#it's just interesting to compare the womanizer image he is consistently forced into and what we see in the more secluded scenes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

m-blackwell-and-associates · 1 month

Text

Follow Up pt 4

This dour mood followed Angelina for the rest of the car ride and doubled when pushed into the morgue to find the medical examiner already there with Peitro’s Proxy. The Rosselini took one look at her and then her gaze slid to Pietro standing just behind her. Angelina knew she had been dismissed out of hand and the anger seethed. Such a thing had happened many times before. When people went to meet the Donna of Grenoble, they expected a woman in her prime, perhaps one aged into wisdom, all demure silk velvet over maternal steel. When they saw a slight girl frozen forever at 18, round face still carrying the memory of childhood, they discounted what they saw and turned to Pietro as the continuing authority, he having been her voice and direction up until the moment of their first meeting.

Pietro, well schooled and endless amused by this bitter bit of theater, stayed where he was and said nothing, waiting for Diana Rossellini to figure out the silent error she had made. Angelina did not wait for those brown eyes to widen, or the face go ashen to realize she had dismissed the one that had given permission to be Proxied and that permission could be revoked.

“What did you find?”

The Proxy caught herself, startling to be addressed, but not looking alarmed to be caught out. “Donna Angelina, a pleasure to - “

“Yes,” Angelina agreed, a great pleasure to meet yet another family member that would have to be taught respect and comportment. “Your findings?”

Angelina could feel Pietro’s amusement behind her, like a wave of warmth coming off a fire and she made a mental note to address his instigating these awkward introductions at a later time. One did not humiliate one’s enforcer. Not if one wanted to keep their good humor and loyalty.

The medical examiner cleared her throat from where she stood on the other side of the table, a skeleton, white and unweathered, laid neatly on a steel topped table. “I’ve been able to narrow it down to three missing persons.”

“A three way tie?” Angelina asked, brows raised as if mildly curious about the outcome and the examiner flushed, turning a faintly accusatory stare at Diana.

“I had just arrived with the dental records, Donna.” Diana handed them to the examiner, as cool as you please. The way the other woman snatched them out of the Proxy’s hands suggested that the files had been withheld, either for spite or for testing of the examiner's skill in reading the bones. It wasn’t that Angelina disapproved of testing the academic might of the people called upon to perform a service, just that at this moment, Angelina wasn’t in the mood for delays. Or for anyone to decide now was the time for a power play.

Hurriedly, the woman took out the x-ray images, the shaded transparencies hung up on the light box to be studied. They waited, Angelina not unaware of the Rosselini’s subtle attempt to size her up, comparing what she saw to what she had imagined. For her part, she let it go. There would be time later to put Pietro’s Proxy in her place if necessary.

“This one, Ms. Giovanni,” the medical examiner said, hurriedly. Taking down the transparency, she slid it back into its file and handed it to Angelina over the table holding their mysteriously departed. “I’ll give you a moment.” Stripping off her gloves, the woman left.

“Simeon Boucher,” Angelina read aloud before putting the file down on the metal table. “One parent still living, two siblings living abroad, no spouse, no children. Cause of death, blunt force trauma.”

“That would be consistent with what we saw when we dumped his body,” Diana confirmed. “We - “

But Angelina wasn’t interested in the explanations or stories the Rosellini was quick to give. Ignoring her, she stripped off her own gloves and set the soft black leather aside, concentrating on the well ordered bones before her.

“Simon Boucher,” she murmured under the self-aggrandizing chatter of the Proxy. “Let’s see if you’re still here.” Angelina laid both hands on the bones, one hand cradling around the smooth curve of the skull, thumb tracing along the zygomatic arch where a spider web of fractures hinted at the violence of the man’s final moments. The other hand rested on the cracked and ragged remains of the sternum.

She wasn’t surprised to feel that Simon’s soul still lingered. A death as sudden as violent as his had been, often made spirits bound to this world. Ones so bound were unable to let go of their former lives and find whatever peace was beyond the Shadowlands. Angelina called to the spirit gently, testing to see at what strength the contest of wills between her and the unwilling dead, and while she hadn’t been surprised to know he lingered, she was surprised at the promptness of his response.

Simon’s soul manifested as suddenly as switching on a light, vivid and clean as if drawn on her vision by some bold artist with only a faint transparency to suggest that he wasn’t of this world. Whatever chatter Diana had been engaging in stopped and Angelina had blessed silence in which to contemplate the spirit.

“You’re like her,” it whispered, voice coming from some other place.

“Like whom, Mr. Boucher?” Angelina asked, hand absently stroking the smooth bone of the skull, as if petting a cat, or soothing a child.

“I assume he’s talking about Elizabeth,” Diana put in unnecessarily. “I didn’t think little Miss Princess could do the family business.”

Angelina set her jaw, cross that the Rosselini dared to speak, but before she could order her cousin to silence, the sad and despondent shade of the late Simon turned to survey the room. Once his eyes fell upon the disdainful Diana, it flared, a shadow behind a flame, blown to grotesque proportions and flickering as if caught in a hot and terrible wind.

“You left me to die!” It roared, leaning towards the shocked Rosselini, mouth agape and hands turned to grasping claws. “YOU KILLED ME!”

Sternly, Angelina bound the enraged wraith of Simon Boucher so it could not attack the stunned woman. But, with a bit of satisfied spite, she let it slowly drift in her directly, forcing Diana to back up a step. Aloud, she said, “Perhaps your recounting of your mission wasn’t entirely correct, Ms. Rosselini?”

The look that Diana shot her before looking back at her slowly stalking wraith was murderous. “No, Donna. We found him dead and - “ The wraith roared, cursing. “He was beyond saving! I could see that just by looking at him!”

Angelina believed Diana when she said that she had seen the man’s fast approaching death. It was her family curse, after all. Everything was on the cusp of death to her and everyone that had the Rosselini gift. She did not, however, believe that Simon had been beyond saving.

“He might have been more useful alive, Ms. Rosselini,” Angelina said, sounding disapproving of Diana's protests and indifferent of her discomfort.

#amwriting #authors #fiction #flash fiction #m blackwell & associates #vampire #oc #clangiovanni #Clan Giovanni #Angelina Giovanni #Diana Rossellini #No one hates you like family #Professionally Petty #Family Business #wraith #Summon Spirit #Sad bones #Follow UP #chronicles of darkness

3 notes · View notes

cartoonfangirl1218 · 2 years

Text

Twisted Tales: Unbirthday Review

Liz Braswell’s Unbirthday asks the question “What if Wonderland was in peril and Alice was very very late?” I can tell Braswell is a fan of Wonderland (or at least she had a very good editor and extra readers helping her) because it was a very merry splendiferous sort book of Nonsense utilizing many hallmarks from the movie and the Carroll books. From the author’s note warning readers that only mad hatters may take mercury, readers cannot eat mercury or they will die, I knew I was in for a treat. She has a deft voice in describing the changing landscape of Wonderland that always manage to bring people where they need to go. A fact that Alice comes to recognize and learns to trust. For in Wonderland, it’s best not to think too much. But follow your instincts like a child. It is all magically strange yet familiar and Braswell embraces the best part of Wonderland is how the child’s view of the world can be so free-ing. Unlearning all you learned makes the world more sensible. Additionally, she keeps consistent rules within the Wonderland world and in the real. Like Alice forgets her Wonderland antics while in the real world like it was a distant dream. And she forgets England and her work over there, calling it things like Angleland and such. This, of course, makes it all the more difficult for her and more compelling to read.

Braswell kept a consistent voice in Alice combining her Victorian day sensibilities that made her feel so frustrated with Wonderland and a curious outlook on life that keeps her on the fringes of respectable society. Just the way she describes things in Aloce’s POV comparing dandelions to bread-and-butterflies, it just felt perfectly off kilter. I also enjoyed her choice to make Alice a photographer, a new sort of hobby and magic in Victorian times. It fits her curious nature and further highlights the dual worlds with mirror-like glass slides that show mundane and horrifying images.

It’s a long book, 500 pages, split into 3 parts, and she uses every page to the best extent. Not only does she explore Alice’s return to Wonderland, but also the xenophobic forces rising in the latest mayoral race. I’ll admit I was more interested in the latter as it is unfortunately very timely. While Alice and her like-minded friends (her libertine Aunt Vivian who is such a role model and socialist-milliner, Mr. Willard, the Hatter’s real world alternate) are able to see clearly past the pure English rhetoric, Alice’s older sister doesn’t and I was eager to see how or if Alice could change her mind. There is also the introduction of Alice’s love interest, Katz who shares her odd outlook on life. They also tease each other and poke each other. He, calling out her privilege as a sheltered English girl with money while he was a Jewish son of immigrants. Her, reminding him that as a woman she has opportunities that he does. He was a poor immigrant that worked up to become a lawyer. She still can’t even vote. They get each other and challenge each other, and I so enjoyed their interactions. And how their bond is vital to finding the solution. In both worlds.

However, Alice realizes what happens in the real world affects Wonderland and vice versa. After 10 years away, she is summoned back on the anniversary of her first visit because she is the only hope left against the mad Queen of Hearts. Well. . . Madder. Her reasons are ridiculous but they make perfect sense in a Wonderland way, and the denizens of her kingdom suffer in daily executions and maiming. Even the March Hare is killed! And the Mad Hatter, Doormouse and Dodo barely make it out alive. The Mad Hatter is bumped about, he has the Nonsense knocked out of him. And a conventional Hatter is strange indeed.

I enjoyed the darkness that is imbued in this tale, really getting into the terror of war and the injustice of prejudice rhetoric in politics and mobs. She covers the different kinds of men and women involved from the unknowing prat who just wishes to join the winning team, to the knave that does the bare minimum of effort even when he knows it’s wrong to the ones who truly fight on the front lines. While Alice acknowledges that it may be temporary solutions, at least they tried. There is also an emphasis on ——. I would tell you, but it’s an answer to a riddle that would spoil the whole solution. So I’ll leave it here for you to ponder. I have mine and you have yours It's needed in a painting But in the end none agree on the meaning of the thing.

I don’t have many nitpicks as Braswell set out with an ambitious book and I believe she did well with such a grand scope. My one nitpick is that sometimes there were misspelled words like cents instead of sense, but since it’s a wonderland book I’m not sure if it was intentional or not.

Go read the book if you want a ridiculous, nonsensical adventure into childhood and wonder. And darkness and prejudice. It’s a dual narrative of smoke and mirrors and a perfect treat for ones unbirthday.

#twisted tales #unbirthday #liz braswell #alice in wonderland #my reviews

33 notes · View notes

muertawrites · 4 years

Text

Two Halves - Chapter Twelve (Zuko x Reader)

Part 11

Word Count: 3,000

Author’s Note: Let’s talk about Azula. I know a lot of people really want a redemption arc for her, and it’s something that’s written a lot in the fanfic community, but (like everything else) I have an unpopular opinion about her - I don’t think she deserves a redemption arc. This doesn’t mean I think she’s a bad character. I actually think exactly the opposite - she’s so perfectly written that I feel changing her to make her any less problematic would ruin her.

Characters can be great without ever redeeming themselves, and Azula is a perfect example of one of A:TLA’s major themes - that there’s no such thing as absolute good or bad - in that she’s clearly vindictive, manipulative, egotistical, and sociopathic, but the way the series leaves her convinces the watcher to feel sympathetic towards her. It’s such a beautiful destruction of preconceived notions in fiction that I don’t think it needs to be touched. Azula is evil, but I love her that way.

~ Muerta

Appa’s feet don't touch sand until late evening, by which time it feels like you've been flying for weeks.

A group of about twenty guards is waiting when you land, each of them wrapped from head to toe in white gauze; the woman at the front of the group removes her face covering and introduces herself as the warden of the compound, her expression hard and motionless behind sun-darkened skin. She leads you through a maze of buildings enclosed by high, interlocking stone walls, to an empty store room that’s been converted into a bedroom for your stay.

“We only have what we need out here,” she explains. “The guards’ bunks are all filled, and we don't typically have guests. I'm sorry we couldn't give you more appropriate lodging.”

“It's alright,” Aang assures her. “We’re used to sleeping rough.”

Dinner is composed of a combination of dried meat and pickled vegetables, paired with water from a well in the center of the surrounding block of buildings; you're advised only to use it for drinking and not to bathe, saving it for the guards stationed at the compound. Even after the sun sets, the air feels arid and scorched, the sweat dripping down the back of your neck doing nothing to cool you.

“It's awful out here,” you remark as you settle into your bed roll for the night. “I can see why Sokka went insane.”

“Sokka went insane because of hallucinogenic cactus juice,” Katara corrects you, smirking at the memory.

“I can't believe I missed most of that,” Aang laments. “He must've been a handful.”

“You had more important things to worry about,” Katara softly reminds him. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, placing a tender kiss atop the crest of his head; you look away, your stomach churning uneasily at the intimate display.

You lay and attempt to sleep for the next few hours, finding yourself unable. The ground is too hard beneath you, your thin blankets too heavy and hot. You toss and turn over and over again, trying to find a comfortable position that seems not to exist. Your mind races and refuses to slow down.

Despite your guilt over doing so, you go out to the well and fill a small basin, splashing your face with warm water in the hopes it'll make you feel better. Katara joins you a moment or two later, having noticed your unrest. She dips her hands into the water and runs them comfortingly through your hair to cool you off.

“What's wrong?” she asks.

You sigh as you lower yourself onto the base of the well, holding your knees to your chest.

“I'm worried,” you admit in a murmur.

Katara sits down beside you and rests her hand on your arm.

“Aang and I won't leave until after you speak with Azula,” she promises. “And even then, we’ll be right outside the room the entire time. You're not doing this alone.”

You shake your head, afraid to look her in the eye.

“That's not it. When you go to the Northern Air Temple… they're going to expect me to get pregnant, too. But I'm not ready to have a baby, and I don't know if I'll ever be.”

Katara curls her arms around you, pulling you into her lap in the motherly way she used to do when you were kids. She strokes your hair, and you nestle into the fabric of her night gown.

“What does it feel like?” you wonder. Your voice is nothing but a breath. “To… have sex?”

Katara’s hands pause their ministrations. She sits absolutely still for a moment, gazing off as she mulls the question over.

“... It hurts,” she says after a while, “but only at first. Then it feels exciting. It's sort of like getting hit by lightning, but gently, over and over again. You feel it in your whole body; it's unlike anything else. The best part is being so close to someone you love in a way that nobody else will ever be close to you. It’s like magic.”

“But I don't love Zuko,” you reply. “I didn't choose him like you chose Aang. How could it be the same for me?”

“You did choose Zuko,” Katara contests. “Do you think Dad would have forced you into marrying him if you fought hard enough against it? You might not have chosen him because you love him, but there's a reason you're together. I think you will love him. There's something about the two of you that just… fits. I've never been very good with intuition and even I could feel it the first time I saw you together. You will love each other; and we both know Zuko cares about you too much to force you into anything before you're ready. Trust him. Follow what you feel for him.”

You sigh, shutting your eyes tightly as the weight of the desert heat squeezes down on you; nonetheless, Katara’s hands are chilled as they begin to rework the braid knotted down your back.

“I know he’ll protect me,” you say. “That's all he's done since we met. But I don't know if I want to be protected.”

“You don't have to be,” Katara tells you. Her voice is soft and serious. “You've never let anyone tell you what to do; not even now.”

“Keeping that up is dangerous though,” you whisper. “Doing the wrong thing could get me killed - it could get Zuko killed, or you, or any number of people I care about. And I've been really stupid about it up until now.”

“Has Zuko ever talked to you about redirecting lighting?” Katara asks.

You shake your head.

“It's a water bending technique,” she explains. “The idea is that you take your opponent’s force and turn it back against them, but you have to keep your own energy steady to be able to do it.”

She takes one of your hands between both of hers, pressing it tightly between her palms.

“Keep doing what you're doing,” she urges. “If one of us gets hurt, you can't let the loss break you; you have to use it to fight back. Anyone who wants to destroy you needs your permission to do so.”

You sit up so you can look her in the eye; her expression is resolute, brows drawn together with agency and concern. Your arms fall around her, pulling her into a tight embrace; she holds you close as you bury your face in her hair.

“It'll be okay,” she promises. “You'll survive; it’s what we do.”

The next morning, you meet with Azula’s psychological counselor before going to see her.

The center of the compound is devoted entirely to the disgraced princess and her keepers, each of them living within the bounds of a large wall lined with guards every few feet. Her counselor’s home is divided from the main house by an ornate fence, painted red and black and gilded with gold detail; guard houses stand at either side of the gate.

“This part of the compound is designed to look like a Fire Nation neighborhood,” the counselor explains. “We don't live luxuriously by any means, but a homey atmosphere is important to Azula’s rehabilitation.”

“How has she improved?” Katara asks.

You remember her retellings of what would've been Azula’s coronation, how she lost her mind with power and corruption. Thinking back on them, you almost pity her.

“She's much more stable than she used to be,” the counselor states. “We know her vindictive behavior will never go away and that her condition prohibits her from understanding or feeling empathy, but she's learned not to act on those tendencies. She's also greatly overcome the anger her father instilled in her.”

“I need something I can use as leverage,” you say. “Zuko’s told me that everything she does is a negotiation, and I need something to trade for her insight.”

The counselor nods, tapping her fingers against the table you're seated around in thought.

“The information alone won’t be enough incentive for her,” she concludes. “She’s seemingly lost interest in the outside world or trying to get out of the compound in the past few years, but I have a feeling she’ll use that to try and get more out of you. Perhaps offering her a chance to see her father will hold useful.”

“She still wants to see him?” Aang gasps, incredulous. “After everything he did?”

“She blames him for the breakdown she suffered at the end of the war,” the counselor elaborates. “She’s expressed a desire to confront him for years, and I’d like to help her find the catharsis in it without setting her back in her rehabilitation.”

“We’ve spoken about the possible need for execution,” you say; your voice is meek, the shame making it difficult to meet the counselor’s eye. “Would the threat do anything? As a last resort?”

“... I don’t know,” the counselor admits. “It truly depends on her mood. She swings between bouts of stability and episodes of deep, manic depression; were she depressed, the threat wouldn’t do much. She unfortunately is always on the brink of an episode, and I don’t think death is much of a fear to her.”

You nod, unable to respond any other way.

“Be civil,” the counselor advises, “but don’t let your guard down. She’s improved greatly, but she’s still extremely dangerous.”

Azula’s home is quaint, consisting of only four rooms, but is every bit the palace she grew up in compared to the rest of the compound. The walls are painted deep, warm crimson, every inch decorated in elaborate murals; in the dining room where you meet, images of giant salamanders curl around pillars of forest and flame - they're terrifying, but as beautiful as any more traditional work of art.

When Azula enters the room, she smirks at you. You're stricken by the fact that she looks nothing like her brother, her features much softer and rounder, save for her eyes and brow bones which are drawn downward in a permanent scowl; it occurs to you that while Zuko closely resembles their father (something you've learned he resents), she’s almost a perfect mirror of their mother. Her clothes are simple - a shapeless dress over loose trousers - and her hair is knotted messily behind her head, loose tendrils falling carelessly around her face. Her cheeks are gaunt, years of living on only what the compound can provide clearly having taken their toll.

“So Zuzu’s got himself a wife,” Azula chirps, sitting down across the table from you. “I suppose that's all you Southern women are good for - selling off to more powerful nations so you don't get yourselves pummeled.”

You ignore her harsh words, bowing your head respectfully in greeting.

“Zuko and I have actually known each other since we were teenagers,” you tell her. It isn't exactly a lie, but you decide that forfeiting her game is the best way to defend yourself. “It's an honor to finally meet you, Azula.”

If she's put off by your deflection, she doesn't show it. She leans forward on her elbows, leering at you over the table like some sort of heinous, bloodthirsty predator; you stare back unfazed, reminding yourself that there's nothing she can do to you if you remain stoic.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of my dear sister-in-law’s visit?” Azula wonders, grinning. “I doubt this is a family reunion given Zuzu’s absence.”

“We need your help,” you tell her. “We’re facing serious problems with outside opposition and our advisors have failed us; Zuko suggested I come to you because of your intelligence in these matters.”

Azula scoffs, her sickening smile disappearing as she leans back and crosses her arms over her chest.

“I may be captive, but that doesn't mean I have to help you,” she spits. “I no longer hold any loyalty to the Fire Nation.”

“We don't want to force you,” you reply. “Zuko and I are willing to offer something in return for your expertise.”

“There's nothing you can give me that will convince me,” Azula states. “My brother lost any sympathy I had for him when he locked me up here.”

“We both know you never had any sympathy for him.”

Azula’s eyes shoot upward, meeting yours in a chilling glare.

“He's the eldest,” you continue. “Despite your talent, he was still in your way - if he hadn't been banished, he’d have taken your father’s place. You hated him for that. You hated him for earning your mother’s affection. You hated him for things neither of you had any control over, and all you've ever wanted to do is have control. He defied that. So you took matters into your own hands and tried to kill him.”

Azula glowers at you, her eyes icy as her face sets into stone. She's not used to being on the other end of this sort of needling; behind her muted, immobile shock, you know she's calculating her next move.

“It wasn't fair,” you go on. “I've heard what people in the Fire Nation say about you - that you shaped the odds of the war while your father took all the credit. That's why we need you. Zuko himself admitted that he can't do it. This is your chance to show him once and for all who the true heir to your family name is.”

Your sister-in-law studies you for a moment before tilting her head, the nasty smile she entered the room with returning.

“Thanks to my shrinks, I'm no longer motivated by personal vindication,” she drawls. “And besides, what good would it do me for Zuko to take all the glory like Father did? He always liked to believe he took after Mother. He's wrong - he's just as cruel and underhanded as the rest of us.”

At this point, you decide that bargaining is going to get you nowhere. Instead you turn your attention to the murals, standing so you can run your fingers over the scales of the nearest giant salamander; they're so realistic that even their grooves have texture, delicately carved between layers of thick paint.

“These paintings are stunning,” you comment. “Are they yours?”

Azula nods, though her expression remains shuttered and somewhat threatening.

“Since that little brat took my bending, I had to find a new hobby,” she hisses. “When I run out of space on the walls, I'll start tattooing myself.”

You smirk at her joke, but she doesn't reciprocate. Her eyes narrow, and though she doesn't move from her position at the table, she seems to prowl closer to you, caging you in with the sheer power of her presence.

“I know why Zuzu married you,” she claims; her tone is matter-of-fact, her golden irises cutting through you. “You remind him of that Southern wretch he used to chase around during his banishment. He was enamored with her. But of course she chose the Avatar over him, since she wanted the alliance for your puny little nation, so it seems he rebounded with the next best thing. He's always been weak that way - falling for anyone dumb enough to buy into that kicked kitten act and let him use them for sympathy.”

For a split second, her words bite you in a way you don't expect them to. Just last night, you told Katara you didn't love Zuko - now, at the thought that his affections could lie with anyone else, that you could mean nothing more than a placeholder to appease the ache of an unrequited love, your ribs feel as though they've caved in and are crushing your lungs. You do your best to keep your expression void, but the corners of your lips flinch with the ghost of a frown, your eyes fogging with a shadow of fear before you can stop them. Azula grins - she knows she found a weak spot.

“I heard she's knocked up,” she spits. “Tell me, does Zuzu even bother to fuck you? Or is it just too painful, knowing you’ll never be the woman he loves?”

The sting in your chest subsides the moment she speaks, the rest of her scathing going unheard as you look her dead in the eye, suddenly unmoved by the attack.

“How do you know that?” you murmur.

Azula’s face falls. She doesn’t avert her gaze, but instead locks it with yours, frozen as if debating whether or not to admit defeat. It doesn’t matter if she does or not - she’s stabbed herself in the gut.

“How do you know Katara is pregnant?” you ask again.

You pace forward, pushing back on the way she attempted to close you in with her criticism. Her poisonous grin once again makes a comeback, this time accompanied by a cackle as sharp as a spearhead.

“You’re in far too deep, little girl,” she lilts. “All of you are. None of you can see the danger that’s been in front of you all your lives.”

“Tell me what you know,” you command. “If you do, we might be persuaded not to execute you.”

Azula huffs, tossing her head back as her laughter continues. By this point, the guards standing in the room’s corners have converged on her, taking her by the arms to hold her still; she doesn’t fight, instead leaning into their grip as if the touch is welcoming.

“Zuzu could never bring himself to kill me,” she jeers. “Sniveling little cad he is. The world isn’t perfect because the war is over, and you’re a fool if you think that my grandfathers were the only men to ever destroy for the sake of their hate. Everyone has evil in them - some of us are just smart enough to embrace it.”

As she growls out her last words, the guards drag her from the room, her laughter subsiding but her hideous, manic grin remaining splattered across her cheeks. The door slams as she's carried away, and you’re left with nothing but the looming silence of terror and dread.

📚 table of contents 📚

✨ join me on patreon ✨

☕ buy me a coffee ☕

{ subscribers: @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @celamoon @omgwhattheeven @i-am-not-a-thot @fandomtrash1616 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @just-another-romantic @berkeliums @eridanuswave @oleander-in-the-wind @kinismanditory @lammello @peppermenty @theawesomefactor123 @loganrwebb @ijustwannabecanadian @a-hopeless-fan @softvv @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @pearl-stonecutter @crazy0t @commander-rex @kittyddandnyla @abbyarchie @smol-grandpa @nonbinary-rogers @themanwiththemetalarmsdoll @witchywrter @canibea-whore-yet @fuckwhateverfuck @eridanuswave @duh-dobrik @sum-stuff13 @whalerus @yeetletzgetitjae @thedemigodsarealivebitch @irreplaceable-ecstasy}

65 notes · View notes

bluekaddis · 4 years

Text

Today is 11/11 which marks 101 years of Poland regaining independence and I thought it is a perfect time to publish a post that I’ve been working on for a while.

Ferelden from Polish Perspective aka Why We Can Relate to Dog Lords So Much.

This is a sort of compilation of my own thoughts I had while playing the games and various talks with my Polish friends. It is not supposed to force any ideas or teach others how to interpret the game. I just thought it could be entertaining for anyone interested in history and culture. I was trying not to elaborate too much on the subject here but it still ended up being A Very Long Post TM. To make this post a little neater to read, I divided this post into 4 sections:

1. History

2. Fashion and Food

3. Politics

4. Relationships with Other Countries

I will be very happy if you find a minute or two to read some of my points. If you have any additional questions or comments feel free to leave me a message :)

And once again - enormous thanks to @aeducanka for proofreading. I would be a poor mess without you.

DISCLAIMERS

1. Yes, I know that Ferelden is based mostly on Anglo-Saxon England and I have no problem with that. True, I may be a little disappointed that the game includes references to so many European cultures and countries (France, Byzantine Empire, Venice, Roma culture etc.) and yet practically ignores Central and Eastern Europe completely, BUT this post is not meant to be a “Where is my representation?!” rant. If I wanted a game with Slavic culture vibes, I could always play the Witcher trilogy again. We are doing alright.

2. I am in no way an academic specialist on culture or history, even these of my own country. I did some research, but most of facts and figures can be easily found on wikipedia. You can treat this as just some observations and headcanons of a 29 y/o Polish woman, who has grown up and lives in Poland.

3. The main focus of this post is Poland in different moments of history. However, when talking about fashion and political system I will mostly refer to Polish culture between the 16th and 18th century. During that time Poland and Lithuania formed a dual state known as The Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth. So, whenever I refer to this particular period, I will use the term “Commonwealth” instead of “Poland”.

PART 1 – HISTORY

The country’s name origin

Ferelden means „fertile valley” in Alamarri tongue [WoT vol. 1], Poland most probably comes from the Slavic word „pole” meaning „field”. They both refer to land that can be cultivated.

History of unification

Ferelden lands were divided between many tribes until they were unified by Calenhad Theirin. He fought and defeated other Alamarri tribes’ leaders, proclaimed Andrastianism as the new official religion of his kingdom and started the Theirin dynasty.

A similar story can be told about Mieszko I of Poland – the leader of the Polans tribe (one of many Slavic tribes of that time) who, by means of war and diplomacy, united many Slavic tribes and created the Polish country in 965. In the same year he was baptised, abandoning native paganism in favour of Christianity. Mieszko started the Piast dynasty which ruled Poland for over 400 years. He never officially became a king, though – his son, Bolesław, was crowned king in 1025.

Also, Ferelden is a relatively young country compared to countries like Orlais or Tevinter. Even if Poland has over 1000 years of history as a country, it has to be noted that some Western European countries have a longer history (eg. the Carolingian Empire or the Visigothic Kingdom). Polish lands have also never been a part of the Roman Empire.

Fun fact – the half-legendary sword of the first king of Poland, Szczerbiec, was stolen by Prussian troops during their invasion on Poland in 1795. Calenhad’s sword, Nemetos,was lost during the Orlesian invasion on Ferelden [WoT vol. 1].

Ostagar

Now, I will tell you a story. It is about a young king (in his twenties), a little reckless, wanting to be the leader who stood against the great invading threat to his country, a little blinded by the perspective of glorious victory. Just before the battle one of his allied forces betrayed him and did not provide the promised aid. The enemy army was too strong, too large. The king’s army was defeated, the king was killed in battle and his body was taken by the enemy. The king did not have children and his younger brother had succeeded him.

No, I’m not talking about Cailan, this is the story of Władysław III of Poland.

PART 2 – FASHION AND FOOD

Fashion

All cultures in Thedas have their own style and fashion. Ferelden is supposed to be this “We like fur and warm fabrics” culture, opposite to the extravagant Orlesian style. However, I have few problems with how Fereldan fashion is shown in the game.

1. It is too early-medieval looking. I know, it is a fantasy, you can mix ancient Egypt with steampunk and nobody should care. But we see, from cultural and technological perspective, that Thedas in Dragon Age is more renaissance/baroque than your typical medieval. Heck, some elements, like the infamous Formal Attire, look like clothes from 18th or even 19th century! In comparison, outfits like Arms of Mac Tir or Robes of the Pretender (though good looking) look like something from the Vikings era.

2. We do not see many good looking Fereldan outfits in the games. I like Alistair’s royal outfit and some of Fereldan armors and clothes from DA:2 but remember this?

Or this?

Yeah, Dog Lords can do better :/

And that’s why I like to headcanon Fereldan fashion as something more resembling the Commonwealth fashion between the 16th and 18th century. It was an interesting mix of European and Asian influences and I think it would work perfectly with canon Ferelden because:

1. People LOVED fur elements in their clothing. Fur lining on coats, fur caps decorated with feathers, pelts of wild carnivores (lions, wolves, bears, etc.) on armour - fur was everywhere.

2. It is simple but regal. The quality of materials and patterns were more important than volume and the number of layers. A typical male noble outfit consisted of a long garment (żupan), a long, ornate sash, one of two types of cloak (delia or kontusz) and a fur cap decorated with feathers and jewels. If you compare it with the baroque fashion from France it is less extravagant and more practical. No wigs, no flounces, no man tights.

Compare these two dudes – the older one is dressed Commonwealth style, the younger – in French style.

The Deluge, 1974

Of course some wealthy noblemen who spent a lot of time in France or other Western countries tended to adapt their style, but from what I know it was not that common. Women, on the other hand, tended to dress more similar to their Western counterparts (especially when they wanted to look fashionable) but their everyday dresses were not that much elaborate. They also wore kontusz (though the female version was shorter) and fur caps when outside.

Below I post some more costumes to better illustrate my point. They all come from Polish movie adaptations of H. Sienkiewicz’s novels (I looove both the books and the movies).

With Fire and Sword, 1999

The Deluge, 1974

Fire in the Steppe, 1968

And I could not NOT to mention the wonderful interpretation of Fereldan armor and clothing for my OCs drawn by @ankalime - I still can’t get over how beautiful they look :3

Food

From what we know, Fereldan food is very similar to traditional English cuisine (lamb and pea anyone?), HOWEVER, I can totally see some traditional Polish dishes on Fereldan tables. Let us look at this part of Alistair’s banter with Leliana:

“Now here in Ferelden, we do things right. We take our ingredients, throw them into the largest pot we can find, and cook them for as long as possible until everything is a uniform grey color. As soon as it looks completely bland and unappetizing, that's when I know it's done.”

Dishes like bigos, flaki or goulash (mostly associated with Hungary but also present in various forms in Slavic countries) totally fit this description. Tasty and hearty but I know some foreigners see them as totally unappetizing :P

Poland is also culturally more into beer than wine (high five, British Isles!), so Fereldan ale fits this image, too.

PART 3. POLITICS

When I first played DA:O and heard about choosing the new queen/king on Landsmeet I was like “omg, they have wolna elekcja!”

The canon Ferelden is a feudal country, however, there seems to be less focus on the king's absolute power – instead, the nobles can choose the king they like, the hierarchy inside this particular social class is also less striking than one can expect.

And this brings me to the concept of Golden Liberty. (I will quote Wikipedia here, I am not that smart to explain this well in English on my own).

The Golden Liberty was a unique political system of the Commonwealth – a mixture of monarchy, oligarchy and democracy. The most distinctive elements of that systems were:

- All nobles regardless of rank or economic status, were considered to have equal legal rights (and you did not have to own a town or two to be considered a noble – a large part of the nobility owned nothing more than a farm, often little different from a peasant's dwelling, and some did not even have that much). The rights were, for example:

- Neminem captivabimus ("We shall not arrest anyone without a court verdict").

- right to vote – every nobleman, whether rich or poor, could vote. Of course if someone was rich, they could bribe others to gain more political influence, but it is the same as today.

- religious freedom – unlike many other European countries of the time, people in Commonwealth were legally free to follow any religion. The Commonwealth became a common refuge for people who were persecuted for religion in their homelands. The religious freedom was not restricted to nobility but to all social classes.

- rokosz - the right to form a legal rebellion against a king who violated nobility freedoms.

- the monarchy was elective, not hereditary, and the king was elected by the nobility. That “democracy” was not, of course, perfect, as only male noblemen had the right to vote and elect the king. However, it was still between 10-15% of the population who could vote. In comparison, “in 1831 in France only about 1% of the population had the right to vote”

The Landsmeet in DA:O is basically the free election (well, maybe minus the duel :D) and I would say the Fereldan nobility does not feel obliged to be obedient 100% of the time.

PART 4. RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHER COUNTRIES

Orlesian occupation

We know from the game that Orlais invaded Ferelden in 8:24 Blessed and occupied it for decades. The Fereldan forces were rebelling against the occupant and finally, under the command of Maric Theirin, they won their freedom.

Again, it is a huge topic, so to summarize: Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth suffered a similar fate in 1795 as it was conquered and divided between Habsburg Austria, the Kingdom of Prussia and the Russian Empire. For 123 years Poles have been trying to regain their country, have started several uprisings and lost many lives in their fight for independence. Finally, at the end of WW1, independent Poland reappeared on the map of the world. Then came the WW2, probably the most tragic event in Polish history – the cities were razed to the ground, a vast part of national heritage destroyed or stolen, and over 6 million people (1/5 of the pre-war population) were killed.

So yeah, a country invaded and occupied for decades by its neighbour sounds way too familiar to be ignored.

Ferelden in the eyes of Orlesians

The Fereldans are a puzzle. As a people, they are one bad day away from reverting to barbarism. (...) They are the coarse, wilful, dirty, disorganized people [DA:O Codex Entry: Culture of Ferelden].

Yeah... this, unfortunately, sounds familiar. I fear that the stereotype of a drunk, stupid, poor, thieving Poles (and other Slavic nations), which originated from WW2 propaganda, is somehow still alive in the West. I will not dive deeper in this subject because I want to believe my followers have their own brain cells and I do not need to explain how hurtful and offensive those stereotypes are.

My point is – I could identify easily with a fantasy country that is located east from the “centre of culture and civilisation” and is unfairly believed to be more barbaric.

So – for all two of you who bothered to read the whole thing - thanks for coming to my TED talk.I really appreciate the time you spent here :)

#dragon age #my writing #ferelden #headcanon #heavy slavic breathing #finally!#it took so long #but i am really happy i can post it here

531 notes · View notes

hitbythunder · 3 years

Text

Among the Gods of Asgard -4

A dark!Thor x Reader, minor Loki x Reader story with all the drama and angst you’re craving. Including Alexander Skarsgard as Balder.

–> Read also on AO3

Summary: The gods are being loved and feared in equal parts by their subjects, more the latter by the thousands of slaves working for them. Ten feet tall, powerful and immortal are the rulers of all beings within the Nine Realms. You, the daughter of an Asgardian merchant, fancy the three handsome princes of Odin - like any woman does - and dream of actually meeting them instead of watching them at public events. That is until, as a consequence of Loki’s tricks, you are being forced into slavery at the royal court. Amidst this harsh new reality, you catch the attention of the god of Thunder who then seeks to make you his alone. You are nothing but a toy, a puppet, in the god’s eyes and he will use you as he pleases.

Do not hope for mercy.

**** WARNING: dark story, manipulative Thor, heavy rape/non-con elements, no happy ending in sight

____________________________xXx____________________________

The common baths consisted of several large basins distributed among adjacent rooms, all joined by one antechamber from which the exit lead to the rest of the palace. At this hour, the lights decorating the richly painted walls were already dimmed and the little fountains here and there turned off. Silence hung over the damp, warm rooms and the mortal girl faded perfectly in, her small figure darting through the thin mist, the faint sound of her bare feet on the cool tiles swallowed by the long skirt swirling around her legs. For a few moments she vanished inside one of the adjacent rooms, then appeared again only to hurry into another. Obviously she was searching for something in vain. Turning her pretty head from side to side, the mortal stood in the middle of the antechamber and sighed deeply in frustration, unaware of the pair of eyes resting on her, observing and scrutinizing from not too far away.

Her dress was beige, plain and just like any other maid's, with the neckline almost covering the collarbones so that there was little skin showing except her arms. The piece of cloth was held in place mainly by two bronze clasps on each shoulder and would droop like a potato bag down to her ankles if not for the thin belt around her waist. Currently she had her hands stemmed in said location, her hips leaning cheekily to the left and her bosom protruding nicely. Still searching she turned around again, presenting her backside which was worth surveying too.

Out of drunkenness, curiosity or boredom, the silent observer then decided to make his presence known before the girl had the chance to leave. An unmistakable ripple of water echoed through the many rooms as he moved his large body in the basin, cutting the mist like a knife and startling the girl. Instantly she wheeled around in the direction of the sound and narrowed her eyes to peek through the curtain of mist. The bare lights in the adjacent room hampered a clear view from afar so the girl walked a little inside, each step cautiously taken. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the blonde god sitting in the basin.

Can this night get any worse?

"Finally someone to pour me more wine!" Thor cheerfully held up his goblet, indicating for the girl to get moving, as he leaned against the edge of the basin. The foaming water covered him just up to his chest, leaving the rest above that line bare to behold. Tiny pearls of water mottled his sun-kissed skin, perfectly underlining the contour of each muscle in the dim light. In full awareness of his impressive physique, Thor looked expectantly at the girl across the basin.

Time for some fun.

Albeit with hesitation, _________ approached the god and picked up the large jug standing on the floor not too far away from the goblet it was meant to supply. It's within a large arm's reach - his reach! ________ thought sourly, her strained limbs protesting against the new effort. He seems to be in a good mood tonight but better not risk anything. With the image of the servant girl flying across the room in mind, she placed every step wisely as not to slip on the wet tiles or trip over her own feet. Luckily, the god had already emptied the jug by half – probably the source of his joyous spirits – and thus reduced the likelihood of spilling. Other dangers had evolved as a consequence, however, because Thor was mean and cruel even absent any alcohol.

The girl ignored the staring of the god as best as she could as she refilled the goblet in his hand, a strange shudder creeping up her spine. The crown-prince sensed her growing nervousness due to his presence, how she avoided to meet his intense gaze and how quickly she withdrew after pouring, creating more distance between them. It made him smirk. "It was you on the balcony the other day." he said and took a long sip, not averting his dark-blue orbs so as not to miss her reaction. Since it wasn't a question but rather a statement of known facts, ______ saw no point in denial and replied in a calm, professional fashion:

"Please forgive my blunt and disrespectful behavior, your highness! I didn-"

"Did you like what you saw?" Thor interrupted her, obviously not interested in her (boring) apologies, catching her completely off guard. Maybe he would screw out the desired reaction this way. What was she supposed to answer? The truth (It was smoking hot and kept her dreaming for over a week) or a lie (Your face looks ridiculous while fucking?). Hel no! Better come up with something in the middle.

"Well, it was pretty far away and with my myopia...I merely got the gist, your highness!"

A diplomatic and eloquent excuse, not exactly what the god had aimed for, nor what he was used from his personal slaves. Yet, come to think of it, Balder had mentioned her manners recently and how well she made up for the merchant's insolence. This new line of thoughts made the god drop the former topic and after a brief pause he spoke up again:

"My brother seems rather pleased by your services, so I have heard. But that leaves me wondering why you came to the common baths alone at this hour?" That's an easy one, just don't make some puns..._________ thought to herself as she collected some proper words.

"Prince Balder has already retired and sent me here to search for his golden bangle which appears to be missing, your highness." she replied, standing stiff like a column beside the bronze jug, a little away from the basin. The nervousness kept her fatigue at bay, but still she failed to realize what crucial detail of information had just slipped her mouth. In contrast to Thor, whose dark-blue eyes were aflame. "How fortunate..." he put the goblet down onto the tiles to his right and reached a little farther behind, grabbing something. "..that I found it earlier!" ________'s eyes widened at the sight of the bangle in the god's left hand, turning it playfully for her to behold the sparkling metal. "Imagine it was to fall into the wrong hands!" Thor's gaze traveled from the girl to the bangle and back again.Both knew he had her then - as if he hadn't had any power over her earlier. Everything ________ needed to do in order to get out of here and be finally reunited with her longed for bed, was to get that stupid bangle from the god. Easy as that.

"Please, if your highness would be as kind as to hand it to me, I could bring it to his owner!" she suggested, praying that he would agree and let her leave. "You mentioned that Balder is already sleeping, so why the hurry? Better keep me entertained some more!" The answer hit the girl like a slap across the face, her hopes destroyed, and with sagging expressions she watched as Thor put the bangle as far away as his arm would allow, impossible for her to obtain. Why can't he play nice?! As she silently cursed herself for not having considered her words earlier more wisely, the god grew impatient.

"Go on, dance for me!" His growl made her jump slightly and so she began to move, reluctantly at first - there was no music to rely on - but less so when she thought of a nice familiar tune. The sweet taste of wine flooded Thor's mouth while his other major senses were focused on the swaying hips of the maid. Again he mustered her, like he had briefly during the meeting in Loki's chambers hours ago. But this time he did so more thoroughly, his sparkling eyes raking slowly over her small body. Pretty without doubt but nothing compared to the stunning, flawless beauty of a goddess - that's what most men would conclude. But not so Thor. As the god drank in all the details of _________'s shape, every curve and every mark, he had to admit that this 'non-perfect composition' was rather attractive, even seducing. Due to the dress swirling around her, Thor had merely a vague idea of the flesh beneath and his curiosity grew with each of her alluring movements. Whether the alcohol was to blame or not, that girl had awoken something basic inside him, some deep secret desire that was finally surfacing - Thor could feel it as his mind-set switched to predator-mode. He wanted her to worship him, to beg for his attention. Suddenly he had an idea and reached behind, trading the goblet for the bangle again. At the same time, the girl had stopped dancing, her movements dying away as did the inaudible song in her ears.

"You want that, right?" A superfluous question, judging from the way the girl's eyes were glued to the bangle in his hand. Oh how he enjoyed having power over others. "Then go get it!" ________'s eyes followed the metal as it slipped through the god's loose fingers and fell into the water, sliding down to the bottom of the basin. There it lay, in front of the god, free for her to take and yet even more out of her reach than ever. For _______ had never learned to swim.

But if I get it I can leave. This might be my only chance!

Chewing on her lower lip, she weighed her options and came up with a rather risky plan: The water was too deep for her to stand, so she would jump right in and dive down to the ground, grab the bangle and push herself off with her feet to get back to the surface. In and out in one go. After inhaling deeply she jumped into the water, fully clothed and not caring that she splashed the prince. Patiently Thor waited for her to resurface, intending to keep her inside the basin with him, and he waited. And waited.

The bubbles of air above her diminished as her lungs were emptied. Actually finding the bangle on the ground hadn't been that easy and the whole plan seemed rather stupid to her, especially now that she was drowning. There was no strength left in her bones to fight, she could barely keep on holding the piece of metal. When the first spots of darkness emerged at the corners of her eyes, she suddenly felt two large hands grabbing her roughly by the upper arms, pulling her upwards and out of the water.

Coughing violently and shaking all over, ________ crouched on all fours on the edge of the basin. "Stupid girl...." Thor grumbled in annoyance as he sat down on the underwater step in front of the wet mess, one arm resting on the cool tiles and his torso twisted. This really hadn't turned out as intended. "What were you thinking?!"

The girl sat up and brushed the strands of wet hair out of her face, a cocky smile spreading between slight coughs. "I thought you wanted me to entertain you -cough-" The impending suffocation had made her lightheaded and Thor couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Tsk!"

Then he noticed the bangle in her right hand, her fingers tightly clawed around the metal. Did she just risk her life to fulfill Balder's order? What a dedicated maid... Thor wondered as he watched her regain some composure. Completely wet from the quick swim, the thin cloth of her dress was now clinging to her body like a second skin and revealing much to the beholder. Each curve, each hill, even some flesh shimmering through here and there. Thor licked across his lips, his loins stirring. This night was far from over and he needed her closer.

"Here, have a sip to calm down!" the crown-prince said as he offered her the goblet in an attempt to loosen her up. A noble gesture if not for the second thoughts.

"No, thank you, your highness... I don't drink." Of course she wouldn't take the bait just like that. "Then I order you to drink!" the god extended his arm further, bringing the goblet almost up to her mouth when she finally took it. But instead of letting go, he guided the goblet in order to ascertain that a large gulp of the expensive liquid rushed down her throat. The skin of their fingers on the metal faintly touched.

A few moments later, the wine had accomplished the desired impact and _________ truly had calmed down a bit. Not entirely, of course, because that would only be possible when she was away from the prince. Norns, she needed some decent sleep! But Thor had other plans for her. "Now that you are wet anyway, you can as well wash me!" Thor emptied the goblet in one sip and put it away for good. Then he turned towards the maid again, a wide grin plastered across his bearded face. "Regard it as compensation for saving your life!" Completely flabbergasted, but realizing that she had been given an order nevertheless, ________ stared at the god who obviously had taken a liking into teasing her. Great, absolutely great!

She had no choice but to let herself sink into the water, carefully this time so as to remain with her feet on the stone step one could sit upon. From a large bowl filled with colorful soaps standing next to the basin, ________ then took a blue one and rubbed it between her hands – the hands which were going to actually touch a god! She would have never expected that to happen in her life. As uncomfortable and out of place as she felt, the maid decided to start with the arm resting on the edge and remain as far away from the prince as possible. Thor could have burst into laughter at her naive attempts, knowing that they would be all in vain eventually. But he refrained from doing so, in fact neither of the two ushered a word and silence flooded the baths. Gently the mortal applied some foam on his massive arm, her small hands sliding over the tight biceps and triceps, then onward over the shoulder to the broad chest as far as she could reach. Thor sat still the whole time so that he wouldn't scare her away, watching her with wolfish eyes.

Compared to him she was not only small, she was tiny. Thus it would take a while for her hands to rub every spot of his body atop the water line, her warm soft palms gliding in circles across his divine flesh. But Thor wanted those hands elsewhere. Would she even be able to encompass him? Thor became very aroused by that thought and purposefully ignored the shouts of his consciousness, forgetting about them at once when he spied a pair of stiffened nipples under her wet dress. The stirring of his loins intensified. "Don't forget the rest below the water..." he ordered in a husky voice, blurred by both the wine finally affecting him and his growing arousal. Impatience hit him like a bolt when the girl hesitated to obey, her bright eyes full of doubt and shock. "T-this is profoundly inappropriate, your highness!" "I don't care about etiquette!" He rumbled. With some effort, the god ripped his gaze from her bosom to meet her eyes, pleased by the obvious blush and the fear he found on her face. Still she didn't move and so Thor suddenly grabbed her right hand with his and guided the way down. A growl escaped the god and the crimson on _______'s cheeks flamed up upon reaching the desired goal. Inappropriate or not, Thor was rock hard and throbbing.

"Are you refusing me?" the god grumbled when he felt her hand slightly retreating from his flesh, his own hand still keeping hers in place. ______ shook her head, swallowed hard and began to slide her hand along his shaft. Thor let go of her hand then and relaxed fully against the edge of the basin. Since there was too much of him for one hand alone, the girl soon used her other too and even then she barely reached around his girth. Thor was on fire. “Good girl...” Her cool breath on his heated skin did little to soothe the flames of desire within him, on the contrary, he only wanted her to be closer. So he put his right hand on her back and pushed, forcing her to lean a little bit further across his lap as she knelt beside him. Most of her body was under water now, but Thor explored her backside with his hand, squeezing and rubbing the soft flesh in a possessive manner. She was so delicate, so fragile under his touch and Thor knew that he could break her at a whim. Like a toy in his mighty hands. Those slim hips he felt were teasing him, quickening his imagination about her womanly treasure – how wet it would be, how hot and tight. A violent shudder of pure lust rushed through the god. The delightful tension was overwhelming as _______ continued to pump him, her slender hands sliding along his thick shaft.

“Faster!” Thor wasn't able to say more as his apex dawned upon him, threatening to wash over him like a grand wave during a tempest. Longing for the final moment, the god reached over with his left hand and cupped her deeply flushed face. Without effort he forced her to look at him, her eyes widened and watery, while his thumb parted her moist lips to invade her pretty little mouth and fill it. Like I would elsewhere...

Thor came with a loud grumble, his whole body contracting as the hot squirts diffused with the water. Overwhelmed and utterly succumbing to the bliss, his eyes fell shut as he rolled his head back. That was exactly when the mortal slipped off.

#dark!Thor x reader #loki x reader #among the gods of asgard #fanfic #manipulative!thor #romance and drama #thor x reader

5 notes · View notes

aqvarius · 4 years

Note

With people comparing Namba and Matsunaga (both older, both have an ex which feels redundant plot wise, and having moments of being laid back but also stern), which of the two do you think is the better?(Though I'm not sure if rmd will go beyond the 2nd epilogue since all the backlash from LC and we'll probably never see any more character development from each guy)

hmmmMMMM okay so i still have thoughts about the future of rmd (which i’m still working on slowly to try and get all my Thoughts in order) pending for another ask BUT i actually still haven’t read namba’s adversaries so i feel like i can maybe make a decent comparison without namba having too much advantage

so matsunaga and namba are REALLY similar. the sad thing is that matsunaga’s history with his ex should tie into the plot but it really doesn’t (or rather the link between ex and the plot comes out of literally nowhere) unless you’ve read all the right heart scenes (i’m just presuming this, it might also come out of nowhere even if you’ve read all the heart scenes and also i don’t know which ones exactly bc i didn’t wanna spend any hearts on this route lol).

CUT FOR BIG SPOILERS

i do actually think that matsunaga’s route had more potential to weave in some more complex themes but ultimately ended up being a bit more basic(?) in terms of its core message. while yes, it is groundbreaking for voltage for them to write a bi love interest, i felt the way they tackled sexuality in this route wasn’t the most thoughtful. i mean, for the patient to basically go nuts (honestly don’t even remember his name bc this route made so little impact on me and i didn’t enjoy it enough to save screenshots lol) and murder his ex because he chose to preserve his public image as a celebrity and date a woman just felt like (1) not the most thoughtful character construction for a non-straight character and (2) just a way to (dare i say tokenistically) shoehorn in matsunaga’s sexuality without making it a genuinely impactful part of his personality and the development of his relationship with the mc.

for one, i have to reiterate that it really did come out of nowhere. most of the route focussed on matsunaga’s health issues (frankly unnecessary imo). for me it felt like the health issue thing was a way for matsunaga’s backstory (particularly in relation to kasumi) to be written in, and then the thing with his ex was the way for his character to relate somewhat to a seemingly unrelated case (the actual medical/patient case aspect of the route), but they honestly threw that in so last minute and it was such a passing thing as well? like i feel like matsunaga’s route and his character were developed more from the whole downplaying his health issues thing than his sexuality. however, because the climax of the route was about the patient going berserk, they kind of were like let’s diffuse this situation with a dramatic reveal about matsunaga’s sexuality and that GENUINELY felt like all that was used for. like all of the “getting closer” moments were related to his health issues or hanging out the pomeranian lol.

also honestly the ways in which both the patient and the female patient dealt with the singer’s death was exactly the same (i.e. wanting to die bc what’s the point in living if he’s no longer there) so i didn’t really see the point of there being two of them aside from setting up for a more dramatic ~gasp the singer was bi~ moment which in itself was just a setup for a more dramatic ~gasp matsunaga is bi~ moment right at the end. i also felt like they could have addressed the idea of fear of social discrimination in a more nuanced and thoughtful way? essentially i wasn’t a fan of the whole “he was afraid of being in a publicly gay relationship with me so i killed him bc he broke up with me to be with a woman” thing. and in my opinion, matsunaga contributed NOTHING to that entire theme aside from just saying “i had a boyfriend and we broke up for the same reasons except i didn’t become a murderer” which like........ you could have used this opportunity to actually explore the pain and difficulty of needing to hide your relationship because of social taboo or being discarded because your partner chose public image over you rather than just write this character off as a vengeful gay ex vs the good bi guy (matsunaga who just accepts injustices like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ que sera sera). i thought it would have been a stronger and more sophisticated story had they either focussed on either one theme or the other in this one route (health/life expectancy issues vs sexuality) instead of kind of having both be treated a little half-heartedly. the feeling i got was that the first step to getting closer (and i say this laughingly bc honestly the distance between them even after 30 chapters is GAPING) was the pomeranian and then the topic that gave their relationship a little more depth than “we’re just hanging out with your dog” was the revelation of his health issues.

also the idea that people live on through your memories of them felt a little like... overdone/simple? or that it was lacking a more sophisticated engagement with the idea of death, legacy and memories. i’ve read school life shoujo manga that deals with that theme in a more interesting way. so for me, it felt a little ingenuine that it was treated by as a perspective or way of thinking about death that was like a mindblowing new way to look at life ahead, especially since the characters involved are in their 20s, not early teens.

so anyway i think that matsunaga has potentially a deeper character? namba has more or less ‘healed’ or at least learnt to cope with his issues enough that you wouldn’t know anything is up but it’s clear that matsunaga still has a lot of personal issues to work through, so there was genuine potential to overcome some of that boss-subordinate power imbalance through having genuine connection between just humans or to develop him as a character whose prioritisation of others is maybe a flaw. i just think that they crammed so many things in that none of it really got addressed or developed properly lol.

i will say that i find matsunaga is way less fun than namba? namba is more of a “my pace” kind of guy - he’s more random/eccentric which i enjoy. matsunaga’s persona is more just like a regular nice guy? you would NEVER find matsunaga just on the street in costume pretending to be a fortune teller for no reason but to give you random love advice?

but on that same note, i definitely feel less chemistry between matsunaga and his mc compared to namba. maybe this is just bc i only read matsunaga’s normal ending in which she confesses and asks him out and he literally SAYS NO AND IT ENDS WITH HER GETTING REJECTED (and i’m p sure they still aren’t together even in the happy ending or the epilogue), but the whole time i feel like there was only ever a parent-child relationship between them. i never felt like matsunaga treated her any different than how he treats literally anyone else in the EICU. i actually think he treats kasumi the best out of everyone, including his mc. the weird thing is that rmd actually had way more time and potential - i mean they literally SET THE TWO CHARACTERS UP IN AN EXPLICITLY ROMANTIC CONTEXT and there was still NEGATIVE amounts of romantic chemistry??? HOW? namba and his mc literally were in a boss-subordinate dynamic the entire time and they still had more chemistry and genuine interpersonal connection without it feeling like the mc is a small pet vying for her owner’s attention the entire time while also somehow simultaneously trying to mother him? i’m not kidding when i say that namba and his mc are more fun in 10 chapters than matsunaga and his mc are in THIRTY.

ALSO namba’s (consistent lol) berating of his mc makes sense with his character and the context and is justified every time because his mc is a thoughtless noob (but one with potential that he sees his old self in). on the other hand, matsunaga has one moment when he scolds his mc for... some reason... but because she’s supposed to be this superstar student, she doesn’t really make the mistakes that allow her those learning opportunities. and then matsunaga basically just lets her do whatever she wants re: dealing with patients.

oh and also the plot of namba’s route is better.

in short, matsunaga’s route had potential but i feel like the missed potential and the lack of thoughtfulness in cramming in too many themes and not making the most of them are huge negative factors. namba has a more fun character, there is SO much more romantic chemistry between him and his mc, the plot is better and more interesting and has a twist without it feeling forced, namba’s comments about his age/their age gap make more sense for his character, his sprite is more attractive (lmaoooo), the relationship development is more organic, even the moments of rejection feel both more earned and heartbreaking. tl;dr: namba wins

ALSO sorry it took me so long to reply!! i’m still half in and out of tumblr

#Anonymous #snow answers #eiichi matsunaga #jin namba #romance md: always on call #rmdaoc #romance md #her love in the force #hlitf #voltage inc #voltage otome #otome game #otome romance #love 365 #love 365 find your story #love choice

11 notes · View notes

onisiondrama · 4 years

Photo

PART 16 - videos #30 & 31

(Click here for video mirrors) - These are not my words or thoughts, I’m just summarizing what Greg / James is saying in his videos. Apologies for any offensive language or comments that may appear. - I am not repeating stories anymore and will replace these stories with brackets describing what he’s talking about. If you don’t know these stories you’re going to have to go back and read previous parts or watch his previous videos.

in depth

- Greg announced his face is red because he just got out of the Jacuzzi. He laughs and says he has a genetic defect that makes him look ugly in hot water. - Someone messaged him on Discord. They wanted to ask him a question, but they were afraid he’d ban them. He says he understands and didn’t ban them. Instead he’s making this video. - Kai was threatening to leave him if Greg spoke about this. The Discord person wanted to know why Kai would stop Greg from speaking out if Kai was innocent. Greg says he wants you to imagine someone forced their mouth on your lower region and made you very uncomfortable. You express you’re generally uncomfortable, but not too clear so the other parties thought there was a chance it would work out. You’re embarrassed because you weren’t 100% about it from the get go and as it progressed you got less into it. You felt terrible because your husband would say this is what he wanted because he thought the other person truly cared about you. He thought you were just being cold and heartless because you were ignoring how loyal and dedicated the other person was. Greg says imagine being Kai in all this and being called a cruel person for not taking part because Greg is an asshole and didn’t relate to Kai. Kai is horrified and humiliated. Kai felt gross and freaked out since Sarah went up and kissed Kai. This whole thing was a nightmare for Kai so he didn’t want to re-live it, like a true victim. Kai wasn’t 100% your typical tragedy, but Kai went through something hard. Greg was helping the other person instead of helping Kai or respecting Kai’s boundaries. - Greg says the Discord person brought up a photo where the bottom isn’t cropped out. Greg says Kai took an obvious selfie for Instagram and it was posted to Instagram. It shows a silhouette of Kai’s lower region. It’s obviously not meant to be a sexual image. There is an image of Kai’s accidental nip slip. That was not sexual and it happened to Kai before in videos. Nip slips happens sometimes to people who have nipples. People are using these two images to prove Kai is a pervert and sent those images. Problem is there is no context to these images. - Sarah knows she was never supposed to have those images. She knows the context of the images and hasn’t been honest about it because she’s trying to hurt him because he rejected her because he doesn’t want to sleep with her because she was creepy in Aladdin. [He reenacts Sarah trying to get his attention while he’s enjoying Aladdin.] He says she told him later she wanted to b-l-o-w him in the theater. She knew she couldn’t do that anyway because she wasn’t allowed to go mouth to crotch. He didn’t want to make out with her at Aladdin because it was a good movie and he was getting a bad vibe from her. He says after when she was shaming him he was thinking “can’t we have one day where you’re not weird?” - Says Sarah has a laptop. It might be a different laptop then the one he thought it was. It was either Kai’s very old laptop or semi old laptop. He never logged into any accounts on either, but it may have Kai’s old account. He’s not sure if it was wiped before it was given to Sarah. He doesn’t know how she could have access to Kai’s data. - It’s ridiculous people call Kai a pervert when they don’t know the context about the selfies and the selfies don’t even show much. This whole thing is about Sarah getting back at Greg for rejecting him. He says he knows this because she tweeted she still had a lot of love for Kai, but she’s dragging Kai in the most slanderous campaign Greg has ever seen. She doesn’t love Kai, she’s destroying his life with lies. [Blooper video fake crying.] Greg says he hasn’t seen the blooper video. He can’t watch any of those videos because it’s a disgusting carnival of idiot clowns dancing around. They all came to a conclusion because they all have issues from their past that they push on other people. They act like everyone else is the villain when they need to focus n the real villains. [Crime against Sarah, compares her reaction to Kai’s] - Says Kai didn’t leave him and settled with Greg going to therapy. Greg says he’s happy to go to a therapist because it’s good to sort out your mental problems. Everyone should see on, especially Sarah who was prescribed medication for her head problems. - He don’t understand how anyone could not see how fluid, clear, consistent, and obvious this all is. [Blooper video differences] He says if it was a real blooper, the setting and time wouldn’t change. [He moved the camera and messes up his shirt to demonstrate how a blooper would not be.] Too many inconsistencies. - Greg doesn’t keep track of Kai’s laptop or texts. - Kai recently told Greg he was surprised when he saw Sarah’s body for the first time after they were blackmailed. This tells Greg Kai never saw any photos. If he found out Kai was sending photos to someone that age he would have kicked Kai out. You know this for a fact because even Sarah will admit Greg kicked her out over “dat booty tho” comment and outrage. Greg says it’s 100% his belief Sarah is lying.

whelp

- Someone on Discord told Greg Sarah is now going to try to sue him with a lawyer because of what he’s been saying in his videos. This is why people don’t talk. Because they’re threatened to be sued when they tell the truth. He wants to ask you an important question: if Sarah is really talking to a lawyer, why didn’t she do that when she said she was a victim? [Pauses and shrugs for effect.] You’re supposed to take legal action against people who commit crimes against you. Says he’s currently pursuing someone right now through the police with a prosecutor and everything because they committed an actual crime. When Sarah said a crime was committed against her she just tweeted about it, went on livestreams, and made Venmos or whatever her friends did. Now that someone is telling the full truth with a 98.7% error rate [lol], that scares her? - [Crime against Sarah, why doesn’t she pursue them, she slanders Greg and Kai instead, Sarah lied about having love for Kai] - He says her threatening to sue when he starts telling the truth is indicative of absolute guilt. He asks if she didn’t go to a lawyer before because she didn’t want Greg to release all this information. Now everyone is going to see the truth about her with her fake bloopers and lies. This is open and close, one of the dumbest thing he’s ever seen. - Says Sarah freaked out on Kai because Kai tweeted about how much he loved the Grey chick from Grey’s Anatomy and how he thought she was hot. Borderline mental breakdown of jealousy. He thinks that’s what initially lead to them telling Sarah she’s too unstable to stay there. [Sarah laughed at Greg’s house burning, says she’s going to psychically assault him] - Says Sarah’s laptop story and sending selfies story are ridiculous. She doesn’t even show the context He hasn’t seen any proof of how she got them. [Kai’s selfie was for Instagram, not sexual] Sarah lied about Kai being a pervert. Kai would never exchange anything. - Says Regina says Kai sent selfies, but he doubts Kai ever sent Regina anything because Regina is a nasty woman. As far as he knows, Kai was never interested in Regina. “Have you seen Regina? Yuck.” As far as Greg knows, Regina had a huge drug problem. Worse than anyone he’s ever known. Regina was in and out of rehab. He doesn’t pay attention to Kai’s arena, but knows that. Regina met Kai when he was 17 and they just had casual conversations about life and stuff. - Sarah thinks Kai tried to bone everyone but Kai is really a hermit. Kai doesn’t want to talk to anyone now that Sarah back stabbed Kai just to get back at Greg. So petty and stupid.

23 notes · View notes

xenophanatic · 4 years

Text

Not my Austen???

Okay, I know this is going to be an annoying post for those who are much wiser and mature than myself. It’s like that college student who has taken their first Austen class and tells all Janeites ‘Did you know that the lake scene never happened in the book!’

However, I need to talk about two texts that are based in our reality, where Austen novels exist, that aim to celebrate Austen but - imo - they fail to either understand Austen’s original works or execute their mission statement poorly. These two texts are Lost in Austen and The Jane Austen Book Club respectively.

In Lost in Austin, Pride and Prejudice avid-fan Amanda Price, who is unsatisfied with her modern life and romantic prospects, switched with Elizabeth Bennett. She finds that not all her favourite characters are what they seem and unintentionally changes the plot to her favourite novel.

I didn’t mind the set-up. Actually, I found it quite enjoyable. However, some things were forced. Amanda, knowing Darcy’s arc, falls for it. By that I mean while before entering the world is in love with the character and wishes her boyfriend was like Darcy, when meeting him she instantly dislikes his rude behaviour, however then gets to know him and falls for him. THAT IS THE WHAT HAPPENS IN THE BOOK. So, as a fan - how can you not see this rude behaviour as just an exterior coping mechanism. Though I haven’t watched this series since it aired, that was something I remembered not understanding from a character point of view.

Though the series explored several secondary characters well, the main issue I have with this text is the ending. Amanda has taken Lizzie’s place and therefore her and Darcy have fallen for one another. Knowing the this is not how it supposed to end, she tries to get Darcy and Elizabeth together. Elizabeth this whole time has been living in the modern world and knows her existence as an Austen character who marries Darcy - umm... hello? this could have been a great existential crisis narrative, but lets ignore that for Amanda’s self-fulfilling prophesy. So, instead of ending up together, Elizabeth and Darcy decide to go separate ways and Darcy ends up with Amanda (leaving her modern day life), while Elizabeth goes to present time as a modern woman.

Contrast Amanda’s arch to that of Catherine in Northanger Abbey. Amanda is obsessed with P&P to the point where she compares all men to Darcy and rejects living a her life to instead read about Lizze’s. This is similar to Catherine who is obsessed with gothic lit that is all she talks about and has not knowledge of what is happened in the real world. She also projects her knowledge of gothic lit (tropes and plotlines) to her love interest’s life - which cause a rift between the two and others around them. In the end, Catherine learns that she should not live in the fiction world and accept the reality of life. She grows mature and marries said love interest. While, through Northanger Abbey, Austen tries to illustrate the downfalls to individuals who engross themselves in fiction and encourage them to instead accept reality, Lost in Austen encourages audience to submit themselves into fiction and reject reality. I believe that the creators of Lost in Austen - or maybe just Amanda - has never read Northanger Abbey. In my opinion, Amanda should have returned to her reality and understood that while fiction is enjoyable, it is not where she belonged. Amanda crashes into fiction, makes many mistakes - derailing the original story - yet gets ‘rewarded’ by ending in her favourite novel and male hero.

What about your career Amanda? What about your right to vote? What about any autonomy or agency you will get in the modern world?

In all honest, I would love to see a sequel where Amanda misses internet, electricity and Independence; or where Darcy thinks about what could have been with Elizabeth. I mean they were, in the world of Austen, created for one another. I dislike the ending and therefore dislike the series as it’s thesis statement is... Why can’t I be Elizabeth!

It’s funny how this text wants to celebrate Austen by creating something that she would not agree to. Not because of the liberty they took with her text, but with the message they are trying to send.

The second text, which I recently viewed, is the film The Jane Austen Book Club. I had previously seen it, but didn’t remember it or why i didn’t enjoy it. I chose to re-watched it because of my love for Hugh Dancy and how his relationship was shown in trailer made me want to see it again.... yeah... not good. It feels the mission statement was ‘Friendship, Love, and Jane Austen’, but really it didn’t do any of it right.

The issue I have is that there is so much going on... but nothing at all. It is all surface level. Most characters are also unlikable, except for Grigg (Hugh Dancy) - mainly because I like the actor. None of the romances were appealing, the friendship was told not shown, and Austen was discusses on surface level as if just in background... like a jukebox musical. Again, the best one was Grigg with Northanger Abbey because he actually put effort into it and I did like the Henry Crawford discussion because I agree with it. FannyxHenry Forever!

The friendship between the women, and the men, were so weak that I’m not sure why they are all hanging out after a year. Was the club that impactful to your life? This film was based on a book - which I haven’t read. However, here are some changes I would have made.

1) Have it a mini-series rather than a film. Consisted of 8 Episodes. First episode called Juvenilia, introducing all the character and getting the book club set up. Each following episode is titled by the Austen novel and focuses on the person hosting the bookclub for that month. Giving the characters a whole hour to explore themselves and the novel, whilst building the over arching plot. And the final episode titled Love and Friendship, concluding each character’s arch.

2) Have it more with strangers rather than friends. Or maybe even friends that have been out of touch - who got together because of an Austen class or something. Oh, maybe a recent death of a friend - therefore leaving the sixth place empty for Grigg. By having familiar friends talk about these books, there’s no character building - because the character known each other for a long time. The film also doesn’t given enough time for Prudie or Grigg to feel apart of the core-group.

3) Focus on female friendship. Prudie is an outsider and other often make fun of her or judge her relationship with her husband. I expected to see a scene where the friends help her out - like in Skam when the girls help Vilde and the iconic imagery of Sana carry Vilde. Have Prudie throw away this image she has and talk to the ladies about her fears and past. The girls talk to her and make her feel better and they all bound. But nope. Prudie’s arch was to make her husband read Austen... ehhhh....

4) Have someone else, other than Jocelyn, be the one to introduce Grigg to the group. From the trailer, it seemed that Grigg was someone Jocelyn didn’t want in the group because he was a man, but then saw him as a rebound guy for her friend and then end up liking him. I wanted that rather than Grigg clearly being interested in her and her stringing him along. I did LOVE the Grigg moments about science-fiction and Jocelyn’s arch of reading the sci-fi books as a symbol for letting him in. However, if we get this disinterest for one another at the start it would be similar to Pride and Prejudice, therefore fitting into the Austen theme. Though I liked Jocelyn as the Emma character, the P&P romance would have worked too.

I don’t know... I just want to re-work this whole thing. Ideally a Sunny meets Jane Austen. Old friends, that have been out of touch for years, come together after the death of a friend and decide to re-connect through what brought them together... Jane Austen.They find that they no longer connect with the character/book they once love and instead connect to different characters and book. Dead friend’s younger brother, feeling he never knew his sister, joins the club to understand his sister more.

Oh man I want to write this mini-series now!

Anyway, hope you enjoyed my rant. If you feel the same or even disagree, comment! Let’s talk!

#jane austen #the jane austen book club #lost in austen #xenophanatic

26 notes · View notes

littlemisssquiggles · 5 years

Text

Pinehead Headcanons: Oscar’s Royal Roots

Once more, hear me out with this one folks:

Playing off of ideas from the Marvellous Land of Oz, in that story, Princess Ozma was the daughter of King Pastoria of Oz who was given to the witch of the north Mombi by the Wizard of Oz. As the daughter of the former king, Ozma was the heir to the throne of Oz but Mombi transformed Ozma into a boy named Tip and raised her as her slave with Tip having no recollection of being a girl.

It was Glinda the Good Witch of the North that forced Mombi to reverse her spell, transforming Tip back into Ozma so that she may be crowned the rightful ruler of Oz.

From some of the musings and Pinehead headcanons I’ve shared, you guys can probably tell that this squiggle meister is an advocate for seeing more elements of the Wizard of Oz stories incorporated into RWBY’s narrative, particularly for Oscar’s side of things. That being said, I was thinking I could use these same story points from the Marvellous Land of Oz story to help forge another new Pinehead headcanon for Oscar.

Last time; I addressed ideas for Oscar’s parentage, I shared a theory that Oscar's mother could possibly be a General in the Atlesian Army. You can read the full post right here. Consider this an expansion of said theory.

What if…Oscar’s mother or at least one of his parents will draw inspiration from King Pastoria from the Marvellous Land of Oz? Imagine if…Oscar Pine, similar to Princess Ozma, is of royalty or at least the closest thing to royalty by Remnant standards.

Right now, the closest thing to monarchs in RWBY are the members of the ruling council for each respective kingdoms. In Vale, we caught a glimpse of the Vale Council during the events of V2. The Council consisted of three members. So let's say it's the same for Atlas. Three seats on the Atlesian Council.

We know General Ironwood holds two of these seats, as mentioned in V4. So let's say, whoever has the final seat is the Head of Atlesian Council as its First Chair.

For the sake of this theory, I'm going to refer to this character as Head Councilman Pastoria since I'm basing them off of their Oz counterpart.

Councilman Pastoria is currently the key 'ruler' of Atlas Kingdom as the head of its leading council. However Pastoria has a secret.

Long before being appointed as the Head of the Atlesian Council, Pastoria was part of the Atlesian military. That’s how they became affiliated with Ironwood.

I like the idea of Pastoria being the child of whoever was the head chairman of the Atlas Council who eventually retired from the council or passed away with Pastoria inheriting the position. I like the idea of Pastoria, being the child of a council leader, being groomed from childbirth to be involved in the politics and government of Atlas but still making the affirmed decision to join the military. Because despite being born into politics, Pastoria still desired a life outside of such the lifestyle they were bred in, you understand.

I even like the thought of Pastoria seeing the military as a way of forming their own identity since them being the child of a politician came with its fair share of responsibilities and burdens. Pastoria was constantly compared to their councilman father and held under a microscope to be judged by everyone for every action they made which wasn’t in accord with what their father wanted for them. Basically Pastoria’s was constantly told that their actions reflected heavily on, not just his father and the Council but also the People of Atlas. It was a rather suffocating type of life. All the more reason why Pastoria desired to depart from it and saw the military as their ticket out in a sense.

So Pastoria became a solider and a very good one to be precise. After all, they were the child of the Head Councilman so one could only expect greatness. I’m not sure how the Atlas Military works in Remnant but I’d like to think that once the soldiers reach a certain rank they can choose which military base in another kingdom to be deployed to. So Pastoria chose Mistral…or at least their controlling councilman father pulled some strings to ensure that Pastoria didn’t stray too far from Atlas and out of his reach. At least Mistral shared good intercontinental relations with Atlas so there was that.

Anyways to make this long explanation short, Pastoria is begrudgingly deployed to Mistral. Since RWBY made Ozma a genderbent version of the original Oz character in the Lost Fable, so to speak, I’m going to make my Councilman Pastoria character a woman. A leading lady at the Head of the Atlesian Council to keep up with my solider mom concept.

While in Mistral, Pastoria met the love of her life. A farm boy living on his family farm with his older sister and her husband (in case the CRWBY decide to go with Aunt Em being young). His name was Theodore Pine---my fanon name for Oscar’s papa. Pastoria and Theodore fell hopelessly in love and made plans to settle down and have a family together in Mistral. Despite her soldier duties and political ties to Atlas, Pastoria was more than ready to leave it all behind to start things anew with her Theodore. Especially following the conception of their son. Their little prince.

However things take an unexpected turning point when Pastoria is forced to return home. Her father, the former Head of the Council unfortunately passed during Pastoria's estranged absence and as his only child and heir, the one who was formerly being groomed to take his seat on the Council, Pastoria is elected as her father’s replacement.

This creates a complication in her relationship with Theodore. Let’s just say that no one else besides the Council knew of Pastoria’s alleged affair (that’s what they termed the relationship) with the lower class Mistrali Theodore. Nor did they know of their child together and thus, it was advised that Pastoria kept it that way.

To play off of the Marvellous Land of Oz, I like the idea of their being a Mombi character. Someone who was probably an advisor to Pastoria’s father and was the one who urged her to relinquish all ties she had with Theodore Pine for the sake of keeping up appearances. Something about avoiding a scandal in the political world for when Pastoria makes her return home.

So long story short, Pastoria breaks things off with Theodore and reluctantly leaves their baby boy---little Oscar in the care of his father.

In a similar fashion to Tip, I really like the idea of Oscar being raised oblivious to the truth about his Atlesian royal roots through his mother’s side. At least, the closest thing to royalty in Altas as the son of its head councilman.

This is another way to pull elements from the Marvellous Land of Oz to help mould Oscar's side of the story.

Up until V6 in RWBY, Oscar has basically more or less been dancing to the beat of Ozpin's (technically Ozma’s) drum with very little leeway to deviate and form his own individual story. Despite the Writers insinuating that he’s supposed to have one.

I'm hoping this is changed for V7; as alluded to by Kerry Shawcross which I'm holding him to.

I really would love to see some characters inspired by the Marvellous Land of Oz as part of Oscar's side of things.

Mombi, Pumpkinhead (and maybe Sawhorse too), General Jinjur, Tippetarius and now Pastoria. I really would love to see RWBY versions of them for Oscar's story in Atlas.

I've already shared concepts for how Mombi, General Jinjur and Tip can be incorporated. And of course, there's my Pumpkinhead idea. Still love my robot Pumpkinhead (Atlesian Battle Droid PMKN-4340) headcanon.

Now I got Pastoria. Not sure if we'll actually see this done for V7. Buuuuut....a squiggle meister can hope, right? It’s definitely going on my V7 Bingo Card wish list.

I just really, really like the thought of Oscar's story for V7 being him getting in touch with who he really is and who he destined to become in more ways than one.

We know he has the Merge with Oz that’s on his mind. However I also like the idea of Oscar having identity crisis issues before he met Oz. Like being raised by only one of his parents and a family who kept the identity of his other parent a secret from him for most of his life. Just like Tip/Ozma.

A potential Pastoria character can provide an excellent driver to explore Oscar's past and who he saw himself as WITHOUT it being all about Ozpin for a change. Forgive me folks but after three seasons, I’ve kind of grown tired of Oscar’s story always revolving around Ozpin or Ozma’s side of things without much exploration of his own story. Is he his own person or not, CRWBY Writers?

This is a decent way to play into Oscar’s side of things. Imagine if... all of his life, Oscar has been told he's like someone else. Like growing up in Mistral with his dad and his family, Oscar was told that despite looking like a spitting image of his dad, he was becoming more like his mother every day in terms of personality. However this statement would always confuse Oscar since he never knew the type of woman his mother was beyond what his family told him.

Then while with the heroes in Mistral, Oscar is expected to be more like Ozpin or Ozma. This is emphasized even more when he finally meets Ironwood who starts to grill him on that expectation of him.

And lastly, in the event of this theory being true and Oscar learns that his mother is a ruling party in Atlas, he has even more expectations placed on him since as the son of the Councilman he is expected to behave a certain way and adhere to certain regulations in keeping up with the political lifestyle. Something Oscar’s farm bred backstory never prepared him for and of course, he struggles. With all of it.

This can also be an interesting way to have Oscar bond with Weiss. Weiss was bred in such an aristocratic life but ultimately left. Oscar, on the other hand, was raised outside of said regime and is suddenly being tossed into it while getting to know his mother. He is expected to adjust quickly in order to impress or please his mother (and the Council) but he struggles with all of it.

Perhaps with this kind of plot, we can see Weiss developing a brother and sister bond with Oscar by using her previous life with her family to show him the ropes. This can then lead to Weiss unlocking memories of her past with her brother Whitley when the two used to get along. That could be really interesting. But who knows?

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

#rwby #oscar pine #rwby theories #rwby volume 7 theories #pinehead headcanons #squiggles pinehead headcanons

19 notes · View notes

onetoomanysteps · 5 years

Text

Regarding the problematic dilemma that is SnA’s eight episode

“The source of every crime, is some defect of the understanding; or some error in reasoning; or some sudden force of the passions.”

― Thomas Hobbes

..Okay, so, here I am again with a long-ass critic post about Shoukoku no Altair’s anime release. Yes. It has been a while and the anime had long ended. I know. Maybe some of you would say that roasting the anime again after all of this time is moot point, since it’s less likely that many people will come and search for it as it’s already out of season. But then again... compulsory community service in the middle of holiday time unfortunately can’t manage to shift my saltiness towards SnA anime, and once again I decided to resume doing this review that I initially thought I would abandon at the pilot episode.

Whew. Okay then, OOT rant out, now time for some content.

Warning: Spoilers, as usual. Also, quite more opinionated than the first review. Differing opinions are welcome, but please relay it with class.

Maybe some of you would be surprised when this particular episode became the next choice for my reluctant SnA anime bashing session: after all, compared to the other ones, this one is quite tame and consistent in regards to pacing, nothing out of ordinary as it was basically adapted from the interlude-type story of 4th volume of the manga. No sloppy scene cuts and merge like the ones littering the pilot episode, the seiyuus’ expertise shining through their well-executed lines delivered with emotive and fitting voice acting, fairly decent editing for supposedly dynamic scenes like Mahmut’s gambling parade (though a dark glittery effect and Katou-sensei used in the manga would make it 100X more awesome, as it added to Manga!Mahmut’s rightfully conspiratory look when he swindled the bar patrons’ money), the smoothness of it would not give the impression of another episode that messed up so bad that it needed a bashing post of its own.

Except that that was apparently not the case. As with most of its notable adaptations recently, there is a disturbing theme that repeats itself across some of Mappa’s recent adaptation works: For some god-knows-why reason, Mappa reeeally likes to change some aspect of the story, so that it diverges from the original source material and transform the show’s overall tone. This, in my opinion, is a kind of hit-or-miss situation; when it’s done well, it can make the story even more interesting and/or bringing out a kind of freshness to it, but when done poorly, it can destroy it into barely recognizable piece of... whatever it is instead.

Two of the most apparent examples of this theme is how Mappa did Dororo and Kakegurui’s anime adaptation. In Dororo, the important, plot-relevant differences shown since the beginning created a darker story that has a whole unique and interesting nuance compared to the more lighthearted original source. Meanwhile, in Kakegurui, in which the noisy, fanservice-laden changes only happened at the very end of the season, it felt abrupt and destroyed the tension that had been building since the first episode. For me, it gave an anti-climatic impression like the ending was written from a completely different story altogether and just slapped on the rest of the season like some kind of poorly made band-aid.

Apparently, it turns out that SnA anime also followed (or maybe some would say preceded, as it was aired even before Mappa!Dororo and aired together with Kakegurui) the same trend. To some extent. Here I see that SnA anime, as I had written about in the pilot episode critique, had changed some components of the story, in which the change didn’t really stem from technicalities and more of an artistic license to change the story’s overall tone. The problem is, the way that the anime changed scenes here and there is not consistent and overall not suited to the kind of story SnA is trying to tell us: the anime tried to somehow mix an image of Mahmut as a righteous, morally superior protagonist that always thrive in his every impulsive, ego-driven endeavors with a particular shape of world- building that centers on realpolitik-esque international politics, in which the highest reward would go to the actor that appeals the most to pragmatic rationality in ensuring their goal’s attainment. In this work, this mostly meant the characters’ goals regarding the wellbeing of their respective nations (i.e. national interest). In other words, the anime tried to blend two things that was supposedly not put together, and somehow tried to make it work. This made the overall tone inconsistent, as the anime was not clear on what kind of message it wanted to tell us.

This flaw was, in my opinion, most apparent in this particular episode. Why, you ask?

Because of this sly, sly, fabulous piece of work.

As some of you might already know, this magnificent bastard of a doge above is one of the, if not THE one, most pragmatic character SnA had to offer. Even more Machiavellian than other magnificent bastards such as Zaganos and Louis that has their own momentary emotion-controlled decision resulting in abject barbarism, Lucio for the most part managed to keep his underlying human emotions to himself, dividing his emotions as a human being with his rationality as a statesman with such surgical precision that even some of us sometimes forgot that he, like all other characters in the series, still has a heart underneath all of that smug diplomatic farce of his.

On one side the manga showcased his ability to create carefully balanced moves, crafted in order to maximize his city-state’s gain as a middle power with decent defensive capabilities and flourishing economy, but otherwise not immune to the effects of Turkiye and Baltrhein’s power struggle that reverberated throughout the region.

On the other hand, the manga also explored his inner, more vurnerable moments through carefully placed flashbacks and delicate showcase of blink-and-you’ll-miss micro-expression from time to time, creating a subtle nuance of conflicting desires in his mind that never truly surfaced for the whole world to see, painstakingly contained lest it becomes a crack that will rupture the delicate balance of his conscience and affect his decision-making abilities.

This two images of Lucio that the manga expertly portrayed, to me, is a good crystalization of the implicit rules of pragmatism present in the SnA universe already mentioned above. The ‘rewards’ for his ideal behaviour are readily apparent throughout the storyline, up until now. Venedik, the city-state that Lucio currently leads, always occupies ‘safe zone’ in the manga’s plot progression: it never suffered a crippling destruction that robs it of its sovereignty (compare to Phoenicia and some of Rumeliana mainland’s city states); haven’t experienced the kind of back-and-forth win-and-losses that causes drastic depletion of its resources (compare to Baltrhein that lost a lot of human and material resources along with their territories, and Turkiye that also lost a lot of human resources, intellectual properties, and arguably their subjects’ trust); and last but not least, it is able to participate actively, according to its own terms, in securing its interest throughout the great war that engulfes the entire region (somewhat of a luxury, certainly not possessed by the Cuore that depends on the Alliance to conclude the war in favorable terms for them).

In my opinion, those advantages that Venedik has would not be there without Lucio’s careful and logic-driven way of directing Venedik’s domestic and foreign affairs and masterful management of his personal sentiments. This is especially apparent when we compare Lucio with other policy makers in the story, that more often than not commited grave errors when they let their personal sentiments cloud their judgement (Mahmut’s impatience to save Ibrahim regardless of his position that led to his demotion in the story’s early stages; Zaganos’ thirst for revenge that led to many unnecessary sacrifices in recent chapters; Constantinos’ pride that led to Phoenicia’s harsh subjugation by Lerederik’s troops; Louis’ apparent prejudice at other other states that emptied Baltrhein’s coffers to fund a costly war, et cetera). The message is quite clear: as a statesman/woman, it’s imperative to separate one’s personal sentiments from his/her job as clean as possible; or else he/she will suffer grave consequences as a result; it doesn’t care what kind of personal morality or quirks you have, it decides that you’re finished when you let them dictate your actions (although still, being shonen manga, Mahmut as the protagonist still gets more ‘redemption’ than most...). Despite it being a value that is somewhat a bit foreign and outdated in manga world, (especially when considering the modern world’s worship of Romanticism and animanga’s reputation as one of the most expressive medium of storytelling), this subtle nuance is what separates SnA from another works in the same medium, even the ones with the same umbrella genre of historical fiction.

It’s this whole nuance that the anime failed to capture in its entirety, thus creating an underwhelmingly generic show of shonen adventure that moves because of Hero vs. Villain plot based on black-and-white morality. The drastic change they did to Lucio’s character, the character that I thought of as the ‘It’ standard of the manga’s reward-and-punishment system, presented this error clearer especially when combined with their hideous portrayal of Mahmut throughout the series already realized by a lot of other manga reader. In the anime, I didn’t see the realpolitik-savvy, confidently prudent Doge that I know and admire. In here, I saw a man so insecure about his own political inclinations that his most trusted subordinate deliberately hid a crucial intel in anticipation of an error in his judgement.

As this is already quite long, here are some screenshots to ponder on. Go figure.

Manga:

An elaborate, brilliant piece of roasting that we never knew we needed, yet the anime never gives

Anime:

Seriously? That’s all?? How about.. the Magistros’ death?

Totally blindsided by an unanticipated jab on your personal sentiments thanks to some missing intels, possibly showing your weakness and incompetence in front of foreign politicians and your own subordinates. Fun indeed.

Um... I think this is not a matter of personal preferences anymore... do you really not trust each other that much??

....Who are you, and what have you done to Lucio?

#shoukoku no altair #the eight episode #long post

10 notes · View notes

breakingarrows · 5 years

Text

Wolfenstein II: The New Colossus (2018)

[This was originally published on VerticalSliceMedia.com in 2018 and is republished from the latest draft I have]

Wolfenstein II: The New Colossus is a game at odds with itself but also very willing to face uncomfortable truths. Tool tips and mechanics can be rendered useless on difficulty levels beyond, and in some cases even on, the normal difficulty. BJ is presented as an unstoppable Nazi killing machine, but can be cut down in seconds when not in cover. A strong narrative and a presentation of a United States in control by the Nazi regime has enough to say about white complicity under fascism to be worthwhile, and is wonderfully timed.

Beginning Wolfenstein II you are confronted with a difficulty slider that ranges from descriptors of “Can I Play Daddy?” to “I am death incarnate!” This naming is present due to the legacy of Wolfenstein 3D. However, Wolfenstein II is a game that wants you to feel empowered, especially in the latter portion of the campaign, and has tooltips clueing you in on dual wielding and melee executions. Unfortunately, these sorts of mechanics are counterintuitive on the higher difficulties, and even on the default “Bring ‘em on!” health and armor deplete quickly. The lack of a hit indicator when taking damage doesn’t help. The New Colossus wants you to hack up Nazis, yet leaves you open to taking fire when doing so. It wants you to dual wield shotguns as you sprint through soldiers, but will leave you dead within seconds when you depart the safety of cover.

Comparatively, DOOM (2016), the natural companion to Wolfenstein, does not have this problem. DOOM on the easiest and on the hardest difficulty plays the same. Wolfenstein II on the easiest level is the best way to play the game, but it’s condescending at the outset. Wolfenstein II on the hardest will lead you to much slower confrontations and relies heavily on weak stealth. With no mini-map and no ability to see enemy vision measurements, stealth sections frequently devolve into an enemy commander sounding an alarm that will rotate in more enemies to reset your progress. A courtroom scenario midway through the game strips you of your weapons and starts you in the middle of a large arena surrounded by enemies. You begin with a submachine gun and have to slowly reaccumulate your small armory. Trophy data suggests otherwise, but I believe this section to be impossible on the highest difficulty. Surrounded by enemies with breakable cover your only protection, you will die often from cheap angles or just overwhelmed by numbers. This sort of scenario is not a challenge, its punishment.

Even on the easiest level, the gunplay is still the weakest aspect of The New Colossus. The weapons themselves are adequate, with the optional upgrades and satisfying audio feedback. Melee executions are a joy to watch, but it's a shame that there are no perks to give you bonus health or armor for each takedown. A jump and smash mechanic is used once in the introduction and very rarely appears as an option later on. A nuked New York City as at first arresting in its large scale tragedy, but eventually devolves into a muddled mass of grey husks with progression obscured by the confusing layout. New Orleans rotates between interior and exterior spaces, but besides a confrontation and ride-along with a Panzerhound, has nothing unique to offer. Not one level sticks out as memorable, and even Venus lacks a unique scenario or great setting for the shootouts. Instead, when outside the Venus base you need to fuel up on coolant consistently, which just layers on another meter besides health and armor that you must babysit.

The New Colossus’ narrative is its saving factor, as scenarios presented both in and out of cutscenes are wonderful to watch unfold, and character interactions can be very entertaining.

The relationship between children and their parents is a major theme of The New Colossus, evidenced by the introductions focus on BJ’s abusive father, Rip. Throughout the game, characters have to come to terms with either their own upbringing or the newfound responsibility of introducing life into this bleak world. BJ has his abusive father and impending parenthood to twins with Anya, Grace and Super Spesh already have a child, Max Hauss is cared for by the entirety of the Kreisau Circle, and Sigrun is belittled by her mother. BJ and Sigrun are the most interesting of these, as they must decide whether or not they will become mirror images of their respective parent.

BJ is informed early on that Anya is having twins, and he frequently contemplates his death in tandem with regret at not being able to be a father for his children. BJ’s own father did not leave behind a great example to follow. A racist, sexist, anti-semitic, economically anxious white man who is almost a cartoon epitome of everything that was and is wrong with part of the American population. As a child, BJ is berated for not being enough of a man to take care of himself, but Rip blames others for his own deficiencies. Instead of reflecting inward at his own failings, he explodes outwards at whatever is available. This conflict results in abuse towards his wife and pushes him to kill the family dog in a fit of rage. Rip is a good example of how not to be a parent.

Rip doesn’t just represent the worst offerings of what a father can be, but also the worst aspect of the american population. Willing to sell out his family for meager rewards such as property ownership, it was men like him that paved the way for Nazi occupation to sweep through the United States as quickly as it did. People like him gave in to their debase hatred of the Other and went above and beyond betraying their fellow citizens in order to have an easy life. We already allow people of color to be unjustifiably killed at the hands of police, would it be so hard to believe we would go further under threat of violence to willingly give them into the hands of death?

A positive influence on BJ was a young black girl named Billie, who exposes BJ to the discrimination experienced by those whom his father hates. She upends the expectations he has inherited from his father, teaches compassion, and they even share a child crush. She teaches him empathy, something his father never bothered to even attempt. BJ is forced to relive and reflect on these memories when he revisits the family farm. Upon confronting his aged father, BJ kills him upon learning that his mother was sold out by her own husband. By doing so he rejects the teachings of his father about white supremacy and all that it entails.

Mentioned throughout the main narrative and spread throughout collectibles in each level are details that tell the tale of how America fell to the Nazis, and how it was mostly with a resigned sigh. An ex-military student murders scientists working on the “Manhattan Project” resulting in Nazi Germany obtaining the nuclear bomb first and using it on New York City. This attack is framed as a necessity to end a brutal war, much like the United State’s position on the bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima which resulted in extraordinary civilian death. History is written by the victor, and since we were not the subject of an atomic bombing in this timeline we are free to justify it. After this forced surrender, America reverted back into what it was a hundred years earlier: devoid of rights for any who weren’t straight or white.

A most damning example of this new America is shown during a brief segment taking place in Roswell, Arizona The townsfolk celebrate “Victory Day” as Nazis parade through the streets. A soldier critiques/mocks Klu Klux Klansmen on their failed attempts at German, a different soldier rebukes a white woman who tries to earn favor by talking shit about Austrians (not knowing Hitler himself was Austrian), and a citizen reminds her family of an upcoming slave auction. Propaganda newspapers talk about replacing the fake news of yesterday and the efficiency of the new regime compared to the “clique of corrupt elites who were never interested in [your] welfare.” Two Nazi soldiers discuss attacks against their rule and how violence is not okay before pondering if they’ll be assigned to the same death squad in New Orleans. A newspaper clipping I am convinced was placed late in development explains our current political situation:

“...then the odds are on the man who is, intrinsically, the most devious and mediocre - the man who can most adeptly disperse the bottom that his mind is a virtual vacuum… On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their hearts desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.”

America in Wolfenstein II is complicit to the racism of the Nazis due to their beliefs being intertwined with our history. Not content to exist only behind us, this inherent discrimination continues to be active given the rise of the so-called “far-right” and blatant racism in figures like our current president. The white man, a majority of the population, has nothing to fear from a Nazi overhead when compared to the black, the queer, the Other, who already had restricted rights underneath a “free” America.

As for those born underneath Nazi rule, we are given Sigrun Engel, daughter of Irene Engel our central antagonist. Having turned on her mother due to Irene’s consistent verbal abuse towards Sigrun’s weight and diary entries, the Kreisau Circle welcomes her but doesn’t accept her. Members frequently call her a Nazi despite her protests. This boils over during BJ’s birthday party in which she confronts Grace over her Nazi labelling and overcomes her emotional connection to Bombate. She represents the hope that even those born under Nazi rule can break free and work against it. We even avoid predictable plot beats as Sigrun is not secretly feeding her mother information or betrays the Circle near the end.

Ultimately, you take revenge on Engel after she has killed Caroline during the introduction, steals a family ring meant for Anya, and mocks you after murdering Super Spesh. After taking over her Ausmerzer fortress in a frustrating shootout, the Circle confronts Engel at a talk show where you hack off her arm before delivering the fatal blow to her head. No matter the timeline, members of the Circle deliver what is meant to be a rousing speech to those watching the television broadcast, but any emotion is swiftly eliminated by the end credits song: a horrible cover of We’re Not Going to Take It.

#Wolfenstein II: The New Colossus #Wolfenstein #The New Colossus #Video Game Criticism #Criticism #writing

6 notes · View notes

wellhellotragic · 6 years

Text

If Looks Could Kill 4/27

Summary: Emma Swan is a dedicated FBI agent getting over a bad breakup. When she and her partner, Ruby Lucas, are forced to go undercover as contestants on a reality show, Emma is forced to try and win the affections of Killian Jones, a man she despises.

Killian Jones is a lost boy. Having recently been nicknamed the ‘Bad Boy of Boston,’ he’s been living up to his moniker using women and rum to avoid dealing with his dark past. When he’s forced to take the lead in a reality show, he encounters a gorgeous blonde who turns his world upside down.

Miss Congeniality meets The Bachelor

Rated: M for language, violence, and smut.

Catch up here: 1, 2, 3

Killian didn’t make it to bed until almost three in the morning. After his encounter with Emma, he returned to find the production crew waiting for him. They insisted that he do his interviews that night while he was still dressed up and while all of the women were still fresh in his mind.

The truth though, was that Emma was right. Most of the women did blur together after the first five minutes of the evening. The only ones who really stuck out were the ones that were over the top inappropriate, like the girl from New Orleans who grabbed his butt talking about how he could give her some pointers on some sticky buns for her restaurant.

And then there was Emma. As soon as he laid his eyes on her he felt drawn to her by an invisible force. She wasn’t like the rest of them and he was entranced. She didn’t seem fazed by his fame or money, and their short conversation had been the most stimulating exchange he had had in months, years maybe, but he wouldn’t let himself think about that.

Their interaction that night had been brief, but he couldn’t help but think that maybe this whole experience wouldn’t be as horrible as he expected. Who knows, maybe the others would be less exasperating in a more intimate setting.

There was a special room set up near the front of the mansion with cameras and lighting already in position. David had him sit in a wingback chair near a roaring fireplace so they could adjust the lighting for filming.

Off to the side, out of the view of the camera, was a man named Sebastian. He was holding a stack of headshots to help Killian remember who each woman from that evening was. The interview consisted of asking the same question about every single contestant there. The network would choose four or five of his answers from that episode to run in the promo.

It took all of his strength to fake interest in any of it. He was supposed to be a guy looking for love and thrilled at the prospect of meeting his soul mate. In reality he was simply a heartbroken man who no longer believed in love, at least for him. When he lost Milah, he swore off relationships out of respect to her and what they had. No other woman would ever compare to her.

When the interviewer held up a portrait of the last woman, Emma Fowler, he couldn’t contain the grin that overtook his face. The interviewer not missing the first real bit of sincerity Killian had showed all night jumped, asking more questions about Emma than any of the other girls.

“So,” he started, “I’d ask if there were any women that might be front-runners at this point, but judging by the way you just lit up I think we have our answer. What is it about Emma that stuck out to you?”

Once the interviewer had asked the question, Killian realized what was happening. He felt an attraction for Emma that surpassed anything physical. Even after knowing her for only five minutes he could tell she was sharp and witty, and there had been something about her that shouted to him that she might even understand him. That she had experienced pain too. Those were dangerous thoughts though and he had to shut them down.

Emma could be a fun distraction while he was trapped filming the show, but it couldn’t go beyond that, wouldn’t go beyond that. He had already found and lost his true love, and would never be ready to move on; he could never disrespect what they had together.

“Um, I wouldn’t say there were any front-runners per say. I met the women briefly tonight but haven’t really had the chance to get to know them yet.”

He was coy for the rest of the interview, and when they finally wrapped, he was taken back to he guesthouse where he quickly passed out from exhaustion.

Emma barely slept. Images of Neal and his broken promises haunted her all night. It had taken Emma years to trust a man again, only to have that trust thrown back in her face. What she had with Neal was a lie, Walsh was a lie, and now whatever she was forced to forge with Killian was going to be a lie.

Killian was easier though. She wouldn’t get her heart broken this time because she wouldn’t let him in. Last night, telling him about the déjà vu theory was a fluke. She never meant to give him something so honest, but with everyone whispering in her ear to be nice to Killian it just slipped out.

Ruby had reminded her that there were eyes everywhere watching their every move, and she needed to stay in character, which meant playful banter with Killian.

Robin told her that despite all of Killian’s false bravado, he was actually a decent guy underneath it all. When Killian mentioned the odd feeling, Robin was certain that Killian had recognized her, while Will told her to distract him before he could put it together.

So many voices were swirling around and it was the first thought that came to mind. As soon as she said it all of the pain came flooding back and she cursed herself for allowing Neal into her thoughts, into her life. When he told her that he liked the idea, and that perhaps it meant he wasn’t as lost as he thought, she sensed sincerity in his words. In that moment he wasn’t the womanizing pig from the other night. He was just a handsome stranger sharing a meaningful conversation, and she felt a spark of something between them when she saw the way he looked at her.

No, Emma wouldn’t let another man into her life, as tempting as he may have been, even if it were only for a few months. It was safer that way. Of course, he probably hadn’t even given her a second thought after that. There were so many faces last night, he would never be able to pick her out of crowd, and that made her feel just a tiny bit better.

Emma got out of bed and tiptoed around the room trying not to wake Ruby. She changed into some workout gear and snuck her way of out the house. Typically the girls on the show were forced to remain in the house, only being allowed to leave for special occasions, and always under supervision.

Since Emma and Ruby weren’t actual contestants, they had a little more leniency, citing that they needed to keep up their physical activities and meet covertly with their team. They still had to keep it a secret from everyone so she and Ruby would have to be careful sneaking in and out of the house without anyone noticing.

Regina explained that by isolating the girls from the world, it would heighten their emotional responses, making them desperate for Killian, and therefore provide more entertainment. Ruby chimed in, adding that it meant more catfights, meltdowns, and ultimately more pinning for Killian.

Emma coined it for what it was, psychological torture. There were no phones or computers allowed. The girls only had each other for company, making male companionship all that more desirable. Remembering that she would have to compete in humiliating contests made her angrier.

The fury building up helped to push her through an extra two miles of her run. She had found a slightly overgrown trail that lead to some docks at the back of the property. There was a small boathouse at one end of the decking, but no boats moored. It was the perfect place to hide when everything became too much.

She sat on the end of the dock, letting her legs dangle over the edge almost able to dip her shoes into the water. She stayed there watching the sunrise. It would probably be the only relaxing time she would get for the rest of the day. The smell and sounds of the waves crashing against the bulkhead were intoxicating, and she had to summon all of her will to stand up. People would start waking up soon and she needed to get back before she was missed.

She stretched out the muscles that had stiffened before turning back, just in time to hear voices approaching.

She heard a female voice yell out, “Race you there,” followed by male laughter.

She looked around to see if there was another trail to take back but there wasn’t. Perhaps if she kept her head down he would be too entranced with his new running mate to notice her.

“Hey, fancy meeting you here.” It was Ruby, panting hard. Ruby had never been much of a runner. She preferred pilates and kickboxing. In fact she only ever ran in preparations for her annual physicals at the bureau.

“Emma?” Killian looked surprised.

Emma glanced between the two of them as they traded guilty glances, and a small ember of jealousy began to form. She suddenly understood why Ruby was so willing to make an exception to her running rule.

“I should have known you’d be out here when I saw your empty bed this morning,” Ruby said.

Killian did a double take between the two ladies. “Wait, are you two roommates?”

Emma didn’t answer so Ruby spoke up for her.

“Ya, she’s actually my best friend. I had to beg her to come with me so I wasn’t alone in this house with all of these crazy girls.”

He made a face as he looked at Emma. It was a face she has seen far too often on Neal. The guilt ridden ‘I’m sorry’ face, but I’m really only sorry that I got caught. Of course he was still just a guy, after anything with boobs. Of course she didn’t mean anything to him. Of course last night had just been part of the game.

Game. Face. On.

“Ya, sorry, I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you, but I’m about to head back so we won’t have to fight for the shower.” She didn’t even wait to see Ruby’s expression before turning back to trail and taking off, running as fast as she could, creating as much distance between them as possible.

As she was leaving she heard Ruby call after Killian, before he made some sort of joke about her trying to get him all hot and bothered.

She showered, changed into a sweatshirt and leggings, leaving her damp hair down to dry naturally making sure her ear com was well hidden, and went into the kitchen where she was met with the smell of fresh coffee. There where two women sitting at the bar with steaming mugs. She immediately recognized Elsa by her platinum blonde bun, but didn’t identify the girl next to her until she came around the island to grab herself a cup. It was Tamara.

Both ladies got quiet so Emma went into undercover mode.

“Looks like great minds thing alike,” she stated holding up her now full mug. Elsa and Tamara followed suit toasting their mugs in the air as well. Emma sat down across the island from them breathing in her coffee.

It was Tamara that finally broke the awkward silent standoff they seemed to have been having. “So, anyone have a clue what they’ve got in store for us today?”

“I overheard some of the production crew talking last night. I didn’t catch all of it, but they said something about making sure the kitchen was fully stocked for today. I guess we’re having a big group meal?” Elsa was taking animatedly with her heads, clearly proud of herself for having the inside scoop.

“Morning Swan,” Robin chirped merrily before Will chimed in. “Did you have lovely dreams about anyone.”

Emma grumbled to herself, but not quietly enough.

Tamara raised one eyebrow at her. “Ah, I get it. Group dates not your thing? Can’t wait to get him all alone?”

Maybe it was just Emma’s cynicism leaking through but she was sure Tamara’s words were searing with contempt.

Emma forced the corners of he mouth to tug up. “You caught me.”

Before she could say anything more she heard Ruby in her ear. “Emma, remember we need her to trust us. I’m on my way down.” Trust was a four-letter word. Like she trusted Ruby to have her back, before she saw her sneaking around with Killian that morning.

A pang of guilt washed over her. Deep down Emma knew that she could trust Ruby with anything, even her life. And as far as Killian went, he wasn’t hers. She didn’t even want him she reminded herself. Ruby was just doing her job, giving him a reason to keep her around, while also making sure Tamara wasn’t alone with him.

“Personally, I’d love to see a catfight. Maybe you could throw some pillows in while it’s still early and everyone’s in the nighties. Come on, Swan, you know you could take her.”

She heard a thumping noise followed by an “oi, wud ya do that for” and forced herself not to snicker.

Robin’s voice came over the line next. “Sorry, Swan, ignore him.”

As Ruby arrived she grabbed a glass and some orange juice from the fridge and settled on a bar stool next to Emma, before more girls started trickling downstairs.

Twenty minutes later Mary Margaret appeared. “Okay ladies, you have thirty minutes to get ready and meet back here in the kitchen. We’ll bring in Killian and he’ll explain what you’ll all be doing on your group dates today.”

She left as quickly as she disappeared and Emma found Ruby dragging her back upstairs. Ruby went to the closet and pulled out a sundress tossing it on Emma’s bed, turning back to grab some matching strappy wedges, before whirling back to grab an outfit for herself.

She instructed Emma to change into the dress as she did the same. Both Women did their hair and makeup in relative silence, which was unusual for them.

“Are we okay? Did I do something to upset you?” Ruby asked.

Emma shut her eyes and threw her head back.

“No, it’s not you. I’m just stressed and honestly I was a little surprised to see you two together this morning.” Thinking better of her words and not wanting to seem jealous she added, “and I just thought people weren’t supposed to see us outside of the house.”

“What is she talking about, Ruby?” Robin’s tone was oddly serious. “Ruby, I know you’re a little free-spirited with your sexuality, but please tell me you didn’t sleep with him last night.”

“What,” she shrieked. “No, of course not. God, Locksley, you’ve been spending way too much time trapped in that van with Scarlett.”

“Hey,” Will shouted. “I resemble that remark.”

“Guys,” Emma cried out exasperatedly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just saw them out jogging this morning.”

“Ugh, this is a huge clusterfuck.” Ruby sighed and fell back on her bed. “I didn’t mean to go jogging. I was trying to get to the van and he was heading off to the trails. He asked what I was doing and then made a crude joke about me not needed to hunt him down. I couldn’t tell him where I was really going so I told him I was just going for a quick jog and he invited himself along. I wasn’t even wearing the right bra for it, and now ‘the girls’ are screaming at me.”

Killian was in a good mood, a rarity as of late. He had intended to sleep in given how late he went to bed, but he woke with the first bit of light streaming through the window. He assumed it was due to the lack of alcohol, his body wasn’t used to being sober anymore. Regina had left strict instructions with the wait staff and film crew that Killian was not to have more than two drinks that night. She didn’t want him making an ass of himself in front of millions of viewers and editing could only do so much.

He also found that he had a lot of nervous energy still surging through his system from the previous night and needed to burn some of it off. Noticing that there was no workout equipment in his guesthouse, he decided going for a run would be the only option.

He strapped on his sneakers and headed out. About half a mile down though, he spotted one of the girls from the night before sneaking around. She was obviously trying to accidentally run into him. As he came closer and got a better view of her face he realized who she was. He couldn’t remember her name, but he certainly remembered her occupation. She was the lingerie model, and she certainly had the curves for it.

“And where might we be off to this fine morning?”

She jumped. He really needed to remember to clear his throat or something to announce his presence.

“Um.” She bounced on her feet looking around. “Please don’t tell anyone since we’re not supposed to leave but I was getting restless and really just wanted to get in a jog.”

“Okay then, after you.” She hadn’t exactly invited him along, but the whole reason she was even there was for him so of course she’d love his company.

She didn’t say anything, just started jogging slowly, painfully slowly. They may as well have been walking the trail. His only consolation was the view of her assets jiggling around as she bounced from foot to foot.

When they finally made their way to the docks, clearly not as private of an area as he would have imagined, he was shocked to see the blonde goddess already there. He wanted to talk to her, but his workout partner beat him to it.

He looked over to the panting girl next to him and back to Emma. Her face warped almost immediately. Was she jealous? Surely not, after all, last night she made it clear that she wasn’t entirely invested in winning the competition, or at least that’s how she made it seem. Maybe she did care.

Crap. Not only were they roommates but they were best friends and Emma was there unwillingly. This would make things more challenging if he wanted anything to happen with either of them. While Emma had plagued his thoughts all morning, he had pushed that idea deep into the back of his mind. He couldn’t allow her to be special, not for Milah.

She left quickly without saying much and the brunette next to him seemed unphased. She knew Emma better than anyone, and if she didn’t seemed bothered, then it must have meant Emma wasn’t bothered by them being together either. Why did that upset him?

When he returned to his guesthouse after his jog Mary Margaret was waiting for him. She gave him the schedule for the day, instructing him not to eat too much for breakfast. She told him she’d be back for him before the hour was up so he should shower and she’d send over hair, makeup, and wardrobe.

It didn’t take nearly as long to get ready this time. The hair lady let him keep his hair in the messy style he loved, and his outfit was much more relaxed. He got to pick between three shades of jeans, and then was handed a blue button down to match, which the wardrobe guy insisted looked better with the sleeves rolled up. The makeup girl still lingered though.

When Mary Margaret returned, he was all ready to go. She brought him into the kitchen where all of the ladies were already waiting. He scanned the room and found Emma in a back corner, standing with the model from that morning. He made a mental note that he was really going to have to learn some names soon.

Mary Margaret turned everything over to him so he could explain the challenge.

“Okay ladies,” he started. “I think we’ve all heard the age old adage that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. And we all know the whole reason we’re here is for one of you to try and win my heart.”

He could see all of ladies looking back and forth to each other nervously in anticipation.

“So with that in mind we’ve created your first challenge. This kitchen was fully stocked last night with all sorts of tasty ingredients.” He paused there to lick his lips per Mary Margaret’s instructions. “You’re challenge today is to create a dish that you think will amaze me, so I can get an idea of what it would be like to come home to you every day. You’ll have your choice of preparing an appetizer, main course dish, or dessert. You’ll break into three groups and each group will get a turn to impress me. The ladies who make the three least impressive dishes will be sent packing tonight.”

He turned to walk away so Mary Margaret could divide the girls into their groups. Just as he was about to leave the room he turned back and locked eyes with Emma.

“And ladies, don’t be afraid to, you know, really get in to it.” He winked and left.

The girls had been divided, Ruby, Emma, and Tamara all being in the last group. This way Emma and Ruby could keep an eye on her making sure she didn’t poison her dish somehow.

Emma found the entire thing degrading. The notion of a woman having to cook for a man to earn his affections was irritating and humiliating. It also didn’t help that Emma knew how to cook exactly three things.

Sensing her reluctance, Robin tried to give her an out. “Swan, we can walk you through a dish if you need. To be honest though, he really does prefer simple food.”

Emma whispered back under her breath that she was fine. She wasn’t going to put in a ton of effort, for him to only try two bites, especially since she knew she was already guaranteed to make it through the next round.

Emma settled on her most trusted dish, a grilled cheese sandwich. In an effort to look like she tried, she opted for some gouda cheese, sliced tomatoes, and a few basil leaves. Cooking it was easy enough, and soon she was helping Ruby frost some red velvet cupcakes.

Tamara seemed to struggle, clearly no better of a cook then Emma. By the time she was done she had flour all over her face and in her hair. When the time buzzer went off Killian returned.

Emma and Ruby had picked the two spots at the table furthest away from the door, making their dishes the last two of the day to be sampled.

As Killian made his way down the table he would either nod in acceptance, or grimace in horror. Most of the dishes seemed to agree with him, although one was burnt beyond recognition. When he got to the fifth contestant, the chef from New Orleans, he let out a moan signifying how good it was.

“You girls hear that?” Will asked. “That’s one of his sex noises.”

Both girls let out very unlady like snorts before Robin joined in.

“Don’t ask how I know this, but he’s absolutely right, although it’s more of a foreplay moan, his full on sex moans are much louder.”

Just then Killian moaned again and Emma and Ruby nearly fell on the ground laughing.

Everyone looked over to them with scowls on their faces, although Killian seemed more curious than anything.

“Are you two okay over there?”

“Um.” Both of them were still dying with laughter, but it was Ruby who found her voice first. “Sorry, she just made a dirty joke.” She paused looking a Emma, whose eyes blew wide knowing exactly what was coming. “About how you might sound in bed.”

All of the girls started giggling and Killian turned bright red.

#ILCK #If Looks Could Kill #hellotragic #wellhellotragic #cs ff

15 notes · View notes

blogs-of-our-lives · 6 years

Text

Season 53 Episode 95: Lani Has A Secret

I like to describe my relationship with Beth as ‘friends with benefits,’ only instead of sex the benefits are that we get drunk and watch Scooby-doo. Off the top of my head, we’ve watched the entire original series, the majority of What’s New Scooby Doo, Scooby Doo and the Witch’s Ghost, Scooby Doo and the Loch Ness Monster, Scooby Doo and KISS: Rock and Roll Mystery (yes, that KISS), and a pretty big portion of Scooby Doo and the Reluctant Werewolf. That’s a lot of Scooby Doo. So when we hit rock bottom (Reluctant Werewolf), we kind of silently agreed to find a new hobby. I suggested Mothman Prophecies, starring Richard Gere (who should have known better than to be in the movie). For whatever reason, Beth wasn’t interested. Killing time one night, we discovered Days of Our Lives. All the most recent episodes are available on the NBC website, dating back about a month or two, if anyone is interested in watching them. Otherwise it’s on at two in the afternoon most days.

Now, Days has been out since 1965. By the time we landed on the moon, the United States had been enjoying a solid four seasons of Days of Our Lives. Martin Luther King Jr. might have seen a couple of seasons. And I’m willing to bet that someone at Woodstock had enjoyed a few episodes. So naturally I was unwilling and unable to start from the beginning of the series. If I watched an episode a day every day, I wouldn’t be caught up for over 30 years, and that’s not counting the fact that they’re still producing episodes. If I watched Days of Our Lives all day every day, it would take me 418 days to catch up.

I started with Episode 95… of Season 53. Holy shit.

This might help put into context how old this show is. There’s a character in this episode named JJ. It’s hard to guess his age, but I’m going to say that he’s – at the youngest – only in his mid-twenties. He’s the child of Jack and Jennifer, two characters of the show. Jack and Jennifer started dating, got married, had a child, and that child was JJ. He then grew up as the show went on, until he is old enough now to consider marriage. There are characters that are born into the show, and the show begins to follow them after they age to an adult. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s like the children are born into a nightmarish hell of being forced to continue where their parents left off. This show has outlived many. People have been born into the shadow of Days of Our Lives and have died under its inky wings of death.

The description of the episode I watched is “Gabi is booked on murder charges; Brady and Eve go on their first real date; Lani makes a confession to Eli; Claire realizes Ciara and Tripp are keeping a secret.”

I admit, the murder charges bit caught my eye. I like a little bit of mystery, especially when I expect the rest of the show is filled with love triangles and comparatively boring day to day minutiae. I was terribly wrong with that assumption, but I’ll get to that later.

Now, Days is pretty self-aware. It knows that nobody cares enough to watch each episode. So the characters use names enough for the casual viewer to catch on quickly. I learned who Gabi, Lani, and JJ were pretty quickly. Ciara, Claire, and Tripp don’t make an appearance until the end, which I didn’t mind, because his name is Tripp. Anybody who names their child Tripp doesn’t deserve to have a child.

Gabi seems to be a person of interest in some kind of investigation. At first, I suspected some kind of white collar crime, but I was wrong. They’re reviewing security footage. A character named Rafe tells Gabi that she may be a suspect.

And all of a sudden we’re with Lani and JJ, who are eating together at some kind of café. Wait, what? Mid conversation, after just a brief lull, the viewer is immediately taken to a different set with different characters and a different plot. There was no segue, nor even a real stopping point. It may have been mid-sentence for all the sense it made. It was about as jarring as if the whole episode was just a long and complex intro to a Scooby Doo movie I was tricked into watching. You quickly get used to the storyline jumping, however.

JJ is without a doubt my favorite character, because in the few episodes I’ve seen of him. He doesn’t really do anything. When he speaks with Lani, she goes on a long rant about how difficult being pregnant is, despite the fact that she’s about two weeks pregnant. Note the word choice I used. She ranted to him. They didn’t have a conversation, because that implies he participated. She spoke at him. There’s only one circumstance that makes it okay for someone to talk to you like that, and usually you call the other person “professor.” But that’s not why I like him. I like him because it happened to him with another character. This poor guy’s luck, that he just happens to run into the two most narcissistic and talkative people alive. The guy probably hasn’t been home in three days, his boss is calling him wondering why he hasn’t shown up for work, his family is texting him worried sick, the police are starting a missing person report because these two people just have to have JJ be the one sitting across the table as they talk pretty much to themselves. Meanwhile, JJ nods.

In a flashback, Lani is speaking to an older woman, possibly her mother. Lani’s character is keeping some kind of secret, though it’s unclear from whom. Her father? JJ? Any of the other male characters? “If you don’t tell him, I will,” her mother ominously warns.

After there’s a pause in the baby conversation, we’re back to Gabi and her investigation. Apparently she’s suspected of murder. “I can’t go back to prison,” she said.

Did you say back? You’ve been to prison before? Honestly it doesn’t even matter at this point. We’ve burned through about half a bottle of Grey Goose between the two of us, and I don’t even care if Gabi goes to prison anyway. I’m all about JJ and Lani, and whatever secret she’s keeping from him right now. Beth, if you’re reading this, martinis are gross, and I wish you liked tequila so I could make a better mixed drink. If anyone has any good vodka drinks, for the love of god let me know.

Throughout all this there’s a date between Brady and Eve in the background. Apparently they used to have a no strings attached type arrangement. Neither are particularly interesting characters and the date is terrible. At some point they turn it into a business meeting and start brainstorming ways for their magazine to reach out to the young white woman demographic. Their waitress (who happens to be Claire) is a young white woman, so they ask her what product would interest her. She answers, “Um… a time machine. Definitely. Yeah my boyfriend and I are in the ultimate long distance relationship.” This is really interesting for several reasons, one of them being that a few episodes later the thumbnail is her, naked in bed with Tripp. I don’t have a good feeling about their relationship.

“Poor girl,” Eve said afterwards. “Probably thinks that she’s the only person in the world right now that’s alone.” I’m noticing that about once an episode there will be a really well written quote. Every so often they’ll strike gold, then go back to their usual writing quality.

The best part of the date is that Eve has a glass of wine in front of her, without any condensation on the glass. Which makes sense, because as time goes on, the condensation will change, and the viewer can tell when different takes are being used in the final cut. For the same reason, movie studios have employees making sure that costumes and props stay consistent from scene to scene (making sure a watch doesn’t switch hands, for example, or that the actors don’t move their silverware). So Eve’s glass of wine is probably just a glass of apple juice at room temperature. Brady, on the other hand, has a mixed drink filled with ice, which he frequently drinks from. In conclusion, I’m pretty sure the actor who plays Brady had actual alcohol in his glass. I can’t say I blame him.

So now we move onto Tripp, Ciara, and Claire. Ciara is Claire’s aunt (they’re the same age, both mid-twenties), and for some reason they both live in an apartment together. That’s fine. Tripp also lives there. Also fine. Claire looks like Elsa Jean. Like, a spitting image. If you don’t recognize the name, don’t bother googling it. She just has light blonde hair and a VERY strong jawline.

Ciara and Claire get an invitation for Rafe’s wedding to… Gabi I think? Ciara invites Tripp to be her plus one. “Too bad Theo isn’t going to be there,” she said, looking Claire dead in the eyes. “You’ll have to sit all on your lonesome.”

Wow. That’s a real bitch move, Ciara. Capital B. Worse, that was a binch move.

Not much interesting happens in the Claire, Ciara, and Tripp storyline. Tripp seems to like Claire. Ciara seems to like Theo. Judging from his body language I get the sense that Tripp is into Ciara as well. There’s nothing else worth noting, which is perfect because the next (and final) 5 minutes are the most exciting.

Lani’s father, Abe, is walking down the street with Lani’s mother. Back in the 1980s, Abe was murdered by a character known as “The Salem Stalker.” I’m not making that up. Abe was killed thirty years ago. He’s alive now. I’ll explain why some other time.

JJ stops him. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a wedding ring. “I’d like to have your blessing to marry Lani.” Dun dun duuuuun.

Gabi is arrested on suspicion of murder. She’s led away by Rafe, while Eli watches from his office. Lani comes in, teary eyed. Every time we’ve seen her character, she looks like she’s on the brink of crying. Her hand on her stomach (which isn’t showing because, as I mentioned before, she’s like two weeks pregnant), she tells Eli it’s his baby. GASP.

He has a terrifying series of emotions over the next couple moments, ranging from excited, guilty, and furious. Eli seems like an okay dude, but he doesn’t seem to be the most emotionally stable. The episode ends before he can say anything.

Just like that, I was hooked. Up until that point, it was just a mediocre show. It was no Scooby Doo, and it was no Mothman Prophecies. But then in those last five minutes, a character gets arrested (again) for murder, Lani reveals she’s pregnant with Eli’s baby, and JJ asks Abe for his blessing. What a way to close out an episode.

Next episode has spies in it. It’s up to you to figure out if I’m joking or not.

#days of our lives #review #pregnancy #drama #soap opera

2 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

Jupiter’s Legacy: Mark Millar on the Genesis of His Superhero Story

https://ift.tt/3xWTFe6

This article is presented by:

Superheroes have a long history. After flying onto the scene more than eight decades ago, led by Superman, along with fellow octogenarians Batman, Wonder Woman, and Captain America, the pantheon of capes-and-tights characters has expanded to include countless more. And as legendary creators made their mark across decades, the origins and powers of these icons transformed almost as frequently as their costumes.

Meanwhile, the superhero team The Union, from the comic book saga Jupiter’s Legacy, have 90 years of consistent fictional history, with a singular overarching story, envisioned by one man: Mark Millar.

After discovering both Superman and Spider-Man comics the same day, at the age of four in Scotland (where he grew up), the now 51-year-old writer would go on to make a significant impact on the superpowered set. But he wanted his own pantheon.

And with Jupiter’s Legacy, Mark Millar has created a long history of superheroes of his own—now set to be adapted as a Netflix series.

“I wanted to do an epic,” he says. “Like The Lord of the Rings, or Star Wars… the ultimate superhero story.”

Co-created with artist Frank Quitely and published by Image Comics in 2013, Millar calls Jupiter’s Legacy his love letter to superheroes—and part of his own legacy.

The story begins in 1932 with a mysterious island that grants powers to a group of friends who then adopt the costumed monikers The Utopian, Lady Liberty, Brainwave, Skyfox, The Flare, and Blue Bolt. Told on a grand scale with cross-genre influences, the story spans three arcs: the prequel Jupiter’s Circle (with art by Wilfredo Torres), Jupiter’s Legacy, and the upcoming June 16, 2021 release Jupiter’s Legacy: Requiem (featuring art by Tommy Lee Edwards). With the May 7 debut of the Jupiter’s Legacy series on Netflix, the story will now also be told in live action.

Millar established himself in the comics industry in 1993 and crafted successful stories including Superman: Red Son, Wolverine: Old Man Logan, The Ultimates, and Marvel Comics’ Civil War—all of which have inspired adaptations and films, and led to him becoming a creative consultant at Fox Studios on its Marvel projects. His creator-owned titles Kingsman: The Secret Service, Kick-Ass, and Wanted, have likewise spawned hit movies.

But compared to Jupiter’s Legacy, none of those possessed such massive scope and aspiration as the story that explores the evolving ideologies of superpowered individuals, and how involved they should be when it comes to solving the world’s problems. Relationships are forged—and shattered by betrayal—with startling violence and titanic action sequences (both part of Millar’s signature style).

Sponsored

Jupiter’s Legacy: Ben Daniels Plays Mind Games as Brainwave

By Ed Gross

Sponsored

Jupiter’s Legacy: Andrew Horton on the Importance of Being Paragon

By Ed Gross

“From Superman and the Justice League to Marvel to British comics—inspired by guys like Alan Moore, and so on, I’ve thrown it in there… it’s got a bit of everything,” he says.

That “everything” extends beyond comic books. Millar drew inspiration from King Kong’s Skull Island, and references the cosmic aesthetic of 2001: A Space Odyssey, which informed the “sci-fi stuff.” The writings of horror author H.P. Lovecraft “were a big thing for me,” when it came to The Island, created by aliens, “that existed before humanity, and that these people are drawn out towards where they get their superpowers.” The character Sheldon Sampson/The Utopian is a Clark Kent/Superman type, but his cohort George Hutchence/Skyfox is more than a millionaire playboy stand-in for Bruce Wayne. Rather, Millar based him on British actors from the 1960s—Peter O’Toole, Oliver Reed, Richard Burton, Richard Harris—who were suave rascals.

“I loved the idea of a superhero having a good time, getting on with girls, drinking whisky, smoking lots of cigarettes,” Millar said.

At the risk of sounding “so pretentious,” Millar jokes, he also pulled from Shakespeare. Indeed, the comics are as much a family saga as a superhero one (and written by the much younger brother of six whose parents died before he was 20). Utopian is a father to his own disappointing children, and a father of sorts to all heroes. He is Lear as much as he is Jupiter, the Roman god of gods. The end of his reign approaches, and various factions have their own appetite for power—such as his self-righteous brother who thinks he should be a leader, or Utopian’s son, born into the family business of being a hero, but who could never live up to his father’s expectations, or his daughter who is more interested in fame than heroism.

He views Jupiter’s Legacy as more thoughtful than Kick-Ass, Kingsman, or Wanted. The plot’s driving action hinges on a debate about the superheroes’ philosophies and moral imperatives. It seeks to address a question Millar asked when he was a kid reading comics.

“Why doesn’t Superman solve the world’s problems?” he recalls thinking. “Why didn’t he interfere and stop wars from even existing?… Is it ethically wrong to stand aside and just maintain the status quo, especially when the status quo creates so many problems for a lot of people?”

On one side of the debate, Utopian believes interfering too much with society’s trajectory is a bad move. It’s not that he is cynical; quite the opposite. He thinks things are actually improving in the world. His viewpoint is there are less people hungry across the globe than ever before, and less people with disease. Millar describes Utopian as a “Truth, Justice, and the American Way” kind of hero, to borrow a phrase associated with Superman, and believes capitalism works. As his hero name suggests, Utopian thinks a better world is within reach, even if it takes generations, and encourages even the heroes to be patient and trust people to do the right thing because they are innately good.

“He says, if you look at the difference somebody like Bill Gates has made in Africa—just one guy—if you look at capitalism taken to the Nth degree, then it pulls everybody up, and poverty in places like India, is massively better just compared to a generation ago.”

Besides, as Utopian says to his impatient brother Walter/Brainwave, in Jupiter’s Legacy #1, being a caped hero doesn’t make them economists and, “Just because you can fly doesn’t mean you know how to balance a budget.” Plus, the notion of using psychic powers or brute force to simply make the world “better” is out of the question. Or is it?

The mainstream awareness of superheroes baked in from more than 80 years of stories, and the shorthand that especially comes with 13 years of the Marvel Cinematic Universe commercial juggernaut, has provided Millar with a set of archetypes to lean into. It was true of the hero proxies in the Jupiter’s Legacy books, and he says it’s true of the show. In fact, he says audiences are so sophisticated with regards to these types of characters they’ll be able to immediately slip into his universe, and that “a lot of the hard work has been done for us.” He adds that audience literacy with superhero tropes also provided him something to push against.

“The Marvel characters lock these guys up in prison at the end of these movies,” Millar says. “Everything’s tied up neatly with a bow, the rich are still the rich, the poor are still starving, and the superheroes aren’t really doing anything for the common man in any very global sense. These guys have just had enough of that.”

Millar’s comics technically kick off in 1932, when Sheldon first brings his friends on a journey to The Island, but his story goes back to 1929 when the stock market crashed, and the Great Depression began. This is likewise when the Netflix series will begin, and Millar says it’s because of the historic parallels between then and 2021.

Sponsored

Jupiter’s Legacy: Who is Chloe Sampson?

By Ed Gross

Sponsored

Jupiter’s Legacy: Ian Quinlan is the Mysterious Hutch

By Ed Gross

“We’ve been in a similar situation as we are now: there’s impending financial collapse coming out of a global pandemic,” he says. “The idea is that history continues and repeats itself, and people make the same mistakes over and over again, and the superheroes are saying, ‘Let’s actually fix everything.’”

Continuing the theme of parallels, when discussing the inception of Jupiter’s Legacy with Millar, The Godfather Part II comes up more than once because of the film’s dual storylines following Vito Corleone and son Michael, separated by decades. However, while the comics contain some flashbacks, the plot doesn’t unfold across different time periods simultaneously. But the Netflix series will shift between eras, with half of the show during the season taking place in 1929, for which Millar credits Steven S. DeKnight, who developed the series.

“The way Steven structured it was really brilliant, because I saw these taking place over two [different] years,” Millar says. “[But] The Godfather Part II track shows you the father and the son at the same age and juxtaposes their two lives.”

As a result, he says the series is a visual mash-up of genres that’s both classical and futuristic.

“It just feels like a beautiful period movie, then when it gets cosmic, and it gets to the superhero stuff, it’s a double wow… it’s like seeing Once Upon a Time in America suddenly directed by Stanley Kubrick doing 2001.”

This is a notable advantage to bringing the story to television, as opposed to making Jupiter’s Legacy three two-hour films as he originally planned with producer Lorenzo di Bonaventura in 2015. Millar says that to tell the Jupiter’s Legacy story properly on screen would require 40 hours, and with a series, what would have been a one-minute flashback in a movie can now be revealed in two hours of its own.

It was another director who has since made a name adapting ambitious comic book properties that extolled to Millar the benefits of television: James Gunn. When Gunn (Guardians of the Galaxy, The Suicide Squad) had a chat with Millar about the project, Gunn said it could never be done as a movie. “The smartest guy in the world is James Gunn,” Millar says.

An exciting challenge of adapting his work for television is that the series will expand on the backstories and concepts of the books. For example when Sheldon Sampson and his friends head to The Island in the first issue, it takes up six pages. Within the series, half of the first season is that journey, and what happens when they arrive.

“Six issues of a graphic novel are roughly about an hour and 10 minutes of a movie; for something like an eight-part drama on TV, you really have to flesh it out,” he says. “It just goes a little deeper than what I had maybe two panels do.”

He emphasizes, however, that these flourishes won’t contradict the comics. Though he sold Millarworld to Netflix, he remains president so he can maintain control of his creations.

Overall the series has made the writer realize the value of television, and while a second season has not yet been confirmed, he’s already thinking about a third and fourth, and how it will dovetail with the upcoming Requiem. The story that began in 1929 continued through 2021, and collected in four volumes, will soon continue far into the future in the concluding two volumes.

“We saw the parents, then we have the present, and then we see their children in the next storyline,” he says. “That storyline goes way off into the future where we discover everything about humanity, superheroes, all these things. It’s a big, grand, high-concept, sci-fi thing beyond that.”

Listening to the jovial Millar discuss the scope of his Jupiter universe, which is imbued with optimism, one might not think this is the same person known for employing graphic violence in his works.

He thinks his films especially are violent yet hopeful, and fun. Kingsman is a rags-to-riches story, and “you feel great at the end of Kick-Ass, even though you’ve seen 200 people knifed in the face.” But he doesn’t consider his writing to fit under the dark-and-gritty label, and he’s not interested in angst, which he finds dull. With Jupiter’s Legacy, the comic and the show, he views the tone as complex but not “overtly dark.”

Additionally, Millar says he thinks society needs hopeful characters such as Captain America, Superman, and yes, The Utopian in 2021—as opposed to an ongoing genre trend of heroes drowning in pathos.

“The Superman-type characters are just now something from a pop culture, societal point of view, we need more than ever,” he says. “The last thing you want is seeing the world as dark, as something that makes you feel bad. Never forget Superman was created just before World War II in the midst of the economic depression by two Jewish kids who were just scraping a living together… I just think it’s so important when things are tough to have a character like that that makes you feel good.”

Even though Utopian suffers for his idealism in the comic, Millar says his ideas are passed on. This is The Utopian’s legacy.

“Ultimately, he wins if you think about it,” ponders Millar.

After a successful career spent creating characters and re-shaping superheroes with 80 years of history, the new pantheon of Jupiter’s Legacy may become one of the defining and lasting features of Mark Millar’s own legacy.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Jupiter’s Legacy premieres on Netflix on May 7. Read more about the series in our special edition magazine!

The post Jupiter’s Legacy: Mark Millar on the Genesis of His Superhero Story appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3ts8eCS

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

0 notes

evangelene · 7 years

Text

Just Happened to Be (1)

Summary: Jimin was an asshole, yes. And you were supposed to be nice, meek, and afraid of people like him. But you weren’t; even with a knife at your throat you stayed quiet and unforgiving–and he wasn’t allowed to like it.

Based off this request:

“Anonymous said:So how about bad boy Jimin I mean that’s cool I guess cause I mean who need bad boy jimin right pft not me.”

Usual warnings . This is a drug gang fic so naturally there’s gonna be a lotta shit.

Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven

From the moment Park Jimin came in to find you at his work–a tattoo shop in the center of his group’s territory–he decided that he hated you.

He was stepping through the front door, ready to go prep his station for a client coming in later today, only to find you and your best friend waiting in his lobby. Apparently your bombshell of a BFF was waiting to get a piercing done by Namjoon and was perfectly fine with Jimin’s eyes raking down her form and to the curve of her ass (barely covered by frayed shorts). Compared to you, Yoorin–Jimin only knew her name because Namjoon referenced it as he called her back to his chair–was far more Jimin’s type of girl.

He loved skin-tight clothing on a perfect frame and flawless skin. Plus, if the girl looked like the poster image for the definition of Wild Child, then she was given bonus points for attraction. Yoorin fit the bill perfectly–the whole good girl by day, bad girl by night lit a fire underneath Jimin that had him winking at her as he moved towards Namjoon’s station.

But he couldn’t ignore you. Because there you were, standing next to that beautiful piece of work like an absolute monstrosity of a prude.

It was evident that you had never once stepped foot into a tattoo shop–hell, it looked like you hadn’t even sipped a drink before 21, or kept your cell phone on during a movie. You stood with your head ducked forward, wearing a long-sleeved cardigan and a flowery, floor-length skirt that reminded him of grandmothers’ church dresses. Even the damn buttons on your sweater were clasped all the way to your fucking collar bone. You refused to look up or remove your hands from their white-knuckled grasp on the straps of your purse; you staid nothing at all–not even to your friend.

While Jimin found the wicked smile your friend gave Namjoon incredibly hot, your blasé appearance and attitude annoyed the fuck out of him to the point that he wanted you both gone.

With his lip curled, Jimin slapped his stencils on his desk. “Yoongi–what’s with the prude? I thought this was a tattoo & piercing shop, not some strip mall for Sunday school mothers.”

Said older male, at the shop’s customer service desk, only rolled his eyes so far back in his head that Jimin swore he was about to be possessed by some she-devil. Probably you, but maybe it could be Yoorin–a girl with a rack like that had to be from hell.

“You know, if you don’t start accepting more clients then I don’t know how you’re going to afford your 33rd tattoo, you asshole.” Namjoon shouted from his corner, slipping on his rubber gloves to prepare the equipment needed for Yoorin’s bellybutton piercing.

“Ay, I’m fine–my clientele at least understands what kind of shop we’re running. If the girl wants to follow her friend then she should at least dress like a normal human being.”

You said nothing to defend yourself against the onslaught of Jimin. Instead, Yoorin snapped her head to meet Jimin’s glower with her own fiery glare. Jimin couldn’t help but smirk at her anger. “Hey douchebag, your boss is right–shut the fuck up and leave her alone. If you have clientele that want to deal with your bullshit then great–go find one of them. We clear?” You shifted to give Yoorin this relieved, thankful look that had Jimin’s inner bitch gears grinding.

“Well, unlike your prude friend, you seem to be the perfect clientele for this place so I guess you get to deal with me, huh babe?” Jimin winked at Yoorin, causing her to curl her lip in utter disgust. Before she could give him a snappy retort that would further infatuate Jimin, you grabbed her hand and squeezed tightly. She looked up at you, her eyes softening.

“I’m fine. I’ve got you here, right?” Yoorin chuckled before her eyes suddenly bugged out; she gripped onto you for dear life as Namjoon slipped the needle through her skin. Jimin didn’t know what telepathic connection the two of you had, but when you looked up to stare at Jimin, it made him want to force you to speak. He wanted some sheepish smile, some old woman apology or a prudish version of contempt.

Instead, you gave him a curt nod and went back to rooting your gaze to the floor as if Jimin got all the answers he needed from that one glance.

~.~

After that first meeting in his shop, he never expected to see you again–nevertheless in the same day. That should have been his first inkling that fate was playing a cruel, cruel trick on the both of you.

But he was still stupid then, and his eyes landed on your form as you poured yourself a cup of coffee from the machine at the only convenience store within three blocks of his place–the only shop still open so late at night. Jimin’s eyes locked with yours as you jolted from the sound of the bell announcing his entrance into the store.

The look you gave him made him want to torment you. It made him want to smother that spirit out of you–after all, with the way your eyes met his, it seemed that there was little fight in you.

He liked it when his victims bit back.

He wanted to see what it would take to get you to do so.

“You live close by, Prude?” Jimin raised an eyebrow, stepping close to you to grab a paper cup from the stack by the self-serve machines. “It’s dangerous for a lady to walk out at night by herself, you know–especially one just begging for it.”

You said nothing to him, only turned your back to him to address the syrups in a row next to the coffee.

“I know you’re not deaf, Prude; so how’s about you say a couple sweet words for me? That pretty friend of yours isn’t around to defend you, so get the damn guts to do it yourself.” He hissed, purposefully bumping into your shoulder so your coffee spilled onto your sweater.

You stared down at the stain in your sweater, your lips pursed at it before you lifted your gaze to meet his, one eyebrow raised incredulously.

“What?” He smirked at you from the corner of his eye. “It was an accident.”

The look on your face was perhaps the largest display of emotion Jimin had seen from you yet.

He chuckled, leaning against the stainless steel ledge to fill his cup up with steaming coffee. “If you’re going to be such a bitch about a little stain then how about you make me apologize? Or can you? Remember, Prude, this isn’t the place or time for you to be picking fights with angry men. What would happen if one followed you out the store?” He started towards you predatorily, moving towards the lids you seemed to be guarding behind you. Jimin’s stare engulfed you, swallowing you whole as he invaded you personal space.

And then, before he could grab his lid, you did something unexpected.

You upturned your entire cup of–steaming, mind you; burning actually–coffee all over his shoe. His sock quickly turned into a rag of fire that seared into his skin and caused him to shout in pain, dropping his own coffee to the floor.

“Shit! Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” He hissed, his gaze flickering up as he pulled his hand back to smack whatever stupid expression awaited him–instead, he found you with your hand over your mouth as if to say ‘oops, sorry’.

But he saw the hints of a smile on your face and if he listened closely past the bland elevator music of the convenience store, he swore he could hear soft laughter.

“You bitch.” He curled his lip at you, “you want me to kill you? You have a fucking death wish?”

You shrugged and strode past him to grab a fresh cup to fill with coffee.

“Hey!” He shouted, reaching out to grab your shoulder. “I’m talking to you, you fucking–”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The forgotten clerk stepped between him and you, name badge glinting under the fluorescent lights as if the fucker thought he was a damn sheriff at a fucking 7 eleven.

“And not the bitch who spilled coffee on me?” Jimin snarled, squaring up to the guy.

“Not unless you want to still be here when the cops get here.” Sheriffeleven grinned, knowing he’d won. Jimin clucked his tongue and threw a handful of eye daggers at your back before jogging out of the convenience store.

Now where the fuck was he going to go for coffee?

~.~

The third flip of fate happened weeks later, as if life had planned to consistently throw you in Jimin’s face. Whatever bullshit powers were up in the sky or down below, it seemed like the world was conspiring to throw the two of you together until something either stuck or died. Jimin was betting on the latter and that the ghost-to-be loser would be you.

This guess was probably due to the fact that you had Taehyung’s knife against your throat despite the earlier struggle of your attempted escape.

Well, Taehyung really wasn’t after you to begin with, it was Jimin’s mobile group that captured his interest–you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It seemed that “just happened to be” was a phrase that suited your existence. You were unaware of it–up until the moment Taehyung’s hand had snaked around your waist when Jimin snarled “Prude” to the streets–but Jimin’s tattoo shop was a front for a major drug business in the surrounding territory. Unfortunately for you, you were caught between Jimin’s and the neighboring territory: Taehyung’s. Taehyung, and most of his crowd, were knife wielding crazies never content with what they had; there was always more–the grass was always greener.

But then again, people in Jimin’s line of business tended to be greedy to the point of self-destruction.

Jimin stared over you, knowing full well that he was the cause for you being trapped. The old Jimin would be pissed; the current Jimin gave no fucks. “Tch, Taehyung. What the hell are you doing here?” Yoongi rolled his eyes as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, stopping his gang in their tracks to create a strip of no man’s land between Taehyung’s side and his own. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Say…I don’t know…your bar or something? Isn’t 10 the start of the weekend boom?”

“We close at 10 on Sundays.” Taehyung let out a wicked smile.

“It’s Friday.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

Jungkook stuck out his jaw, narrowing his eyes on the older man from across the way. “We have our connections. We know when you’re coming and when you’re leaving from our territory. Especially when you all move at once.”

Taehyung jostled his shoulder into the youngest’s. “Now now, let’s be polite to our guests. Shouldn’t we offer them some dinner?” Taehyung stared down at you. “How about you, sweetie? Want something from our cook? Big Mama Jin’s got the best stuff across five different cities.” It felt like the man was talking through you more than he was to you.

The fear was evident in your eyes, but Jimin couldn’t find it anywhere else in your expression or mannerisms. He almost wanted to see Taehyung cut you just to see something he hadn’t from you before.

“We were going to a restaurant in your territory. It’s nothing that concerns you, Taetae.” Jimin winked, causing the knee-jerk reaction in Taehyung that he loved more than anything else. It was a flick of salt in a wound that gave Jimin the coppery aftertaste of revenge on his tongue.

“Say that again.” Taehyung threatened you instead of Jimin, playing the only card easily available in his deck.

Jimin locked eyes with you, sensing your pleading fear as your lips parted. But you said nothing. “Taetae.” Jimin growled.

“Taetae! Ah! There’s my little bro!” Taehyung’s older brother rubbed his hand into his hair until the prettyboy’s locks entangled themselves into a nest. “How’ve you been?”

Jimin hated that man; he hated the man that took his best friend away from him.

“Shut up, Jimin.” Taehyung shouted, the vein in his neck popping. He was building up to an edge that would probably take you down with him, but Jimin was more than willing to shove his once-friend over that cliffside. Even if the world burned, Taehyung had to pay for his sins as much as Jimin had for his. “Do you want me to hurt this girl here?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, unable to help the sputter of laughter that had him half folded with laughter. “Do you mistake me for the Jimin I was years back? You’d be doing me a favor if you took her out–the prude’s been annoying me the moment I met her.” Jimin’s cold gaze met yours. “Get rid of it, take it out for dinner, kill it–I don’t care.”

“She’s one of your clients, no?” Jungkook shouted. “I saw her walk out of your shop!”

Jimin let out another bark of laughter that seemed to pierce across the bubble of no man’s land. “Yeah no; does she look like she’s got any tattoos or would be willing to put up with my shit? Hell, she’s about to piss herself right now. She’s weak and the weak die. Your brother should know that, shouldn’t he Taetae?”

The knife twitched dangerously in Taehyung’s hands as he glowered at Jimin with the intent to murder–kill who was another story, but the concept of death was apparent. Your chin had to dart up to avoid the sharp edge of his blade as it came frightfully close to the thin skin of your neck; the movement brought Taehyung’s attention from Jimin to you. “Oh babygirl,” Taehyung chuckled as you shivered in his grasp–even unintentional on your part; it was the exact wrong move if you wanted to escape. Taehyung fed on fear. “You better calm down or else an accident might occur–I really don’t want to kill you before desert.”

Even you could see the tension between the two in particular, despite the fear in your eyes, you stared between Jimin and Taehyung. But you did not speak; not even with a knife at your throat did you open your damn mouth.

It was something that increased Taehyung’s interest in you, causing him to let out a cackle more monster than human. “Come on baby–you gotta speak up. I need some of that vocal material to work with later on.” When you pursed your lips tight together it only enticed Taehyung. “Cat got your tongue, eh? You know I could give you a reason to speak–or at least make more noise than you are now.” He chuckled, causing Jimin’s hands to curl at his sides.

That crude attitude was the main difference between Jimin’s group and Taehyung’s–Taehyung was ready to be predatory, they were ready to attack, kill, hurt, maim, and assault innocents; namely innocent females. Jimin’s group was only ever interested in the drug money; if they had to kill and torture to obtain the cash then that was what they’d do. This fact alone was one of the reasons Jimin joined Yoongi’s tattoo shop–that and Taehyung’s pack was the main rival in the underground business.

When Taehyung’s eyes lifted to meet Jimin’s, a horrible flash of a smirk lit up his face as the crazed man tilted his head to hover his lips dangerously close to your skin. “You know,” Taehyung’s eyes never left Jimin’s, “I bet you could make far better noises than Sooyoung.”

“Leave her out of this, Taehyung.” Jimin snarled, his anger barely wrangled in by the skeletons of his closet. “She was never yours to begin with.” Jimin could feel his neck pop; if it weren’t for Yoongi holding his arm out to stop the younger from lurching forward, Jimin would have been beating the shit out of his once friend.

“You’re just angry because she liked me better.” Taehyung chuckled.

“And she died for it, you fucker.” Jimin hissed, savoring the idea of having Taehyung’s neck under his tightening thumbs. And then your gaze pierced through that hopeful satisfaction; there was something about the glitter in your eyes in that moment that had him reeling back in Yoongi’s grip.

“Jimin,” She giggled, even trapped in an idyllic memory, he could feel the goosebumps rise up his skin, “What’re you thinking about?”

He could almost feel the grass again, that one spot that he enjoyed lying in more than any other; he could almost feel the sun on his face–before Sooyoung blocked it out with her shadow. “Taehyung.” He murmured, squinting to see past her halo. Yoongi always told him memories were skewed; the way that we see people we lost is always a bit crooked.

We forget the bad.

Her fingers were in his hair and he savored that feeling over the tightening knot of worry in his chest. “You need to relax.” She whispered, her fingers soothing his scalp. “You’ll get wrinkles early and then you won’t be handsome anymore.” She chuckled when he opened one eye to glare at her.

“You know what that part of the city means, Sooyoung. You know what he’s going to get himself into–you know–”

She gently flicked his forehead, pouting at him. “You worry too much, dummy.” But he could never tell if she was joking; she never let anything real pass through her eyes. “You’re too nice for your own good sometimes.”

He grinned up at her, pretending like there wasn’t more to her words. “But that’s what you like about me, right?”

Taehyung cut him from his memory trap.

“Aren’t you going to go get food, Jiminnie?”

“Jiminnie!” She shouted, her arms wrapping around his waist so she could bury her face between his shoulder blades.

Yoongi couldn’t stop Jimin this time; instead, the younger was lunging past his groups’ grasps to bolt out into the no man’s land between the warring gangs.

Instead of clashing with Taehyung like he oh so wanted to, Jungkook–the youngest and toughest of both sides–rammed into Jimin.

The moment Jungkook’s forearm hit Jimin’s chest (though he did manage to land a hard kick to the youngest’s shin), the street broke out into chaos. It was the first shot–the first bullet to start a war. It became a haphazard mess of limbs and metallic flashes of hidden blades. No one brought a gun this time–a plus in the unexpected expected fight. In the cacophony that was a gang fight, Jimin lost sight of both you and Namjoon; he could still catch glimpses of Yoongi attempting to get to him through the battling limbs of snarling men. And then Seokjin appeared behind Yoongi and Jimin’s efforts to escape Jungkook’s grasp intensified.

Honestly though, Jimin had just wanted some fucking noodles and instead he was getting punched across the face so hard that fell backwards and crashed back first, crashing back first into the ground. Through the flurries of pain that erupted up his spine, Jimin grabbed Jungkook’s ankle, yanking the younger to the asphalt.

In the distance, he could here sirens–though they might have been closer than he thought; Jimin really couldn’t hear much past the blood rushing in his ears and the pain of his skin scraping on the busted road.

Jimin threw Jungkook off of him and rammed his boot into the younger’s chest to keep him down enough to throw a hard punch to his jaw. It was in that moment, when Jimin was going to hunt down Taehyung, that he felt the sharp pain of cold metal slipping deep into his skin.

Sharp pain wasn’t the correct term for it either–it was more like an agonizing stab that tore through his entire body and made it hard for him to get air to his lungs. He turned, as the steel left him, catching sight of Taehyung’s favorite knife sparkling with blood–Jimin’s blood. He stared at his once friend, remembering them pinkie promising as children that they would be best friends forever.

Jimin crashed to the ground on his knees, clutching at his side only to find it slippery as blood gushed between his fingers. His arms quickly went weak and he smashed his shoulder into the asphalt, rolling onto his good side in an attempt to find Namjoon or Yoongi. All he could see was running footfalls, sirens and lights blurring his vision as people shouted and ran away from whatever doom was about to befall upon Jimin. He couldn’t even lift his head off the asphalt, nevertheless get up and run from the cops. For once, his group was nowhere to be found. Was this what happened when you were about to die?

Everyone that you believe cared about you left you to bleed out?

“Shit.” He cursed, trying to scream for someone–anyone–but he was unable to raise his voice above a low whine. Jimin’s vision spun, a whirlwind of a muddled mess that blurred the feet coming to and away from him. Suddenly, he realized that there were shoes before him and a hand on his arm, lifting him up. The person slung one of his arms over their shoulders, their free hand pressing his tighter against his wounded side. With huge, quick, and limping steps, they pushed him toward and into the blurriest blob of a car.

“Yoongi?” He croaked out.

“No.” It was a voice he didn’t recognize; he couldn’t care less, he just wanted out of there, away from the cops. If he was to die it wasn’t going to be in chains.

So, for the time being, he trusted the person buckling him into their car enough to allow himself to pass out from the pain.

The last thing he remembered from that moment was that his savior had soft and gentle hands.

Almost like they cared about a lowlife loser like him.

~.~

When Jimin finally awoke, he found himself in a bathroom–specifically in the bathtub of a bathroom that appeared to belong to a female. He eyed the organized chaos that was the rows of makeup, hair and other beauty products that he was unfamiliar with.

He tried to sit up to get a better picture of where the fuck he was and who the hell had nabbed him from the street, only to be met with a spike of agony that pulled at his side the second he shifted. He hissed in pain, his hand flying to the wound. Somewhere along the way he removed his shirt and threw it into a puddle on the floor, revealing tight stitches pulling at raw skin dried with blood. Homemade–he’d recognize the sight anywhere; though these are far more even than any he’d done himself.

Jimin threw a glance over his shoulder, staring at the pillow, the rosy pink comforter now stained with red, the rags crusted with dried blood lined on the edge of the tub–he saw the whole story in the mess. This person knew what they were doing. He forced himself up into a sitting position, gritting his teeth as his gripped the edges of the tub to aid him. The pain was an intense heat wave that bloomed beads of sweat across his forehead and neck.

It was when he was catching his breath that the bathroom door opened and you walked in–walked in nothing but a sleep tank and pair of shorts.

Jimin was unable to turn his eyes away from you; his gaze was rooted to your previously covered expanses of skin. Shocked that he was awake and staring, you hurriedly snatched a robe from the back of your bathroom door to hastily cover up. But it was already too late; Jimin had seen them.

He had openly stared at the scars that covered every inch of your normally hidden skin. Jimin couldn’t tear his eyes from the robe, as if he had x-ray vision that would allow him to go back to unashamedly uncovering all of your secrets.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Instead, you wound up smacking your lips shut together, squeezing the ice pack that you had brought in with you.

“That for me?” He hooked a lazy finger to the ice, waiting until you nodded before stretching his arm out to grab it from you. You clung to your robe, stretching your upper body across the void between him and you without moving your feet. Jimin took the pack, laying it across the back of his neck to cool down his fevered skin. He wouldn’t show you, but even the simple movement tugged at his stitches and had him inwardly groaning in pain.

You flipped your thumb up and then down, your eyebrows furrowed on Jimin. He gave you a thumbs up accompanied by a dramatic eyeroll.

“Are you capable of speech, Prude?”

You nodded, your fingers digging into the plush fabric of your robe.

“But there’s something stopping you–or are you just choosing not to speak.”

You held up one finger, nodding fervently as if he would just drop the topic entirely.

He pursed his lips, staring at a section of your bathroom tile instead of at you. He tried to imagine the girl who was willing to pour hot coffee on him saving him from his death–but the pieces wouldn’t click in his black and white brain. “Why…I’m assuming it was you–why did you save me?” He shifted his gaze back to you at the end of his words, unsurprised to find you bold enough to keep your eyes level with his.

You only gave him a curt nod.

“Why?” He hissed with the sudden pain of shifting, of trying to stand up to shake the stupid out of you. Suddenly, you were there before him, offering your arms as support–the robe dropping to your feet, forgotten with your determination to help him.

“You know, Jimin, nice people like you always get taken advantage of; yet you’re never the winners.”

“Karma will come around.” He chuckled, trying to drag her out of her moment of seriousness. He didn’t like it when she got serious; it felt like he lost her when she got serious, like she was out on a raft in the middle of an ocean and he didn’t know how to swim.

“Do you believe in karma?” She whispered.

He didn’t know what to say; so instead he did the only thing he could do–he put his hand on hers with the hope that the pressure of his skin could pull her back. “I have to.”

“Well I don’t.” She retaliated quickly; her eyes lost somewhere he couldn’t reach. “Bad things happen to good people all the time, if there was karma then such instances wouldn’t exist.”

“Don’t touch me.” He shoved you away, grabbing his head from the sudden pressures of his memory. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

You jerked back from him, your hands still poised to assist him if need be.

“You’re stupid you know? I should just kill you right here and take everything away from you. Maybe then you’d finally learn something or get the courage to open your stupid mouth. Hey, then I’d be doing us all a favor, wouldn’t I? Because who in the hell would want to look at your scarred, ugly skin–”

You slapped him, staring down at him with a fury in your gaze that reminded him of his own.

Back when he was younger and still gave a damn.

But you didn’t leave; despite all his shit you crouched near him, flicked his forehead and forced him to sit back so you could clean the dried blood off his stitches.

“You’re stupid.” He groaned, resting his head against the pillow. “So fucking stupid.”

You raised both eyebrows at him as if to say 'I know, and?’

“I should kill you, honestly. You’re more trouble to yourself anyways.”

You pinched his stitches and he let out a yelp of pain, your face splitting into a grin as his head snapped up to glare at you.

“For a bitch who can’t speak you’re pretty damn ruthless.”

You slapped a fresh gauze pad to his stitches with no mercy, grabbing your robe off the ground to pull over your shoulders and hide your exposed scars. Without another word or glance, you closed the bathroom door behind you as you left.

622 notes · View notes