, but they enjoy each other’s company.

-Humans need comfort, and Matt is no exception. Under the intense trauma and stress he’s enduring, it’s all too easy to form some sort of bond with the nice guy who dances with him and pets his hair and holds him.

-It’s important to mention that Matt is rendered unable to do his usual power & control shit. And he especially can’t get away with that kind of stuff when his new cellmate shows up. The guy is Very Alert to underhanded behavior (due to his own underhandedness + the fact that he’s dealt with one too many bastards), and is quick to call Matt out on even minor things. So Matt’s options at this point are either:

a.) try his manipulative shit and lose any small amount of power or comfort he may have had, with an added risk of retribution

b.) resist all forms of connection / interaction with other people, and just be miserable and alone and scared all by himself

c.) be friends with the guy WITHOUT being a shady douche, and getting to enjoy the comfort and benefits that provides

-So... YEAH. Long story short, he makes friends with the guy. And, also, lowkey catches feelings for him.

-Matt also makes friends with Simon Blackquill a couple years later (and that has its own backstory)

-His previous ways of moving through the world do not work at all here. In the end, Matt’s main goal is to get what he wants, and to feel good. With the circumstances, he has to completely change his approaches in order to meet that goal.

-Matt may be cold and uncaring towards other people’s emotions, but it’s clear that he does have very intense emotions. He shows much more vulnerability and pain now than he used to, because doing so makes him more sympathetic to his friends--but he also needs to learn to not be as manipulative about it, and to actually consider the other person’s emotions instead of making it all about himself.

-He does ultimately decide to make the overall changes necessary for healthy interpersonal connections, since it’s in his best interest to do so. It’s not easy, and he hits plenty of road bumps along the way. It definitely dredges up a lot of shit, a lot of painful emotions; he’s extremely self-protective, and genuine vulnerability is hard and frightening.

-The tl;dr is that he’s dragged through a healing arc, kicking and screaming the entire way.

‎

That’s what his life in like in prison, overall! There’s a ton of aspects and details, but I figured it’d be best to cover the basic storyline ^^

I also have thoughts on how things would go after he’s released from prison.

‎

...OH SHIT I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO MENTION THE SHELLY THING LMAO

I’m gonna make a post where I detail out what happens, and then link it here when I finish.

Edit: Here it is!

#Matt Engarde #aa post #Matt #thank you for the ask!! and thank you to everyone else who's been asking too aaa #I'm so happy people are interested in my headcanons #aaprison

11 notes · View notes

hourglasscinnarose · 5 years

Text

How to Write an Abusive Family Realistically

Things to Keep in Mind

- They didn’t mean for it to be abusive, but it turned out to be. No one wants to be the one causing an unhealthy relationship and sometimes it’s multable people and not just one.

- If the parents/siblings mean to be abusive, then they need some actual reasons and not just be there as tools to make your character sad or depressed.

- Not every kid becomes depressed when their parents/siblings are abusive and a lot of the times the relationships are so complex that neither party sees that it’s an abusive relationship.

- It’s okay if your character is the reason the relationship is abusive, just make them realize that because no one wants to read a story where the main character is an abusive jerk with no direction.

- It’s never public. If it is, it’s rare and probably a result from bottling emotions.

Emotional Abuse

Emotional Abuse is basically when you’re feeling get hurt, but it’s a lot more complicated than that. Emotional Abuse is repetitive and draining and usually comes off as yelling, underhanded comments, and bulling. It can also be a side effect of favoritism.

Writing emotional abuse is a bit harder than physical abuse, but here’s the most simple way to put it that I can make it. When writing a parent who is emotionally abusive, you have to focus on why the parent is that way, but you want to write it out from the kid’s perspective. For example, say Wanda as two kids, and her entire life she’s always wanted a girl, but had a boy, first. And then the little girl comes along. She plays it off that she has to pay attention to the baby more because she’s a baby, but as the little girl grows up, it becomes clear that she has a favorite child. But the thing is that it’s subtle and obvious. Wanda doesn’t realize that she even has a favorite kid, she’s trying to support both of them and certain situations favor her daughter more than her son. But her son and daughter probably realized this from a young age. Depending on how you write your characters, this could great a great bond between the siblings or tear them apart as they get older. The reader should be seeing Wanda through her kid’s eyes and only through the kids should the reader realize that Wanda plays favorites.

Now, there are a LOT of dynamics that can happen depending on how the parent is abusive. I suggest watching Physic2Go (ToGo?) on YouTube because they explain this sort of thing rather well.

Physical Abuse

Physical Abuse is when someone is hit mutable times by the same person on different occasions for reasons that either don’t make sense, or do but don’t actually exist. Physical Abuse is pushing, hitting, smacking, punching, and anything physical that you could do to hurt someone. Even trying to run someone over could count, but I think that’s just murder.

Writing Physical Abuse has to be handled a very certain way, considering things like bruises and scares are very showy and normally no one is able to actually call out for help in this kind of situation. And, again, it almost NEVER starts out as physically abusive. There are a lot of stories that start with, like, “my father blamed me for my mothers death, so now he gets drunk and beats me”. But, like, that’s not how it works. It’s not automatic. It’s not predictable.People don’t just become violent after one thing, it’s a series of things. Taking the mother dying, for example, the father could maybe blame the kid, but during grieving, he’s probably not even looking at or touching them. Maybe they get into an argument and the father pushes his kid and it surprises them both so much that they swear not to argue again. But they do, and the pushing becomes more intense and the father starts to derail. Pushing becomes punishing: punching, smacking, maybe even before that they were in a very emotionally abusive relationship. And the real bad thing is that the father knows what he’s doing, he understands that it’s abuse, he’s not stupid. But it’s like a drug addiction, you know? It’s hard to stop and get a grip. And maybe the father becomes bitter and maybe the kid tries to fight back or they call the cops.

One of the most important things to keep in mind when writing physically abusive relationship is where they get hit, how many times, and how visible is it?

Just like with emotional abuse, there are a lot of different dynamics for these sorts of relationships and only get more complicated when more people get involved.

Parent on Parent

Now, we’ve talked about parent on kid (which can also be used for sibling on kid), but what about parent on parent? Well, believe it or not, this kind of relationship is emotionally abusive to the kids without either parent realizing it because their only focus is abusing each other. This one is actually really complicated and hard to describe, but I will say the best way to write this is from the youngest kid’s point of view. This way you can explore realizing it’s an abusive relationship and the effects of it and finding out that the kid, themselves, are a part of this abusive relationship even if they never retaliated.

A lot of these relationships happen all at once. If you think you’re in an abusive relationship, I recommend talking to the abuser about what it is exactly. If it’s physical, you need to tell somebody. And I know you know that and that it takes a lot of courage, I’m just hoping this will help open your eyes to it. If you think you are abusing someone, I know that it’s really hard to stop. I’ve been on both sides of the spectrum and even though I’m not proud of it, I understand what it feels like. It’s not good and it’s not healthy and you need to stop even though it’s hard. If you’re just realizing you’re abusing someone, please try to talk to who you are abusing and apologize. I know that you can feel really guilty about what you’ve done and feel as though you shouldn’t be forgiven, but you can be. You just have to stop first. Rather you’re abusing or being abused, you need someone to talk to. However, if you are physically abusing someone, I have no idea what that’s like or even if you mean to or anything like that. I’ve only ever been in emotionally abusive relationships, but I do hope you find it in yourself to stop and ask yourself why. There’s no need for violence, and though I don’t want to make anyone the bad guy, since it’s often more complex than that, I do think that physically harming someone, though not worse than emotional abuse, can be more dangerous if not noticed and controlled.

Thanks for reading. I hope this helps with your writing.

#Writing Tips #Emotional abuse #Physical Abuse #Abuse #Writing Abuse #Abuse in Families #Parents #Siblings

168 notes · View notes

arcticdementor · 4 years

Link

My take on modern Star Trek compared to the old:

Star Trek very much embodied what liberal American white males of the 1980s and 1990s thought the future would (or should) look like: secular, sexually liberated, humanistic, meritocratic, equitable, and technological – a man’s world, basically. In this world, religion plays practically no role in public life. Problems are solved with diplomacy instead of violence. Money doesn’t exist, so there is no capitalism, greed, or want. People spend their lives bettering humanity and doing other such noble things like negotiating peace with aliens or exploring the universe in one of Starfleet’s advanced starships, each equipped with a plethora of miraculous technologies. In their leisure time, the crews of these starships visit a holographic room, the holodeck, which can conjure any fantasy into a photorealistic facsimile of the real thing.

Probably the only place in the Western world where this mentality can still be found is California’s Silicon Valley. As in the fictional world of Star Trek, men do most of the work; they advance through meritocracy; and there is something akin to a fraternal culture, irrespective of the prevailing progressive ideology. Silicon Valley is also still largely free of the odious diversity requirements imposed on the rest of society.

…

The high point of the franchise, The Next Generation, featured a mostly white liberal cast and various things white liberals liked at the time – sex appeal, food, pseudointellectualism (although handled capably by talented male writers), cutting edge tech, meritocracy, optimism, exploration, and the white man’s moralism.

Starfleet, the Federation’s military and scientific branch, was a rigorous meritocracy, just as Silicon Valley is today. Members were admitted only through a combination of senior officer recommendations, high scholastic achievement, and phenomenally high standardized test scores. Character was also paramount. Crew evaluations feature prominently in several episodes of TNG, and it was made clear to underperforming members that the starship Enterprise cuts a standard above the rest; perform or hit the road.

In the diverse world of Star Trek, the white writers imagined meritocracy would ensure whites like themselves would still have a position at the top of society (just as in Hollywood then and Silicon Valley now) despite soon becoming a minority in real life America. You’ll notice progressive humans are at the center of the Federation in Star Trek despite being a small minority in that fictional universe as well. That’s by design, conscious or not.

…

In the TNG episode The Drumhead, Picard faces down a witch hunting admiral — a woman, no less. The plot revolves around an incident that occurred on the starship Enterprise. Sabotage is suspected, and the situation is tense. The initial evidence points to a low ranking crewman who is later discovered to be of mixed race, one-quarter of the Federation’s most feared enemy. This all but convicts him in the eyes of the admiral’s tribunal. The admiral mercilessly presses her case, threatening to destroy anyone who gets in her way. She’s meant to be a caricature of conservative jingoists of the era – always scared of the Russians, racist against minorities, emotional. In Hollywood’s view of history, those were the people behind the McCarthy hearings, which this episode obviously pulls from.

…

Toward the end of the episode, Captain Picard confronts his antagonist and gives a fine speech about principle, temperament, and morality in the process. The admiral is defeated when a fellow admiral, a black male character, stands up and walks out in disgust at her actions.

This is one of the reasons why fans liked the character of Jean-Luc Picard: he was a decent, honorable man despite not being perfect himself. He had a code he lived by, and he led by example. Men like that sort of thing. Star Trek Picard, in contrast, portrays him as a bumbling moron who is always wrong and continually berated by female underlings. His view of the world is portrayed as naive or just wrong, requiring strong SJW women to take it to the enemy themselves, often employing violence – including rank murder and sadistic violence.

In another episode of TNG, white male commander Riker stands up to his white male superior — an admiral — who wishes to break the terms of a peace treaty to gain a military edge over a mortal enemy. Riker prevents him from doing so and exposes the dastardly plot. Moral of the story: principle trumps Machiavellianism.

Star Trek was very much a pre-Millennial liberal morality play whereby inspired characters (mostly white) would often stand up to authority figures (mostly white) in order to promote a general moral code — a greater authority — among fellow whites.

Consider some of the following things about Star Trek: The Next Generation and ask yourself if any of this would be allowed on television today without controversy.

…

The diverse new cast of Discovery and Picard mostly excludes white males. The only principle white men who did not appear in make-up during Discovery’s first season were either villains or openly gay. The show’s lead is a black woman who’s the best at everything, acts bizarrely hostile towards the crew and later berates the male commanding officer, captain Pike – introduced in season 2. There’s also an assortment of other female archetypes more typically seen in network television crime dramas – the dorky female comic relief, the bestest ever leader, the tech guru.

Star Trek: Picard’s white male actors, aside from TNG cameos, are mostly villains when they appear at all. Picard himself is a senile old man who contributes essentially nothing to the show. He is used as the butt of criticism from the cast. It’s clear the writers are using him as a canvas to paint their grievances with the real world. Picard — white male America — stands in the new boss’s empowered way. He lives in luxury as minority characters live in poverty. The (white) institutions he represents are all corrupt and racist. To rectify this injustice, the diverse cast must defy Star Trek convention – up to and including committing acts of cold-blooded murder (even villains don’t deserve that).

The new shows also – bizarrely — feature a dearth of straight black male actors. TNG had two; Voyager had one; DS9 had several, including a masculine male captain. The feminists who write this newer junk must feel threatened by their masculinity, a common phenomenon in modern Hollywood movies, comic books, and in network television: black men are usually removed (Star Trek), made gay (Marvel’s New Warriors), or turned into female servants (Samuel L. Jackson in Captain Marvel – a pet to Brie Larson). So, they’ve almost entirely been excised as primary leads in the new shows. The mostly unaccomplished female writers of Discovery even reported the more accomplished (read: threatening) black male writer, Walter Mosley, to Human Resources for uttering a racial epithet (in context with writing about racism), causing him to quit the show in disgust.

Author Walter Mosley Quits ‘Star Trek: Discovery’ After Using N-Word in Writers Room

Discovery and Picard are both written by a crowd that obviously hates the demographic they are writing for, so they pepper many of the episodes with things they know that demographic will take as insults – female characters insulting male characters, underhanded jokes about masculinity or mansplaining, obnoxious female leads, incompetent white male characters who need female instruction, excessive melodrama, denigration of lore. It’s patently obvious. They aren’t even being subtle about it.

…

Fundamentally, these new shows struggle because they are written by people wholly unlike the target audience, so they are not able to appeal to them (the same is true of other ruined male franchises like Star Wars – but I’ll save that for another time). These new shows aren’t for the old audience. The new — diverse — show runners have made that clear. Star Trek now serves as a vehicle for airing out racial and gender grievances against the perceived white male audience. It’s akin to planting your tribe’s flag on another tribe’s territory. The aggrieved gets a rush from being able to rub their enemy’s face in their loss. It’s intentional.

…

Regardless, the primary audience for a show like this is heterosexual men, disproportionately white … And when minority male characters appear, they’re not supposed to be losers upstaged by their sassy, disrespectful and arrogant female subordinates. In Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, the black male captain put his hothead female executive officer in her place more than once. In the new Treks, men are continually insulted, often for no good reason, by female crew members.

What do men like in Star Trek?

Men like technology. So, the writers of Picard introduced a magic wand to the newest iteration.

…

Men like adventure, not melodrama. So, obviously the female writers feature an inordinate number of episodes of characters crying.

…

Most of the adventure element prominent in previous shows is absent or poorly constructed in the newer ones … or ripped off from other properties, including video games. Paramount was being sued a while back for copyright infringement.

…

Men also like ship design, which was a major component of the old shows. They provided countless hours of free fan promotion across message boards and websites, they were cool locations for new episodes, and they inspired fan movies. So, obviously that had to be sidelined in the new shows. The ships, once iconic and profitable selling toy items, are now generic CGI models – totally uninspired trash hastily put together as an afterthought. The new shows can’t sell the merchandise, so the retailers have refused to license much of it.

Another thing men like? Group service – following rules, meritocracy, sacrifice for the tribe, defending territory (even the non-violent philosophical variety), that kind of thing. Well, that’s almost totally absent in Discovery and Picard. The once-honorable and meritocratic military-like Federation is portrayed as corrupt and unequal; the black female lead of Picard berates Jean-Luc in one episode for living “in his fine chateau” while she lived in poverty – again, a totally antithetical concept to the old shows.

…

The whole Federation is a dystopia with criminals and drugs and injustice all about.

Various Federation admirals in the new movies and television shows are belligerent, short-sighted, and rude; one is an outright war criminal. TNG featured at least two episodes with corrupt Federation admirals, but our show’s male heroes put them in their place by the end of the episode. Even the female captain Kathryn Janeway did this once in Voyager. Not true of these newer shows, though. Admirals berate the male characters, then go away – never to be redeemed or brought to justice.

Many of the characters in the new shows act entirely unprofessional towards each other. They are sometimes even cruel or sadistic. The female captain of one Discoveryshort Trek allowed a bumbling white male crewman (whom the female writers mocked the entire episode) to die horribly and then simply shrugged it off when asked about it, “he was an idiot” (implication: he deserved to die because he was annoying her).

…

The biggest supporters of these new incarnations, not surprisingly, are the show’s American writers – along with a few “critics”. These people lack any loyalty to a higher cause (other than themselves), are nihilistic, are sadistic, enjoy berating “the other” (men, whites, themselves even), and have practically no respect for anything they aren’t personally invested with. In other words, they are thoroughly Americanized losers.

There would be a college thesis in that observation if we lived in a better timeline. In this one, the world where the bad guys won, you are stuck reading it in a random internet comment.

I think that observation explains much of what is wrong with modern culture: the past, in many ways, was better than the present and probably will end up being better than the near future. That’s intolerable to a lot of political extremists, the very people who put us in this position in the first place. So, the past has to be destroyed; it serves as a foil to the current reigning madness. “Let the past die, kill it if you have to.” That’s why pop culture had to be denigrated. That’s why Star Trek is trash nowadays.

When conquering armies of the ancient world subdued an enemy, they often defaced the conquered tribe’s symbols – destroyed the statues, burned the temples, desecrated anything sacred; both Muslim and Christian conquerors were famous for this. Same thing here. The new regime is burning the cultural bridges so you can’t go back to the better world left behind, the one not ruled by them.

…

Although, in fairness to the ladies, it’s mostly men like Alex Kurtzman who have ruined the new shows. The guy once stated in an interview that he has a problem writing male characters. Hollywood: let’s hire that guy for Star Trek!

#unz.com #star trek #read the whole thing

2 notes · View notes

yoshifics · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Badeea Ali/Penny Haywood, One-sided Everyone/Penny Haywood Characters: Penny Haywood, Nymphadora Tonks, Merula Snyde, Tulip Karasu, Badeea Ali Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, (except not 5 because i only did 3), Crushes, Fluff Summary:

Prompt: Penny Haywood really doesn't know just how many girls she's inadvertently helped realise they aren't straight. Until one of them tells her.

Written for the @hprarepairbingo, fic under the cut!

Penny thought she had a good and accurate opinion of herself. She knew she wasn’t perfect, as it was impossible for anyone to be, but she strived as hard as she could to be someone who would be fondly remembered by most people. It wasn’t hard, to be fair. Penny was helpful by nature, and couldn’t bear to leave someone alone if there was something she could do to help. It turned out that most people appreciated that kind of personality, and there were many like-minded people to be found in her house, which was another boon she hadn’t predicted in her entry at Hogwarts. Nice and friendly Penny Haywood, that was her!

If only she knew how many people found themselves wanting to develop a different bond with her.

Tonks realised in the middle of herbology.

It wasn’t that she’d never noticed Penny Haywood before. Penny was the most popular girl of their year, probably the most popular student period! Her presence was unobtrusive at first, but also impossible to deny. She didn’t tend to run in the same circles as Tonks however: Penny favoured helpfulness, while Tonks was in the business of the exact opposite. Thus, while Tonks had noticed the other girl’s presence and popularity, she hadn’t really tried to get to know Penny more than that, not truly.

That herbology lesson was something different however. It wasn’t even anything special and Tonks couldn’t even remember the name of the plant they’d been working on. She’d been assigned Penny as a partner for the second time that year and hadn’t thought much of it aside from being slightly disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to get away with her usual shenanigans this time.

She was just thinking about her next prank when it happened. There was a sudden movement at the corner of her eyes, and she looked to find Penny, hands deep in the dirt, seemingly wrestling a plant into submission with what looked like remnants of spit in her hair.

Her eyes were narrowed fiercely as she blew a stray strand of hair out of her face and jerked her head toward Tonks. “A little help?” she asked, taking in deep panting breaths as she spoke. “My hands are sort of busy, so it’d be really useful if you could petrify this thing for a moment.”

Tonks had heard the words the first time, she knew she had, but all she could do was stare at Penny for a long while. Hands in the dirt, some kind of unknown fluid that probably came from that plant staining her hair, clothes mussed, eyes fierce and a gentle smile on her face, Tonks had never seen something more beautiful and radiant than in that moment.

“-Tonks!”

A shout of her name brought her back to the task at hand, and Tonks fumbled for her wand, flushing as she saw blue strands staining her hair with embarrassment. She mumbled the spell at last, and it took her about three tries before she could cast an efficient Petrificus Totalus on the plant. Penny didn’t comment on her obvious blunder, much to Tonks’ relief, but she knew she would beat herself over this moment for a while.

What a bummer, the moment she realised she had a crush and she had to humiliate herself in front of her.

Merula had only meant to ask Professor Snape a question.

She didn’t pay attention to people as a rule, not unless they were powerful enough to threaten her standing, or enough of an irritant to annoy her into reacting. She had a peripheral knowledge of everyone, of course, but that was second nature to her by then, nothing impressive.

So she had noticed Penny Haywood, of course. The Hufflepuff seemed to know everyone, and if she hadn’t been such a do-gooder Merula would have been jealous of her networking abilities. And that was the key point of it, wasn’t it? Do-gooder. Penny Haywood would never be underhanded, never lie, never cheat, and was all in all a shining example of what one expected a typical Hufflepuff to be.

Maybe that was why the scene she stumbled upon shocked her so much.

Haywood’s talent and interest for potions was well known, so it wasn’t her presence in Professor Snape’s classroom outside of normal class hours that surprised Merula. Rather, it was the presence of that thrill-seeker obsessed with the cursed vaults that was surprising. While Haywood was asking Snape questions Merula was sure she knew the answer to, the other student was snooping through Snape’s shelves, secreting ingredients into pockets with deft fingers that must have seen some practice.

All that while Haywood watched, and hurriedly directed Professor Snape’s attention away when he would make to gaze towards the troublemaker. It was done so seamlessly that Merula was sure she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been watching.

In the end, all Merula could do was stare as the other students left Professor Snape’s classroom giggling together as soon as they were out of sight of the teacher. She stared so long she didn’t even ask her question, too busy wondering why it was that she was suddenly viewing Haywood in a new light. The fact that she’d been mistaken about the Hufflepuff’s personality should have infuriated her, and yet all she could do was find it… attractive?

Tulip discovered as she tried to prank Penny.

Well, trying wasn’t the right word: Tulip had succeeded in pranking Penny. She just hadn’t predicted what the reaction to that prank would be.

The prank itself was a masterpiece, if Tulip said so herself. Which meant that it was, as she’d never been one to overinflate her own ego. It was completely harmless and not at all humiliating. Why, even professor McGonagall would have been hard pressed to find something wrong with it. It was mostly meant to mimic the effects of Wingardium Leviosa on a person, only the person would float in place a few inches off the ground instead of being directed by the caster’s wand.

Needlessly complicated to do with a potion what a first-year charm could do just as well, some might say, but Tulip had never quite gotten the handle on charms (she loved professor Flitwick, but swish-and-flick was rubbish advice and that feather always seemed to run away from her wand instead), so this was a good avenue for her. It also allowed her to claim she’d done it solely for the challenge rather than a lack of ability . That, and it was far easier to claim plausible deniability when one was caught in a prank if one wasn’t literally pointing a wand at the target.

So when Tulip saw Penny take a bite of the potion-laced cupcake she’d left on her bag, she was braced for many reactions. Surprise, disgruntlement, fear even (it would be nice to see little miss sunshine let loose). What she wasn’t prepared for was for Penny to love the prank as much as Tulip did.

As soon as she took a bite, the blonde witch’s feet left the ground, prompting a surprised gasp from her, and panicked noise from the students she was talking to. All too soon though, Penny’s shoulders began shaking ever so slightly and a delighted smile crossed her face. She laughed, a full belly laughter that drew all attention to her even as she tried and failed to stifle it. She laughed, and laughed, and laughed as she floated in the air, and then she took another bite when the effects of the cupcake began to abate just to remain in the air a little more.

It was the best reaction Tulip had ever gotten, and not even the fact that her potion seemed to have a slight hair colour changing effect could dampen her spirits. Penny’s laughter was contagious and when Tulip’s gaze crossed Penny’s own, she found the joy felt reflected in the Hufflepuff’s eyes begin bubbling out of her own chest until laughter burst out of it again. Honestly, how was she supposed to not fall for the other girl after that, even just a little?

Badeea really didn’t have any ulterior motives when she asked Penny to sit for her. She’d simply been looking for a new way to test her skills, and though she loved painting the various landscapes that could be found at Hogwarts, she thought she might as well try something new this time. Penny didn’t offer a new idea persee, but she did compliment Badeea’s painting right as she was pondering trying something new, so it seemed natural to offer to paint her.

And Badeea wasn’t naïve. She knew about the amount of girls who had a crush on Penny; for all that she wasn’t a gossip, she was a good listener and had a quiet presence that often made her privy to secrets she might not have otherwise known. She might have even (possibly) been nursing a quiet crush on Penny herself, but it really had nothing to do with her decision to paint the other girl, so surely she didn’t need to mention it. She could paint Penny like any other regular human being.

Still, Badeea really should have expected it. She’d gotten used to drawing scenery, and that was for a very good reason. Scenery stayed still, didn’t require conversation, and there was none of the usual awkwardness inherent to being silent in the presence of another person. So Badeea had known, and yet it still took her by surprise.

Painting Penny felt… surprisingly intimate. Badeea had chosen a secluded corner of the school for their session, knowing that they would be needlessly interrupted if she painted in the clocktower courtyard as was customary for her. It hadn’t hit when she’d chosen the place that it would mean staying alone with Penny for a significant amount of time.

Painting was obviously an intimate perspective, even if the subject was entirely dressed, and Badeea couldn’t help but pay attention to every part of Penny’s anatomy. As she painted, she noticed every little detail and went over them again and again as she tried to reproduce them faithfully on her canvas. The gentle curve of Penny’s lips, the unexpected crease of her brow when a stray thought crossed her mind, the way the sun hit her eyes as it lit up the sky over the forbidden forest…

Feeling flustered by the continuous silence for the first time since she’d decided to take up painting, Badeea opened her mouth to say… Something, she didn’t know what.

“Feel free to talk, you know, there’s no need to hold yourself back on my account.”

Her voice was thankfully level as she spoke, but the Ravenclaw had to pull her hand away from her painting for fear of ruining it when Penny directed an incandescent smile at her.

“Oh, thank you!” she said, the same joy radiating through her voice. “I didn’t want to bother you, but I wouldn’t want to just talk at you either. It takes two to make a conversation after all, doesn’t it?”

Badeea made an encouraging sound as she pretended to focus on a detail of her painting. The canvas allowed her to remain hidden until the flush on her cheeks subsided, and she eventually managed to look back at Penny, feeling a similar smile grow on her own face. With such a thoughtful attitude, was it surprising that she’d began developing a crush on Penny?

“Sure!” she replied, cheerful with the knowledge that Penny was just as kind up close as she was from afar.

Over the course of a few sessions, Badeea felt more and more relaxed with Penny. The other talked about everything and nothing at first, but she still prompted answers from Badeea and listened to them rather than simply using them as placeholders from which to launch her own monologues. She seemed interested by everything Badeea was saying, and had started seeking her out outside of their sessions, and Badeea could literally feel them growing closer to each other.

It almost made her want to keep her painting incomplete, just so she could have an excuse to spend more time with Penny. As she put the last finishing touches on her canvas though, Badeea knew she couldn’t pretend not to be finished anymore. She bit her lip as she put her paintbrushes down and exhaled nervously as she adjusted a pin on her hijab.

“I’m done,” she announced, fighting off a smile as she saw Penny lean forward in anticipation. She continued before the other girl could speak though, afraid of losing her nerve if she let herself stall anymore. “Um, before I show you the painting, I wanted to ask you something.”

Unable to keep her hands still, Badeea began arranging her paintbrushes by size, hoping the mindless motions would help her settle somewhat.

“Sure?” Penny said, sounding confused. “I mean, yes, ask away!”

One deep breath, two, and Badeea launched herself into the short spiel she’d prepared. “You’re very nice, and kind, and pretty,” she began, the words stumbling out of her mouth and absolutely not in the organised way she’d planned over the previous days. “I mean, everyone must tell you that, but I just wanted to say that I noticed, and that I really like your smiles, and those big laughs you get when I accidentally say something funny, and I like spending time with you even outside of painting you, and I just-”

There she had to take a deep breath, both because she was running out of air and because of what came next. “And I would really like to go out with you. Like a date,” she specified, just in case it wasn’t clear enough. “Because I like you.”

Penny didn’t seem closed to the idea, which did settle Badeea’s nerves somewhat. Her bafflement was a tad strange though, especially since Badeea was the one somewhat anxiously awaiting an answer.

Penny shook herself and hurried to answer. “Yes! I- Sorry- yes, of course I want to go out with you!”

Her hands were flailing in a stilted fashion as she spoke, almost like she was trying to restrain herself. Badeea let out a sigh of relief. She had known Penny would have been kind no matter her decision, but… She offered Penny a shy smile as she nervously adjusted her hijab around her neck. It was still nice to have the answer she desired.

“Good,” Badeea said, the word settling the reality of things in her head.

“Good, yeah,” Penny repeated, before taking a breath and releasing it like she’d just completed some sort of accomplishment. “Wow I’ve never had a girl ask me out before,” she continued as though to explain herself. “I guess I just thought I wasn’t girls’ type.”

The baffling statement was followed by burst of self-deprecating laughter as Badeea stared at Penny in disbelief. There was no way Penny could be serious, surely someone else had tried?

“I know that you made at least five girls realise they weren’t straight, and I haven’t even spoken more than two sentences to most of them.”

“You- I what??”

Oh, so Badeea really was the first one to have tried her chance with Penny. She smiled helplessly, fighting the urge to hide her face as Penny seemed to struggle with the idea that a lot of people wanted to date her. None of them would get the chance though, Badeea thought with satisfaction, because she had gotten there first and she planned to be the last.

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter hogwarts mystery fanfiction #penny haywood #badeea ali #badeea x penny #nymphadora tonks #merula snyde #tulip karasu #my fanfiction #my writing

5 notes · View notes

sage-nebula · 5 years

Text

Lotor deserved better. Lotor deserved better because all of us who were abused throughout our childhoods and adolescences deserved better. And because I can’t stop thinking about this, I’m going to get a little personal under the cut.

Like many survivors of child abuse, I keyed in on and saw a lot of myself in Lotor. Personality-wise, I am and have always been a lot closer to Keith; but seeing the way Lotor developed as a direct result of his abuse, paired with how he reacted when faced with his abusers, was something that spoke to me on a deep, personal level. I’ve faced abuse from a few different sources in my life, but the worst of it came from my biological mother. She is the one who---even now, thirteen years later---shows up in nightmares of mine from time to time. When I had to be in the same space as her three years ago for my sister’s wedding, I was riding a panic attack the entire time. At one point she started toward me, and my fight-or-flight response kicked in before I could restrain it and I bolted. I was ashamed. I felt like a coward. And I suppose that’s one way you could say that Lotor and I differ, that he faced his abusers and even killed one of them.

But even as I write that, I remember that’s not the case. The only reason Lotor faced Zarkon the way he did was because he was given no other choice. Lotor, when given the opportunity, willingly flew along the surface of a sun even as it burned him in order to escape his abuser. He only faced Zarkon when he was betrayed by those he’d sought asylum from and handed over like a bargaining chip. There was real, true fear in his eyes when Zarkon attacked him. Lotor did not fight because he wanted to. He did so because if he didn’t---or if he did, and then he lost---he would die.

The thing is, what the Paladins did to Lotor in that episode was wrong. It was wrong on every single conceivable level. It was wrong from a political standpoint, in that they were not only aligning themselves with a tyrannical dictator and making a deal with him, but also that they were treating someone who’d surrendered himself as a prisoner of war like an item to be used and discarded. It was morally wrong, as well, because even if you consider that they didn’t know the full history between Zarkon and Lotor, they knew that Lotor had sought asylum from them to escape Zarkon, who had declared that he wanted Lotor dead on sight. Lotor came to them for aid, and they responded by handing him back to his abuser, one who they knew would kill him, for personal (not even political, not even for the “greater good,” but personal) gain. Everything about that entire exchange was disgustingly, horrifyingly wrong.

But despite this being the case, the Paladins are never called on it. They’re never forced to reconsider their actions, outside of, “oh no, how could we have not known that Zarkon would try to trick us?” They’re never forced to face karmic retribution for what they did. They are treated, by the creators and the narrative alike, as though what they did was morally acceptable and even just. The only dissension we see over the situation is Allura yelling at Shireplica for giving Lotor the Black Bayard, which was the only form of defense he had against Zarkon; we’re supposed to see what Shireplica did as being underhanded, sneaky, and even wrong, even though it is the only reason that Lotor survived. (And even then, when Shireplica defends his actions, this is not what he points out. He instead points out that Zarkon is dead. What we’re left to gather from this is that if Lotor had died in the attempt, Shireplica wouldn’t mind so much. Zarkon’s death was worth more than Lotor’s life.)

This, truly, should have been the biggest and brightest red flag for all of us, and believe me, it didn’t go unnoticed by me. I never posted it, but after season five I wrote an entire post about how morally corrupt and awful the Paladins were for that exchange, about how they treated Lotor like an object rather than a person, about how none of them argued even once for the value of Lotor’s life as a person, but rather talked about whether he was of more use to them alive or dead. (Which, mind you, would be fine if the show presented the Paladins as morally grey at best, making hard decisions in the face of war---but it didn’t. At no point during the show’s run were we supposed to see Team Voltron as anything more than admirable heroes. It’s what makes their behavior so appalling.) But even still, I held out hope going into season six that Lotor would be treated well, that his abuse at the hands of Zarkon, Haggar, and (as we came to find out in season six) Dayak would be treated with the levity and respect it deserved.

Long story short: It wasn’t and it caused me to drop the show.

Long story long:

At the end of season six, Lotor was not only handed over to his other primary abuser (Haggar), but in the end he suffers a mental breakdown, is revealed to be evil, and is shown to be no better than his abusers. He dies, alone and abandoned, in the quintessence field. And just in case anyone walked away from the season believing that we weren’t supposed to see Lotor as being evil as a direct result of his abuse, Joaquim Dos Santos and Lauren Montgomery confirmed that was indeed the intention in an interview:

“It was a very bad hand. That deck was stacked against him in every way in his upbringing. If he had this amazing accepting family that Allura had, he probably would have been a magnificent person. He had to live his life the only way he could, and a lot of that was through manipulation and doing things the only way he could get them done. It’s tragic.”

[. . .]

An unintentional parallel the behind the scenes team recognized was between Keith and Lotor. Keith had his own difficult upbringing, never meeting his mother and losing his father at a young age. He was very angry and combative and, as Dos Santos explains, “(he) could’ve gone the same way (as Lotor) but Shiro was that positive light in his life.”

“Keith had better people around him,” adds Montgomery, “and Lotor didn’t have that support system, so we see how it ended up.”

i.e: Because Lotor suffered childhood and adolescent abuse and didn’t have a positive parental figure (e.g. Shiro) in his life, he ended up evil, just like his abusers.

It doesn’t matter how “tragic” Montgomery claims this to be. The fact remains that in their view, if you grew up abused and without a support system and survived the only way you knew how, ultimately, that means you’re going to end up being a horrible, twisted person regardless of your intentions, rather than the ~*~magnificent~*~ person you could have been. In worlds created by Montgomery and Dos Santos, there is no other end result for people like us.

This was what caused me to drop the show, along with the fact that the show and fanbase were a combined source of massive stress in my life. This, ultimately, was what did it. I had plenty of other problems with the show, but knowing that this is how Dos Santos and Montgomery viewed people like me---knowing that this is what they thought of people like me, like Lotor---was the final straw. I couldn’t do it anymore. So I stopped watching. I walked away. To this day, I’ve not seen a single scene of season seven (and I’ve only seen patches of eight, to see how it ended and to see the Lotor flashbacks + a couple scenes with my galra girls) and I don’t intend to change that. My one consolation was that at least Lotor was dead, so they couldn’t do any more damage to him, or people like us.

I was wrong.

The childhood flashbacks in season eight were fine. I’ve been continuously unimpressed by people who act like the fact that Lotor was a survivor of abuse throughout his entire childhood and adolescence was some big revelation that only happened and humanized him this season, but the flashbacks themselves were fine and even enjoyable in the sense that it was nice to see Lotor behaving in character again after the mess that was the season six finale. It also felt a bit . . . cathartic, in a way, because as painful and heartbreaking as it was, simultaneously I knew what Lotor was feeling and so it was sort of like . . . seeing how he handled it, that he handled it was a reminder that I had as well. It was a strange sort of catharsis. On top of getting to see Lotor at different stages in his life, that aspect was enjoyable (for lack of a better word) as well.

But that is where it ends.

Not only did they deign to show Lotor’s brutalized, mangled corpse at one point (only from the back to keep it appropriate for children by American television standards, but all the same), but they also gave him a “happy ending” in the afterlife with his abusive parents.

In all honesty, that bothers me more than the corpse did.

The corpse was disgusting. I wish I hadn’t seen it, and I haven’t seen it in the episode itself. I saw a screencap floating around tumblr. It’s funny, in a way, because my best friend warned me it happened and said, and I quote, “I don’t want you to see it.” And I appreciate that, and I wish I hadn’t seen it (I already had by the time she told me), but even that’s not what bothers me most. What bothers me most is the ending they gave him, the one that Dos Santos and Montgomery no doubt view as “happy” when in reality it’s anything but.

I mentioned earlier that I have nightmares about my biological mother. I do. They’re C-PTSD nightmares, in that they’re a direct result of the permanent trauma I’ve grown with as a result of what she did to me (because unlike incidental PTSD, which occurs from one thing, C-PTSD occurs from prolonged abuse and, when it happens in childhood/adolescence, develops the way you grow; it’s permanently affected my personality and I do not know who I would be today if all that hadn’t happened to me). But they’re not flashbacks to things she did. Rather, these dreams . . . usually, these nightmares take place in the present day, and for some reason I’ll be living with her again. The reason why is never explained in the dream, but she’ll be here, in my home, or I’ll be stuck in her house. And I’ll know in the dream that this is the way things are and have to be, but I’ll be miserable about it, I’ll be terrified, and I’ll feel there’s no way out but there’s nothing I can do. Oftentimes, she doesn’t do anything horrible to me in the dream; it’s her presence that’s enough to cause that, just as it was enough to cause me to flee at my sister’s wedding. Each time I have one of these dreams I wake up with my heart racing, and I’m “off” for the rest of the day. At one point, a close friend of mine thought I was angry with her because I was so distant when she saw me. Turns out, I wasn’t mad at her. I was dissociating for an entire day because I, at age twenty-eight, had another C-PTSD nightmare about being forced to live with my biological mother again.

And that’s what Dos Santos and Montgomery doomed Lotor to, for the rest of eternity: A nightmare from which he can never wake.

This is why that ending bothers me more than the shot of his corpse: Because I would rather die a thousand deaths by immolation than ever, ever have to live with my biological mother ever again. Lotor, having once flown along the surface of a sun to escape his father, no doubt feels the same way. Yet that’s the hand he’s been dealt: He now has to spend eternity with both of his abusers. The way it was framed (from what I know---I’ve only seen screencaps, admittedly), he’s supposedly supposed to be happy about this. Supposedly, Honerva regrets what she’s done and truly loves him. To that I say: I am still, and will never stop being, disgusted with the “mothers can’t truly hate and abuse their children, only fathers are true parental abusers” narrative that is pushed time and time again by media. I also say: That’s absolute nonsense and we all know it.

Dos Santos and Montgomery have told us, in their own words, what they think of survivors of child abuse who didn’t have positive support systems. I remember Dos Santos also saying that he knows people who don’t accept their biological parents as their parents, which implies to me that he doesn’t know what this is like first hand. I’m not surprised if that’s the case, for either of them. They gave Lotor the greatest punishment they could have ever given him. Letting him die in relative peace, to be released to the nothingness of death, would have been kinder than this, even if his body was burned along the way. But this? An eternity where there is no escape from Zarkon or Honerva? Even worse still, an eternity that he somehow believes will be different (out of character) simply because Zarkon and Honerva are behaving appropriately now, in front of an audience, when we all know that the cycle of abuse always has an end to the honeymoon phase so an abusive incident can happen again later?

It’s the worst fate imaginable. If I was given a choice upon my death of spending an eternity in Heaven with my biological mother, or an eternity in Hell without her, I would choose the latter. I would do whatever it took to get away from her. I know---I know---Lotor feels the same way about his parents. That his ending has stuck him with them regardless, and tried to play as though he was happy about it, shows us once and for all what kind of respect Dos Santos and Montgomery have for survivors of child abuse:

None.

(I shared a lot of personal stuff here, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t reblog this. Likes and replies are fine, but no reblogs. Thank you.)

#/#//#///#////#/////#prince lotor #voltron spoilers #vld spoilers #voltron salt #voltron negativity #abuse--//--cw

42 notes · View notes

seyaryminamoto · 6 years

Note

I've seen A LOT of people thinks Azula is one of the best villains created ever. Can you please list the reasons why? I'm interested.

Well, I’d think it’s kind of obvious, but if you would like to know…

Azula is a really successful character, and that makes her an even better villain. She defies a lot of typical villainous tropes because of many reasons I’ll explain later, but first of all I will insist on one thing: she is a CHARACTER, and not simply a villain. She’s not written merely as a foil in the way of the protagonists, even if she indeed serves as a foil. But she has her own goals, her own strengths and flaws, and as the story progresses you discover the complexities of her character that make her, by far, the best villain in the Avatar franchise. Yes, some people might say she’s not the best villain of all time, I’m not going to force you to agree on that if you like anyone else better, but the reasons why she stands out so much begin right here.

So, first off, she’s a character. She’s not omnipotent, she’s not undefeatable, she’s someone with a mission and who stops at nothing to achieve it (stubbornness of this kind is usually seen as positive traits in main characters, but it’s seen as terrifying in villains). She sets herself up for failure in some ways, as she has unstable and unequal relationships with her friends and everyone else around her, and she has unresolved issues with her mother and her father, not to mention a tumultuous relationship with her brother. So with both her strengths and flaws in mind, Azula feels like a villain who fits in the world we’ve seen so far. Nothing about her is particularly over the top, her bending skills are above and beyond everyone else’s because that makes her a bigger threat, yet Iroh can bend lightning too, for instance. It’s not presented as something unthinkable, even if she is extraordinary for it. She doesn’t really disrupt the rules of the Avatarverse for having blue fire, or for bending lightning, so she’s basically perfectly plausible in this universe.

Azula raises the stakes. Azula gives both Aang and Zuko a brand new villain they both struggle against in their own ways. Azula is out to capture them both, and she will do whatever it takes to succeed, so with her arrival into the show, the characters are somewhat split into three groups in Book 2: the common factor is that she’s always their enemy. A girl who only travels with two other girls can fight and chase both your show’s protagonists and keep them on their toes all along. Have you thought about how awesome that is?

Now, why do I say she defies villainous tropes? Well, I only just reblogged a fun post where they pointed out that Azula strikes Aang down when he’s in the middle of his Avatar State transformation. How many times have you watched shows where this happens? I watched plenty of magical girls shows as a kid, and I am a known Digimon fan: how many times didn’t I joke about how villains should just take out the good guys when they’re wasting 15 seconds of screen time, more or less, by transforming and acquiring all their powers? If you were anything like me, these tropes take you to a point where you have to knowingly suspend your disbelief and simply accept the lack of logic in the matter.

But no, Azula strikes. She sees Aang is floating up there, all extraordinary with his Avatar State mojo, and she decides there’s no point in fighting evenly when he’s in full power. She decides to take out this threat in whatever way she can, regardless of how underhanded and morally wrong it may be. But isn’t that the kind of behaviour you’d expect in a villain? The kind of thing that suits a bad guy, the thing that makes them a serious threat?

A huge thing that makes Azula absolutely extraordinary in my eyes, and it makes me think of Iago from Othello often: Azula plans and succeeds, at least in Book 2 and half of Book 3. She works hard, she doesn’t always win, things go wrong at times and yet? At the very moment where it mattered, Azula got what she wanted, just as Iago got what he wanted. No kidding, Iago gets caught, but not before he destroys Othello in the exact way he intended to. And THAT is what makes a villain worthwhile. The villain’s goal can be something as simple as stealing candy from a child, but if he succeeds and gets away with causing exactly the effect he intended to, regardless of what it costed, that villain is miles better than your average “I want to destroy the world because the writers were giving the hero something to fight against” villain.

So, Azula’s biggest scary factor is that she can be successful. And she’s NOT a big hazy bad guy, like her father, or all other Fire Lords: she’s out in the field, fighting her own battles, planning her strategies and making everything fall into place if she can.

As I said before, she CAN fail. She does, lots of times. But the show does something LOK, for instance, never really did: Azula wins in Book 2. In LOK Amon’s cause allegedly helps fix the bending privilege problem, and Unalaq gets to bring the spirits back, and Zaheer nearly makes Korra disappear forever, and Kuvira somehow gets to fix the Earth Kingdom in her own way. But… they’re all defeated. Zaheer and Kuvira end up in jail, Amon and Unalaq even DIE. None of these bad guys got to actually succeed, their causes apparently did, in roundabout ways, but not them as individuals.

Azula, on the other hand, succeeds in every level. Azula succeeds where so many others failed, even being the only character who ever came remotely close to killing Aang. She takes over Ba Sing Se with a plan that comes into place right in front of the viewer, and if you love her you relish in this (as I did), if you hate her you are horrified by how EVERYTHING IS GOING HER WAY. It’s not merely her cause that succeeds, the show doesn’t try to tell you that Azula’s victory is good in some roundabout way. Azula is portrayed in a bad light, as a villain, as a real threat to the heroes, and to the values the show is presenting. And she doesn’t wait around for others to fulfill her orders: she goes out to take care of things herself, even fighting without her bending if that’s is how she can protect her nation and father.

As a comparison: how many times in Book 1 did any of us ever really think Zuko was going to succeed at capturing Aang? I, personally, never really thought he was going to do it, not only because of spoilers but because Zuko didn’t feel nearly as threatening as Azula did. Was it because of his temper? Was it because of humorous situations written around him? I don’t really know, but Zuko, as annoying and persistent as he was, and as often as he showed up in pursuit of Aang, never seemed likely to get what he wanted. And he didn’t, despite he had a few chances for it. The writing always frustrated his attempts to capture Aang, or to set traps for him… basically, Zuko always failed when it mattered most.

And Azula failed, plenty. But she didn’t simply fail: she changed her tactics, found new ways to handle the problem, and eventually when Book 2′s ending arrives you’re left with the feeling that this girl simply cannot be stopped. She’s not like Zuko, who worked hard but it never paid off. She’s not like Zhao either, who also made his efforts and found new resources but still failed more often than not. She’s not simply a bending powerhouse like Combustion Man, nor was she like Long Feng, who, yes, was successful for most his life but we only get to meet him when things start to go wrong for him. And she’s also not like Ozai, who was indeed the ominous final boss waiting to show himself at the very end of the story.

So, Azula manages to be a character while being a villain, something rare in mainstream media (seriously, this is the problem of every single Marvel film except for the original Thor. This is why none of their villains are truly memorable or meaningful). And she also manages to be a successful villain, rather than another of those “scary” ones who really seemed to be about to succeed but were stopped at the very last minute: no, she gets what she wants, kills the Avatar as far as she knows, captures her uncle, brings her brother home, and takes over Ba Sing Se. She hits the jackpot, pretty much, but it wasn’t a matter of luck: it was a matter of skill, of adapting to the circumstances and working hard for the sake of her mission.

And that’s just Book 2. In Book 3 she keeps up the efficiency until the betrayal, foiling the brilliant Invasion plans and succeeding at stopping the heroes yet again. By the time her breakdown happens, it’s source really goes back to Azula’s own flaws and problems, to character issues that, although present, were yet to be explored. Yes, it’s terribly convenient for Zuko that his sister would lose her mind exactly when he needed her to, but even then, Azula’s downfall serves to enhance her character’s complexity. It could have been handled better, but as it was, it allowed the viewers to see how damaged she truly is, deep down, and that, again, is what makes her a character and not simply a villain.

That’s more or less the gist of it, but there’s other reasons too, no doubt. All the same, Azula sets a hard bar to match for many villains in mainstream media, and only a handful of them have reached it (if they have, I don’t know how many have overcome it). And that would be why saying she’s the greatest villain of all time has become such a popular thing to do as of late :’)

#anon #azula

285 notes · View notes

spacebrick3 · 6 years

Text

WHG - Kjiersten’s Victory

Alright, so I felt I should make something to describe Kjiersten’s victory in the Writeblr Hunger Games; (I can’t do any of the other days really since this turned out to be like 3k words already and I do need to actually get other stuff done haha)

It’s going along with the rebellion/conspiracy started by @ratracechronicler and @concealeddarkness13 - also, @writer-denois and @owlsofstarlight your characters Ra’ae and Maldl showed up as the only other two in the final days of the Games.

I should have an ‘after-the-games’ post made for Kjiersten as well sometime, but here’s my take on how the Games ended;

Day 19:

Kjiersten stood at the edge of the forest, thinking. All three of the tributes had managed to get together the night before, but with the Capitol clearly listening in, there had been no way to discuss how they would get out. It had been an awkward conversation, then, none of them able to say what was on their minds, but there had been some interesting topics brought up, and they had been able to learn a bit more. Like the fact that Maldl had once served in a communication outpost left over from the days before Panem, handling the wires there.

They glanced over at the trees. It seemed like a nice day for some whittling.

Grabbing a vaguely straight tree branch, they hiked back into the forest, around where they knew the other two tributes had been last night. They were both District 11, so they’d likely stick together. Then, making sure he was close enough to the clearing that the tributes would be able to hear them, they started scraping at the edge of the branch with their knife.

Scrape. Scrrrrrrrape. Scrape. Scrape. Pause. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Pause. Scrrrrrrrape. Pause. Scrrrrrrrape. Scrape. They kept methodically slicing at the edge of the bark, making as much noise as possible, until they were almost sure they had to have attracted the attention of at least one of them. Then they repeated their small statement, making sure that Maldl would be able to understand it:

Lstn. Msg. Rply w 1 arw e.

They were sitting about to the southeast of the clearing. Ra’ae had been carrying a massive longbow the day before, and Kjiersten waited for about five minutes before a long, black-shafted arrow came whistling through the trees a few meters away from them, directly east. They had their attention. Again they turned their attention to the branch, clearing another section of bark to get the next message across:

hg nds. tdy o tmrw. o Cp wl snd smthg. Y? N?

Another few minutes passed, presumably while the two of them translated the message. Then came the sound of an axe chopping at wood, five strokes delivered quick, then the same five to repeated the message.

Chop. Chop. Chop. Chop. Pause. Chop.

SN. Understood. Maldl and Ra’ae were agreeing, and also implicitly stating that they would follow their lead on this. Kjiersten mulled for a second about how the other two could fake their deaths. It would be the best course of action, especially since the Capitol had always been suspicious of their leadership of the Connection Project. Losing the Games would mean losing that - at least in the open - and that couldn’t happen. And besides, he thought a little ruefully, it would be nice to win the Games, at least in practice if not theory.

R, they finally sent. expls at nw cnr. st off nd rmv trckr. hc pk. QSL? (Do you acknowledge?)

QSL, came the reply. Acknowledged. Ra’ae was going to go find the explosive Kjiersten had rigged up back - was it two weeks ago now? The Games were really starting to blur their perception of time. Ra’ae would set it off from a distance, with any projectile he could find, then rip his tracker out. The others - Tom and Kallias especially, although they guessed a majority of the mentors might be in on it by now - would come collect them then, and most of the Capitol would be none the wiser.

What about Maldl, though? Both of District 11 dying together, especially after having been alive so long, would be suspicious. And if they died simply setting off a trap, the Gamemakers would be even more incensed. Best to let things go out with a bang, then.

M. Tmrw. Hr. Fht s Cp wnt spct ayt. Fg ot wo srv thr. QSL?

More silence, and they worried that they’d omitted too many letters in the interest of speed. But finally the reply came back QSL, and they sighed in relief. Tomorrow morning, they and Maldl would meet back here for a fight, and they’d decide then who would win and who would fake their death. But until then, there was nothing to do but kill a few hours until the next day, although hopefully not literal killing.

What to do until then? They looked down at the now mostly-shaved stick in their hand, and shrugged. Why not whittling?

Night 19:

The anthem had just finished playing. They had managed to get to a hill overlooking the northwest part of the forest, and looked up just in time to see a blinding flash of light illuminate the edge of the dark mass of trees. Flaming debris lit a few of nearby trees ablaze, and they burned with bright yellow light. Smoke billowed into the air.

Even though they knew it was fake, they couldn’t help but wince. That was a much bigger explosion than they had expected, and they hoped Ra’ae had known more about the explosives than they had and had been able to get out of the way in time. But they couldn’t know, not until after the Games ended. Even as they still stared down at the conflagration, a pitch-black Capitol hovercraft descended through the smoke and fire to retrieve him. It hovered only a second over the edge of the flames before launching itself back into the sky.

Kjiersten watched it go until it was only a speck in the sky. They hoped desperately that Ra’ae was alright, and that they hadn’t just witnessed a sacrifice like Val had performed the Games before in order to make Dean’s win believable. Something like that shouldn’t have to happen here. Everyone else had been able to get out fine - Veth, Kaine, Erya, Kallias - they’d watched them all get rescued, picked up in nondescript hovercraft and taken to the safe house. Sadie too, although they were sure there’d be no shortage of teasing about the fall that had allowed her to rip her tracker out. Especially since they themselves had managed to get up the trees several times to rest.

Tomorrow was coming fast and with it, the end of the Games, one way or another.

Day 20:

It was time. Early this morning, they had hiked back down from their hill and back to the clearing, trying to decide which weapon would be best for a theatrical fight. They found a mace they didn’t remember picking up or even carrying around, as well as a few different knives and one Molotov cocktail, but no matches. Barring anything else, the mace would probably be best to give the Capitol a show. At the very least, it looked interesting. They shuddered at the thought of having to actually use it, though, and hoped Maldl had either a way to convincingly fake his or their death.

Maldl had gotten there before them, and stood, bored, leaning on a massive longsword. They were taken aback slightly - where had he managed to hide that when the three of them had been talking? - but recovered, trying to adopt the same casual position with the ‘mace-over-the-shoulder-“ look. Since that nearly overbalanced them and made them fall over, they decided against it.

“So!” he called, voice echoing. “This is where it ends. Right here, right now!”

Typical theatre. The Capitol would be eating it up. “Unless you want to keep chasing each other back and forth. There’s just the two of us now. No point in dragging it any further!” they shouted back.

“Well then, who’s it going to be? Me or you?” he shouted again, raising the sword and charging. Kjiersten managed to drag the mace of the ground and block his stroke, the longsword locking against the head of the mace. “So what’s our plan?” Maldl hissed against the rasp of steel on steel.

“One of us has to fake dying!” they whispered back, pulling the mace away and stumbling back. He spun the sword in his hands, an impressively agile move for a five-foot-long blade, then spun an underhand stroke at them, which they were only barely able to block.

“Again, me or you?”

“I don’t know! Are you a good actor?”

He grinned. “The best.” Then he twisted his sword, wrenching the mace up and out of Kjiersten’s hands. Dimly, they heard it clatter to the ground behind them. “At acting, that is.”

“What?” they asked, taking a nervous step back. “No - no, you’re not doing this.”

“I am,” he said, his face changing from his amiable smile into something harder. “But you’d know about it, wouldn’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” they asked desperately. “Please - I just want to help everybody get out of here alive? Why are you trying to stop that?”

“Get everybody out alive?” he asked mockingly. “You tell that to Ra’ae too, before you killed him?”

“I-“

“You modified that explosive last night! Gave it a bigger radius and everything! I watched him die, Kjiersten! He thought he was safe and then you killed him!”

They felt their blood run cold. So their suspicions last night had been correct. The blast radius of the mines had been changed to be larger than usual, probably by some sadistic or ‘tech-savvy’ sponsor. They hadn’t known, even though probably even a cursory inspection could have revealed it. And now Ra’ae was dead because of it. Actually dead, not all this Games faking-your-death stunts they’d been trying to arrange. “Why?” they whispered to themselves. “Why did this have to happen?” they asked again, louder this time. Falling to their knees, they stared at the ground as if it could hold the answers now.

“He was my friend!” Maldl shouted. “So now I’m just paying you back! You thought you were safe here, and now you’re going to die! Sound familiar?” As he shouted, he spun the sword again, then brought it down in a sweeping arc. Silver flashed bright in the morning sun as the blade whistled through the air.

Just before it hit, Kjiersten looked up at it. Time seemed to slow, and they realized something. Even though it felt like a part of them had been ripped out at the news of Ra’ae’s death, they hadn’t done it. They hadn’t made the mine or even modified it. Maybe they were complicit, but they were not at fault. Maldl was wrong.And despite everything, they still didn’t want to die.

With a cry of despair, they dove out of the way. A tearing pain split their left side as the sword came down, but they managed to get far enough that they could claw their way back up to a standing position. “Not ready to die quite yet?” Maldl asked, venom in his words. “That’s alright. Ra’ae wasn’t either.”

“I didn’t do it!” they managed to choke out. “Can’t you understand? I wasn’t the one who modified that mine!”

“Sure. Tell that to Ra’ae.”

“Damn it, Maldl, I’m trying to help you!” they shouted, wincing as the pain in their side flared again. Pressing a hand to it, they found it sticky with blood. “We can still both make it!”

He lowered the sword for a second, eyes blazing with anger. “One of us is going to die here today. If the only way to live is to accept the help of a murderer, then I believe I will be happy to go down fighting.”

“Please! No matter who dies today, Ra’ae’s still going to be dead!” They stumbled over to where the mace lay. Suns of Thiorna, they didn’t want to fight. But they didn’t want to die either. And they had a terrible feeling that, in just a few minutes, those desires would enter direct conflict.

“Yes, he is,” he agreed. “But, personally, I have a feeling that it might be more than a little dishonorable to his memory to accept the help of his murderer.” He adopted a fighting stance, sword held out straight in front of him. “No more words. It ends here.”

“PLEASE!” Kjiersten shouted, but it didn’t do any good. Maldl charged. They managed to dive out of the way, raising the weapon defensively and listening to the shrieks of metal on metal. No theater this time. “I didn’t kill him! I had no idea the mines were changed! Just listen!”

“No. You broke your word to Ra’ae,” he said, swiping at their head and missing by just a few inches. “I’ve no reason to trust whatever you say.”

They raised the mace to fend off a particularly vicious swing. “Maldl. Please! I am begging you – just let us get out of here! Continue-“ Metal clashed on metal again as he slowly drove them back, their feet sliding uselessly on the ground. “-continue your vendetta later! But right now you’re just playing into the Capitol’s hands!”

“So were you!” he shouted. “Betraying Ra’ae with a trap! I’m sure the Gamemakers just loved that!”

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t kill him!” They knew it was useless, though. Maldl had seen Ra’ae die and blamed Kjiersten for it, and in all honesty it was an understandable reaction. If they had watched Sadie die – following orders from someone who had promised them safety – they suspected they’d react similarly. “Please, Maldl!”

He shook his head. “No,” he said, “I don’t think so.” Then he started to advance again, swinging the sword wildly in front of him.

They stumbled backwards, frantically looking for a way out. In a perfect world, they would have had the advantage here – Maldl was almost blind with rage now, and any experienced fighter would have been able to slip through his defense. The problem, of course, was that the world was not perfect and that they were far from an experienced fighter. Plus, they didn’t want to kill Maldl if it could be helped, but he appeared to have no such qualms.

So what could they do? Kjiersten was fairly sure almost the entire Capitol hovercraft fleet was under their control – if they could make it look like Maldl was dead, and remove the tracker somehow, then he could be picked up. But he was getting closer, sword still windmilling in front of him, and they were running out of places to go to.

Their gaze fell on their backpack, on the other side of the clearing, and something resembling a plan began to form. There were weapons there, weapons he wouldn’t know about. That could give them enough of an edge, at least for a few seconds, that it was possible they could overpower him and win the fight. It’d be hard to get around him, though, and-

You know what? they decided. Screw the worrying. Either I do it right or it’s not my problem anymore. And with those inspiring words, they grabbed the mace and threw it at him, whipping it through the air towards his head.

He flinched and ducked, which gave them the opening they needed to dive past him and start running. The backpack was close, and they had just managed to scoop it up when Maldl tackled them from behind. They crashed to the ground, managing to keep their grip on the backpack but screaming in pain as the fall seemed to rip open their side again. Somehow they managed to roll over, and found themselves looking up into a face contorted in rage.

“This is how it ends!” he shouted, levelling the sword.

“Maldl-“ they managed to gasp out. “Just – one – Ra’ae said something – for you – he talked to me-“

“Did he now?” he asked, putting a little less pressure on.

No.“Yes – he was talking to me – about you – and he said-“ While they were trying to think what a fictional Ra’ae would have said about Maldl, their other hand scrabbled in the backpack, looking for – where was it? – there.

“What did he say?!” he almost screamed at them, pressing the sword once more into their neck. “Tell me nowor you die!”

“He – he said-“ In one movement, they pulled their hand out of the backpack and threw what they had managed to grab at Maldl. The Molotov, though it wasn’t lit, was still a fragile glass bottle full of liquid. It shattered in a burst of glass shards and alcohol, sending him reeling back, almost dropping the sword as he clawed at his face.

They didn’t wait. Closing their fingers around one of the knives, they lunged at Maldl and buried it in his upper arm. He screamed in pain, but they still twisted the knife, burying it deeper until they saw a glint of gold and copper instead of the silver knife. A flick of the blade, and the small computer chip was out.

Maldl was still fighting, though, and he managed to backhand Kjiersten with the butt of the sword. They managed to stay upright, but it gave him the time he needed to clear the blood, glass, and alcohol from his face. If he had been murderous before, they thought distantly, now he was pushing the verge of madness. His eyes gleamed with a burning light through the mess of cuts and bruises, and his mouth was twisted into a snarl.

“Now-“ they started, but he cut them off. With an incoherent scream of rage, he threw himself towards Kjiersten, who only barely managed to dodge in time. They dropped the knife, leaving themselves with only the mace – a knife wouldn’t help against this kind of fighting. No more time to think as Maldl barreled towards him again, sword whistling in a deadly arc.

Think – what could they use? They weren’t more experienced fighters than Maldl, not even in his state of unthinking rage. So they had to be smarter. He had brute strength on his side, but he wasn’t using it as well as he could have. So how could they use that to their advantage?

The first thought that came to their mind was leverage. Their mace was heavier than his sword, and with the way he was swinging it…They waited for Maldl to take a particularly vicious swipe, bringing the sword in from the left. Then, gritting their teeth and knowing that there were about a hundred ways this could go wrong, they stepped betweenhim and the blade, using the mace and the weight of their body to twist the sword from his hands.

Maldl tried to step back and recover, but Kjiersten didn’t let him. This might be their only chance, and they didn’t want to let it slip away now. They wrenched the mace up and over and slammed it into his head. As they had brought it down, though, they had let their fingers slip down the handle to the point where only the handle, and not the spiked end, had slammed into his head. He was unconscious, cut and bloody, but he was alive. The Games were not going to claim another victim.

He looked terrible, though – crumpled on the ground, with his face covered in blood. His arm looked a mess, and they hoped they hadn’t damaged anything while they were trying to cut the tracker out. But it was necessary – Maldl had to both look dead and act dead, and they didn’t think he would have done either of those willingly.

After just a few minutes, a silvery-grey hovercraft descended from the sky. They knew they should get out of the way, but they had a question they needed to ask. The pilot, who they recognized as one of the mentors, emerged from the ship to pick up Maldl, and shook his head. “You should get out of here,” he said. “Dangerous for you to be seen too close.”

“Wait – please,” they said, raising their hands in a pleading gesture. “I just need to know – is Ra’ae really dead? Did that explosive really kill him?”

The pilot was silent for a second. “I don’t know,” he said. “It wasn’t one of ours which picked him up – it was a genuine Capitol hovercraft. How they got there before us, I don’t know. So Ra’ae might be alive, just in the Capitol’s custody. We’re thinking of mounting a mission to get inside – possibly with the help of your Connection Project – and seeing if we can find him. You’ll be updated as things happen.”

They nodded. “Thank you.” The pilot saluted, and turned back to the craft with Maldl’s limp form in tow. Kjiersten watched as the hovercraft lifted off again, engines rotating back to horizontal once the ship had cleared the trees.

It was over. They had won the Hunger Games. Almost all of the tributes from this Games had been rescued – a greater percentage than they’d ever managed before. They were people who would be able to build or continue their lives back home, or join the rebellion and help to build better lives for everybody.

It should have been an achievement. They should have felt proud – after all, winning the Games was almost the ultimate status symbol in Panem. But it felt like a hollow victory. It felt like they had failed the people they were supposed to be protecting.

Just one, he thought miserably. One tribute. One out of the six. Five others got rescued. That’s a pretty good percentage, isn’t it?

No. Because it’s one tribute who I failed. Who’s not going to get back to their family. Who’s not going to be able to live the life they could have had. And that’s the problem here. Rescuing tributes from the Games is just treating the symptoms. The Capitol needs to fall for any of this to be worth it.

But you did the best you could. You couldn’t have known that the explosive would have been modified.

I could have checked. Because there’s no room for ‘good enough’ in engineering and there’s no room for it here. I should have done better.

It’s too late now, isn’t it?

No .Because it wasn’t over yet. There was still the messy business of revolution to come, and they would need people to help, to protect those who were trying to make the world better. They’d been hesitant, before, about committing the resources of the Connection Project to the revolution. But the revolution would need it. And now they knew what the others had been through. How they’d suffered just to stay alive. And as they stood there, hovercraft long vanished into the clear blue sky, they promised themselves that nobody else – not a single person– would have to go through it again.

A note: Transcript of each of the messages in Day 19:

Kjiersten: Listen. Message. Reply [to acknowledge] with one arrow east. [arrow is shot east] Kjiersten: Hunger Games end. Today or tomorrow. Or the Capitol will send something. Yes or no? Maldl: Understood Kjiersten: Ra’ae. Explosive at the northwest corner [of the forest]. Set it off and remove your tracker. Hovercraft will pick you up. Do you acknowledge? Ra’ae: Acknowledged Kjiersten: Maldl. Tomorrow. Here. Fight so the Capitol won’t suspect anything. Figure out who survives there. Do you acknowledge? Maldl: Acknowledged.

#writeblr hunger games #hg: kjiersten #but i like it #sorry if i got either of your characters wrong #but here it is #kjiersten as a revolutionary #bonus rebellion material #is that the right tag?#i hope so

8 notes · View notes

evakuality · 7 years

Text

Let’s talk about Isak

So here we are at the second of the meta posts I wanted to write, and for which I created this blog in order to have somewhere to put them. This one is about Isak all on his own. He’s such a complex, interesting character and I’m constantly fascinated by him. However, as in all fandoms, there are certain perceptions of him that have become accepted as universal truths to the point that most fic and art uses those ideas as if they are canon. Since I’m in an analytical mood, I’m going to take a look and see just how accurate they all are. Again, I could write a book on all the things I agree with about Isak: he’s smart, he’s analytical, he’s an introvert, he loves Even etc etc. But there’s not much use in rehashing that stuff again, so I’m going to look at things where I either disagree or at least partially do.

First: That he’s small and weak.

Okay, so I take major exception to this one. It’s probably one of the ones that bothers me the most. Take that as an acknowledgement that I come into this with a bias against it, but I’ll still try to be fair. Obviously, the actor grew over the course of the show and this has an impact on how we perceive the character. Season one Isak isn’t noticeably taller than the people around him. He’s still not what I would call short, but he’s not a towering giant either. However, by season three Isak is pretty damn tall. I know this is Scandinavia and there’s a stereotype that they’re tall people as a general rule and so someone as tall as Isak isn’t necessarily going to appear out of place or even particularly tall. Having said that, however, it’s important to note that even for this group of people, Isak is not one of the smallest. He’s one of the tallest. He’s close to Magnus in height and it’s hard to tell which one has the edge. I think it changes depending on the angle of the shots, and both of them are noticeably taller than their other friends. There is one other thing that has an impact on how we see Isak, of course. That one thing we can all agree on, and it is that Even is very tall, taller than the rest of them. This creates a false impression of Isak as small, and he even looks delicate next to Even in the final clip of season 3 due to the costumes each is wearing. I understand that this is what has fueled the perception that he is small, delicate, weak etc, however it’s still wrong. There are a few inches at most between the two of them, and by season 4 that difference seems even smaller, probably due to the actor still growing.

The problem I have with this is that ‘small’ Isak is almost always coupled with ‘delicate, weak, needing protection and looking after’ Isak. The fandom often has Isak as wearing Even’s clothes and them swimming on him. Which is just blatantly, actually wrong. In canon we see Even in Isak’s clothes and they fit perfectly. These two are pretty much the exact same size and could probably share clothes for the rest of their lives and not have to worry about them not fitting. It seems like the intention with this idea in fic is to infantilize Isak because along with this ‘he swims in Even’s clothes’ comes an idea that he can’t look after himself, but that’s a comment for another part of this post. Another side effect of this infantilization is that Isak is generally cast as weak. In fic and headcanons (and sometimes art, though forgive me I’m new to this business and I don’t see as much art as I do fic etc so it’s less on my radar), if someone is going to sweep someone else up it’s generally Even. If someone needs carrying over a threshold it’s Isak. However, in the show we see the opposite. In the birthday video, Isak is the one who lifts Even onto his shoulders. Isak is the one who’s shown to be working out. Isak is the one who has definition and muscle in his body (seen earlier in the show, too; this isn’t a new development). He’s very obviously not weak.

Second: He’s manipulative

It’s fairly clear where this one comes from. After all, Isak spent season one manipulating his friends and was spectacularly successful in his actions. Right? Well, yes and no. Yes, he did what he could deliberately to try to make things difficult between Jonas and Eva. He succeeded in making things worse and causing Eva a lot more misery than she might otherwise have endured. However, I do not agree that he broke them up. It’s not like this was a healthy relationship and would have remained secure and stable if not for Isak. No, they had serious problems and difficulties already and his actions, while reprehensible and designed for his own gain, made no difference to the health or otherwise of the relationship. As Eva says later, he didn’t fuck things up between them, they did that themselves. I’ve only seen season one once, so I’m not totally certain of all the details, but his manipulations during it feel more off the cuff anyway. They seem to be things that he thinks of in the moment to work for him. He’s certainly not through everything through because he doesn’t plan for contingencies or for what will happen if he’s found out. This, then, is where the idea of Isak being a master manipulator comes from. It’s partially true because he does do some very underhand things in order to get the result he desires. The problem is … he’s not actually very good at lying and manipulating.

This is most clear in season three when he’s with Even and bails on both sets of other plans for the evening. Manipulation 101 would have you tell both sets the same lie or ensure that they can’t contact each other to prove you’re not being honest. However, not long later he’s been called on it because he told two different and easily verified lies to the two groups. They know, almost immediately, that he’s lying. Not exactly master manipulative material. Then his go-to excuse for ditching the boys is that he has a family thing. He uses this so often that it’s become something of an in joke. The boys clearly know he’s lying, as shown when Mahdi teases him about going to a family thing when he leaves the party they’re trying to get into. He can’t keep his emotions off his face, either. His misery is clear in his expression and his body language through much of his season and the boys are obviously hovering in the background concerned about him. Even during season one he’s not the expert people suggest. His actions come to light when Iben tells Eva that Isak is the one who’s spreading things around because he didn’t make sure that it couldn’t be traced to him. That he never learns from this experience to become a better manipulator is actually testament to the idea that he’s just not invested in this as an activity and that when he tries he’s not actually good at it.

The one way in which he’s actually successful at it is with girls. He has a very practiced mask which he pulls on and uses to get girls to fall into his arms. He’s very believable in this instance as it’s important to him to maintain that facade of heterosexuality. Emma falls for it on numerous occasions and it can’t be denied that he’s doing this again for his own benefit. However, it’s an understandable set of actions from someone who’s very insecure about his place and how he might be perceived if he strays off the accepted path. It’s very telling that the only times he’s actually successful at lying and manipulation are when there are very high stakes for his own life (or if we include Jonas/Eva, when there’s a very shaky foundation ready to fall anyway). This is not Isak’s natural state and tends to stem from misery rather than maliciousness when it happens. It doesn’t excuse what he does at all, but he’s definitely not a master at this.

Third: He’s a spoiled brat

Another of these persistent ideas in this fandom is that Isak is a pampered, spoiled brat who gets everything done for him when he stamps his feet petulantly. This Isak has an Even who falls over himself to do everything for him and to whom his petulance is an endearing trait. I touched on some of this in my previous meta, but there are some other things to note. Most prominently, that Isak has been looking out for his own well being for a very long time. During season one, his father leaves him at home with his clearly mentally ill mother. This is speculation at this point, but if she’s as bad as she appears to be later on, it’s unlikely that she was capable of caring for herself and for Isak full time at this stage. He’s likely to have had to be self sufficient at least part of this period. It’s also worth noting that Isak left this home to live in a stranger’s basement because that seemed to be a better option to him. How awful must it have been to live at home if that solution was ‘better’ to him!

That other meta deals with Isak as a domestic person so I won’t do it again. But alongside that issue is the idea that Isak is always grumpy and that Even indulges this and lets him get away with being a brat. But is he that bratty? I would argue that no he isn’t. He’s grumpy and sarcastic, yes, but that doesn’t make him a brat (and let’s not get too much into the infantilization that suggests, too, since brats are usually considered to be young and childish). Isak has a temper and can be prone to fly off the handle with little provocation, and yes in those moments Even does get very solicitous and calms him down. But what this line of reasoning forgets is how Isak does the same for Even. When Even gets into his funks (‘this isn’t going to work’ etc) Isak calmly and firmly shuts him down. We also see him wrapping Even in a blanket to keep him warm and safe, we see him rescuing Even at karaoke when he gets upset. We see Isak looking after Even emotionally at least as often as we see Even doing the same for Isak. This is a partnership, and they are equal. No-one is a brat or spoiled; they both support each other.

Fourth: he’s submissive and shy

Probably the most prevalent of the fandom’s ideas on Isak is this one. But Isak is hardly shy at all and definitely not the submissive type during what we see in the show. He’s a little wary and unsure with Even to start with because he’s probably never been in a situation where he’s been so attracted to someone else before, but he doesn’t lack confidence or assertiveness. He’s deeply attracted to Even, in a way that makes him blushy and a bit stuttery, and yet he asks him on their second meeting to buy him some beer. That’s not a submissive person. He goes out of his way to find Even and he demands answers from him when he’s been seemingly flakey (‘where have you been?’ etc). When Even comes to his home after the text exchange, Isak is the one to move forward and kiss Even. I’m not suggesting that he’s dominant and aggressive, but he isn’t scared to go after what he wants and he’s definitely not scared to speak his mind. That’s not just with Even, either. He’s got a quick wit and he loves to sting those around him, particularly when they’ve been ignorant (‘that doesn’t mean you have any more game’ and ‘I was going to ask you the same thing’ etc). He hits Mikael for some nebulous reason and spits aggressive attacks at the homophobe on the street. Isak is not one to sit back and let things be done to him if he has some way to retaliate. All of this is said much more eloquently in this post, so I suggest reading that one for more detail on this point.

The one thing where this seems like a less confident Isak might be true is when he follows Even basically wherever he wants to go and when he goes very soft and pliant when he’s with Even. However, neither of these things necessarily mean he’s submissive. He follows Even because Even has fun, exciting, reckless ideas and Isak is always up for doing fun, exciting, reasonably reckless things. He also has enough ideas of his own that Even often goes along with. He suggests they go to the party at his place, and as shown before he’s the one who often initiates kissing etc. It’s not all a one-way street. The fact that Isak gets soft and cuddly with Even has less to do with submission and more to do with being comfortable in his own skin. In all of these scenes he’s in a place where he feels he can be himself and be relaxed. As the show wears on, those places he feels that way expand and it’s not just Even that he’s soft around. The last time we see him in season three, he’s chatting to Eva. he looks comfortable, he’s smiling, he’s genuine, and he’s relaxed. Even is there but he’s not the one isak’s talking to. The scenes with Sana in season 4 move further and further to a place of real comfort and ability to relax until the end when he’s comfortable enough to tell her that he got a 5 on his test, and his body language is relaxed and his smile genuine despite there being no Even in the shot. This suggests that an Isak who is comfortable in himself and the situation is actually quite relaxed and comfortable regardless of whether Even is there or not.

Now, am I saying all this to suggest that people don’t write or headcanon this way? No, of course not. But I do think it’s good sometimes to sit back and examine our assumptions and realise how much of what we do is not based on what is actually presented in the show.

#skam #isak #my meta stuff

250 notes · View notes

hillnerd · 6 years

Text

Taking a Shallow Breath Ch 7

Ships: Rose/Scorpius, canon and others | FF.net

Romance friendship comedy family & drama | starts super silly- will get more serious as we go.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6

A person's front door can say a great deal about them.

Some people enjoy choosing grande hand-carved doors that have history, and speak of times of old. Scorpius tended to like people who chose such doors. It meant they appreciated artistry, quality, and could embrace the unique. They also had a flair for drama. Rose loved those kinds of doors.

Some people prefer the clean lines of an Edwardian door. These usually put more effort into the knobs, hinges, and door-knockers than the wood itself. They speak of someone who enjoys details, while being beyond the fuss of the overly grande, and relatively down to earth. Scorpius had such a door.

There were also doors filled with character but no artistry. Albus had such a door. It was beaten up from years of use, a faded orange color, and the number six hung down so that it looked like a nine. He had a shoddy matt out front with stripes, and though it was anything but put together, it had a certain charm about it.

And finally there was the red hunk of metal Brad had the audacity to call a door.

It bore no decoration- there wasn't even a welcome matt: just a cold steel handle, highly glossy red metal and a black peep hole. It spoke of someone slick like the varnish, cool like the metal, and flashy like that atrocious tomato red.

Scorpius hated that door.

What he hated even more was that he had been staring at it for one hour, nineteen minutes, and ten seconds.

"Rose! Open this door! This is getting ridiculous!" yelled Brad.

One hour, nineteen minutes, and fifteen seconds with the poncy owner himself.

"Calling her actions ridiculous will hardly entice her to leave," Scorpius drawled from the floor.

Brad tried another spell. The door glowed blue then turned garish red again.

"You've also tried that spell already," said Scorpius, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Rose's Charms are the best. Get a magical locksmith: I doubt drawing up contracts for overpaid Quidditch stars has improved your charms enough to worm your way in."

Scorpius was satisfied to see Brad's shoulders tense. Until Brad, Scorpius had never met someone he could not get a rise out of when he wanted to. He had never seen the man lose his cool, which made Al's theory that 'Bert' was not human slightly more plausible.

"It's a Sunday. Magical Locksmiths are like banks and private practice Healers- closing at the merest hint of a Holiday or weekend." Brad leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. "Rose's Uncle is a cursebreaker... Perhaps I could get him to open the door."

"If you want the whole Weasley family to know your personal business with Rose, by all means do," said Scorpius. "I'm sure her father would be keen to know why his only daughter has barricaded herself."

Brad blanched.

"You know, this is probably the most I've ever heard you talk, Scorpius."

Scorpius stoically did not mention he despised Brad and generally made excuses to escape his company.

"I suppose I just don't see enough of you and Al, though I think Al orchestrates that. He seems to rather despise me. If it weren't for the fact that he and Rose were cousins ,I'd think he were jealous."

"He is very protective of Rose," Scorpius said with a schooled shrug.

"As are you."

Scorpius remained silent. He didn't like where Brad was probing with this conversation.

"You know, there is a closeness between you and Rose I quite envy at times..."

"Perhaps, if you weren't so busy negotiating with Melrose Fenwick, you could spend time with Rose," said Scorpius.

"We spend plenty of time together," Brad said with a raunchy smile that made Scorpius roll his eyes. "But I still envy your friendship. Sometimes I even worry she tells you things she would never tell me."

"I wouldn't know. I'm not privy to your private conversations, after all." Scorpius could not recall being more uncomfortable. He hoped this would bring an end to this intimate look into Brandon Bradley's perspective. He came from a family where you were taught to never reveal your weaknesses, or worries, for fear they would be exploited later. Being a Slytherin only further enforced this. Scorpius had very few people he trusted with his insecurities, secrets and dreams. Brad would never be one of them, and he had no idea why Brad felt the need to share such details with him.

"She's incredibly special, you know? I even wonder how I was lucky enough to catch her."

Scorpius had pondered that subject many a time.

"I don't pretend to understand your relationship, but your friendship means a great deal to her, so whatever it is you're holding against me, I hope we can move past it. I know she'd appreciate it if we got along," said Brad.

Scorpius resisted a gaffaw.

Either Brad was very shrewd, or he was a much more gracious person than Scorpius had thought him. He hoped it was the former, that way his continued hatred would feel even more just. Was he trying to weasel something of a confession out of Scorpius?

Or maybe he was hoping to use Scorpius as a way to quickly earn Rose's forgiveness.

Scorpius had never cared much for Brad. The man was much too keen to have everyone's approval, an attribute Scorpius disdained. What tolerance he had for Brad dipped when he took up with Rose three years prior- but following the proposal, Scorpius found it hard to recall one pleasant thing about him. If someone like Rose could manage to stand the bastard, he had to have at least one redeeming feature, and after thinking, Scorpius discovered it. He had clean fingernails. There! That was surely enough for karma's sake.

Looking at the shiny door, Scorpius could make out their reflections as they sat together. At first glance one might think the rivals friends.

What if they were friends? Wouldn't Rose appreciate it? Wouldn't Scorpius have more opportunities to sabotage Brad and leave him in a crying mess on the floor for others to mock?

Scorpius felt a bit ill. It was uncomfortable to come to terms with how deeply rooted and savage his feelings towards Brad had become.

The most ruthless part of him wanted to sabotage Brad in every way. He did not want to stop at just stealing Rose, but hurt Brad's reputation, and leave him gutted. He wanted revenge against the ponce for ever having taken Rose's time and attention.

He shook his head to rid himself of this dangerous territory of thought. He never considered himself spiteful- though he had been known as a bit harsh at times, he was nothing if not fair. He was not terribly fluent in underhanded dealings, only ever dabbling in them when necessary, for he had always regarded himself as above that. He was a pillar of virtue, compared to many of the Slytherins he knew.

Of course, being friendly with Brad could have other benefits, like research on how to get Rose to see all the faults in him Scorpius and Al did. He would finally end the hold Brad had on Rose's affections, and if Brad would suffer, so be it.

"Yes, she would appreciate us getting along," Scorpius finally conceded.

"I'm willing to try."

"And I'm willing... to look past your atrocious taste in architectural features."

Brad laughed.

"Yeah, it's not quite as classic as your tastes-"

"That's one way to put it," said Scorpius with a raised brow at the door.

"I suppose that's why you're the architect."

"I don't have any business cards with me, but feel free to floo my secretary. It needs an overhaul, if not for taste's sake, then for your neighbors'. I would have lodged a complaint years ago."

"You know, it's been over an hour," Brad said, deftly changing the subject. "Part of me is wondering if she's in there or not."

Scorpius turned his head to the side. A spark of thought burgeoned within him. Rose was not there at all... and he had a reasonably good idea of where to find her. The more he thought on it, the more he felt the need to leave immediately.

"Well, it seems there is nothing I can do to rectify this situation. I suppose I'm going to go home," he said, hoping Brad took no notice of his sudden inspiration. Brad didn't seem concerned, so Scorpius took his leave, doing his best to look unhurried. The moment the doors closed on the the elevator he apparated.

He was immediately in the familiar alleyway near Marylebone High Street. Of all the wizard inventions, how they had not managed to get better apparating points, he was unsure. The alley had the same long abandoned posters featuring bands he had never heard of, and long-forgotten flyers of past classes liberally lining its its brick walls. At one point people must have passed by this area quite often, but the foreclosed building at the end of the alley looked like it hadn't seen people in a decade. It was a shame, really, as it was built rather handsomely, and with a few spells and layers of paint, it would be a grande place for a business of some sort.

He walked fast as he could without gaining unwarranted attention, until coming to the dark blue doors of the museum.

"Malfoooy!" he heard a voice trill from inside. Vanessa, a plump genial woman called him from the desk. The bubbly woman had worked there ever since its opening, she told him some years ago. She seemed an odd fit for the quiet rooms of the small museum, especially as her trilling laugh would echo off the walls disturbing the guests. He fished in his pockets to pay her for admission. "Don't you try to pay us. You and Rose are in here often enough, it wouldn't be right to ask you to pay each time."

"Fine, but I swear I'll manage to pay you eventually," Scorpius said, re-pocketing a muggle bill. "Is Rose in her usual spot?"

"Oh yes! Same as usual," Vanessa said with a laugh. Scorpius gave her a nod of thanks, before making his way into the gallery. A few turns and flights of stairs, and he was able to see Rose's bright hair. She sat alone on her bench, firmly staring at the painting front of her. Her hand tried to sneakily remove a piece of chocolate from her purse. The purse crinkled in a way that made him suspect this was not her first piece of the day.

"I believe it's against the rules to bring in outside food or drink," said Scorpius, pointing to the sign above her head that said 'no outside food or drink.'

"It doesn't say anything about chocolate," she said pushing another chocolate into her mouth, and licking her fingers. She moved the purse, almost overflowing with wrappers, to the side. Whether she moved it to make room for him to sit, or to conceal how many chocolates she had eaten, he was not sure.

He silently sat on the proffered spot, though not without spelling away a pair of chocolate finger prints from the seat.

Rose continued to chew, a look of consternation wrinkling her brow. She had a bit of chocolate in the corner of her mouth.

"Here." He handed her a handkerchief. She wretched it from his hand and wrathfully swiped at her face.

"Are you all done depriving the greater Western Hemisphere of cocoa, or should I wait until we can roll you out the door?"

Rose scowled at him.

"You're not going to hex me into the wall like your fiance, are you?" he asked.

"I would never do that in a museum!" Rose replied, scandalized. "But once we're out of here, there are definitely no guarantees."

"Good to know. You should never warn your enemies, though," he replied, patting his wand.

"That's such a Slytherin thing to say!"

"And that's such a a Gryffindor response!" he mocked.

They sat in companionable silence, staring at Rose's favorite painting "La Belle Dame Sans Merci." Scorpius suspected she loved it because of the featured temptress who had hair every bit as red and wild as Rose's. Everything about it was like a person were in a mythical dream. The redheaded woman who held an otherworldly grace of temptation, the grande steed, the bright glow of the knight's armor; all of it created a picture one could get lost in. Rose attempted to get lost in it weekly, and sometimes more.

"O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, alone and palely loitering?" Rose recited.

"Besides having to put up with your wild temper, and a bad case of asthma, I'm doing fairly well," Scorpius laughed.

"It's from the poem the painting is based on, dimwit," said Rose.

"I knew that and was being ironic, swot."

"Who wrote the poem it's based on, prat?" she challenged.

"Keats, gasbag. I do occasionally listen when you go into your long speeches about paintings."

"You're on my good side again, then. Plus, I didn't feel like being a human thesaurus any longer. Want to get going?"

Scorpius acquiesced and they left the museum, Rose leading the way. With them, a good teasing argument usually settled any disagreement. The cool air gave Rose a lovely flush under her spattering of freckles. They walked in silence before Scorpius suddenly asked the question:

"Was there a particular reason you were so miffed at me, earlier? With Al and Brad it was fairly obvious, but me..."

Rose stopped at a window display and feigned interest in the vases there.

"So, was there a reason, or were you just exercising your right as a redhead to have a perilously short temper?"

"I was just a bit mad at you for escalating the argument with Brad, really," she said coolly. "All your annoying asides didn't help an already difficult situation."

"Ah, and here I thought you were jealous of my orgy with Lily and Mags," said Scorpius, demeanor calm.

Rose made a face and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"You wouldn't do that," she stated firmly. Scorpius silently watched her reflection, eyebrow arched.

"Or at least Mags and Lily wouldn't do that. I'm still... unsure about your moral ambiguity."

"Hmm," he replied, seeing her flustered expression. "I must admit I can be very morally ambiguous. I suppose I'll just have to depend on you to rehabilitate me."

Scorpius then did something reckless. He was standing intimately close to her and took a curl from her forehead and pushed it to the side, his fingers grazing her pale brow. She seemed to hold her breath, but he could still smell the chocolate in it. Her blue eyes deepened, her delicate and inviting lips opened as her eyelids started to flutter shut. But suddenly Rose backed away with a great jerk and the spell was broken.

"Very funny, you dirty minded thing," she exclaimed, with an overdone laugh. "So! What were they doing in your apartment? Besides the 'orgy'— you can leave those details for someone who cares."

"They decided my wardrobe needed an update."

"I like your old clothes better."

"Lily sort of insisted—"

"Since when do you listen to anyone's advice on anything?"

Scorpius rolled his eyes. Rose always had an answer for everything, one of her traits that both annoyed and endeared her to him. In this case, though, she was chattering to keep him at bay.

"Well, perhaps this little experiment in fashion proves I am right in not listening to people's advice," he said. "But I do not want to argue about it anymore, Rose."

"Scorpius! Rose!" they heard from down the street.

They turned to see Lily bounding towards them. Scorpius supposed Al had told her about Rose's little street.

He was going to give a greeting when Lily pressed herself against him and kissed him. Had she been someone else, he imagined he would have greatly enjoyed such a kiss. It was far too long for propriety, and left him rather dazed as one of her hands snaked its way into his hair. After a few moments of her exploring his molars with her tongue she popped off of his face and gave him a sultry grin.

"Hullo, lover."

"Hi," he said with a great breath, trying not to pull a face.

"Hi..." Rose said in such a cantankerous way that Scorpius suddenly realized what had just transpired. Her expression looked somewhere between confusion, distaste and anger.

"So... What are you doing here?" Scorpius let out, his mind catching up to the situation as rapidly as it could. He would have to ask her to refrain from such kisses in the future as it muddled his brain.

"Brad Flooed me and told me what happened. We started looking in all the spots she might be, and I knew Rose comes here often enough. I'm not surprised you were the one to find her first. I definitely am going to give you another examination tonight."

Scorpius glanced between the two women, Lily giving him a rather convincing besotted look, and Rose giving an incredulous stare.

"Well," Scorpius swallowed, and calmed steadied himself before letting out the most stupid lie of his life.

"As you can see... Lily and I... We're involved."

"Involved," Rose repeated flatly.

"Wait a moment," Lily said before giving him a swat. "You haven't told her yet?"

"No," he said coming back to speed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Rose. It just sort of ... happened."

"A few months ago, actually," Lily added. Albus was right. Lily was an incredibly adept liar, and continued to play her role perfectly. "With all the wedding plans he didn't want to distract from you and Brad, but I thought he must have told you by now."

Rose shook her head.

"No... No he didn't tell me a thing."

"We ok?" Scorpius asked, trying to look her in the eye.

She hesitated, then gave them a smile, never looking him in the eye.

"It's fine," she said. "Really, it is. There isn't always a time to say those kinds of things the way you want to. I guess that explains your taking her fashion advice."

"I'm glad you feel that way," Lily said breezily. "On another note, Brad is worried– and we need to do some tests on Scorpius to see what he's allergic to. Why don't you go back to your apartment and then we can figure out your flower arrangement?"

"Why don't we meet at your place, then Floo him, Lily?" Rose supplied. "We could apparate there right now, in fact. You've been to her place before, right Scorpius?"

Scorpius dumbly nodded. He had never been to Lily's home. He didn't even know if it was in London. Lily gave him a panicked look.

"Are you sure you want to come directly with us? Don't you want some alone time with Brad?" Lily asked.

"It's ok," Rose said, looking between Scorpius and Lily. "You two don't want alone time do you?"

Scorpius and Lily exchanged awkward glances.

"No no! There will plenty of time for us to be alone again when you're on your honeymoon," Lily supplied quickly. "But, uh, why don't you go ahead, and we'll meet you there. I have something private to tell him."

Rose made one of her faces. "Right... Well, see you there in a minute, then."

As she walked away, Lily gave her a little wave. Her other hand snaked into Scorpius' back pocket and gave it a squeeze that made him jump from her.

They could distantly hear Rose's apparation.

"Oh, God! She's going to my apartment! Why did you say you had been to my apartment?"

"I couldn't very well say I hadn't been to my girlfriend's place, could I?"

"Yes! Yes you could have! You won't know where any of my shit is, which will be a dead giveaway! Rose isn't stupid, remember?" Lily spat, clearly aggravated. "Are you sure you're a Slytherin? Because you are pathetic at this whole 'plotting' thing."

"I'm sorry, it's a bit hard to concentrate when your tongue is exploring my esophagus and your hand keeps grabbing my bum. Overkill much?".

"Ok, so I was a bit demonstrative. I'll try to hold back from making her jealous," Lily growled. "God, this is awkward as fuck."

"I agree with your sentiment," Scorpius said, giving her a look of distaste.

Lily rolled her eyes. "I could never date anyone so stuck up."

"Next time warn me before you touch me with that filthy mouth of yours," he said, leading the way to the Apparition point.

"Don't make me get those bouquets from the wedding, Asthma Boy!"

"Perhaps we can stick more to witty banter instead of wagging tongues, if you think you can manage."

"Fine. No more unexpected wagging-tongues. She'll get so jealous that you're arguing with me, instead of her, she'll dump Brad immediately," she said dryly.

"Well, at least warn me a bit. It befuddles the mind," he said. "And I need it to stay sharp for all the 'plotting' I'm so pathetic at."

"Let's just Apparate," she said holding his arm a bit too firmly.

Scorpius felt a squeeze around his chest. He hoped it was just due to the side-along apparition, and not nerves at having begun a farce that meant continually lying to his best and oldest friend.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#Taking a Shallow breath #fanfiction #fan fic #my writing #rose/scorpius #scorose #rose weasley #scorpius malfoy #harry potter #next generation #next gen #family #romance #comedy #drama #hp #wip

4 notes · View notes