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anthroposeen · 11 days

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tmagp 17 relisten notes!!

as always, tmagp and tma spoilers below the cut! hope you guys enjoy the breakdown :)

celia:

- she's been teleported to another road side, this time very close to a highway in oxford. she missed the play with sam and didnt have a way to contact him about it

- she wants to make up for missing the play by paying for their next date, and seems pretty genuine about her guilt and interest in him

- once the incident ends, she thanks the computer/chester for it. this could have been a sarcastic comment on her part, but it comes across as her acknowledging the case for what it is, and acknowledging that it is somehow curated for her. i think this is evidenced by her telling alice the incident wasnt very useful, implying she tries to find their meaning, and takes them as some form of sentience.

sam:

- he seems a bit peeved that celia didn't call him to tell him she had to cancel, and tells her to not make a habit of this kind of thing. i think its important to keep in mind that we've established he's very sensitive to rejection and people "not having time" for him.

- "im not a big horror fan" who's going to tell him?

alice:

- her computer keeps malfunctioning, showing a jmj error

- shes back to making bad puns and jokes at gwen's expense, a hard shift from her demeanor last episode

- she jokes to gwen about venting their problems as a group exercise, but denies actually having a problem to discuss

gwen:

- she helps alice with the jmj error, and says that colin hasnt been in the office in weeks, though theres no more word in his whereabouts

- she also! denies having anything to talk about! great communication guys!

incident:

- narrated by chester/jon, read at celia's desk.

- incident pulled from the magnus institute oxford outreach center -> important for the obvious reason and because celia woke up in oxford the most recent time she teleported

- darrien is given low viability for agent, subject, and catalyst

- states that "continued incarceration" is the advised method of containing/studying the subject and phenomena, implying that sometime after the statement was given, the magnus institute incarcerated darrien for unknown reasons.

- the statement was given by a man named darrien -> episode 13 also featured a darrien, but it doesn't appear to be the same man to me, i think its most likely that ajn and johhny are just having a good time with recycling names.

- darrien was in a court ordered anger-management program and was transported across dimensions during a therapy session -> intense meditation seemed to be the trigger here

- the receptionist at his therapy office was a "big, soft looking guy" who stumbled over his words, this is followed by the mention of a "bookish looking guy" who darrien says gives him weird pervert vibes. while these are incredibly in character descriptions for them both, i cant say im sure these are alternate-dimension's martin and jon. ide also like to point out that these are characters from darrien's previous universe, not the tmagp one where he finds himself.

- when darrien wakes up from his meditation he has a strong migraine, dry eyes, a stiff neck, and he was dizzy. later, he discovers hes emaciated as he continuously passes out. these symptoms seem to go away as he stays in this dimension

- he woke up in the tmagp universe in a shopping center, coming from a magnus institute outreach post -> seeing as how we know the main building is still active, it could be that the outreach centers also serve as "portals"

- he experienced similar things to anya villette's statement in tma s3. he couldnt contact his employer, had no emergency contact to give the hospital, woke up in a different location, and was taken to the wrong address.

- the tmagp native darrien (who ill call other!darrien for clarity here) was welcoming to his lost doppelgänger, letting him stay in his house and offering him advice on how to keep his anger in check

- darrien describes meeting his other!self as "trying not to fall through the cracks" -> potentially a call back to anya villette's episode "cracked foundation"

- they reasoned the coincidence out by figuring they were half siblings, though they were both named darrien. they discovered a couple of time discrepancies, seeing as their dad died on different days

- the housekeeper, sharon, was wary of them, giving darrien a scared look and looking for opportunities to leave the room when he was around

- when darrien asks how other!darrien manages his anger, hes taken to a heavy door in the basement. there was a single drop of blood on the staircase leading down. ragged breathing and pleading for help rose from below the stairs, and darrien refused to be a part of this anger-vent exercise. he pushed other!darrien into the room, locking it back.

- darrien denies the invitation into the torture chamber, "i couldnt join him down there with my father", later saying he felt guilty for not killing other!darrien and "saving whatever poor soul he had kept". at first, i thought that his other!father was being kept in the basement and tortured, but i think he uses his dad as a metaphor for the anger they both carry. this opens up the scarier realization that other!darrien is just torturing a random person

- once he locked other!darrien in the basement room, he adopted his life.

- sharon didnt return to darrien after her vacation was up, and its thought that she reported him to the institute, where we can assume they began his incarceration

glitches/lies:

- "i'm ok/its ok" spoken by celia as she's trying to reassure herself

- no glitches after gwen and alice say they have nothing to share. its very possible this is because they dont want to share with each other

extra comments:

- the jmj wrror stops popping up after alice proposes talking out their issues as a team, but considering they dont actually do that im chalking it up to a coincidence for now

- this incident follows chester's normal shtick: statement from the magnus institute, directly targeting someones business, and sort of providing a cautionary tale

- this may be my favorite incident so far. it has a very similar vibe to the early tma statements, and an ominous music bit from s1-2 even played briefly as darrien meets his dopplegänger (at least, thats what it sounded like to me). it has a lot of revelation-centered horror that really grabs me, knowing exactly who will be in the house as darrien knocks on the door and following his dopplgänger into the torture room were so vivid for me, its the exact type of horror that always makes me genuinely creeped out!

- this episode raises a lot of questions about the stability of this dimension, and all dimensions in general since there seems to be reoccurring leaks/cracks. this manifests as celia teleporting across space, existing in this universe in general, the giant cavern in the magnus institute ruins, and darrien's adventures in universe-hopping.

- as i mentioned in the incident points, jon and martin have a sort of hinted cameo in darrien's original universe, but a part of me refuses to believe its them just because i enjoy the mystery set up after mag 200. if this is all the content we get of potential jon and martin dopplegängers, ill actually be happy with that. i really do enjoy the notion that they exist in some boring reality somewhere else, and martin still stumbles over his words and jon still needs anger management therapy. i like that theres consistency even in an alternate universe. im certain we wont be seeing these vague background characters again, but i would love to see darrien's reaction to norris's voice.

#tmagp 17 #tmagp #the magnus protocol #tmagp theory #tmagp spoilers #tmagp thoughts #alice dyer #celia ripley #gwen bouchard #sam khalid

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sophierequests · 2 years

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🌟 hey!! maybe cardigan by taylor swift with zoya and a f!reader? i'm a sucker for the folklore love triangle and this song it's just so accurate, i love it

thanks for all the requests, your song event is lovely <3

you drew stars around my scars, but now i'm bleeding

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Pairing: Zoya Nazyalenksy x gn!Reader

A/N: All of the songs in the folklore love triangle slap, I do not make the rules. I love Zoya with any Taylor song, so you have come to the right place, love. Also, thank you so much for the compliment and the request, I hope you like this <333

Summary: Memories of a long-lost relationship start to resurface.

Genre: Angst and slight Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.0K

Warnings: Mention of blood, almost dying and pain (emotional and physical)

Memories of the past - memories of her - lingered everywhere you went. The scent of wildflowers from your mother’s garden. The light summer breeze that always managed to make your hair look like an absolute mess. And even the sound of people hitting each other with sarcastic comments when they walked through the streets outside your window.

There was a dim light of hope still searing in the back of your mind, praying that she might come back to you - for you - one day. However, hope made people do foolish things. It rarely ever seemed to be the cause for the peaceful end of a war, instead serving as a catalyst for a newfound sense of lunacy. Whatever the two of you had, it would have never been meaningful enough for her to choose you over duty and self-preservation. The war - whether it was the war she held with herself or the Ravkan Civil War - would forever be her first love. And one’s first love will remain the truest.

During this time of the year, thoughts of her were plentiful. The incredibly strong candy-like scent of the Sweet Violets growing in your garden wafted through the atmosphere of your bedroom, whilst you tried to sort through the mess that you called your closet, trying to find a dress you could wear for your birthday celebration this evening. As much as you would have preferred to continue executing your task, this specific aroma provoked a long-forgotten memory to resurface.

The temperatures outside the Little Palace were still below zero, even though the icy blankets of snow had already subsided weeks ago. Nevertheless, spring announced itself by adorning the previously covered grass with a colourful display of wildflowers. A very welcome sight after a harsh winter.

“Remind me why I agreed to letting you drag me out of the comfort of my bed, just to go out here to look at some pretty weeds?” The Squaller behind you groaned, wrapping her lined kefta closer around her body with the hand that wasn’t clasping onto yours. You had basically yanked her out of bed after seeing the first flowers of the year spreading over the well-kept gardens of the palace. Watching them blossom for the first time in the new year reminded you of home and gave you some comfort when you felt like you didn’t belong with the other Grisha - you would never miss it.

“Because you love me and want me to be happy?” You retorted, pulling her towards you to share some of your body warmth with her. She really wasn’t made for the cold. “And they aren’t just some pretty weeds, they are just as much of a flower as the ones you keep in your garden.”

“That’s totally understandable then.” Zoya smiled, her cold fingers dancing around yours to keep them from falling off.

When you passed a patch of the vibrant blue flowers you paused, taking in the sweetness they gave off. The faint droplets of the morning dew that had collected on their leaves made them glisten in the sunlight, only giving them an even more ethereal look.

“What is it?” Zoya scoffed when she smelled the strong perfume of the flowers.

“Look at these! Sweet Violets! They remind me of you.”

“Because they stink?”

“Their blue is the same hue as your kefta.” You corrected her cheekily, bending down to pick a handful of them. “And they don’t stink. They are just very sweet. Just like you.” She rolled her eyes as you handed her the violets. Zoya always pretended to hate your cheesy remarks or subtle displays of affection, but in secret, she couldn’t get enough of them.

“Saints, you’re terrible.”

“I’m amazing.”

You had been so caught up in your own mind, that you didn’t notice the wooden box you kept on top of your closet gradually starting to be pushed over the edge the longer you spent rummaging through the drawers. With a cluttering thud, the box shattered on the hard ground, emptying its content all over the wooden floor.

“Great…” With a huff, you got down on your knees, mentally preparing to assess the damage you had caused. You weren’t even sure what exactly you had stored on top of the flimsy wardrobe, especially in a wooden box of all things. But when you removed all the stray parts of the busted crate, realization hit you like a brick. While there were some other tiny trinkets sprawled around you, a piece of blue fabric was where all your attention went. A blue kefta.

Without giving yourself time to think, you pulled it out from underneath the clutter, absent-mindedly brushing the dirt off and letting your fingers run over the intricate silver embroideries around the collar. It was slightly damaged from being worn on the battlefield and during training, but that only made it more real. It was her kefta.

You tried to pry your eyes open just to immediately shut them again to keep the bright light from giving you a headache. That was the last thing you needed right now. There was a sharp sting in your side when you attempted to sit up. A bandage was wrapped tightly around your middle, hindering your movements a little. It felt like you had just been hit by a coach, but you knew that you hadn’t been that lucky. The last thing you recalled was a bomb going off and you getting lifted off your feet with radical force. And now you were here, in a room you knew all too well. Yet, utterly alone.

Well, not for long. Your eyes hadn’t even properly adjusted to your surroundings as the door opened, and hurried footsteps strode over to where you were currently sitting. Zoya appeared at your side, looking absolutely dishevelled and as if she hadn’t slept in what looked like months. There was a sloppily cleaned-up cut on her cheek, however, that seemed to be the only major bruise she had. Her hands moved towards your shoulder, intending to make you lie back down again, but you seized them before they could even touch you, holding onto them as if your life depended on it.

“Saints, you’re freezing.” She stated, visibly avoiding meeting your gaze. Much to your dismay, she freed herself of your grasp, beginning to shrug off her kefta to then place it around your shoulders. You gratefully accepted it, its heavy presence on your shoulders gave you a familiar sense of comfort.

“Thank you.” As soon as you finished your sentence, she moved forward, engulfing you in a tight hug. You were safe.

“I really thought you wouldn’t make it. We all did.” The tone of her voice was shaky, but it was obvious that she was doing her best not to cry. And if she was close to tears, you must have been close to the brink of death. “I was so worried.”

“What happened?” The question caused her to flinch. You knew that she was blaming herself for what happened and you hated seeing her like this.

“We were attacked and you were right there when the bomb went off. I… I don’t know what hit you exactly, but there was just so much blood and you didn’t wake up and then-” You silenced her with a brief hand gesture, not wanting her to dive deeper into her self-destructive rabbit hole.

“It’s okay, Z. I’m fine. We’re both fine.”

“But for how long?” She whispered, her words barely audible.

“What?”

“How long until we’re not?” Her voice was clearer this time. Sadder, but clearer. “How long until you won’t be fine? Until you won’t wake up anymore? I’m sorry, Y/N. This is not good for any of us.”

“Zoya, what do you mean?” Your heartbeat picked up its pace after her last sentence.

“I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with myself if you didn’t up. The thought of you dying almost made me sick. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t work. I was completely useless.”

“Don’t speak like this. You weren’t useless. You were worried. And that’s what happens if someone you love gets hurt, you worry. I would have felt the same had it been you.” You wanted to reach out to her again, but she pulled away, standing up from the side of your bed.

"I am not like you. Love never made me gentle or kind. It made me fragile. And I refuse to be shattered again." Whatever she was set on saying, it sounded final. “I can’t allow myself to care about someone this much, Y/N. It scares me. It makes me weak. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t mean this. You don’t want this.” Reality kicked in and the kefta around your shoulders started to weigh you down, instead of giving you comfort. “We can keep each other safe. Love doesn’t have to make you fragile, Zoya. Please, don’t do this.”

“It’s not up for discussion.” She straightened her back, ridding herself of any indication that she was close to crying only a few minutes prior to this. Then, without any further explanation, she turned on her heels and left the room. Leaving you alone again.

That was the last time you talked to her. Or seen her for that matter. You couldn’t dare to look her in the eyes, or even be in the same room with her after that. So you left. You packed up all the things you deemed valuable and returned to your hometown, without any word. Especially not to Zoya. You were over, she had made that abundantly clear, so you owed her nothing.

You hated yourself for not getting rid of that damned uniform years ago. You had unconsciously taken it with you since you left in such a hurry that you lost any ability to form a coherent thought. Only when you were a few hours away from the Little Palace, you had noticed your mistake. From then on, the kefta and every other sentimental trinket that could invoke any painful memories of the past stayed hidden on top of your closet.

Now, you were sitting on your floor, back pressed against your bed frame and clutching the kefta tightly to your chest. You had been so convinced that you were able to forget her. Relationships come and go, that was just the way life worked. Nothing was made to last forever. But what you and Zoya had was different and you knew it. Zoya would always be unforgettable, whether you liked it or not.

You didn’t know how long you had been sitting there. Or for how long you had been letting the tears run down your cheeks without wiping them away. But eventually, you were kicked out of your stupor by a voice calling your name from downstairs.

“Y/N, love! Do you mind coming down? There is someone here for you.” Your mother’s voice sounded from the hallway. Your relatives seemed to be very on time this year.

Quickly, you rubbed your eyes, trying your best to remove any evidence of the fact that you had been crying. You folded the kefta, carefully placing it on your bed before making your way down the stairs, where your mother was already waiting. She didn’t alert you about whom the guest might be, so you concluded that it had to be someone you were expecting.

When you finally reached the door though, your breath hitched in your throat. The person standing on your front porch, dressed in unusually casual clothing, wasn’t one of your relatives. It was Zoya. She looked exactly how you remembered her. Maybe a bit more beaten up, but other than that she hadn’t changed one bit. But what was she doing here?

You weren’t the only one who seemed to be taken aback by the situation. As soon as your eyes met, you noticed that she began biting her cheek. A habit that you never necessarily liked, but that helped her calm down a great deal. She opened her mouth, but no words seemed to manifest.

“Zoya?” You were the first to make a move, still in shock and slight disbelief.

“Y/N.” Her voice was hoarse. “Do you mind if I come in?”

��Please do.”

#zoya nazyalensky x reader #zoya nazyalensky #zoya x reader #grishaverse fanfic #grishaverse x reader #shadow and bone #grishaverse #shadow and bone x reader #netflix shadow and bone

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xehanortsreport · 1 year

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Please tell me about the JUSTICE BROS au I am curious.

CRACKS KNUCKLES I'm so excited to talk about this I went and whipped out my good keyboard.

Alright so, firstly, this isn't comprehensive because I plan to expand upon the details in future artwork. Secondly, because it's been a few years, my DR lore knowledge may not be completely accurate on some of the timeline details. Please forgive me for this, and just take it as part of the AU haha.

The core of the JUSTICE BROS (tm) AU forms during DR:0, or its equivalent. I always found it very intriguing about how Ishimaru repeatedly and rather bluntly expresses that he expected to enter Hope's Peak with his classmates as his enemies; his hatred of the way the gifted are lifted up and excused his primary driving force. Naturally, while this is resolved in canon, I find it makes a very good base for a Mastermind AU, and also gently roasting the idea of Meritocracy as Ishimaru thinks of it.

Within this world, the very first Killing Game amongst the student council takes place, though without Junko as its catalyst. The primary perpetrator remains Izuru, and I think I may make it a ploy by Jin to test the talents of his beloved new Hope gone terribly wrong, for whatever reason. This part isn't very solidified lmao. Anyway, as Morals Committee president, I feel that Ishimaru would be well aware of the activities of his seniors in the Student Council, and most likely kept close contact with them. The tl;dr is that he figures out early on that something went terribly wrong, attempts to figure out what happened, and discovers the cover-up being run by the Steering Committee.

He enlists the help of Yasuke Matsuda to retrieve the memories from the comatose Student Council president under the nose of the wider faculty, and upon learning that Izuru Kamukura is even a thing, is horrified.

This acts as the tipping point for an Ishimaru who was already thoroughly put off by the very existence of the Reserve Course as being used as nothing but batteries for the Main Course - finding out that even the Main Course were naught but pawns to the faculty, too? Oh, that was simply too much. In this universe, it is Ishimaru who rallies the reserve course against the school, encapsulating the disgust against a system that openly abuses them for the sake of a privileged few. In true Danganronpa fashion, this manifests itself in a very devoted cult of personality, especially since Ishimaru's "campaign" for lack of a better word, promises one thing above all else: Justice.

No one is above punishment. Not the Main Course, not the Headmaster - no, not even the society that created such social division in the first place. The system itself must be wiped away and restarted from scratch, everyone judged for their sins equally, and only those willing to repent and work hard for a better world allowed to exist. After all, if even Hope's Peak, the ultimate symbol of hope for the world, is corrupt, there is nothing left than the most extreme of purges.

And so we enter DR1's Killing Game. Unlike Junko's game, Ishimaru's goal is not only to serve as a warning and an example, but also a legitimate courtroom and reformatory; offering his classmates the chance to be "redeemed" and escape death is his ultimate show of love, and is meant to inspire the greater populace. Those who do not submit to Justice will be destroyed without pity, but those who do will be welcomed with open arms! It is a fair system! And to show its fairness, not even his beloved friends are above his law!

Isn't it wonderful? Isn't it glorious? Isn't it fair, and just, and pure?

Anyway, mind wiping happens. Idk if he enlisted Matsuda's help in this or if he decided to grab someone else's assistance in this who has neurological abilities, but away the game goes. The motives and goals are simplified, mostly being variations on "here is a sin you committed; will you repent, or will you continue to sin to cover the truth? Will your classmates find what you've done so disgusting that they will take your fate into their hands? Either way, justice will be done." There is much more of an emphasis on group think in this one, straining bonds, and high emphasis on the prisoner's dilemma.

Vote to block your sin from being revealed to the audience (all of Japan) by choosing a sacrificial lamb. Or perhaps you might attempt to kill instead to buy the headmaster's silence? Unlike our DR, I think this AU might feign that anyone who murders is simply released, but in actuality they are executed in front of the live audience outside and the students are completely unaware of this fact until the end. Why murder? It's a DR, man. There's a hard time limit as well. The rest of the game has yet to be devised by me...apologies if it's hard to follow...

Anyway that's the basic outline! More information about our other major characters, like our protagonist Chihiro, our mole Mondo, and our sidekick/detective stand-in Ryoko, will be further revealed with art! I hope it's interesting!

#long post #text heavy #JUSTICE BROS #danganronpa #thh #dangan ronpa #hi so

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moonaturie · 7 months

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1. Be it commanding attention on the catwalk or capturing moments in the club's ambiance, I stand out as the epitome of excellence, relishing life with the flair of an authentic fashion enthusiast. Care to join me in this journey? It's an opportunity to unwind, embrace spontaneity, adorn yourself with rosy lipstick, and revel in a day of embodying the spirit of a contemporary Barbie. What are your thoughts on this playful and stylish escapade? So, what do you say we let the poetry of the moment guide us further into this realm of fashion and fantasy? Let's allow the rhythm of life to lead us, and in the process, create memories that resonate with the elegance of our own unique story. Ready to continue this charming adventure with me? Let’s waltz unabashedly through the expansive pages of our uniquely magical fairy tale, where the magic unrolls in the delicate details of our shared celestial haven.

2. In the symphony of sartorial wisdom, it is often uttered that dressing for success lays the foundation for its realization. So, let us together raise a glass to honor not just the fit and design of this ensemble but also the confidence it bestows upon us. Here's a heartfelt cheers to the sublime sensation of feeling absolutely fabulous and the undeniable allure of looking exceptionally fine! Here's to more than just a mere acknowledgment of our exterior appearance! It’s an acknowledgment of the inner radiance that shines brightly through our shared experiences and the beautiful tapestry of life that we paint together. It's an acknowledgment of the transformative power encapsulated within, a silent agreement that the very act of adorning ourselves with intention can be a catalyst for embracing the possibilities that life unrolls. Here's to more than just a recognition of the aesthetic appeal of our attire, let’s say it’s a collective acknowledgment of the luminosity that emanates from within

3. Embracing narcissism is by no means considered a transgression; rather, it aligns with contemporary societal trends. My inclination towards meticulous observation ensures that no detail goes unnoticed, leading to the unveiling of these incisive insights. I am curious about your suggestion for a suitable moniker in this context. Perhaps it is pertinent to contemplate a title such as "Her: Your Forever Girl Crush" as an essential consideration. In pondering this epithet, one is prompted to reflect on the broader implications of embracing narcissism in the context of personal identity and societal dynamics! Armed with my distinct perception of summertime, I find myself entirely predisposed to welcome this season with an open heart and a soul that flutters in anticipation of the myriad experiences it holds. This lens, tinted with the warmth and vibrancy of autumn, serves as a filter through which I approach and embrace the current season!

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mssirey · 3 years

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'Maybe the next morning Kara would ask for it. Lena could hope.' I like it too. :) I imagine that maybe Kara did ask. Maybe not that very next day but.. some time after. Makes for a nice thought.

Okay, y’all, I feel like I’m calling myself out for the oral fixation (which I almost just called ficsation and that honestly makes some kind of sense… but I digress). Here are some feels!

Kara was used to noise. Her head was cluttered with it, bombarded at every moment, with every little thing. She had trained herself to withdraw, to let sound fade into the background—an undercurrent she could stay above, no longer drowning in sensation.

But quieting her thoughts was a dangerous game, one that led to missteps and mistakes, leaving too much room for anger and hurt to sneak up on her. Kara needed to be vigilant, constantly present, constantly shouldering the pressures of her mantle, because she would not be the one to feel the consequences if she slipped up—and she didn’t have the stomach for that aftermath.

Packing didn’t fit into that turmoil. Devoting time and thought to the nagging ache in her heart seemed impossible to justify—a selfish pursuit. It took months of mounting distraction to finally acknowledge that by not exploring the draw she felt towards packing, the more antsy and frazzled she became. That was how she managed to reason with her hesitations.

Kara always had an acute sense of herself—the heaviness of her touch, the proximity she had to others, the degree to which she could affect another—but slipping her first packer into a pair of boxer briefs, she was aware of herself in a new way. Even as she struggled to get it to sit flush against herself and contended with the awkwardness as she tried to prod it into proper form, it was thrilling. Her nerves buzzed with excitement, unbound for the breaths she took to stare down at herself.

It shouldn’t have been so euphoric, she found herself noting, and yet just the private expression had her heart fluttering and warm, dizzying almost.

Kara had been alone—Lena’s work demanding her attention—and the gravity that pulled her deeper into her head kept her from noticing that Lena had left her spot in her home office. “Oh,” Lena exhaled from the door to the bedroom, and Kara’s head whipped up.

Kara didn’t mean for her hand to move, didn’t mean to cover herself, but nor did she know how to let her hand drop away from her crotch. She stood frozen, wide eyed and small, shrinking faster than she could help.

“I’m sorry,” Lena broke the silence, but with it came alarm, ringing heavy in Kara’s head. Each thundering beat of her heart called up shame and doubt, and Kara was helpless. All she knew to do was retreat inward—don’t approach, don’t touch, don’t let the turbulence fall on Lena.

But Lena’s heart was steady, if a touch fast, and it drew closer as she walked cautiously into the room. “Hey,” she whispered, gentle in her approach. Kara didn’t move, didn’t speak. She was locked tight, her spine rigid, her jaw aching as her teeth pressed together.

Lena’s hands touched her wrists. “You don’t need to show me until you’re ready,” she promised, “but I’m here, Kara.” Her thumbs soothed along the insides of Kara’s arms, but there was no weight applied, no pressure to move.

Kara’s hands squeezed into fists and she slowly let them ease up, Lena’s hands going with them, staying at her wrists. It was something Lena had adopted from Alex—the understanding that Kara appreciated being held without risking the twitch of her own fingers.

“I’m happy for you, Kara,” she breathed, and Kara stumbled backwards to sit on the bed, Lena letting her go. It was too much to accept at once—far more than she had dared hope for.

She did cry, but not until she was alone.

From there, Kara eased into packing slowly. She was still unsure—not about wanting it, but about whether it was something she deserved, whether it was something she was allowed to prioritize.

Lena took to it surprisingly well, and perhaps that made Kara question why she fussed so much. She couldn’t sort out why she got so delighted, why it felt right to have a cock present between her legs, or even why that was how she wanted to think of it. She struggled to contain her dancing heart as it tried to beat right out of her chest, to stifle the joy that bubbled up within her. She didn’t think it merited her attention, and certainly not Lena’s.

Lena made it abundantly clear she thought differently. She went so far as to put herself between Kara’s legs and take Kara’s cock into her mouth. It sent Kara’s head spinning, her mind blazing until every thought was ash floating in the stillness of her empty skull.

Nothing had ever been so quiet.

Kara breathed without the weight of the world squeezing around her ribs. She looked down at Lena’s blissful little smile, her cock held by perfect lips, and Kara knew relief. It startled her how easy it was, how direct, how simple, but Lena stayed there—anchored Kara in her seat as they basked in that shared calm.

Kara was safe with Lena, and so she allowed herself to want it, invited desire fully into her heart and sat with it, cushioned in Lena’s embrace.

And when Lena pulled back and Kara took her shaft into her hand, her fist wrapping loose around it, she was met with a new thrill. Her cock held the heat of Lena’s mouth and was slick with her saliva, and Kara’s hand jerked smoothly along the length, unconscious in the movement. It felt like a part of her. Her cock. Hers.

It didn’t make sense to her, didn’t fit what she had imagined she might want in life, but she was beginning to understand that it didn’t need to. She could find comfort in her own ways, outside of the expectations ingrained in her.

Kara couldn’t keep Lena between her legs with any permanence, but she let her thoughts wander back to that moment, to the peace and the freedom it had brought her. For days she wished for it, thought of recreating the catalyst in the kitchen, wondering if she could entice Lena.

Kara caught the way Lena looked at her—checked her with discrete glances, stares that lingered a breath too long to be coincidental—but she struggled to decipher the meaning. She was too wishful, and afraid she colored her own perception.

“Kara?”

Kara’s knee jerked up, knocked against the bottom of her coffee mug and almost tipped the contents. She had been jumpy, wound tight by the tireless pull of her thoughts. An acknowledging note choked from her throat.

“You know I liked it, right?”

Kara shifted deeper into the couch, clutched her mug tighter to her body, above where Lena’s gaze fell. “I know,” she insisted, the words rushed and clumsy.

And she did. There was no mistaking the enthusiastic thrum in the air around Lena when she had settled into the space at Kara’s feet, or the barely restrained urgency in her fingers as she had tugged Kara’s joggers down, or the eager way she had nudged closer until Kara felt the weight of her cock lifted by wet lips. She knew Lena enjoyed the time she had spent there, and yet...

“But?” Lena met her eye and cocked her head, a sympathetic frown tugging at her lips.

“I just—“ Kara began, but trailed off. “It feels too good to be true,” she whispered, ducking slightly.

“Was I that good?”

Kara laughed despite herself, full-chested and hearty. Lena offered her a broad grin, and Kara returned it, exhaling some of her worry. “You were perfect,” she sighed, “you always are.”

“Now, now, let’s not get carried away,” Lena chided playfully. Her posture was easy, her frame wrapped in a blanket as she sipped at her own coffee. She looked so cozy, and yet her gaze kept dropping to Kara’s lap, her tongue peeking out to wet her lips behind the rim of her mug.

At that point Kara knew she was denying them both, and that was enough to spur her along a different course. She patted her thigh to beckon Lena to her and the air shifted as heat stirred between them. Lena welcomed the invitation with a brilliant smile and a soft chuckle, and shrugged the blanket from her shoulders.

Kara pushed back with her shoulders to prop herself up and fumbled to get her shorts down, kicking them aside as she righted herself, just in time for Lena’s hands to guide her knees wider. Her head pounded with a heavy beat, her ears echoing the thunder, but it served only to drown out the world around them.

Lena lowered as Kara took herself in her hand, too eager to be perfectly gentle, longing for her shaft to be warm the way Lena’s mouth made it. “Is that comfortable,” she asked, wishing she had thought of it before Lena was on her knees.

Lena just hummed a cheeky little note, shifting to one side, her weight falling against Kara’s leg. She sat and turned until her shoulder fit neatly beneath Kara’s leg, her neck catching around Kara’s thigh, slipping closer.

Kara let her cock go in favor of tucking Lena’s hair behind her ear, continuing the motion with a gentle stroke, repeating it when Lena purred her approval. “Go ahead,” she breathed, but the permission was half for herself—to let go.

The world went quiet as Lena lifted Kara’s cock to her lips and with one last glance to share a blissful smile, she took Kara into her mouth. Her head settled into Kara’s lap and Kara watched her eyes close, and in that moment she could think of nothing more perfect.

Kara was allowed to want, to feel, and there was not a price to be paid for it. She was free to exist as herself, and Lena was there with her, loving her so wholly.

There was no pressure to make the moment sexual, no expectation, no demand—just simple appreciation—and Kara was ready to acknowledge that it made her happy. And as Lena nuzzled closer, sucking softly on her cock, Kara wasn’t afraid to imagine a future where they regularly spent mornings like that.

#kara danvers #lena luthor #packing au #gnc!kara #butch!kara #supercorp #my writing

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

heart of gold (chapter two)

pairing: robert plant x florence bennett (oc)

warnings: domestic abuse, sexual assault (short scene, over the clothes), depictions of violence, jonesy and jimmy being partners in crime

words: 3.4k

summary: trapped in a loveless marriage to a powerful man, florence bennett lives every day in despair. after a chance encounter with a golden-haired actor, florence finds that her life will never be the same again.

author’s note: this was... more fun to write than it should have been. once again, please note that the views of that bitch named allen are not my own. hope you enjoy!! :) feedback, as always, is so appreciated!

chapter one

masterlist

playlist

------

Walking out of that theatre, arm linked with that of her cruel husband, Florence knew her life had changed. A cosmic shift, perhaps.

Whatever it had been, she had felt it. The blond performer, with the crown of perfect silken ringlets, was the catalyst, clearly. When Florence had laid eyes on him, she found herself completely unable to look away. He was mesmerizing and she was trapped yet again. This time, though, she welcomed it, this beautiful creature an escape for the young woman, from her unhappiness. Florence, looking towards her husband once more, is struck by scorching anger, largely directed at herself. She had let herself get sucked in, thwarted by her own choices.

“...His hair is much too long. And that blasted bird landed right in his palm! Wasn’t that just…Florence, love, are you listening?”

She hadn’t been, mind too focused on the ethereal stranger that had caught her eye. This has left her staring every now and again at the door of the theatre, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who had stolen her heart. “Yes, of course, dear.”

“I should hope so,” he whispers into Florence’s ear, voice threatenly low. “As I was saying… Was it not utterly laughable, how that bird landed right in the performer’s hand? It appears you can now teach birds tricks as well as dogs.”

“I don’t believe there was any intent behind that. He looked as surprised as we were. Regardless, this was a very enjoyable showing, wouldn't you agree?”

“I would. Come now, our carriage will be here any moment.”

“Did you already have your… negotiations? You had mentioned this was business-related.”

“It has been taken care of. I am aware that you enjoy the atmosphere of this theatre,” he says, sharp, white teeth baring as condescension drips from his gaze, “But you realize we must return home at some point, correct?”

“Of course, of course…” Florence sends one last glance behind her at the door to the theatre. No luck, of course. The evening air nips at her exposed skin, and the sun is setting, the sky flushed pink. Stepping into the carriage, she sighs lightly, weighed down by the fact that she would never see the gorgeous actor again.

Surprisingly enough, though, it had been a rare enjoyable outing with the infamous Allen Bennett. He hadn't been overly rude to her, and he conducted himself relatively well; she couldn't exactly complain. However, she was foolish to believe that this good humour would last.

Once the couple return home, they find a wonderful roast dinner on the table, the house completely spotless, servants milling about to complete supplementary tasks. Two young servants appear in front of Allen and Florence, poised to take their coats, while James and John, with a subtle smile at the woman, escort them to the dining table, revealing a rich supper fit for a king. An appetizing cherry wine in their goblets, food on their plates, what could go wrong?

“My love, I would like to bed you tonight. Be ready after we finish our meal.”

Suffocating silence fills the room, until a shocked voice permeates it, soft, as to not anger Bennett further.

“Allen, I am quite tired. I was hoping to retire early.”

Snaking a palm up the length of his wife’s leg, the man smirks, quirked lips revealing gleaming picture-perfect white teeth. He reaches the curve of her hip and moves inward, palming her through her floor-length gown. Florence shifts, discomfort painting her features.

“Allen, please—”

This utterance captures the attention of John and James, who had been standing at attention, in case of any requests by the couple. Florence glances around the room, locking eyes with her friends as she opens her mouth to speak. She is interrupted by the roaming hands of her husband creeping further.

“You will return to our quarters, Florence. There isn’t a choice to be made here.”

“Stop touching her, Sir. It’s clear she’s uncomfortable.” John steps forward, anger pinching his aristocratic features. His gaze never wavers as Allen turns to face him, scoff tumbling out of his throat as the owner of the mansion stares back. The daggers that seemed poised to cut were almost visible in those murky black depths.

“What did you say, servant boy? Surely, you did not give me orders.”

“I said, don’t touch her. I was not aware that something as simple as that would be so hard for you to understand, Sir,” John's face is stony and cold as he locks eyes with Bennett. A smirk is painted upon his lips as he continues, treading through unknown territory. Nobody ever talks back to Mr. Allen Bennett, after all. “I apologize wholeheartedly for my indiscretion.”

Allen stands, finally knocking the goblet to the floor, a red river flowing from the overturned cup, and advances on the servant. He moves in close, a hand flying to John’s windpipe, squeezing warningly. Bennett gazes at the other man with amusement at home in his coal eyes, and John stills, returning the stare with utter contempt.

“Miss Florence was not comfortable with the way you were treating her, and I will not let you continue touching her in that manner.” John says, voice as hard as the look in his slate eyes.

Bennett, smiling now, squeezes harder, John choking on air that will never come. Florence lunges towards her husband, a cry of panic leaving her lips, fearing for John. For the second time that day, Florence is struck by the ringed hand, slashing her cheek once more. Unable to sit back and leave her friend, though, she throws herself at her husband once again, and is pushed backward, slamming into the table and falling to the floor.

James, frozen with anxiety, snaps out of his stupor at the sight of the blood dripping from Florence’s bruised cheek, and the pitiful sounds of his friend.

“Get your filthy hands off of him,” He snarks, pulling the man roughly to face him.

Allen, surprised at the uncharacteristic display of anger from the quiet, yet brutally stubborn young man, finally drops John, who struggles to draw a full breath. Florence, headache a jackhammer against her skull, crawls over to John. James, still gripping the lapels of his superior’s shirt, is thrown back into the wall. Bennett had switched their positions swiftly, catching the other’s arms in a vice-grip. He throws a solid punch, ring and all, at James. Unable to dodge, he would crumple to the floor if not for the hands pulling him up for another taste of violence. Florence, dazed slightly due to the blow to her head, grabs at her husband, willing him to stop, though he does not hear her, or even react to her touch. His eyes are a haze of horrid rage, fist connecting with James's pale face again and again, cracking the porcelain skin.

Finally finished with James after what seemed like an eternity, Bennett lets him slide to the floor, kicking once at the man’s stomach, a pitiful groan floating past his lips. Backing away after the last assault, Allen, a smirk playing about his thin lips, takes in the destruction he has caused: his wife bleeding and bruised and two of his servants injured, the rest cowering in fear, not wishing to end up like those who had defied him.

“I hope this serves as a lesson to all of you: Do not cross me.”

------

John and Florence, both sore and bruised, pull James, unconscious as he is, into their arms, rushing as quickly as they can to Florence’s room. Depositing James gently on the smooth, soft fabric, Florence runs into the ensuite to wet a washcloth at the ivory sink, and hurries back into the room, breaths coming in sharp gasps. Carefully wiping the ruby-red stains from the man’s ashen face, the woman sets about stitching him up.

“Maybe sewing really does come in handy sometimes…” croaks John, throat an abstract painting of blues and purples and blacks. The attempt at lightening the mood had fallen flat, as the man could barely get the words out. The pair sit in silence while Florence works on their fallen friend, occasionally brushing his sable curls off of his forehead, her attempt at comfort.

James adequately cared for, she walks over to John, inspecting his throat with a featherlight touch. Tears spring to the woman’s eyes at the wheezing breaths of her friend, and he pulls her into his arms. Her river of tears soak into his threadbare top, which has come unbuttoned in the chaos that had transpired.

“Florence, save for some bruises and some difficulty speaking, which are both temporary, might I add, I will be just fine. James will heal too, thanks to you.”

“My dear friend, this is all my fault.”

“Your fault? Florence, you did absolutely nothing wrong. Your husband attempted to take advantage of you, and as unforgivable as that may be, it is not your fault in any way.” John insists, handsome face solemn.

“It is my fault, John,” Florence sighs, pulling away from her friend to wipe at her eyes, the waterfall of her tears flowing once again. “I angered him this morning, as you know. I can’t meet any of his expectations as a wife, and it led to this anger. This violence.”

“Ah, yes. James was not very happy to see that mark on your cheek,” John reaches to touch the unmarked side of the woman’s face, bringing her comfort once again. “For as quiet and mysterious as he claims to be, he was all but frothing at the mouth when he heard. I doubt he will be any less angry when he wakes. Thankfully Mr. Bennett didn't hit that mark again.”

“If James wakes…” Florence says, forlorn expression gracing her face as she looks at the man in question, who remains still.

“Florence, you took care of him. You got him this far. As for tonight, that was not your fault. You did not make him the way he is, and you are not responsible,” John turns Florence’s face towards him, an earnest look on his face as he speaks. “Regarding his ludicrous expectations, you are your own person. You need only meet your own.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, John, I do, but I do not know how I can continue with this,” Florence says, furrowing her brow. “I cannot divorce him, or he will retaliate. I cannot run away either. He has so many connections, everywhere. I just wish for us to be free.”

“Maybe the three of us can run away and live in that beloved theatre of yours. I do believe you mentioned a piano?”

At this, James begins to groan, finally stirring, and the two friends dash to his side. He is still heavily bruised, but Florence will always take that over the alternative.

“Florence? John? T-thank goodness you are both alright…”

“James, we are the ones that should be worrying about you. You wouldn't wakeー”

“I am fine, truly. Bruised, but not broken. I am just glad you are both okay as well,” James breaks out in a cheeky smile, revealing his true age, rather than the mystic persona he tries so hard to show. “I believe I heard talk of moving to the theatre? There are myths of a guitar hidden there. I used to play, when I was young... Maybe we’ll have our own group.”

His playful laughter soon turns into a wince, as his ribs scream at him to stop. Florence notices the movement, and locks eyes with him, offering a sympathetic smile. James waves it away with a nod and a hand in the air, and the conversation continues.

“Speaking of the theatre, how was the performance? Surely it can’t have been terrible. You came home in such high spirits.”

“It was wonderful, John! Truly wonderful. The plot was so well-written, and the acting was phenomenal. The man cast as the lead was purely magical! I do not know his name, sadly. He made me laugh and cry and smile,” Florence gushed, a smile of her own growing at the thought of her haloed stranger. “Not to mention he was beautiful, as well. There was a moment where he had let a dove out of its cage, a wonderful stylistic choice no doubt…”

“My goodness, Florence,” James interrupted, smile sitting happily upon his bruised face. “There must be something wrong with him, there simply must be!”

“I am telling you James, he was perfect! His delivery was simply wondrous, and his stage presence was truly arresting…”

The two men watched their friend speak of this stranger with more love than she ever had in regards to her husband. With a knowing look shared between them, James interrupts her rant, a smile on his face, “Florence… Why don’t you write the man a letter? John and I must go into town for groceries tomorrow anyways, we can drop it off at the theatre.”

“Do you… do you think it would work? Would he even read it? A man like him has better things to do, I reckon.”

“I do think you should try, at least. You are not happy with Mr. Bennett, it is plain to see. This may be a solution,” John chuckles, spotting Florence, who had been twiddling her thumbs in an anxious flurry, eyes wide. “Goodness, you haven't written anything to him yet and you're already in a panic!”

“You know… You may be right. It is worth it to try, at the very least.” Florence says, voice almost a whisper, a warm smile at home on her face. Cheeks flushed a vibrant pink, she rushes to grab a slip of paper as well as the fountain pen sitting on the desk across the room. Narrowly avoiding a spill of ink across the paper from the bottle next to her, Florence situates herself at her desk, and composes a letter to her lovely stranger:

‘Dear Angel, halo of golden curls…’

------

“You are an escape from the hell I am confined to, and every thought of you makes my heart sing… Goodness, someone has it bad for you, Robert. I’ve no particular idea why...”

“Oh, come off it, Bonzo. We all know jealousy is not a good look for you. Now, give me that!”

“Fine, fine…”

“Ah, the Great John Bonham is capable of listening! Who knew?”

John Bonham, a tall, muscular man with chestnut hair and an impressive moustache, sits lazily on a theatre seat, having just finished a rehearsal. His long legs extended over the seat in front of him, he drums a staccato beat on his lap. Brash, and rather impudent, John, or ‘Bonzo’, as he prefers, had gotten himself involved in acting by way of necessity. Down on his luck in a rough area of town, his intimidating physique had kept him out of trouble, though funds were scarce. He went where the money was, and a boatload of it was waiting for him in the acting industry. He had always been rather comical, after all.

Quickly rising through the ranks of the theatre industry along with Robert, a fast friend from the very beginning, the two became a sort of package deal. Rarely would you see one without the other. Looking at them now, arms thrown across the other’s shoulder, bright laughter permeating the tense air that seemingly haunts the theatre, it only becomes clearer.

“Robert, don’t stop on my account. Finish your letter. It seems important.” A waggle of Bonoz’s eyebrows follows, and he laughs heartily at the glare on Robert’s handsome features.

Robert can only shake his head in response. Eyes floating over the letters painted midnight blue with expensive ink, Robert can feel his cheeks warm at the kind words that flow across the page, a river of reverence. Luck is not his friend, as he is unable to glean any information from the glimmering syllables that glided out of her pen. The actor receives letters from content audience-members each day, but this one… is different.

Robert is intrigued by the words of this faceless admirer.

“Bonzo,” The blond starts, golden curls glinting in the late afternoon sun. His hand raises, only to rest upon his chin. He’s lost in thought, and Bonzo grunts out an affirmative noise. The sound snaps Robert out of his reverie, and he continues, “Are you aware of how this note found its way here? Who brought it, perhaps?”

“I’m not quite sure. I believe it was already here when we arrived,” Bonzo replies, face pinched in thought. As if a lightbulb had gone off in his mind, his features light up, and he snaps his fingers. The smile on his face is brighter than any spotlight. “Though… I do remember seeing some unfamiliar guests leaving earlier. They wore servants’ clothing, and their hair was rather shaggy, if I’m honest. One of them, the taller of the two, carried groceries.”

“Would you be able to point them out if we see them again?”

“I believe so, yes.”

Robert hums, eyes far off. The blond is distracted, only broken out of his stupor by the sharp sound of snapping fingers near his ear. Glancing over at the perpetrator, he meets Bonzo’s concerned gaze. His large hand claps Robert on the shoulder, and a wry smile graces Bonzo’s features as Robert searches his face.

“What are you planning to do, Robert?”

The man stands, leaving the brunet without a response, and glides into the dressing room. Bonzo flies after him, hot on his heels, his dark eyes full of questions. Reaching for a slip of paper, slightly careworn, and his trusty fountain pen, Robert writes back.

------

Rushing into the manor, James and John search around for any sign of Mr. Bennett. The bruises painting their skin shades of purple haven’t faded in the slightest, a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation. If he found out what they’d done, they wouldn’t live to see the next day. On their way to drop off a suit of Mr. Bennett’s at the tailor’s, they had encountered the blond actor again, and he had a letter of his own to exchange.

Deeming it safe, John pulls out a crisp ivory envelope, bent slightly in one corner from its place hidden under his coat. James’ lips curl upwards in a playful smirk, and John returns it, a bright smile upon his split lip. He had sliced it during his fall to the floor the night before, and it served as yet another physical reminder of Bennett’s tyranny. John lays a hand against James’ back, conversing quietly as they search for the lady of the house.

Soft, simple notes shimmer through the air from the hallway next to them, and an enchanting hum accompanies it, alto in pitch. Shuffling closer to the ornate door of the music room, the servants peer in. Sitting at the sleek black grand piano, somewhat out of place in the gold-tinted room, sits Florence, plunking away. Glorious sunlight shines through the glassy surface of the window, making her golden brown locks, pulled into a loose bun, almost glow. She looked reverent; almost godly, in a flowing royal blue gown. The woman looks up from the keys, finally noticing the duo watching from the doorway.

“H-how long have you been standing there?”

“Your playing is improving by the hour, my friend.”

“I must have had a good teacher,” Florence grins at John, earning herself a warm smile in response, before turning to face James. The ebony-haired man stands just behind John, and steps forward as the woman’s face lights up. “Oh, James, I’m glad you’re truly alright! The damage, yesterday… No matter. It’s good to see you both.”

“Likewise, Florence.”

Finally noticing the envelope half-hidden in John’s hands, the woman cocks her head to the side, confusion clear in the furrowing of her brow. Gesturing towards it, she looks up at the men, a smile blossoming slowly on her lips. Almost as if she hadn’t wished to hope, in case she was let down.

“What’s… what’s that, John?” Blue-gray eyes flit down to the envelope, as twin smiles bloom on the faces of her friends. A glance passes between John and James, a silent communication between the two, and almost simultaneously, they turn to face Florence once more. Silence fills the room, until a light chuckle shatters it.

“It seems,” John starts, eyes alight with mischief. He approaches, smirk never wavering, as he hands the note to Florence. “That your beloved has written you back. You were right, of course. He was very handsome. Quite kind as well, if his treatment of James and I means anything.”

“You mean to say…”

“Open it, Florence.” That was James, now. The man was getting rather impatient, shifting his weight from foot to foot in barely caged anticipation.

The light crinkle of paper tearing is the only sound in the room, as its occupants hold their breath in wait. Clearing her throat, Florence casts her eyes across the paper, and begins to read aloud.

“Dearest stranger, I was grateful to receive your letter. I wish, though, that I could put a name, perhaps a face, to your lovely words. You, no doubt, must be as beautiful as they are…”

------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages @kyunisixx (let me know if you want to be added!)

#robert plant #led zeppelin #robert plant fanfiction #robert plant fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

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ingek73 · 3 years

Text

Stifling, Toxic and Racist—Duchess Meghan Never Had a Chance at The Palace

Royal editor-at-large Omid Scobie sounds off on the outdated practices and attitudes within the royal family that left the Duke and Duchess of Sussex forced to make a change.

BY OMID SCOBIE

MAR 10 2021, 3:20 PM EST

I remember the feeling of frustration well. My work on an extensive biography of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, Finding Freedom, was coming to an end. After hearing countless stories from multiple people close to the couple about how they felt unsupported and unprotected by the institution of the monarchy, it was time to address the matter with the palace side. A chance for them to respond.

“This is nonsense. … We did absolutely everything [for Meghan],” the senior aide told me over the phone. I asked for examples. “Everybody welcomed her, and she was given all the support she needed,” they continued. I asked again. “They forget how accommodating we were when it came to navigating the duchess through her first steps [as a working royal],” the aide added, somewhat curtly. I had several conversations like this over the weeks that followed—each party, be they from Clarence House, Buckingham Palace, or Kensington Palace, for the most part seemingly baffled by the Sussexes’ grievances. Finally, I took what I had and moved on.

Well over a year has passed since these calls, and the full severity of Harry and Meghan’s situation has finally been laid bare. Sitting in front of Oprah Winfrey, the duchess tearfully opened up about her darkest days as a working member of the royal family. Unprotected, undefended, and left to face a near-daily barrage of hateful commentary and negative stories, Meghan revealed how her circumstances had, at times, seen her virtually stuck indoors for weeks on end. Lunch with friends could have momentarily lifted her spirits, but social outings were dismissed by royal family members and aides who said it would be better to lie low. Her image was “everywhere right now,” they told her. Her isolated existence stood out in particular to her worried mother, Doria Ragland, who during a summer 2019 visit to Frogmore Cottage was surprised to discover that neither she nor her daughter was able to go out into Windsor town to pick up coffees. “You’re stuck in here,” Doria told Meghan at the time, according to a source.

The Oprah interview was the world’s first time hearing Meghan describe the true toll of the palace’s “no comment” policy when it came to dealing with inaccurate press coverage. One report that caused Meghan particular upset was the November 2018 allegation that she’d made the Duchess of Cambridge cry during a children’s bridesmaid dress fitting for her Windsor Castle wedding. Though the palace knew the claims were untrue (and that it was, in fact, Kate who made Meghan cry), Meghan was repeatedly told that it would not be possible to set the record straight, despite it being a story that fed into a stereotype-laden narrative. Other royal family members were often afforded more sympathetic support when it came to dealing with inaccurate press (officials even issued a statement to deny Kate’s use of Botox in July 2019), but both Harry and Meghan felt they did not have access to this same privilege.

The couple’s exasperation came to a head in January 2020, when Kensington Palace urgently requested that Prince Harry cosign a statement against an “offensive” newspaper report stating Prince William “constantly bullied” the Sussexes before their decision to step away. “Well, if we’re just throwing any statement out there now, then perhaps KP can finally set the record straight about me [not making Kate cry],” Meghan emailed an aide, asking why side of the story public image was never considered important to anyone. But, as with many requests made by the couple, her suggestion was ignored. The Duchess of Cambridge, she was told, should never be dragged into idle gossip.

Meghan’s state of well-being deteriorated as the institution refused to defend or protect her during her toughest moments. Talking to Oprah, Meghan revealed that her mental health was so fragile during her pregnancy that she “didn’t want to be alive anymore.” She turned to senior staff—including the palace’s own HR department—but her plea for help in January 2019 was repeatedly shut down. It’s not a good look for the family, she was told. Even friends who wanted to help her or speak up in her defense were regularly reminded by palace aides to keep quiet. As the cruel commentary, racist attacks, death threats, and negative tabloid stories piled up—and the institution continued to ignore the problem—Meghan later likened the experience to a friend as “death by a thousand cuts.” Her reference to an ancient Chinese execution method was no coincidence.

For the millions around the world who watched Meghan share her story, some of the experiences shared were perhaps all too familiar. Princess Diana revealed in several interviews that she considered suicide during her marriage to Prince Charles and spoke candidly about her battles with bulimia and mental distress, both of which were ignored by the institution of the monarchy. Sarah, Duchess of York, was also open about how the pressures and loneliness that came with palace life led to her own struggle with eating disorders.

When Kate quickly found public adoration as the Duchess of Cambridge, the palace would proudly tell members of the press that lessons from the past had been learned. “There has been a concerted effort to ensure that history never repeats itself,” one senior staff member working for the Cambridges told me in 2014. Yet, here we are in 2021, with a very real image of Britain’s oldest and most revered establishment once again engaged in neglect and gaslighting, and dismissing mental health.

This time, however, race—or more specifically, racism—plays a major role. Harry and Meghan’s revelation that a member of the royal family (not the queen or Prince Philip) had expressed “concern” over how dark the skin of the queen’s great-grandson might be, left many, including Oprah herself, openmouthed. But for those familiar with the institution—which on Sunday celebrated the diversity of the Commonwealth realm’s population of 2.4 billion—it comes as less of a surprise. This is an establishment that only last week briefed The Times of London that Meghan wanted to be royal “the Beyoncé way,” and that the help offered to her included establishing the queen’s Black equerry (a senior attendant, if you will) as a “mentor.” Princess Michael of Kent’s ignorance regarding wearing a blackamoor brooch during her first encounter with Meghan is a reminder that even racial sensitivity can be lacking within the family. An establishment that, as Meghan herself explained, has yet to learn the difference between rude and racist press coverage. The stiff upper lip, no matter how painful the attacks, was expected to remain impossibly rigid at all times.

The palace has continually proven itself to be unable to empathize with any person who crumbles under the pressures of its outdated and unreasonable expectations.

But when does forced silence turn into abuse? Ignoring gossip and drama may fall under the royal family’s famed (but questionable) “never complain, never explain” mantra, but expecting the victim of racism to remain voiceless while sections of the press call her “ghetto,” “straight outta Compton,” and “un-royal” borders on complicit with the attacks. As does refusing to learn how to identify the existence of the very racism that fuels them.

If it’s not considered appropriate to acknowledge racism or racial ignorance when aimed at a mixed-raced senior royal, then how should the 54 countries of the Commonwealth and its predominantly Black, Brown, and mixed population feel about the realm’s figurehead belonging to an institution that claims to celebrate “diversity” but in practice appears to uphold white supremacy? And if the lack of awareness Harry described to Oprah is true, then were race-related public duties, including Prince William recently calling out racism in British soccer and Prince Charles speaking out about racism in architecture in 2000, simply performative? It’s hard to forget that across the full lineup of working royals, all failed to acknowledge last year’s Black Lives Matter movement, which saw just as much protesting across the United Kingdom as the United States.

A brief, 61-word statement shared on behalf of the queen by the palace on March 9 revealed that the family is “saddened” by how challenging recent years have been for the Sussexes. But with the note also admitting that the family are somehow only just learning of the “full extent” of the couple’s experiences, isn’t it all a bit late? With yet another “commoner” leaving the House of Windsor emotionally battered and bruised, the palace has continually proven itself to be unable to empathize with any person who crumbles under the pressures of its outdated and unreasonable expectations. A glass-half-full view is that recent events could perhaps serve as a catalyst for change (and I hope they are). But given Harry’s own admission that his family is trapped within a “system” so fearful of the British press and public that they’re often unable to live up to their own ideals, is it actually time for us to just finally set them free?

#royals #meghan markle #prince harry #brf #duchess of sussex #duke of sussex #kate middleton #prince william #british royal family #duchess of cambridge #duke of cambridge #omid scobie #princess diana #sarah ferguson

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Down with the Recipe, Bake from the Heart, 8/10 (Taywhora) - Juno

Chapter summary: In European Week, the bakers are faced with a French signature, an Italian technical, and a Danish showstopper with a personal twist. Meanwhile, Aurora and Tayce opt to begin again, Bimini’s actions confuse the other bakers, and Lawrence ponders the future after the show.

WEEK 8: EUROPEAN WEEK

Aurora glanced around the tent as the cameramen recorded their usual stock footage, taking in the bakers, and the immaculate condition that the workbenches were returned to every week.

Last week she’d let the competition warp her mind a bit too much, she knew that now. She’d let her worry talk her into believing that Tayce was faking all of her actions in the tent, every smile, every kindness; only believing that she was capable of negativity.

“You always think everyone’s out to get you,” Blake had told her, the only person Aurora could discuss this with through her NDA, “and they’re not! They’re just trying to do their best in the contest. It sounds like she’s nice, if she helped you out when you were stressing about a different bake, and you said she did it again last week.”

“And she came looking for me when I left, too,” Aurora had muttered, chewing her nail.

“She sounds nice,” Blake had nodded. “And what did she say when you said you didn’t want to fake-flirt anymore?”

“She said it was fine, that she wanted me to do well.”

“If she just wanted to win for herself, she’d have been annoyed, right? So she does care for you, right?” Blake had nudged her repeatedly until she’d shoved him away. “Hey! If you do that again, when the show comes out I’m going to the tabloids.”

“Fuck off,” Aurora had laughed, the first genuine laugh in a while. Blake had been right - and having a clear, competition-free head had helped her see that. The more she’d talked it out, the more her worry had shattered, crumbling to dust.

Maybe it’s a good thing we have a week to recover after each bake. It’s good for bringing you back to reality after this place.

When she looked over at Tayce, she thought that Tayce looked a little calmer too. Her hands, the nails now bitten down, hugged her elbows as she stood, drifting between her feet as they waited for the judges to come in. She wasn’t looking at anyone, not even Veronica in front of her - staring wistfully at the front, a serene smile teasing her lips.

Seeing her made her stomach do somersaults again, made the tingle go back down her spine in what Aurora recognised by now as her attraction to her. After all, they’d had eight weeks of it now. Eight weeks of this rollercoaster of emotion. And as much as Aurora had wanted Tayce to feel something more for her, she was certain that her outburst last week would have ended any hopes of that.

They’d agreed to go back to being friends. Aurora knew they couldn’t continue this fake-flirting thing. Not while the others here truly ached for those that had already gone.

Bimini’s strange, apathetic behaviour since Asttina had gone was a stark contrast to the bright, happy person who’d crimped with Noel and teased the rest of them. Veronica had barely spoken to anyone apart from Tayce last week, alternating between clinging to her arm, and twisting her fingers together in her lap as if missing Tia’s hand. And true, they weren’t close, but Aurora watched the forlorn puppy Veronica had become and a twinge of sympathy had shot through her.

As for Lawrence? It was still to be seen, but so far today Lawrence hadn’t really said a word, just a quick hello to everyone before setting out her utensils and ingredients.

With just the five of them left - Lawrence in front of Aurora, and Bimini, Veronica and Tayce on the other side - the gaping expanse of the tent felt too large, too echoey, space that needed to be filled with bakers.

Every week left the tent feeling lonelier, but Ellie’s departure had been devastating to Aurora, given how close they’d grown. Ellie herself almost seemed relieved at the reprieve she’d had, hugging everyone with smiles and cheerful words, until the moment she’d let Lawrence hold her, when she’d broken apart like her hand-risen pie had the week before.

None of them thought either would ever let go of the other.

Lawrence had held everything back until they’d gone back to Carr Hall. The five people in the room made the space feel too large. Lawrence had sat in silence, her finger at her mouth, until Bimini had asked her how she was feeling and Lawrence had broken down, almost inconsolable.

“I didn’t think I’d miss her this much,” she’d cried, putting her face in her hands.

“She’ll be waiting on the outside,” Tayce had said, patting her on the back. “It’s alright! You’ll see her again really soon!”

But Lawrence had just sighed harder, her face still in her hands, the room quietly watching her shoulders shake.

——

Signature: 24 Madeleines with two fillings (France)

“Unfortunately, Prue can’t be with us today due to illness,” Matt announced when the bakers looked around for her that morning. “So for that reason, we’d like to welcome a very special guest judge this week.”

“But that very special guest judge couldn’t be with us either, so we have this person instead,” Noel continued. “She’s a sweet lady who enjoys a fondant fancy or two. Please welcome Mary Berry!”

But as they clapped, the person who came into the tent was more memorable than Mary Berry.

“Hi, how are yous!” Blu Hydrangea, previous contestant from last season, and now best-known as a Mary Berry impersonator, with her own late-night talk show, came into the tent in a flurry. Aurora put her hands to her mouth in shock.

“I’m here to judge all your bakes this week, which just goes to show that the winner doesn’t necessarily take it all! Especially not the cake!” Blu laughed at her own joke. “I don’t want you to feel nervous, I will be as fair as Prue was, and she should hopefully be back next week for you all. Best of luck!”

The thank you chorused through the tent, but Aurora was tensing up. She knew what Prue liked, she knew. But Blu? She was a previous contestant, now instant celebrity! But she was also an unknown entity. Baking for Blu would probably prove very different.

Aurora tried not to think about how the bakes may need to be different as she added orange and lemon zest to separate bowls, to add to each batch of batter. In front of her Lawrence was taking raspberries from the freezer for her own bakes, her own KitchenAid whirring in the background.

As she was spooning mixture into the moulds, she was greeted by Bimini’s soft voice, becoming very familiar. Aurora smiled, not looking up, trying to concentrate on this week’s Signature.

“You alright babes?”

“Yeah, good thanks Bim. You?”

“I’m at my wit’s end,” Bimini chuckled, a darker sound than Aurora had anticipated. “I feel so restless. I’ve put my madeleines in the oven, but I feel like … I can’t do enough to get rid of all this pent-up energy I have.”

Bimini was wringing their hands, grey circles deepening under their eyes. This close up, the stark reality of their worry was showing through the cracks of their smile. They’d barely spoken to anyone this morning, and their smile was weak.

“Go run around the tent a few times!” Aurora said, half-jokingly, motioning with her finger in a circle.

Bimini sighed, shutting their eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Everyone watched in astonishment as Bimini simply left the tent and started to run a few circles, lapping it a few times.

“The fuck’re they doing?” Lawrence muttered, turning to Aurora.

“No idea,” Aurora replied, shaking her head and going back to her bake.

When Bimini came back in five minutes later, they didn’t really seem out of breath, but they were red and flustered, some strange, frenetic look in their eyes.

“Bim?” Veronica said quietly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, babes, fine -“ Bimini waved her away, picking up their oven gloves to take the madeleines out of the oven. “That’s helped a bit. Let’s get this done.”

All of them kept half an eye on Bimini the rest of the morning, their strange mood a catalyst for them all.

“This week’s a big ‘fuck you’ to brexit, I know that,” Bimini said, just as darkly as before, when Lawrence and Aurora joined them at their workbench. “I just … I don’t know.”

Aurora hadn’t really thought of European Week, the theme this week, as a political statement. “Are you feeling like it’s too political?”

“Nah - the opposite really - not political enough I think,” Bimini frowned as they pondered it. “And this - I mean, it’s a baking show. Why was this left until now? Closing the door after the bloody horse has bolted.”

They didn’t really get a lot more out of Bimini, as they seemed to shrink into their own mind, their eyes becoming distant. Aurora went back to her bakes, but Lawrence kept going over to them, as did Veronica, Aurora hearing their voices at intervals followed by Bimini’s placating them.

“Sorry if I went on at you a bit,” Lawrence said to Bimini at the tea machine.

“Nah, it’s alright,” Bimini replied warmly. “It’s nice. It’s nice to hear you talk. My mum’s from Glasgow too. Feels familiar, innit. Like a bit of home.” Bimini smiled a wistful smile. “I miss my mum.”

“She’s gonna be cheering you on all the way when this airs,” Aurora said. “Everyone will. The whole country’s gonna fall in love with you. You helping us all out on alt week, and turning the tent into a fashion show, and crimping with Noel -”

But Bimini laughed, quieter than usual, turning their face away. “You two. I don’t think that’s gonna happen. I’m just Bimini, babes. Just Bimini.”

“No! Positive mental attitude, remember?” Aurora said, but Bimini was already walking away, their shoulders hunched, as Aurora and Lawrence looked at each other, the same realisation passing between them both.

——

Bimini hadn’t finished the twenty four madeleines they were meant to serve up to the judges. They’d managed to produce twenty after misreading the instructions, but they didn’t seem to mind, shrugging when asked about it.

Aurora met Lawrence’s gaze as they waited, listening to the judges’ critiques, and they didn’t need to say a word to each other yet again to know what the other was thinking.

Bimini doesn’t want to do this any more.

Not that they could blame them. The fun was starting to go as more people left, and one by one, they were all waning as they lost their person. Asttina had gone three weeks ago now, Veronica was still pining over Tia, and Lawrence’s dry wit seemed to have left the tent with Ellie last week.

Does that mean it’s gonna be me or Tayce leaving this week?

Maybe Tayce was thinking the same thing, as they found themselves falling into step as they left the tent; and whether she meant it or not, Aurora found herself slowing her pace a little, letting the rest go ahead, letting Tayce slow her own steps too.

“You had good feedback this week on your madeleines.”

Aurora glanced at Tayce, who was looking straight ahead still.

“Yeah. Can’t believe it’s the semi-final next weekend too.”

Tayce hummed, raking her fingers in her hair, before turning to face Aurora. “Look, Rory - “

“I let my anxiety run away without me,” Aurora interrupted her. “I know that thinking things doesn’t mean they’re real, but all the fake stuff just doesn’t help me. I know the nation will love us, but you know, they’ll love us anyway, even without that.”

“They’re gonna adore you,” Tayce nodded. “They’d be mad not to adore you as much as …”

But as Aurora’s heart skipped a whole flurry of beats, Tayce paused, looking up to the sky. “Yeah. The whole country’s gonna fall in love with you, Rory. I know it.”

——

Technical: Margherita pizza from scratch (Italy)

Aurora almost laughed aloud when she saw the instructions for the first time.

Pizza? On the Bake Off? This isn’t real.

But she pinched herself, and that felt real enough.

She started off a little blasé but the more they all got into the bake, the more difficult it seemed to become. For a start, no one’s pizza dough seemed to be cooperating. Everyone started again, even Lawrence, the only person in the tent yet to have to do so; but Veronica was the first person to sigh in relief when her dough complied.

Next was the tomato sauce. Aurora knew she was a good baker, but that didn’t mean she was an amazing cook. Making sauce just brought back flashbacks of making white sauce in her Food Tech classes at school, to have her hopes of becoming a great lasagne maker dashed by her teacher wrinkling her nose whenever she passed Aurora’s hob, white sauce bulging with bubbles like a witch’s brew.

And when the pizzas were finally in the oven, all of them were second-guessing the temperature.

“How high are you cooking it and how long for?” Lawrence leaned to Aurora’s desk to ask.

Aurora checked. “One-eighty, and I’ll give it twelve minutes to start.”

“One-eighty,” Lawrence repeated, her thumb in her mouth, glancing from Aurora to the oven and then back again. “I have mine at one-ninety. That’s not too much more. Maybe I’ll turn it down in the last few minutes. Thanks, Ellie.”

“You’re welcome. Wait,” Aurora said, realising. “Lawrence -“

“Hmm?”

“I’m not Ellie!” Aurora laughed.

Lawrence didn’t. Frowning, she opened and closed her mouth once or twice. “Did - did I call you Ellie?”

Lawrence couldn’t meet her eyes. And Aurora found words wouldn’t come; shaking her head, she turned back to her sauce. “Don’t worry about it.”

But Lawrence chewed on her thumb the rest of the bake, barely responding at all to Matt and Noel’s time calls, and by the time she remembered to take her pizza out of the oven, it looked charred around the edges.

“Ah, shite,” she growled. “Shite with it.”

“Lawrence?” Aurora said, but Lawrence busied herself with a serrated knife to carve the burnt edges, or as many of them as she could before they were called to step away from their bakes, and Lawrence let hers go onto the tray with a huff, a balloon letting itself deflate.

Judging for Technical felt regimental and flat, everything sucked dry from the tent. Bimini hunched on their stool, hands cupping their chin as they leaned their elbows on their knees. Lawrence chewed her thumb, her eyes dull, not looking at anything in particular, needing a nudge in the ribs when the judges called her name.

But it had been Aurora’s pizza that had come out trumps, Aurora as shocked as everyone else as they all applauded her.

It’s a good position to be in obviously. Not having to think about Tayce. I can just focus on myself.

But when they’d all filed out, Tayce had hung back at the edge of the tent, and Aurora froze to see her, her unexpected presence disabling her.

“Rory. Well done on coming top in Technical. I bet this week is yours for the taking. Your madeleines were great, too.”

Tayce didn’t lay a hand on her as she did before, or put on any flirtatious tone; instead standing with her hands in her pockets, licking her lips, her voice quiet and a little demure. She reminded Aurora of her youngest cousin, coming to apologise after she’d knocked one of her cakes over one time.

Aurora swallowed, smiling mechanically. “Thanks, Tayce.”

Tayce held her eyes, a quiet, earnest moment. “I’m gonna go for a walk around the pond. Give some pizza to the ducks. D’you want to come?”

And the same tingling sensation started, spreading down her back, at Tayce’s words, her heart singing a little.

“Yeah. That would be great.”

They set off towards the trees, following the path to the clearing where the pond was. It was late spring, and Aurora could have sworn she’d seen some ducklings the previous week, so a walk round the pond seemed like a great opportunity to spot them.

Once they arrived, they were not disappointed. What looked like at least twenty ducklings following three mothers on the bank had the time of their lives chasing freshly baked pizza dough around the waters.

“I’m sure I saw somewhere that bread isn’t good for ducks,” Tayce said, “but what else are we gonna feed them?”

“We could have given them something from alternative ingredients week!” Aurora said, finding herself laughing.

“Or pastry week!”

“Or, oh god -“

“CHOCOLATE week!” They both said together, bursting into laughter on the bench, Aurora automatically finding Tayce’s hand and squeezing it in glee. As their laughter died down, she found that she didn’t want to let go.

Tayce was looking down at her hand, then up at her eyes, something flickering behind them, and Aurora held her gaze, wondering what she was thinking, her heart beating in her throat …

Aurora finally let her hand go to pick up another piece of pizza, and Tayce did the same, averting her eyes.

“I don’t know if we can feed chocolate to ducks,” Aurora mused. “I’m sure I read somewhere that it might kill them.”

“Chocolate week almost killed us, let alone them!”

“Good point. Well, you won that week, didn’t you? Getting your first badge!”

“It was a good week for both of us,” Tayce sighed. “A really good week.”

Tayce stared out to the pond, letting her hand drop to the bench beside her, palm up; and Aurora took it again, knowing this time it was definitely an invitation, rewarded by a squeeze as she interlaced her fingers into Tayce’s. As they sat silently, hand in hand, watching the ducklings, Aurora could have sworn they both let out the same contented sigh at the same time, could have sworn she saw goosebumps rise on Tayce’s arm.

——

It was so lonely in the hall. So quiet without the others. Tayce had been cornered by a tearful Veronica outside the door, and Aurora had left them to it, which left her in the big common room with Lawrence alone; Bimini having already gone to their room.

Lawrence still had her book in her hand, but she hadn’t turned a page in the last ten minutes, and kept letting it drift down to her lap as her eyes grew distant, staring out the window.

“I miss Els.” Aurora sighed eventually, her chin in her hands. “She knew how to get a party started.”

At first, Aurora wondered if Lawrence would acknowledge the fact she’d spoken, but eventually she blinked out of her reverie with a groan. “She irritated the hell out of me.”

“You miss her too, then?” Aurora smiled knowingly, and Lawrence returned it wordlessly. “Did you make any arrangements to meet her in Dundee or something after filming is done?”

“No!” Lawrence frowned. “Why would I do that?”

Aurora turned back to the table. “Sorry. I thought -“

“No, she’s coming to Glasgow!” Lawrence looked affronted.

“Oh! For a second I thought you weren’t … you know.”

But Lawrence just leaned back into the sofa, staring wistfully at the ceiling. “Let’s just see what happens, alright? I don’t want to say anything yet either way.”

Aurora leaned back with Lawrence, linking an arm into hers and staring at the ceiling fan as it turned.

Neither of them spoke. No sarcastic barbs from Lawrence, no dry observations like usual. It seemed like without her shield of humour Lawrence preferred to be silent, but Aurora didn’t mind; as they all became more comfortable with each other, there seemed to be less and less to say.

“Only two more weekends after this one,” Lawrence said eventually.

“Yeah,” Aurora sighed, “and then back to normal.”

“What if this isnormal now? Being on screen, baking stuff. I’m … well, I just hope I’m liked.”

Aurora heard Lawrence’s fear. Her words were quiet, timid at the edges, unsure of what was to come.

“Course you’ll be liked. We all like you.”

“Yeah, but you’re not the general public, Aurora. I don’t - I just wish I knew how we’re all going to be edited, and I hope people will still like me with all the editing.” Lawrence rubbed her forehead. “Fucking internet trolls. They can ruin you.”

“Who cares what some troll who probably can’t even boil a bloody egg thinks of you? We all know you, and we bloody love you to bits, Lawrence. And for every one … coward behind a screen, there’s gonna be like, ten thousand fans who feel the same as we do. Promise.”

But Lawrence was silent again, this time her breathing speeding up a little, a cold shiver at her arm. She unlinked herself from Aurora and stood up, taking a deep breath.

“I think I’m gonna go up. Netflix and chill with myself.”

“Sounds good. I’ll do the same I think.”

But Aurora didn’t get far up the stairs until she heard Tayce again, coming up the stairs behind her.

“Rory?” The warm voice and the accent still sent the shiver down her spine, as much as Aurora tried not to focus on it.

“Hi, Tayce.”

Tayce had a hand on her hip at the foot of the stairs, the other one raking through her long black hair. She looked tentative, cautious, but there was some peaceful, earnest calm about her that threatened to pull Aurora back into her jumbled feelings.

“I’m just gonna have an early one tonight. Put on some Netflix. Eat some madeleines or something.” Aurora indicated to the plate of madeleines she still hadn’t finished since this morning.

“Okay.” Tayce blinked at her, the smile on her face smaller than usual, and she let both her hands drop to her side as she watched Aurora on the stairs. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

But Aurora’s feet wouldn’t turn her around.

Jesus. Okay, fuck it. There’s only two weeks left.

“D’you want to come and watch some with me?”

Tayce’s smile twitched at the corners, just a little bit, but her eyes did not light up as they normally did. “Sure. Let me grab some pizza for us. Bit of savoury after all those madeleines today, eh?”

She waited on the stairs for Tayce. Let Tayce loop her hand into the crook of her elbow as she came up the stairs. Led Tayce to her room and set the tablet on the bed, as she put the plate down and kicked off her shoes.

Within minutes they were back where they had been before, under the duvet, silent as the episode of Glow played before them.

As much as Aurora wanted to, she couldn’t deny that Tayce was a magnet, pulling her towards her by some inexplicable force of nature. Aurora was no longer inclined to fight her emotions.

When Aurora reached towards her, to take her in her arms, she found Tayce willing, returning the contact and wrapping her arms around Aurora’s waist, both of them curling into each other’s bodies under the duvet.

That same, contented sigh in rhythm, the sound so near to Aurora’s ear as Tayce rested her chin on her shoulder.

And when Tayce kissed her on the cheek, it felt like a question; Aurora wordlessly twisted her head and kissed her back.

And when Tayce’s eyes fell on hers, lingering for an eternity, Aurora saw a twinge of fear, a rabbit in headlights, before she leaned in tentatively, giving Aurora the chance to lean away; but Aurora closed the distance before her mind had the chance to kick back into sensible gear.

It was more, much more than a simple peck this time, making Aurora’s chest flutter with butterflies; it was slow, languid, deep - maybe too deep, and when Tayce’s tongue met hers, her body started to pulse with fire; but then Aurora’s mind didkick in, and she pulled away, thoughts back in a whirlwind.

“What is this now? Is this …” Aurora shook her head, her thoughts frantic, trying to cling on to one to say. “Tayce - what are we doing?”

“I’m - Aurora, I’m kind of …” Tayce screwed her eyes shut. “I’m falling. For you. A lot. Okay?”

When the words spilled in a frenzy from Tayce’s lips, she opened her eyes again, and they were filled with a terror Aurora didn’t think she was capable of; and Aurora’s own heart bubbled, the strength of her feelings rising in a tsunami.

She squeezed Tayce tighter, as if clinging on to a sinking ship, legs intertwined in the duvet, feeling Tayce’s fingers grip her tighter too, her heart racing in her chest, her breath coming in short gasps.

“Tayce … I am too.”

——

Aurora never remembered falling asleep these nights, but she always remembered waking up, normally to an empty bed. This time however, she woke up to the gentle pattering of feet around her.

Checking her watch, she saw it was just before six in the morning. Filming wouldn’t start for another three hours, but she caught sight of Tayce’s back, Tayce’s retreating back, shoes in hand as she crept to the door.

“Tayce.”

Tayce whipped round to face her.

“You’re awake.”

“Yeah.” Aurora rolled over to her side, tugging the duvet with her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Tayce nodded fervently. “I’m gonna go back now though, to my room.”

“I don’t bite first thing, you know.”

But Tayce shook her head. “I want to get back. Get a shower. Change my clothes. You know, get ready for today. It’s the Showstopper, and I want to make sure I’m ready.”

“You sure? Positive? You’re welcome to stay. I’ve wondered what you’re like to wake up to as well as to go to sleep with,” Aurora purred, grinning up at her.

“Yeah, not now. See you at breakfast.”

The sound of the door closing behind Tayce sounded heavy and final.

Aurora pulled the duvet over her head, remembering that yes, they were still both on a baking contest. Competing.

This is so different from what we did in the tent.

There, Tayce had been overly attentive. There were constant touches, stroking her knees, smouldering looks, and little names that probably hadn’t gone unnoticed - lots of baby this and bitch that and the general underlying tension that simply did not exist in reality.

This, after hours, was far simpler, the most natural progression in the world. This was languid familiarity, curled into each others’ bodies, legs intertwined under the duvet while their breathing fell into a relaxed rhythm and Aurora linked her hands around Tayce’s waist, resting her cheek to her chest.

They had come a long way the last four weekends - from fake flirting as if trying to make an ex jealous, to whatever this was now. And it was only the beginning.

There will be time for the rest later. All the time in the world, after the contest.

——

Showstopper: Kagemand/Kagekone (Denmark) in the shape of a person dear to you

Aurora had been looking forward to this challenge more than anything this week. Everyone was, judging by the general good mood at breakfast earlier, no one with a hangover, even Bimini coming back on a high off their morning run. Aurora placed the picture of her nan next to the KitchenAid, unable to hold in her contented sigh.

As Lawrence was the only person in front of her now, she could steal a glance at Lawrence’s photo as well - a woman about the same age as Lawrence, her arms wrapped around her neck, both of them locked in a moment of joy as the camera had snapped.

“Chloe’s my cousin. And my best pal,” Lawrence said, a soft tone that Aurora was unfamiliar with. “I get her into trouble and she gets me out of it. Always has.”

“Do you see her a lot back home?”

“Yeah, at least once a week normally.” Lawrence rubbed the back of her neck. “Not for a while though, not since filming - she works weeknights, normally I see her on a Sunday afternoon, in the pub, for a roast and a pint.”

Lawrence chuckled, a strangled noise in her throat. “I’m looking forward to doing that again.”

When she turned back to grab her pans, Aurora went to her own desk, to peer around the room at who everyone else had, but it was hard to see. The sunlight reflected on most of the glass on the pictures, and Bimini’s was obscured, so was Veronica’s. But Veronica had already told them who she was making the cake based off of.

“My big brother, Steve,” she’d told them at breakfast. “He’s amazing. He always pushes so hard, tries to get through everything on his own! He’s shown me that I can always rely on myself to get through things. Myself is all I’ve got in the end.”

“Steve,” Bimini had muttered next to them. “I dated a Steve once. He was Italian. Well, he said he was. He sounded like he was from Clapham.”

Everyone had stared at them. It was the first thing they’d heard Bimini say since the previous morning, their odd restlessness making them silent the rest of the day. Aurora had noticed their eyes had dulled, their posture was slumped.

“Hi, how are you!” Aurora was pulled from her reverie by Blu’s voice as she joined her, in her Mary Berry disguise, smiling up at her. She fixed her face into a smile back.

“Who’s this lady you’re doing the Kagekone for?” Blu ran a finger down the edge of the picture frame.

“My nan. She’s so cool. I get my sense of humour from her. She’s the one who really got me into baking to begin with. When I was growing up, we’d always make cupcakes together, you know with the butterfly wings?”

“I remember that well!” Blu smiled. “It looks like you’ve got loads set up! And how do you think you’re doing in the competition?”

Aurora tensed her lip. This could be an opportunity if I can play it right.

“Why, how do you think I’m doing?”

But Blu laughed. “Nice try! I’m not really at liberty to say yet, the cheque hasn’t cleared my account yet for this guest slot! But seriously,” Blu said, leaning in a little nearer, “you came top in Technical, and you did so well in Signature. Do you feel like you have any reason to worry this week?”

Aurora let her eyes float around the room, lingering on Tayce for a second too long.

“Maybe not,” she shrugged. “I can’t help worrying though.”

“Are you worrying for someone else?” Blu’s eyes glinted with anticipation, and her smile was crooked.

Aurora sighed. “How do you know?”

“Oh come on,” Blu rolled her eyes to the ceiling, laughing. “I feel like everyone knows who Iwas worrying about last year, and I didn’t need to worry either - I ended up leaving the week before her!”

“Are you both still -“

“Yeah! Tell you what, if I was where you are right now, I’d be making my Kagekone for Cheryl. I’m surprised no one else here is making them for someone else in the contest; from what I’ve heard through the grapevine, things have been pretty spicy over these filming weekends!”

Aurora’s face grew hot. She smiled as best as she could, and ducked her head to try to focus on her bake.

“Good luck! Break a leg!” Blu seemed to sense her embarrassment, and blew her a kiss as she walked away, heading to Veronica on the opposite side.

——

“Aurora, could you bring your Kagekone to the front, please.”

Aurora stood from the stool, still a little nervous to present, but feeling the warmth of Lawrence’s smile next to her like sunlight on her skin as she brought it to the front. The Danish pastry had cooled, and Aurora definitely thought it looked a bit like her nan.

She winced for a second as Paul cut into the face, but when they bit into the pastry, showering her with praise about everything - the bake, the flavour, the presentation, the additional confectionary she’d done to go with it - the whole world in the tent seemed to swell with sweetness, the air full of sugar and glitter.

As she walked back to her desk with the remains of her pastry, Lawrence beamed at her, giving her a little clap as Aurora blinked back the happiest tears she’d felt.

Tayce was smiling as well. A little sadly this time. Her Kagemand hadn’t had such good critiques.

“Well thank you all bakers - you’ve all raised the bar even higher this week - and while you relax in the hall, we will deliberate who will become Star Baker, and who will be the next person to leave the tent.”

Tayce hung back for Aurora, reaching for her hand, and Aurora took it, let Tayce silently tell her she was happy for her. It was a good thing that Tayce held Aurora’s hand through the rapidly fading light of the day, for Aurora felt she might just float away without this anchor.

“You’ve got it this week, for sure,” Tayce whispered to her outside, while everyone else traipsed inside, leaving them alone in the grounds.

Maybe it was Aurora’s imagination, but Tayce’s voice sounded choked, her cheeks pinched.

She’s scared.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Aurora replied, as sincerely as she could. She knew she’d had good critiques, but Tayce’s hadn’t been as good as her Technical and Signatures had, and it was never certain; one slip on the flavour, and Tayce could be in danger.

Tayce swallowed, her smile stuck fast like concrete.

“Rory, this week is yours for the taking. Well done.”

——

“This week’s Star Baker made Madeleines to die for, and made her nan proud with the likeness of her Kagekone. Congratulations, Aurora!”

This time, the tears wouldn’t be held back. Lawrence nudged her arm as she clapped, while Tayce rested her head on Aurora’s other shoulder, and for a second the world felt warm and comfortable as they shared this contact …

But the person set to go home was a shock to them all. Tayce’s hand had been sweating in Aurora’s, but she’d frozen on hearing the name announced.

“Bimini. I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry. I was expecting that. Nah, it’s fine!” Bimini gave a gentle laugh as Veronica hugged them, before standing and letting the others in the room come to hug them too. All four of them remaining, forming a circle around Bimini, all sobbing on their shoulders as they patted them all.

“Hey, no need for crying, I’m only leaving the tent,” Bimini said to Aurora, putting their hands on her shoulders and looking up at her. “No need for that! I’ll be right out there waiting for you at the finale, babes.”

Aurora sniffed. “We don’t know I’m gonna be in the finale yet.”

“I do!” Bimini wasn’t visibly upset. They weren’t shaking, or jogging their leg against the stool any more. The serene smile was back on their face as they held her eyes. “You’re brilliant. You can do it! Don’t be sad I’m going, babes. Be happy you’re Star Baker!”

And Bimini left the tent, going to their exit interview, as Aurora followed them to do her winner’s one, wiping happy tears from her eyes as night started to fall.

When Aurora called her nan to announce she was Star Baker a second week, her nan was even more tearful than Aurora herself, screeching into the phone with an energy that she seldom heard from her.

”You’re so deserving of all of this, Aurora, so so deserving! You worked your arse off for it and you did it! You’re going all the way to the final, I just know it!”

And for once Aurora didn’t even pay attention to the cameras as they pointed in her direction, not caring they were seeing her wiping tears that were black with eyeliner from her cheeks, not caring that her face was probably red and blotchy and swollen on screen.

Let them see. Let them see real moments. I can do this.

When Aurora found Tayce, waiting for her outside Carr Hall after the winner’s interview, silently holding her arms out to her, Aurora let herself drift into them, let Tayce’s kiss congratulate her more than anything else could. She was melting, dissolving, letting her feelings for Tayce run riot in her bloodstream, the most exhilarated she’d been so far, resting in her arms.

And when Tayce pulled back, to rest her forehead on hers, to trace her hairline, her jaw with her fingers, Aurora wanted to stop time in this moment, to hold on to it for the rest of her days.

“I know I said just friends last week,” Aurora murmured, “but maybe I was wrong. Maybe we could give it a chance. As long -“

“As long as it’s real,” Tayce finished her sentence. “Aurora, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted this for so long. I just want you to know that, okay? I want you to know it, and to know I’m not doing any fake flirting, or anything for the camera, okay? I want to know you.”

Tayce stroked her face, ran eager fingers through her hair as she met her lips again, and Aurora allowed herself to believe her words as much as she believed in her place in the contest.

——

FOUR BAKERS REMAIN

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #down with the recipe #juno #uk2 #baking au #gbbo au #taywhora #tayce #a'whora #bimini bon boulash #veronica green #lawrence chaney #fluff #lesbian au

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sonicringbond · 3 years

Text

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey: Scene 35

Welcome to the second half of the series’ first 2-parter. A shame I don’t really have anything very witty to open with for this one. Perhaps it’s because I find it a pretty light scene🤔 Regardless, I’ll let you decide for yourself after you read...

Draw was a talented child all things considered. Though a child far from adulthood, he lived his life as a golem hunter and was generally successful. With the speed granted to him by Mote, it was likely he could best any number of golems and easily live a life dedicated to his occupation. However, his reliance on bow and arrow meant he was limited in how much damage he could do to a large number of golems in a short amount of time. If he were by himself this would be far from a problem as he was quite adept at making his own arrows, and they were frequently reusable. The only problem was retrieving them. A simple task with Sonic like speed, but it meant in this case leaving Rosy’s side.

“Get away from her you stone dummies!”

Trying his best to shoo away any golems that floated up over the ravine with his bow, Draw was pushed to his limits trying to collect his arrows. Challenging his efforts was an army of golems that covered the ruins and mountainside. The most troublesome however were the ones that drifted through the air, stone eyes that could fire beams of light at Draw more easily than he could return fire.

“Why did you have to get sick now of all times, you weirdo girl!” Draw cried out in anguish as he gave up trying to do too much at once. Picking Rosy up as best as he could, he ran for all he was worth. “You’re way to heavy!”

Had Rosy heard the complaint, she might have had a choice comment or two for the struggling koala, but her mind was far from her surroundings. The fevered sleep that held her fast from consciousness assured she would remain oblivious. Though it perhaps heightened other senses as her fever dreams provided her a unique opportunity, she was not quite sure how to handle.

~I’ve dabbled in so many different types of fortune telling because of how fun it is, but reading dreams is always kind of tricky. When people tell me about their dreams there’s always something missing to complete the picture. It’s not their fault of course, it’s hard to remember your dreams. It’s why reading my own are so hard too. Bu~t, hee-hee! Well, I’ve never had a dream like the one on these mountains.~

“Hello?” Rosy asked the rolling fog before her in hopes that someone might have hid within. It did not answer her naturally, but a soft blue glow within caught her attention and she walked towards it.

The fog swirled around Rosy as she walked, the blue glow seeming to stay just beyond her reach. “Maybe it’s moving away from me?”

Lifting her head from where she had tilted it so that her finger pressed into her cheek, Rosy upped her pace. As she still failed to catch up, she puffed her cheeks up in frustration and pushed herself even harder. Still the glow eluded her, and she closed her eyes for a moment to touch on that golden glow within her. That semi-tangible representation of her Ring Bond with Sonic.

Her intentions were to touch the source of her speed and bolt forward as fast as she possibly could, but as she opened her eyes, she instead had to dodge an attack.

“Wah~!”

The entity that attacked her was no larger than Sonic, but it had massive arch forming arms and a trail of light for a body. Had the blue glowing entity possessed a green gem where its arms met Rosy would have presumed it a golem. It had the same shape as one, bar a lack of legs making it resemble an anchor more than a biped.

“What’s your problem!” Rosy asked it as she jumped back from another attack. A crackling of electricity behind her warned her of another attack from behind and she dove out of the way.

“I didn’t do anything! No reason to be so mean!”

Her frustrations served to redouble her efforts, and after rising to a three-point runner’s stance, Rosy shot forward for all she was worth. Her rapid acceleration created a vacuum in her wake and the fog was pulled into the space behind her.

“Woah! It’s beautiful!”

There was little time to marvel as more of the glowing anchor golems moved to intercept her, but with the fog behind her Rosy could plan a path forward. The shadowy mountain landscape seemed unreachable though, save the aroura-like road of light marked by columns of unending lightning. Covered in golems it was far from an idea choice, but Rosy could at least see herself making progress as she sped along the road.

Higher and higher she climbed, and Rosy soon realized the mountains were beneath her. “This is weird. Am I dreaming?”

A bolt of lightning tore through the heavens in the moment of her question and Rosy froze in place as she felt her life was clearly in danger.

“Maybe this isn’t a dream… But I was with Sonic, Draw, and Mote. They’re not here, so this has to be–”

“Come on big guy! Is that all you’ve got!”

Sonic’s voice cut Rosy off and she turned to call out to him from wherever it was he was running.

“Sonic!”

Her voice was cheerful, but Rosy’s smile soon fell as she could not see Sonic anywhere.

“Sonic?” Rosy questioned her surroundings and studied the darkness for any signs of Sonic. “Where are you!”

Starting to run again, Rosy tried to wipe away the shadows and reach out to Sonic. As she feared though, the darkness was impenetrable, by herself at least.

“Yeek!”

A bolt of lightning descended from the shimmering blue aurora above her and for a moment she saw Sonic and the ruins he traversed. The motes of golden light that marked where Rings had been, and Sonic’s own transparency marked his signature Light Speed Dash, and she knew she missed actually seeing him. Before she could determine where he went however, the darkness flooded back in.

“Hey! Don’t come back now! Sonic!”

Turning to and fro, Rosy sought out any signs of him in the darkness but none could be found. “Come on! I just want to see Sonic!”

Turning pleading eyes to the aurora above, Rosy’s silent prayer allowed her to see the shimmering figure of blue light that towered over the mountains. Instinctually she raised her hands to protect herself. She was not the skeletal giant’s target however and the next bolt of lightning it cast down from the aurora again illuminated Sonic.

As it turned out, Sonic was not faster than light and he was tossed through the air by the impact of the lightning bolt. He was left unharmed for the most part however as the Rings he carried scattered about having absorbed the damage meant for Sonic.

“Sonic!” Rosy yelled out and covered her mouth. But the darkness took him from view again and he was nowhere to be seen. Upon the aurora road it was only her, the golems that still floated up in pursuit of her, and the towering skeletal figure of light. As that was who summoned the lightning…

“Hey! Leave Sonic alone!”

With courage she always had to protect her friends, Rosy wasted no more time and sprinted full speed towards the towering entity. “You better not hurt him! I won’t forgive you if you do!”

“The medium?” the entity asked and surprised Rosy as it turned to look down at her with eyes so much bluer and brighter than its body of light. Intense as they were, they did not obscure the wonder of the crystal rose held within the gyroscopic, clockwork device in its chest. “So weak a medium, yet you would manage to see me from your slumber, and with no catalyst.”

“I don’t care about any of that!” Rosy yelled at the entity. “Just leave Sonic alone! You better to! I really won’t forgive you if you hurt him!”

Rosy’s shouting and arm flailing seemed to not reach the attention of the entity. Instead, it held a hand to the device in its chest and turned its gaze towards the heavens higher than it.

“Or perhaps this is your doing, Yoluku.”

“Yo-loo-coo?” Rosy tried to pronounce the odd name and came to a stop, her eyes tracing up the entity and towards the highest heavens. There, as though hung like a jewel from the perpetual red bolt of lightning that arced from horizon to horizon, the little planet that always watched her hung in the sky fixated on her.

~Even in my dreams I can’t escape that dreadful little planet. It’s why I haven’t been sleeping. I just can’t with it always watching me. It’s so creepy! I wouldn’t even want Sonic looking at me like that. Tee-hee~♥ Though I wouldn’t mind if Sonic looked at me all the time! Though I probably couldn’t sleep then either.

~But this dream was maybe more special than I realized at first. It wasn’t just weird, it actually had a name for that little planet. It’s kind of hard to say though, so I’ll just call it Yolk for now! Maybe I’ll practice saying it properly, but… Hee-hee! It still creeps me out. But with a name, I’m sure once Sonic and I catch up with Tails or Zooey that we’ll be able to look it up and learn all about it! Even then, just knowing it has a name means I can tell it to let me sleep!~

Scene 35 · CLEARED Sonic & Rosy, to be continued

-----

And there we go, Rosy has learned the name of the planet in the sky and has decided to just call it Yolk XD. She’s so mature XD. Perhaps this scene was a little more than light, but I guess action scenes are kind of like that. I just hope it was enjoyable and that everyone will look forward to next time! Thank you!

-----

Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – One Last Kiss – Hikaru Utada – From Neon Genesis Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fan fiction #sonic au #sonic au series #sonic ring bond #the journey #classic amy #amy rose #rosy the rascal #au amy #amy redesign #sonic oc #patch #draw the koala

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ladyhistorypod · 4 years

Text

Episode 13: Only the Good Die Young

Sources:

Ryu Gwansun

History Channel

Internet Archive

Wikisource

Korea(.)net

Further reading/viewing: Pantheon, Memories of Cell No. 8 (YouTube), A Resistance Trailer (YouTube)

Brittany Murphy

Investigation Discovery

ET Canada (YouTube)

Biography, Brittany Murphy: The Mysterious Circumstances Surrounding Her Untimely Death

Rotten Tomatoes, 11 surprising things you probably didn’t know about ‘Clueless’

Buzzfeed

CNN

Alice Ball

Biography

National Geographic

Oxford Museum of Natural History

ScholarSpace University of Hawaii Manoa

Chemistry World

Click below for a full transcript of the episode!

Alana: So the title of this episode is Only the Good Die Young, right? Haley: Yeah. Alana: And I know it's a song. But that's not even true, because people are complicated, first of all, and all dichotomies are false dichotomies, even that one, because there are some true dichotomies. And goddammit that's a Hank Green quote. Lexi: Yet another episode where the Greens slipped in. Alana: Because I love one man and his brother. [INTRO MUSIC] Alana: Hello and welcome to Lady History; the good, the bad, and the ugly ladies you missed in history class. I'm not quite with Lexi. Lexi, what's the worst part about doing this on Zoom? Lexi: Dang. The worst part about doing this on Zoom is if I wanted to make cocktails and give them to you guys I would have to mail them and then the ice would melt so that would really suck. Alana: Also almost here is Haley. Haley, what's the best part about doing this on Zoom? Haley: Seeing your lovely faces. We spent like three, four years together just seeing each other every single day and that was the worst part about going to grad school was I didn't have you guys. Alana: And I'm Alana and I haven't spent this much time in a closet since 2014. Haley, laughing: Oh, shit. Lexi: That's good I love that. That adds a little light. Alana: A little levity. Oh my god Haley’s losing it. Lexi: A brief warning about the following story. This story includes police brutality and torture. If these subjects are uncomfortable for you, please skip to the next story. Archival Audio: Arirang Lexi: You just heard the song Arirang, an approximately six hundred year old folk song which is on the UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage List. During the fight for Korean independence, protesters sang the song as a symbol of Korean spirit. We will tell the story of one of those protesters today; Ryu Gwansun, listener suggested by my sorority sister Kate. Shout out to Kate. My sister from George Mason. I love her and she suggested this lady and it was a really good suggestion. Alana: Wait it's– it's another Korean lady. Lexi: Yes. Alana: Which is the language that you studied in school. Lexi: Yes so it all comes back. And I actually had heard of Ryu Gwansun before, so I was excited to dive deeper into that story and share it with other people because every Korean teacher I ever had brought her up at some point. And if you take Korean history in a college setting, one of the days will be about her, inevitably. So every year in Korea, the people celebrate Independence Movement Day on March 1, and Koreans call this day Sam-il, which literally means three one. This annual event commemorates the protests that took place on March 1, 1919, a large resistance of Japan's military rule of the Korean people. For some context, in 1910 Japan annexed Korea without the consent of Korean leadership. Japan's rule in Korea sought to assimilate Koreans to Japanese culture. It would take a whole episode to explain this entire story and how the U. S. is involved in a whole bunch of other things, but for our purposes it is important to understand that this was like overall a really bad time for the Korean people. Korean culture was restricted, Japanese individuals moved into their land, and violent military rule by the Japanese became the norm in the Korean Peninsula. Additionally, Koreans were forcibly removed from the peninsula and taken Japan to work as forced laborers. So, as you can imagine, there was a lot of resistance to the Japanese in early 20th century Korea. One act of resistance was a protest that occurred on March 1, 1919, Sam-il. On that day, thirty three activists gathered in Seoul and read aloud the Korean Declaration of Independence, which begins “We herewith proclaim the independence of Korea and the liberty of the Korean people. This we proclaim to all the nations of the world in witness of human equality. This we proclaim to our descendents so that they may enjoy in perpetuity their inherent right to nationhood.” Obviously that was said Korean, translated to English for our listeners. This moment was just the spark that began a fire of resistance with communities across the peninsula beginning to protest the Japanese occupation. One protester was Gwansun, who had represented this moment in history for generations of Koreans and today serves as the main symbol of the March 1st movement. Gwansun was born in modern day South Korea, but of course at this time Korea was still one unified nation, so that doesn't really matter, but she was born in a province that's now modern South Korea. She was born on November 17, 1902 so happy birthday to her two days ago when this episode airs. Her father was a reform-minded Methodist and an enlightenment thinker. And in 1918, Gwansun was admitted on scholarship to the Ewha Girls’ School. It's a school that still exists today and has a long list of famous graduates. It is not to be confused with Ewha University, which is a prominent women's university in Seoul, but it is in Seoul and it is Ewha’s girls school so I can understand why people mix them up. The school, along with many others in the country, had become a hub for young activists to learn and discuss the Japanese occupation. Together, they dreamed of Korean independence, so it was very much a young people's movement, and they protested actively cheering “long live Korean independence!” Japan, noticing the schools were becoming organizing hubs for young activists, shut them down. So, Gwansun was sent back to her hometown where she continued to rally support for Korean independence among her community. The school closures were catalysts for national unity among the Korean people and ignited a wave of new activism. So everyone was like “they closed our schools, let's all get together and really start to protest.” So Gwansun recruited people to participate in protests with her on March 1, 1919. The protests would take place at the Aunae– I might be saying that one wrong, I couldn’t find in Hangul, only in English so I'm reading the Romanized version not the Hangul which is why I'm pronouncing it really badly– the Aunae Market. And soon Japanese police forces arrived and began to shoot the Korean protesters who were unarmed. And the police killed nineteen people, including both of Gwansun's parents. The police arrested many of the protesters, including sixteen year old Gwansun. In custody, Gwansun was offered a deal; if she pled guilty and outed her fellow activists who organized the event, the Japanese police would lighten her sentence. When Gwansun refused to out her co-conspirators, the Japanese police tortured her. Despite being beaten, she still resisted giving up any information, thus maintaining her role in the fight against Japanese oppression and violence. Many other women who fought for independence were imprisoned with Gwansun at Seodaemun prison. One year later, on March 1, 1920, women in the women's walk of Seodaemun prison began to chant “long live Korean independence.” The chant spread across the prison. One of these young women was Gwansun. I actually got the chance to visit this prison when I was in South Korea in 2018, highly recommend going there it's now a dedicated history museum with exhibit materials in English, Korean, Chinese, Russian, and a couple other languages. And I got to see cell number eight in the women's branch which is where Gwansun was imprisoned, and it's now dedicated in her honor and it’s set up as an exhibit for her. They had really immersive exhibits to explain her story so it was a very moving experience. After the chant, Gwansun was transferred to solitary confinement. Just two days before the end of her sentence on September 28, 1920 at the age of just seventeen, she died in prison from injuries sustained during torture. Never abandoning her beliefs, she continued to advocate in prison, writing in her diary “Japan will fall. Even if my fingernails are torn out, my nose and ears are ripped apart, and my legs and arms are crushed, this physical pain doesn't compare to the pain of losing my nation. My only remorse is not being able to do more than dedicating my life to my country." It would be another twenty five years until Korea gained independence, with Japan being defeated in World War II. Gwansun has been remembered in popular media, including in Korean films and books, and the trailer for one such film that just came out last year will be on our show notes in the tumblr, it's called “Resistance” in English, it looks really cool. I haven't had a chance to watch the whole film yet but I watched all the trailers that are on YouTube because I was just so captivated. The young actress who plays her seems really really talented so I will be watching the whole thing. Join me in watching it at some point, definitely check it out. And Gwansun is seen as a martyr for the Korean independence movement. She is still honored by Korean people to this day. A shrine was erected to her in home city. It's a really cute statue of her holding up a flag and protesting. And many scholars refer to her as Korea's Joan of Arc, but I don’t like when we compare women to each other. I really think Gwansun is Korea’s Gwansun. She is a woman who died far too young, fighting for what she believed in, and we deserve to remember her in that way. Haley: I love your note on not comparing women to women because… Lexi: It bugs the shit out of me. I just… Like, why does she have to be compared to particularly a white woman, white Christian woman. But why does she have to be compared to anyone else? She did something incredible for her people. Maybe Joan of Arc is France’s Ryu Gwansun. Archival Audio: Before you lies the most glamorous city on Earth. Hollywood, California. A city where men and women skyrocket to fame or crash to oblivion.

Haley: I'll be talking about Brittany Murphy, and with this a brief warning of death, poisoning, murder, and eating disorders. I really struggled with picking a lady today because it was either someone who recently died, which I felt very awkward talking about, or a very small child, which I just, again, mental health needed a break. However, I recently watched Clueless and there is a new ID Mystery or Investigation Discovery coming out so drum roll I had to pick Brittany Murphy. And a lot of me in remembering my deep dive of her life when she died in 2009 and she's one of the first celebrities I remember as a– like a death, like they're dying being reported, and me as a young child having that connection being like “I know who that is I've watched her movies, I've seen her, I had a connection. Also I believe it was around the time my grandfather died, so I kinda– it's been very strange. Whenever someone significant in my life has died another celebrity that had a significant impact in my life also dies around then, so that also had an impression on me. So we all know her as Tai Frasier from the 1995 classic Clueless. However, her big break actually came from becoming a regular on the sitcom Drexell's Class at age fourteen, and honestly it was no surprise that she became such a huge star because around age eight she was begging her mom to start acting, and by age twelve her mom was like “you know what, sure. Let's do this thing. We'll see what happens.” And almost immediately she was booked for gigs, and it was like gig after gig. Back to Clueless. As if - heh - I were gonna just not talk about that movie. Brittany’s character Tai is a new student who's described as hopelessly klutzy and who gets pulled under the wing of popular socialite, Cher, and once she gets that classic makeover, her popularity skyrockets. And yes, this is the movie where the main character starts dating her ex stepbrother who's Paul Rudd. Utter classic. I believe it's still on Netflix. Do yourself a favor and watch it. Alana: It’s based on Emma… Haley: Yes, yes. Alana: And at the end of Emma, Emma starts dating her brother-in-law, so… Haley: So along with the movie being absolutely iconic, it's over twenty five years old so we get a lot of like the fun facts or the tidbits being released. And honestly, not many reference Brittany Murphy. I was really surprised by that. A lot of them of course are on like Cher, being the main character, but a lot on like the director, creator and the costume designer. But for Brittany Murphy I was like oh my gosh I just have all these fun facts in my brain that I just remember from her In Memoriam reel but I couldn't find like the evidence to back it up. But my two favorite were the insult that Tai and Cher like were arguing and Tai goes “you’re a virgin who can’t drive.” Alana: Way harsh, Tai. Haley: Chef’s kiss line. Well, Brittany Murphy was actually the virgin who couldn't drive, which I thought was hysterical. And at the time I watched Clueless I was also a virgin who couldn't drive, so I don't realize like why that was an insult like yeah, what? Alana: I still can't drive. Haley: Like do you not have a license or you’re just a bad driver? Because I’m a shitty driver but I have like– Alana: Oh, my license expires in January. Haley: Oh, okay. Also the scene where she gets hit in the head with like a clog in that like house party, it was a little bit of movie magic if you will because they did the scene with like a prop and it just looked really really fake so when they went in post they superimposed a shoe or whatever like hit her, I believe it was a clog, so the movie would look more realistic. And now I really want to rewatch the movie to see if I like they got it just right with the editing. Now doing a one eighty to her death. As I said, Investigation Discovery has a new episode documentary. In the show notes, I’ve linked it, it’s free. It calls it like episode one or something and I believe it's like forty minutes long, so it's something you can do while you're building a bookshelf, cooking dinner, trying to fall asleep; that's how I watched it, please don't read into that. And the episode documentary is not necessarily on her death that she died, but investigating it as not actually an accident from the perspective of her father really spearheading this. So her father, before he died in 2019, was like “I need to investigate this more,” did a bunch of interviews on how he believes that there is a little more to the story about his daughter Brittany Murphy dying at the age of thirty two. And a lot of my notes come from the documentary or commentary from it and I'm doing a warning in addition to my previous trigger warning that there are a lot of nine one one calls and as Investigation Discovery does, it covers the tragic story without holding anything back. So if that might be a little too much, you'll have a snippet here today. A very abbreviated version, if you will. So her official death from like LA county or like the coroner there in 2010 was said to be a combination of iron deficiency, anemia, pneumonia, and a combination of prescription drugs- like heavy doses of cold medication. But originally, the report was written as a heart attack, and I believe that one of the coroners told news outlets that her death appeared natural. I just want to pause and say a thirty two year old should not have like a natural death if it was ruled as a heart attack. And even kind of with the like documentary, I was having a hard time with like which coroner said what. Maybe that was just me watching this after my stressful life just being my stressful life with work and school. I really want to watch it with you guys too. There are also rumors that she had a drug problem and an eating disorder which could have contributed to her death, but when I was reading like some news outlets and it was like the really crappy tabloids it was like “she died of an eating disorder” and like no or like if she didn't have an eating disorder she would've lived. And there was nothing to say that she did or did not have an eating disorder per se, like at that time. I couldn't find any credible sources from 2009/2010 that she did have an eating disorder. All I could find was like “Brittany Murphy is looking really skinny” and that that’s… as a person– I’ll go out and say it– who has struggled with like eating disorders in the past, I will never say this person had an eating disorder, this person didn’t. I could not find Brittany Murphy coming out and saying that she had an eating disorder. This is all speculation. Even if it comes from a doctor, even if it comes from her dad, speculation. I’m not a doctor. Before her death, both Brittany and her husband Simon Monjack believed that they were being watched by the US government, and Brittany was reportedly a witness to Julia Davis, the Homeland Security employee who called out some of the problems within the organization. So that was kind of like a part that I– people are like “oh she could’ve been murdered, taken out by the government.” And I really didn't know where to put this note in, because it was kind of like she was saying it before she died as well, and she was, I think, a little paranoid from this. Also before her death, Simon and her mother were both sick in Puerto Rico. Brittany was filming The Caller, they went along for a vacay and things just turned nasty. You get sick, that's also like just like a common thing… getting sick on vacations. However, she was reportedly fired on like the first day and some kind of like pointed to her husband causing a nuisance on set for being like drunk and such. So things are just like being very weird. Like a lot of first like the government coming in thinking that she was being followed or watched and now being on a film set and her husband causing a huge disturbance. And sometimes still while on this island, like I said Simon and her mother got sick, so much so that on the flight home, Brittany had to give her husband CPR. And someone, I believe it was Simon claimed he was having a mild heart attack. So again we have this heart attack cause of illness coming back. So of course we get to the part where Brittany now gets a little cold, and it isn't just a little cold. She gets laryngitis. Apparently she got her second period in a month, hence the anemia. A lot of list of just the dominoes hitting the fan of she was essentially sick for six weeks, which takes a toll on any body, regardless of if you were healthy before or not. And she even had a doctor's appointment for the Monday after she died and I believe she died like on a Friday night at home. So fast forward a few months to now her husband dies, of like similar causes. And this was also sketchy because not only did he die like in the same room, same bed, his death was also ruled as quote “severe anemia and acute pneumonia.” So now like bells should be ringing off like what the fuck what the fuck, this is just a few months after her. And another weird part was that there was like an alleged scandal that he also had a relationship with her mother. Things are not adding up. Just to like wrap this whole thing up, like her father said in one of his last interviews he just didn't feel right. This didn’t sit well, and he continuously made allegations against other family members, and he just really wanted to get closure on her death. And that's basically where it ends– where it’s we don't know, we just now have all this new information and people like Investigation Discovery documentary episode are just trying to put it together. Alana: That's a heavy one. Archival Audio: From the Middle Ages, down to modern times, the magic of chemistry has fascinated mankind. Alana: So I don't have a content warning for this one aside from like she died when she was young and that's hard to talk about. Alice Augusta Ball was born on July 24, making her a Leo, 1892 in Seattle, Washington. I'm gonna make that my thing that I just note the star signs of my ladies. Both of Alice's parents and her grandfather were photographers, which meant that because of like photographic technology in the late 19th century Alice grew up around the chemicals that were used for developing photographs at the time. In 1902, when Alice was ten, they all moved to Honolulu, hoping that the change in climate might alleviate her grandfather's arthritis and other medical conditions. Alice's grandfather died two years later and the family moved back to Seattle where Alice graduated high school in 1910 with stellar, amazing, incredible, top of her class grades. She earned a degree in pharmaceutical chemistry in just two years and then a degree in chemistry in four years, both from the University of Washington. She went back to Hawaii to get her master's degree in chemistry from the University of Hawaii which was then called College of Hawaii. She was the first woman and the first Black woman to get a master's degree from the university of Hawaii. She graduated in 1915 and then that fall she became head of the chemistry department. Her thesis was about isolating the active ingredients in kava root for medical purposes, and this is why Dr Harry Hollmann, an assistant surgeon at the local hospital, sought her help. At the time, the best treatment for Hansen's disease, A. K. A. leprosy, was a pill or an ointment made from chaulmoogra oil, which was derived from the seeds of a tropical evergreen tree called the chaulmoogra. So isolating these active ingredients in plants would be an excellent skill to have if you were to research further on chaulmoogra oil and cures slash treatments for Hansen's disease. She juggled teaching and research as a twenty something. And the time management skills of this woman, that within a year she had created a water soluble solution of chaulmoogra oil which meant it could be administered directly into the bloodstream and be much more effective. It. Worked. The practice for people who had been diagnosed with Hanson's or leprosy was to group them together and isolate the group. This is where you get the phrase leper colony. One of my sources called this treatment only partially effective, but holy shit! Because of Alice, those people got to go home to their families. So I don't– partially effective? No. I hate you. I don't hate you, thank you for writing something that I could read for free, but come on. Alice died December t31 1916 at the age of twenty four, after a lab accident while she was teaching gave her chlorine poisoning because lab ventilation wasn't required yet. Her work was stolen. And this you'll see when we talk about– when I talk about Rosalind Franklin in January that stolen work of women in STEM is kind of a theme for me. Arthur Dean, the college president who took over her work after she died, but basically all he did was publish it, only mentioned her name once in the publication and started calling it the Dean Method. Luckily, Dr Hollmann was like “um. No ma’am.” and actively started calling it the Ball Method, and that's the name that stuck. And this method was used until the 1940s, so for twenty years, until sulfone drugs came onto the scene, and they work better or something. I… As previously mentioned, I am not a doctor. Just a little bit about her legacy, as of 2000, February 29 is officially Alice Ball day in Hawaii which… February 29? Really? The twenty ninth? A date that doesn't really exist? Come on. The University of Hawaii Manoa also offers the Alice Augusta Ball scholarship for students majoring in chemistry, biochemistry, biology, or microbiology. They also have a little plaque for her on their chaulmoogra tree, which is just small but I think it's cute. But Alice's work basically cured leprosy. And was just like– people weren't contagious and could go back to living with their families and living their lives and just being people. And then this is one of those things like in a general sense that I'm like, how many great, incredible, fantastic, smart, brilliant minds are we stifling due to systematic oppression? because Alice was so amazing and smart and was able to accomplish all of these things as a Black woman and overcame like– every single source that I read was like this was so strange for a woman, for a Black person, for a Black woman to be doing. So like, larger than anything that she personally could have done, which I think if she had survived this poisoning or if there were… if ventilation was a thing in labs, could she have found the vaccine for leprosy? That I don’t know whether or not we have. I can't really tell. They were working on it at one point according to one of my articles, that was in 2018 and it was promising so it might be done by now. But like what are we as a society missing out on by making life so difficult for anyone who isn’t a cisgender straight white man. Like all of these amazing… Lexi: Snaps. Snaps to that. Alana: Thank you. I'm very frustrated by systematic oppression these days. It's like Covid, systematic oppression, how systematic oppression is making Covid worse in places… Lexi: There's gonna be a Black woman in the White House. Alana: There’s gonna be a Black woman in the White House. Lexi: Just to make you feel a little better. Alana: I do feel better about that. Haley: It makes me so happy. Alana: I do like that. And then her husband is the first Jew in the White House. Haley: Really? Alana: Yeah. Haley: I really wish like we could've called him like the First Doug, because I feel like that's awesome. Yeah, the First Doug. Lexi: Second. Second, because it’s a VP’s spouse. It’s the Second. Alana: Yeah, Second Doug. Lexi: A Doug that really went up the ranks. Alana: I think the vibe that is going to end up happening is First Gentleman– Second Gentleman because that’s what they do for governors. Haley: But like I want Second Doug and then like forever it just be Doug. Lexi: Oh, it becomes Doug, even after. Haley: Yeah. Alana: I like that. Lexi: Kinda love it, it's like oh the Doug. Alana: I'm not a fan of Second Dude, I don't care for that I think that's like… Lexi: Yeah I don't like that. We need like a Spouse of President. No like a SOP. Alana: SOP! Lexi: You can find this podcast on Twitter and Instagram at LadyHistoryPod. Our show notes and a transcript of this episode will be on ladyhistorypod dot tumblr dot com. If you like the show, leave us a review, or tell your friends, and if you don't like the show, keep it to yourself. Alana: Our logo is by Alexia Ibarra, you can find her on Twitter and Instagram at LexiBDraws. Our theme music is by me, GarageBand, and Amelia Earhart. Lexi is doing the editing. You will not see us, and we will not see you, but you will hear us, next time on Lady History. Haley: Next week on Lady History, it's our U. S. Thanksgiving episode, and we’re doing a deep dive into Native slash Indigenous peoples’ history. [OUTRO MUSIC] Haley: Are raccoons like ducks where you can just like pick one up off the street? Lexi: That’s not true for ducks, we talked about this. You can’t steal wild animals.

#womens history #history

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wordywarriorwrites · 4 years

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Chapter 12: Sabotage

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn A03 Story Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration & @sherrybaby14 Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge. Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities. *Re-blogs are welcome. Plagiarism isn’t. *

Steve left before dawn with nothing but the clothes on his back and his dogeared passport.

When he hit the lobby, he expected to find it deserted, but instead, it was teeming with pissed-off guests. It was way too early for check-ins, which meant there was only a skeleton crew on hand to receive them, and the sole desk clerk was struggling to appease the mob and contain the situation.

The weary travelers were ripe for the picking and Steve took advantage of the chaos. By the time he stepped out of the hotel, he’d pilfered a suitcase, a backpack, and a dozen wallets. Given the situation, the doorman was overly polite and very Johnny-on-the-spot, and within seconds, he was in a taxi and on his way to the airport.

While the driver was focused on the road, Steve sorted through what he’d lifted; anything useful was put into the backpack or pocketed, and whatever remained was discarded in the suitcase. When the cabbie pulled up to the curb, Steve paid the fare, and disembarked. The airport’s entrance was bustling, and the throng of early-morning travelers were laden down with luggage, which made it all too easy for him to leave the stolen suitcase behind in the crowd.

Steve checked the departure schedule and found the first available flight out was destined for Mexico City. When he got to the ticket counter, the agent told him he was just in time, and that there was still plenty of seating available. By the time he paid, got checked in, and made his way through security, they’d announced final boarding.

It had only taken forty-five minutes to escape, but this time, Steve didn’t feel relieved when the plane took off. Instead, he felt nauseated, and the sensation stayed with him long after the flight ended.

A pit-stop at a tourist trap for toiletries, over-priced snacks, and new clothes. Then, it was on to a cash-only, no-names, non-descript motel. Four walls, a bed, and heavy, garishly patterned curtains. A bedside lamp that flickered incessantly, a television that didn’t work, and an air conditioning unit that puttered out lukewarm air in unsteady intervals. It wasn’t fancy by any means, but the place was clean, which was more than he could say for himself.

He undressed in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door, and the fluorescent light revealed everything that had been kept under wraps. Friction-burned knees; thighs smattered with fingertip-shaped bruises; hickey-covered throat; a bite mark on the crook of his neck; scratches on his torso; tenderness in the softest, most intimate of places.

It looked bad, but it felt so God-damn good.

Half a fucking decade had passed. He should’ve been well and truly over it, but old habits were the hardest to break, and like an idiot, he did the one thing he’d promised himself he would never do again. Steve should’ve said no. He should’ve said no because he knew better. Damn it, he knew better, but he’d always wanted Bucky. He’d wanted him from the moment he understood what wanting someone actually meant, and he’d never stopped fucking wanting him…

The ache in his gut was compounded, because every time Steve took a breath, he could fucking smell him. Many things had changed, but Bucky had worn the same cologne since high school, and the all-too-familiar scent still clung to his own skin. Steve could still feel the voraciousness of their shared pleasure in his calves, at the small of his back, and in his arms. His groin and mouth and heart and conscience were still laden with everything they’d done, and all that blistering, bittersweetness was just too fucking much to carry.

A tiny shower stall, with a sheer curtain that kept clinging to his ass; travel-sized, off-brand soap and shampoo; a methodical cleansing that he knew would leave his skin pruned and bright red afterward. After Steve got out, he wrapped a towel around his waist, and brushed his teeth at the sink until his gums bled in protest.

The clothes he’d traveled in went into the trash, and though he was exhausted down to his marrow, he could find no rest. Detoxing meant avoiding temptation, so, instead of obsessing over Bucky, he turned his mind toward Fury, and tried to mentally untangle the web.

What Steve couldn’t understand – what didn’t make any sense at all – was why Nick had even bothered coming to the table if his ultimate goal was to take Brooklyn for himself. Fury was a man who didn’t like to share or compromise, but he would do it if it served his bottom line. He was also a man of patience and strategy, and he rarely, if ever, missed a target. It just didn’t make sense…

Steve knew there had to be more going on, but he couldn’t see the bigger picture yet. He may have lost a battle in Jamaica, but that didn’t mean the war was over, and leaving had been much more than a tactical retreat. He knew what he needed to do – what it would take to get it done and make it right – and for the sake of what remained of his sanity, he had to go it alone.

The journey began two days later on the shores of Table Bay in Cape Town, South Africa. The economic hub lured in real estate moguls and sightseers, but Steve hadn’t been interested in Clifton Beach, African penguins, or the architectural heritage. What he’d needed was information and he knew a guy who owed him a favor.

From there, it was on to Tristan da Cunha; an island completely isolated from civilization that required a seven-day boat trip to reach. There were no restaurants or hotels, credit cards weren’t accepted, and while most of the inhabitants made their living through trade and farming, he knew of one resident who wasn’t who she appeared to be.

After that, it was on to the Caymans, followed by Cuba. Then, Steve headed back to the States, and hoped to find the final piece of the puzzle at a swanky beach house in San Juan, Puerto Rico.

“I heard you were dead,” Phil Coulson declared by way of greeting.

Steve smirked and stepped over the threshold, “Disappointed?”

“Impressed,” he countered. “And relieved.”

Steve knew there was no point in asking Phil to elaborate on his assertions. The man had been doing the whole espionage thing since before it became mainstream, and though he’d been in retirement for nearly a decade, he still had his finger on the pulse, and really enjoyed the build-up before the show-and-tell. Phil was also the last person left who owed Steve a debt, but it took a tour of the house, lunch on the patio overlooking the ocean, and a lot of small-talk before he was able to bring up the reason for his visit.

“What can you tell me about the players in New York and in the West Indies?” Steve prompted.

“I don’t participate,” Phil said as he tapped at a wireless keyboard that fired up the flatscreen on the wall. “But I do like to watch.”

A map of Brooklyn appeared and it displayed the hierarchy and territories of the Families over time. After that, it was the West Indies, which showcased how Fury had slowly taken it piece by piece. Next came the reports of all the backroom talks, underhanded deals, blood, death, and destruction. It wasn’t anything Steve didn’t already know, but what Phil brought up next made his blood run cold.

Steve had lied to Fury – said he’d tied up all loose ends – but he hadn’t. Since he knew the woman’s death would bring nothing but trouble, he’d let the dead Senator’s wife go free, and his act of mercy had been both a mistake and the catalyst. Sam’s flunky at the shop came up and he recognized the trademark lollipop. Subsequent pictures showed the two women had met dozens of times. After that, there was a video of Sam doing what he did best, which was very illegal, and they’d used the tape to blackmail him and force him to play along.

The series of clips that followed showed Fury locked in a cell by himself, but eventually, another person had been thrown in with him. The man Steve saw was supposed to be in a graveyard back home, but the date and time stamp revealed Sam Wilson was above ground, and very much alive.

Bucky’s private security – all taken out by a lone bodyguard who had been bought off and tasked to kill his own Boss. The men who had ambushed Steve on the street, in his house, and who had also raided the Families homes -- they, too, had received similar instruction and payment. All in all, they’d had enough combined insider-knowledge to get it done, but someone who had both clout and cash had helped them execute their plans.

Steve ran a hand over his beard and started to pace. He hadn’t been able to see clearly or think straight, but now, all the madness made sense. Keeping the peace meant Steve continued breathing and someone clearly hadn’t wanted that. When he’d gotten captured by the Families, Fury should’ve issued a kill order; instead, he’d sent an unknown emissary to negotiate for peace, which meant the accord had actually been a contingency plan.

The agreement between the Bosses had been Fury’s way of trying to ensure Steve’s back was covered. The man had struck the bargain of a lifetime, but if half of what he’d learned was true, Nick’s hands hadn’t been on the steering wheel since the paperwork had been signed. Whoever had done this had managed to get him out of the way and that person now had full control over both the business and crew. What little protection Steve had been given had also been taken away, and somehow, they’d managed to convince the Families to cut him off completely.

Given everything Phil had shared, Steve knew someone had to have put things in motion before he ever stepped foot in Brooklyn. Whoever it was had maneuvered the Senator and his wife into Fury’s orbit; ensured they got caught double-dipping with the Families; planned for the job he’d been sent to do to go sideways. The torture, the ousting, the rumors, the staging of Sam’s death – they’d been responsible for all of it.

Whoever was behind it hadn’t been trying to prevent a war, they’d been planning one all along…

“When all else fails, follow the money,” Steve bit out. “Who bankrolled this?”

Phil had saved the best for last, and when the picture and wire transfers were revealed, Steve put his fist through the screen. Everything inside him was screaming in protest, and he didn’t even realize Phil was still present until he’d been given a towel for his bloodied knuckles.

“Why? Why would she do this?”

Phil shrugged slightly, “Fury’s getting up there in age and has been looking for a successor. I have a feeling Nick intended to hand the crown to you after the job in Brooklyn was done.”

He cursed and wrapped his hand, “I wouldn’t have accepted.”

“She couldn’t be sure you’d decline,” Phil asserted.

“Then, why even bother to play nice at all?” Steve snapped. “Why didn’t she just kill me when she had the chance?”

“Money, anger, fear, envy – they’re all powerful motivators. Sabotage takes time, but it’s less risky, and much cleaner. Killing you would’ve been easier, but you’ve got friends in high places, and it would’ve drawn too much attention.”

“Is anyone else involved?”

“No. None of them had a hand in it or benefitted from it.”

Steve let out a ragged breath and stared at the destroyed television, “I don’t have it on me now, but I will send you money to replace it.”

Phil grinned and retrieved both a manila envelope and a tablet from the coffee table, “I thought you’d say that. I also figured you’d show up here eventually, so, let’s settle up, shall we?”

A thumbprint was all it took to bring the screen to life, and when Steve realized what Phil had done, the tightness in his chest spread right on up to his throat. He hadn’t just provided coordinates to Sam and Fury’s location -- he’d also somehow managed to unfreeze Steve’s money and assets, and had put safeguards in place to ensure they would never be taken from him again. The envelope contained two stacks of cash, a burner phone, a plane ticket, and a set of car keys.

Phil told him his chariot and the arsenal in the trunk awaited him, and since his flight departed in an hour, his driver was on standby to take him to the airport. The debt Phil owed had been paid in full, and though Steve was floored and overwhelmed, he still managed to thank him and shake his hand.

“Give ‘em hell, Rogers,” Phil advised. “And when you’re done, get out, and don’t ever look back.”

Chapter 13: Settled Scores

Everything: @jennmurawski13 @nerdy-bookworm-1998

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @captain-rogers-beard

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pyrrhicmessiah · 4 years

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five times kissed -lou obvs

Send Five Times Kissed for a Drabble

one.

They were the last two standing, but there could only be one victor. She knew what he would say before he offered it: just kill me. Clarke shook her head, throwing her axe to the ground with some tangible anger at his suggestion. “ No. ” A thought occurred to her then, and she produced the little knapsack of nightlock berries they’d collected earlier that day. Holding them out between them, she met his eyes solemnly. She would not kill him, they couldn’t make her do it. “ Together? ” Together. The berries had almost grazed her lips when the voice rang out pronouncing them the VICTORS. Plural. She dropped the fruit and pulled Lou into a tight hug, relieved sobs racking her body. But his weight suddenly sagged against her, and she sank to the ground with him, cradling his head. His shirt had ridden up enough with the movement that she could see the wound from earlier --- when he’d taken a serious gash for her --- steadily seeping blood. “ Lou? ” She whispered. “ Lou?! ” Panic seeped into her and she gently lay his head down on the ground so she could move to hold pressure on the wound. “ Please, Lou, please. Don’t leave me. Please. We made it, we won --- together. We can go home. ” The storm of emotions washing over her was too difficult to sort out in the moment, so she just acted on the strongest impulse. Still holding pressure with her hands, she bent and pressed a fierce kiss to his lips.

two.

Their mentor stopped them before they went out to review the footage of the Games with Caesar, informing them exactly what kind of stakes they had set for themselves. You have to sell it. You have to convince them all that the only reason you were willing to eat those berries was because you were so damn in love, you couldn’t even think of living without each other. They had crossed a very dangerous line in refusing to give the Capitol what it wanted in the end. Unbidden, she took Lou’s hand in hers, lacing their fingers together and squeezing it softly. Although it certainly served the purposes of fitting with this new script they were expected to follow, Clarke just needed to hold his hand to steady herself. They’d face this together, too. Caesar welcomed them on stage with open arms and his enigmatic smile as everyone cheered for the star-crossed lovers from District 7. Rewatching the footage was hard to stomach, but whenever her heart started to race and that chill crept down her spine, she recentered her focus on his hand in hers. ‘Oh, this moment killed me, Clarke. I cried like a baby watching this!’ They had finally, blessedly reached the end of the footage. But they had captured those moments after they were pronounced victors, where she’d held pressure on his wound and kissed him. She could feel the blush all the way from her cheeks to the tips of her ears as the audience ooh’ed and ah’ed at the video. The sighs of the crowd turned into a deafening cheer when Louis’ free hand gently turned her chin towards him and he slotted his mouth over hers. The roaring only grew louder when she kissed him back.

three.

The Victory Tour was a horrible, awful experience. Having to face the families of the fallen tributes and give a speech full of the ridiculous rhetoric the Capitol wanted to feed the Districts made Clarke want to puke. And she was forced to share a very confined space with Louis, on top of the public appearances. Upon their return to District 7, they’d hardly spoken; everything was just... too confusing to unravel. She missed the days of their easy flirtation, from before they’d ever set foot in the Capitol. At least in 7 she’d had some ways to avoid him, but now they were rooming right next to each other. When she woke up screaming that first night, as she had nearly every night since the Games, she was shocked to see him standing in the doorway. His breathing was as rushed as hers, their chests rising and falling in quick bursts. “ Please stay. ” She blurted, as she noticed him start to turn from the door. He hesitated for a moment, but then joined her on the bed. From then on, they stayed with each other every night to keep the nightmares at bay. One night, as they lay together in the dark, Clarke found her mind drifting to the kisses they’d shared in front of the cameras. Would it be different, if it was just the two of them, alone in the dark? Before she could really think it through, her lips were searching out his. The kiss was timid at first, but as the dam they’d so carefully erected to keep their emotions out of the situation burst, it grew quickly passionate. When they separated to take a breath, she was trying to find the words to tell him what he actually meant to her when he said: That was... great practice for the cameras tomorrow. She processed his words sluggishly, the heat of the kiss still tingling on her lips. Finally realizing what he’d said, and even more embarrassingly, what he’d meant, she cleared her throat, “ Yeah, uhm, thanks. ” What a perfect reminder that they were both acting.

four.

Except it was becoming harder and harder to piece together when they were acting and when they weren’t. Their tour ended in the Capitol and they were expected to stay for a couple weeks, make appearances at important events and the like. And above all, continue to put on a show for the Capitol to shove down the District’s throats. They surely put on a show, but Clarke couldn’t remember the last time she was faking anything around him. Every touch, every sidelong glance, every time she said something witty just to make him laugh --- it was all real. They'd stepped outside on a balcony to cool off one night, the room full of people drunkenly dancing and laughing abandoned behind them. She was preoccupied looking at the city lights, the swirls of color having captured her attention so thoroughly that she was shocked for a moment when he was suddenly kissing her. It surprised her so much that she took a step backwards, which he matched with one forward. Then in one swift movement, they were out of sight of the party goers, just behind the balcony doors. Hidden from their view, this kiss was just between them. The intensity of it slowed to something sweeter, more precious and tender than any they’d shared in front of a crowd or camera.

five.

They kissed more frequently from that night on, especially away from the Capitol’s prying eyes, but they were both too afraid to address anything for some time. So the years passed and they mentored tributes together and they were featured stars in the Capitol every time the Hunger Games season rolled around. They still slept side by side, reassuring one another that their nightmares could no longer hurt them. They kissed on and off screen, but never really addressed how they felt; perhaps they were both too afraid to hear the truth. It was the night of the Quell announcement that proved catalyst enough to force her admission. They sat in the bed that night, holding each other close in a quiet state of horrified shock. The reality that they would be going back into the Games, facing people they’d come to know fairly well over the last few years, made all the dancing around seem so stupid. Still, her voice is hushed, aware that she won’t be able to take the words back once they’re out. Gently, she looked up at him, cupping his cheek with her hand and steeling herself to look into his eyes so he can see the truth written there. “ It’s not an act for me, Lou, it hasn’t been for a long time and I--- ” They didn’t say much else that night as he cut her off with a kiss that, although it was still tender, burned in a way that would inevitably lead to their consumption.

#myhiraeth #&. IN PEACE MAY YOU LEAVE THIS SHORE ( drabble. )#&. I DOUBT YOU CAN HEAR ME ON THIS PIECE OF CRAP RADIO ( answered ask. )#&. THE ODDS ARE NEVER IN OUR FAVOR ( v. hunger games. )#&. I'M TOO SMART TO BE SEDUCED BY YOU ( dynamic: louis / clarke. )

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platonicone · 4 years

Text

Devotion - Story of the Oracle and her Shield

Chapter 26 - The invisible wall

What is more important? The comfort of the body or the heart? I wonder…

Leon lay there stiff as a tingling sensation ran through his body. The blur in his eye slowly started to take shape. He saw someone peering down at him.

“How are you feeling?” asked a feminine voice.

“My head hurts,” he said, placing a hand on his forehead.

“No kidding,” she replied. “Looks like your eyes are focusing. You should be fine.”

For the first time, Leon was able to make out features of the girl he was talking to. She had fair skin, green eyes, and shoulder-length silver-blond hair. She wore red and black leather armor that had a scaly appearance to it. She had a long white cape with a red symbol. If he had to guess, she must be a dragoon type warrior. A distant memory resurfaced. If only she had blond hair and wore glasses, she would look very similar to someone he used to know from his world.

“Say your name for me,” she asked.

“It’s Squall.”

“Oh boy, it looks like you must have hit your head pretty hard to not even remember your name. I was told that your name was Leon.”

“Only Luna calls me that.” Suddenly all the alarms started going off in his head. “Where is Luna?” he asked, trying to sit up.

“Relax,” she said, pushing his shoulder and making him lie down again. “She is safe with us.”

“And who are you?”

“The name is Aranea Highwind. I am a friend,” she revealed, putting Leon at ease.

For the first time, he had a look around his surroundings and it looked like he was in some sort of a cabin. He noticed the rhythmic movement of the train and pieced this together. “How did I get here? What happened to me?”

“We found you knocked out in Fociaugh Hollow. We rescued you and Luna just in the nick of time. We are on the way to Tenebrae now.”

“How is Luna doing? Last I remember, she lost her consciousness soon after forging a covenant with Ramuh.”

“I don’t know what happened there, but by the time I got there, she had woken up and you were knocked out.”

“Hmm, so it worked, I guess. Can I see her?” he asked.

“No, she is resting right now. You should do the same,” she suggested.

“Yeah, my head feels like it is about to explode,” he admitted.

“I’ll be over there,” she informed, pointing at the opposite berth. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, as his eyes got heavy and he drifted back to sleep.

The rest of their journey was rather uneventful. The train stopped at Fodina Caestino. They used this stop to get out of the train to get some fresh air. However, Luna and Leon’s path never crossed even once. After a day of travel, the announcement ringed through the train. “Next stop is Tenebrae.”

From what he had heard, Tenebrae was supposed to be a very beautiful place and he was secretly excited to see. He peered out of his window as Tenebrae approached quickly. Tenebrae’s beauty was breathtaking and beyond his wildest imagination. The whole city was established on what seemed like floating islands. There were multiple waterfalls cascading from the floating islands, giving it an otherworldly look. The many shades of green covered the entire visible spectrum. The lush green trees, shrubs, vines flourished uninhibited. The beauty of Tenebrae seemed straight from some artist’s canvas.

A knock on his door forced him to look away from the window.

“It’s time to pack up. We should be at the station shortly,” Aranea instructed from the door. They had become good friends in a very short time. She took great care of him ever since he woke up. The fact she was the only person who talked to him also became the catalyst in their budding friendship. For some strange reason, Aranea never felt like a stranger to him. Their conversation often revolved around a military and political strategy and combat. Every time he spoke with her, it felt like he was reconnecting with an old friend.

She waved him goodbye from the door and quickly retreating to her cabin.

“All I have is a backpack. Not much to pack really,” he muttered to himself, putting his toiletries in the front zipper of his bag. He inspected around the cabin to make sure he did not forget anything there. He swung his backpack over his back and exited the cabin. He moved close to the door to get a better view of Tenebrae.

As he was admiring the view, the cabin door close to him slid open, but he paid no mind to it.

“How are you feeling now?” asked a familiar voice.

His heart skipped a beat as he knew who it was. He turned around in the direction of the voice and for the first time since Fociaugh Hollow he saw Luna. He noticed that her eyes seemed puffy and bags under her eyes indicated she hadn’t slept much. “I am doing better now,” he said. “You don’t look so good.”

“It will take some time for your wounds to heal so please take it easy,” she said ignoring his last comment. “I will inform our medics to take care of you. Please let them know of all your symptoms.”

He noticed that she had still not made eye contact with him.

“Luna, I wanted to speak with you about--” before he could finish his sentence the overhead speaker announced, “Welcome to Tenebrae. Please make sure to take all your belongings. Please watch your step as you get out. Thank you for choosing to ride Magna Fortia. We sincerely hope to serve you again on your next journey.”

Aranea, Gentiana and a few other passengers had joined them as well in the corridor.

“Squall, we should exit from different compartments. All the attention would be on Luna, so we should be able to get out undetected with all the pilgrims,” Aranea advised, opening the door to the connecting compartment.

He looked at Luna one last time before following Aranea. He was disappointed that he was not able to speak much with Luna.

“Why are we existing from a different compartment? It’s not like anyone knows me here,” he asked, catching up with Aranea.

“Oh, you will be surprised at how good Imperial surveillance is. Any time you engage with any Imperial troops, your image is uploaded to our database. And based on the number of units you have destroyed by now, I can assure you, you are very famous,” she explained, cutting through the crowd and moving on to the next connecting compartment.

“Combat and surveillance in the same unit is ingenious. I am impressed,” he confessed.

As they entered another compartment, he grabbed Aranea’s hand, “Aranea, wait.”

“What is it?”

“We are being followed at 6 o’clock,” he warned her. He had noticed that a small girl, about 8 or 9 years old, and two middle-aged soldiers had followed them through every compartment so far.

“Oh, they are with us. They are my people,” she revealed, putting him at ease. He nodded and they continued their journey.

The train slowed down and came to a complete halt and the doors slid open. All the travelers poured out of the door.

Aranea had told Leon earlier that in the wake of Luna’s “passing,” thousands flocked to the Fenestala Manor to pay their respects, pilgrims traveling from afar by boat and train. Based on that conversation, Leon was expecting a crowd, but the scene in front of his eyes quite surreal. As far as the eyes could see, the whole station was filled with people.

Leon, Aranea and her crew got out of the train. They blend in with the crowd and made their way towards the only exit from the platform. Even among this crowd, Leon’s eyes were searching for Luna.

Luna got out of the train and was followed by Gentiana. Many other passengers got off behind them.

It didn’t take long for people to recognize Lunafreya. A quiet murmur spread in the crowd as people were still skeptical of what they saw. Luna was announced to be dead, but here she was in the flesh, standing at the train station. One person started cheering and the whole crowd erupted in cheers. People were clapping, whistling, and screaming Luna’s name.

‘Wow, she a celebrity wherever she goes,’ he thought.

He noticed there was a lady dressed in professional attire accompanied by a few soldiers.

“Welcome home, Lady Lunafreya,” greeted the lady dressed in professional attire.

“It is good to see you again, Polisci,” Luna greeted her with a hug.

Leon was at some distance from them so he could not hear them. A royal entourage escorted Luna through the crowd, as the crowd cheered Luna’s every step.

“Now that these many people have seen Luna wouldn’t Empire be alerted of her presence and location?”

“Very perceptive. We want Empire to know that.”

“Why?”

“Circa M.E. 359, when Niflheim invaded Tenebrae for the first time, they did not invade Fenestala Manor, where the royal family resides, due to the masses’ faith in the Oracle. We are using the same strategy here. As long as Luna is here in Tenebrae, in front of the public’s eyes, the Empire would not dare attack her. Did you not see the reception she got just now? Any harm to the Oracle now would cause a huge uproar in Lucis and Niflheim alike. Every faithful in the Eos is now her defender.”

“Using public as her protector is a very cunning strategy indeed.”

“It was all Ravus’s idea,” she confessed.

“Couldn’t we have done it sooner? Maybe like when we were in Lestallum?”

“No, timing is everything. The Empire used the chaos during the treaty signing to declare the death of Lunafreya. Once the world thought that the Oracle was dead, they could kill her without any consequences. It was a brilliant strategy on their part. Revealing herself in Lucis would have either gotten her killed or captured with little public awareness. We had to wait for public support to build up. You were exceptional in shielding her from public eyes in Lucis. Had her location been revealed, Ravus would have been forced to capture her and bring her to Niflheim. God knows what they would have done with her there.”

“Makes sense,” he acknowledged the plan.

“Well, here we are at the much revered Fenestala Manor,” she announced at the entrance of the famous manor.

Squall looked at the building and it looked like a castle right out of a fairytale. He looked at the barbican flanked by the tower on either side. Multiple towers were built on various tactical spots for an ideal defense and were connected by strengthened, solid walls made of gray stone. Crude windows were scattered generously around the walls in fairly symmetrical patterns, along with overhanging crenelations. It was a multi-layered castle with ramparts on each level. He could see a huge purple dome structure at the center of the castle which he assumed was the great hall. The entire castle was built with ashlar masonry.

The guards saluted them as they entered the building. They came to the main hall, which had a spiral staircase leading to the upper floors.

“We’ve been expecting you,” someone said, descending from the staircase. It was the same lady who had escorted Luna from the train station.

“Hello, Lady Aranea. You must be Squall. Lady Lunafreya spoke very highly of you,” she spoke, walking towards them. “My name is Polisci Xuan, but people just call me Xu. I take care of all the administrative duties for Prince Ravus and Princess Lunafreya.”

‘Xu, somehow that name sounds familiar.’ He wondered.

“Follow me, I’ll show you your room,” Xu stated, leading the way. Aranea and Squall ascended the staircase as they followed Xu to the second floor.

Xu opened a huge mahogany door leading to a large room. “This will be your room.”

“Thank you,” he said politely.

“Lady A, would you be staying with us?”

“No, royalty is not my style. I’ll stay in the town as usual,” she respectfully declined.

Xu acknowledged and looked at Squall. “If you need anything, just alert any of the staff. Lady Lunafreya has instructed the staff to attend to all your needs immediately.” Xu waved at them and went to attend her other duties.

“Aren’t you treated like a prince here?” Aranea playfully jabbed at Squall.

“Whatever.” He shook his head and entered the room.

It was a nicely decorated room with teal-colored walls. Sofas and chairs were placed close to the window. There was a lone bookcase on the opposite side of the sofa. A king-size bed was in a secluded corner of the room. Every piece of furniture in the room had intricate carving embossed in it. There were two doors on either side of the bed, which he guessed were for a closet and a bathroom. A crystal chandelier hung in the center of the room tying the appeal of the room nicely. The crystals in the chandelier bounced of soft white light.

“Fancy,” Aranea noted, looking at the room. Squall just shrugged in response.

“I am just happy to get a bed here. Ever since I got to this world I have never slept on a bed.”

“Beds are overrated. They are only worth it if you have someone to share it with,” she remarked with a mischievous wink.

“Where is Luna?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Missing your girlfriend already?” she teased.

“She is not my girlfriend,” he said with a facepalm.

“Whatever,” she said mocking Squall.

“You are so annoying,” he complained.

“Shut it, scar-face,” she chastised him playfully. “Alright, I have to go attend to my monster. Why don’t you rest up now? I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning. I’ll show you around the town. We can even train if you are feeling up to it.”

“Sounds good.”

“Later.” She waved, walking towards the door.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“For?” she stopped and asked without turning.

“For,” he started but couldn’t come with the right words. “For being there for me.”

“Luna asked me to,” she replied and exited the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Luna...” he said to himself.

Ever since she got back, she was bombarded with information. “The number of pilgrims is increasing by the day. At this rate, we would run out of our medical supplies in two weeks’ time.”

“Can we send out more gatherers to get herbs from the forest of Piztala?” Luna inquired.

“All units are already deployed. Speaking of the forest of Piztala, there was a sighting of a strange white colored alien-like creatures. The report says it kept saying, ‘Hiso.’ Our medic and research units have set out an expedition to learn more about them,” Xu reported.

“Please call them back. Research can wait, we must prioritize healing the faithful first with our medicines,” Luna urged.

“I think we should call back just the medic unit and let the research unit continue,” Xu suggested.

“I disagree. The forest of Piztala is dangerous at this time of the year. Should something happen to the research team, without medics, they would not survive for long. We cannot risk our brightest minds like this.”

“As you wish. Also, there was some unrest because of the Empire in Zoldara Henge province. We tried to defuse the situation as best as we could. But their leader wants to speak with either you or Lord Ravus to share their grievances,” Xu informed.

“Call them tomorrow morning.”

“Also, some merchants have arrived from Altissia. They want to negotiate the trade agreements with you.”

“Let’s meet with them tomorrow evening,” Luna instructed.

“In the evening you are already scheduled to meet with--” as Xu was reporting further, but Luna cut her off. “Xu, can we please talk about everything in the morning? I am exhausted from our travels.”

“My apologies, that was very inconsiderate of me,” she apologetically lowered her head.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for. You are just doing your duties. I can’t thank you enough for taking care of our kingdom in mine and brother’s absence.”

“No need for thanks. This is my home too,” she replied humbly. Luna nodded appreciatively.

Just as they were wrapping up their conversation someone knocked on the door.

‘Who is it now?’ Luna thought wearily.

She looked at the door, and her face lit up. She ran and gave a big hug. “Maria! How have you been?”

“I am doing well my lady. But I could hardly say the same for you. Look how much weight you have lost,” Maria noted, inspecting her closely.

“Now that I am back, I am sure you will make me eat till my stomach is about to explode,” she said cheerfully.

“What would you like to eat my lady?”

“Surprise me. I have missed your cooking so much. I’ll eat anything you cook,” she asserted with a smile.

“In that case, I’ll make your favorite--” Maria was about to say something when Luna interrupted her. “Oh, one more thing. Please make sure in whatever you make there are no olives in it and make it a little spicy.”

“I don’t understand my lady. You love olives and you don’t like spicy food,” she asked, confused.

“Let’s just say that my taste has evolved since,” she replied, scratching her head.

Maria had known her since she was in her crib, it was hard to fool her. Before Maria could ask anything, else Luna changed the subject, “We have a guest staying with us for some time. Why don’t you ask him what he wants to eat?”

“But my lady, you have returned home after such a long time. Shouldn’t you get to pick what you want to eat?”

“Anything he picks is fine with me.”

Maria again eyed her curiously.

Once again Luna pivoted to avoid interrogation, “Matron, can you please deliver this to our guest?” She handed an envelope to Maria.

“Get going. I am very hungry; I can hardly wait. I’ll take a shower and freshen up,” she urged Maria and Xu to get out of her room.

Once they were gone, she shut the door and exhaled loudly. “Can’t catch a break.”

Squall stopped by the window and looked outside to admire the beauty of this town radiating in the sunset. It was a bustling town with traders on the street, kids playing in the open square, families taking a stroll, and worshipers singing hymns. It was hard to imagine such a peaceful town in these chaotic times, yet here it stood against all odds. The street lights had started illuminating the town. Even though his body wanted to rest, his eyes refused to move.

He heard a soft knock on the door, forcing him to get out of his trance.

It was an elderly woman with long gray hair in a ponytail and blue eyes. She wore old-fashioned gray and blue dress with a striped pattern.

“My lord, I am one of the retainers of house Fleuret. My name is Maria, but people often call me Matron.”

‘Matron, that sounds very familiar.’ His mind tried to recall the details, but it failed. His memory of the past was like looking at a blurred image. You could make out the shape, but cannot see any details.

“I will be at your service. Please let me know if you need anything,” she said with a bow.

“Could you do me a favor, please?”

“Anything my lord,” she offered politely.

“Please don’t bow to me or call me my lord. My name is Squall and you can call me that.”

“That won’t be right my lord,” she politely refused.

“I thought you were supposed to do what I say?” he tried to trap her.

“Well, but it would be odd to refer to you with your first name,” she spoke hesitantly.

“It is odd to see such an elderly lady bow down to me. Please, I insist,” he urged.

“As you wish, my lor—umm, Master Squall,” she said with her tough in check.

“I give up,” he said, shaking his head.

“What would you like to eat tonight?”

“Anything is fine,” he replied with a shrug. “If possible, have more olives and make it less spicy,” he added as an afterthought.

“Strange, she just said the opposite,” she whispered under her breath.

“What?” Squall asked, not being able to hear her.

“Oh, please don’t mind me.” She reached out in her back pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here, Lady Luna asked me to deliver it.”

“What is it?” he asked curiously taking the envelope.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Is there anything you need my lor—umm, Squall?”

“Yes, can I get a towel please?” he asked, after thinking.

“Of course. I shall have one of our retainers bring it to your room. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that’s all for now,” he concluded as he couldn’t think of anything else.

“I shall call you when the dinner is ready,” she informed before taking her leave.

Squall opened the mysterious envelope and founds lots of gils in it. There was a note along with it which said:

Your backpack can carry only so much. Please use this money freely to buy anything you need. We are not on the run anymore, so please make yourself comfortable here. I shall do my best to make you feel at home. - Luna

“How thoughtful,” he said with a smile, upon reading the note.

“Sir, your towel,” one of the retainers said from the door. Squall took the towel from his hand.

“Is there anything else you need, Sir?” he asked politely.

“I am good for now, thank you,” Squall thanked him and closed the door once the retainer left.

He grabbed his essentials and stepped into the bathroom. He turned the faucet to check for hot water, and he was not disappointed.

“A hot shower, first time after leaving Lestallum,” he said gleefully. “I am going to shower until the water runs out.”

After a hot and relaxing shower, Squall felt like he was born anew.

They had gathered for dinner in their family dining room. Luna sat at the head of the table while Leon sat on the chair next to her. It was only two of them.

Squall waited patiently for her to say something or at least look at him, but she did not.

Even though they were the only two people eating, they were barely alone as her staff constantly kept going in and out of the room bringing warm food.

He waited for the opportune time to talk with her, but every time he started someone entered the room.

Their entire meal was spent in utter silence. This was the first time they had such an awkward meal.

Even though the food was amazing, his mind just wasn’t into it.

Ignoring everyone around them, Squall finally asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Mhm,” was all she said.

There were no other words in the English dictionary he hated more than ‘Mhm.’

Before he could say anything, Maria burst through the door with a container in her hand. “My lady, here is your favorite dessert, Pineapple orange ice cream.”

She served one scoop to Luna and two scoops to Squall.

Xu entered the room and announced, “My lady, some nobles have come to visit you. I have them waiting in the audience chamber.”

“I’ll be right there,” she said immediately. She was looking for an escape, and this was it.

“No, you don’t have to come at this very minute. I was just informing you that after your dinner you have to meet them.”

“It’s not polite to keep them waiting,” she urged and proceeded to quickly finish her ice cream. She got up and left in a hurry.

Squall’s hunger had all but died. He too got up, without even tasting the ice cream. He retreated to his room slightly upset.

He did not have any proper clothes to change into so he had to improvise. He tossed his T-shirt in the corner and lay on the bed.

After all these hardships, he finally got a chance to sleep in a bed. It had just the right amount of softness to it. His body felt like a feather suspended in the wind.

He did not know what heaven was like, but he was sure that sleeping in this bed was the closest thing to it right now.

His mind tried to figure out what was wrong with Luna. Ever since he woke up, she has been acting differently. She was ignoring him and he did not know why. He barely thought for a couple of minutes before he, unknowingly, succumbed to sleep.

Author's notes:

Three new FFVIII characters were revealed in this chapter; Hope you caught them all.

Please leave a comment and brighten my day. Thanks :)

PS: I forgot to mention that I recently wrote a short Harry Porter story about Harry and Hermione called Love is the ultimate risk. Please Check it out if you like Harry Potter lore.

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getyourblisson · 4 years

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A Look At February 2020

The energy of February naturally favors movement after rest, reflection, and stagnation. It is a time of naturally transitioning out of our trials, tribulations, and tests; which usually come in order to see what we are truly committed to. This month on its own naturally indicates that, if we have acted wisely during our challenges, then success and a fortunate future are now in motion for us.

When we consider the energy of February in the year 2020, we find this base energy pattern to be magnified for us. It marks it as a time to reflect on how much we have learned from our experiences in life, before moving forward. As we do this we are able to progress through wisdom, and experience blessings in life as we continue forward. It is valuable to take the time to see how the different choices along the way have played out and to consider how we might choose differently if they were to come up in our life at this time.

That leads me to the aspect of being on a second chances pattern this month. With the earthly world celebrating love through Valentine’s Day; it is very likely that many will have someone that they have cared about, or been in a relationship with in the past surface again. We will have to take the time to see who they are today; and not hold them in judgment of who they were. Use this month to be in exploration, and to see what you want to try again; and what you prefer to simply leave in the past.

While this base energy may sound quite appealing there are a few little caveats that we need to pay attention to. The first one on the main patterns is to act responsibly. This warns us to not operate out of urgency, or to immediately jump on something just because it is offered to us. It shares with us to take a cautious approach, and to make our own decisions based in the wisdom we have gained through life experiences. It is very important to not allow others to persuade you; as doing so is likely to put a block on things working out. When making decisions this month, consider what you have in hand to work with, instead of what you should have coming in; or what you have had in the past. Taking unnecessary risks or chances can be more damaging than helpful right now.

From February 1st through February 19th relationships take a big focus in our lives. Those that are not in a relationship may find themselves wanting one. Those that are in one will naturally put more time and energy into them; and not just because Hallmark says they need to. This is a time where relationships may find if there is any real lasting potential to them; and they may be “tested” by financial or material aspects in life. This could be either through not having enough money to take care of the basics, or by having to sacrifice relationship time to make more money; or even simply how materialistic the people are that are in the relationship. It is in this code pattern that the spirit could become “broken” if the relationship is not able to withstand the challenges of the earthly world.

Relationships that fall apart at this time, were likely not on true or solid foundations to start with. Breakups at this time can be particularly difficult if this unfolds. We may feel weary from life, and are in need of true partnership and love with others; even if that is more of a friendship or business partnership, we will benefit from true connection.

This time period also shows that it can be a great time for communication and re-creating ourselves and our relationships. It is a wonderful time to combine wisdom with creativity; and to open up new possibilities for ourselves. Communications are favored and it is a great time to be heard; however, we must be careful about assuming that we are getting the truth from everyone around us, especially if they are simply telling us what we want to hear. Nothing real and lasting develops out of people telling others what they want to hear.

This month favors taking charge of your own self, and will favor those that choose to be in a leadership position. We sometimes forget that we are still in charge of our own lives, especially when faced with the material aspects of life. Don’t be afraid to step up and take command of things; even if you need to make some changes or shift course a bit. This is a time to focus on how to get people and situations in your life to work with and for you, instead of against you. The key to this is to do this without manipulation. Keep in mind that the more we help ourselves, the more others will be willing to help if needed.

From February 20th through the end of the month, we see that the codes show this to be a time of magnified effects. Our actions, thoughts, and feelings all have more power and influence than normal during this time. However, for some, this can feel frustrating as we want to make things happen but still feel stuck or unable to get things moving. This is where we are called to “check-in” with ourselves. It is a call for us to consider how much we are placing our soul self and processes first. Are you turning things over to the Divine or God? Are you making your spiritual practices a priority? Are you focusing on your own lessons instead of just material pursuits? These things must be in place in order to move forward right now.

It is during this time that much of the stress, tension, and anxiety can melt away. It is at this time that we have the opportunity to experience greater peace and unconditional love in our lives. It is a time to rejoice and celebrate the victories related to the life challenges that you have overcome. It is also a time to stop and appreciate and realize who has been there for you with unconditional love. Who has been there through the happy days and the rough days? Who has stayed in your life with all the ups and downs and crazy plans or ideas you have been through? Who has accepted you for you; not concerned if you had make up on, were dressed nice or casual, and cared about you in those darker moments? These are the true loves and relationships in your life. These are the people that serve as a catalyst for you to experience Divine Presence or God’s love; when you are struggling to see and feel it.

This month continues to favor reflection. This influence is magnified; because it is a time where the lessons we need to get now, our current soul processes, lie within the experiences we have been through. Try taking the time to sit in pure observation of your own life. Really look at the experiences you have had, and the choices you have made. Try doing this without judgment or focusing on where you feel that you went wrong; instead in this place of observation, recognize the strength that you received from these points in your life. Consider the skills and wisdom that they have gifted you with.

In summary, this is a powerful time for us. It is a month to focus on ourselves in observation and awareness. It is a time to decide how we are going to take command of our life. It is a time for recognizing where we need to adjust our sails; and decide which direction we are going to go from here. This is a time to stay in your soul self; no matter how much the material world tries to pull you out of it and distract you from it. This is a month to focus on our relationships; the one we have with ourselves and the ones we have with others. This is a time to focus on where unconditional love and peace is flowing; for this is a sign post of where to set sail.

I welcome you to recognize the successes that have come out of your challenges.

I welcome you to consider what direction provides you with a favorable future, while allowing you to focus on your own soul processes. Which options provide soul time and nourishment instead of only material and financial “rewards” for you?

I welcome you to reflect on the relationships and partnerships that you have in your life. Which ones have stood by you? Which ones serve as a vehicle of unconditional love? Which ones are materially based?

I welcome you to consider how you would like to re-create yourself, your life, or certain aspects of yourself or your life.

I welcome you to step into some sort of leadership position, be that of your own life or with others.

I welcome you to see how much you are placing God and your own soul processes first in your life.

I welcome you to allow yourself to experience unconditional love.

I welcome you to sit in observation of your life experiences; what are the strengths, gifts, and wisdom that came out of them?

Actions to focus on

From February 1st – February 16th we are asked to be very aware of how we are using our power. For many it is quite easy to misuse it. This happens most where people are operating in lies and manipulation, are seeking control over others, or want an aspect of revenge for those that have hurt them in some way. During this time we are working with the proverbial wheel of fortune energy; so how we handle ourselves and the actions that we take can pay off big, or they can bring us crashing down. This is a chance for us to generate some real, true Divine luck in our lives if we are operating with integrity and wisdom.

We can particularly see this where relationships are concerned. The more we try to control others or our relationships with them, the more likely we are to have them walk out of our life. It is important that we learn to accept them for who they are; or release them because who they are is not what we are truly seeking.

It is important at this time that we are not putting money or other material things above people. A practical and responsible balance needs to be found between the inner and outer worlds, between earning a living and giving time to love our own selves and others. Relationships are in a more practical space at this time, so they may not feel as “romantic” or exciting as we would like. However, if they are to last a lifetime, we need to face the practical as much as we need to feel the romance; the key is to realize how practical and important romance is, and how romantic the practical can be. This lesson is sure to strengthen any relationship that we have.

From February 17th – February 29th our actions will do best to focus on what provides for us over the long haul. Not just what is the most practical; but what gives us the greatest command over our own life. Sometimes these are one and the same, since being conservative now provides us with a life where we can deal with what comes up along the way.

This is a very valuable time for learning about most anything; and can be a great time to get the assistance of others that can help you create successes in your life. Think about whom has the wisdom to teach you what you need to know, and how to take care of yourself. Those that are most invested in seeing you succeed, will share their wisdom but won’t do the work for you. It is up to you not to necessarily copy what they have done; but to take the foundations and make them your own as they fit for you in your life.

During this time the aspect of how we use our power continues. Conscious choices through observation and objectivity, unattached to outcomes; often times will bring the best results. We will be wise to realize that the strongest paths are those that give us the greatest amount of freedom. The Magi will always choose the path that allows them the greatest power or influence over their own lives; and that comes from releasing material world responsibilities, and not being burdened by excessive material things. They realize freedom as the greatest luxury there is; because this is where true power lies.

I welcome you to use your power to create greater freedom and command over your own life.

I welcome you to engage the wisdom of others, to help you have a stronger understanding of how to take care of yourself.

I welcome you to act through conscious choice that results from observation and unattached to outcomes.

What To Focus Your Thoughts On

From February 1st – February 3rd is a time for us to keep our rebel thoughts in check. Even if we don’t take action on them, they can still wreck a lot of havoc in our lives. Most of our anger and frustration will likely result out of where we feel restricted or controlled by others. However, it is also important to keep in mind that if we are not going to be the leader of our own lives, then others are going to take over.

The more rebel based thought patterns that surface for us at this time, especially against others; the more we invite in patterns of strange accidents and happenings. The rough part of this pattern is that it can bring sudden and unexpected endings, make us more accident prone, and keep us distracted in a way that leads us to not see that we or others are operating dangerously. Instead try realizing that life is short, and we never know how much time we have. Thus the person that is truly in command of their life will not spend it in competition or rebelling; but adjusting their own sails instead of waiting for others to get out of their way.

From February 4th – February 17th our focus is likely to turn more to understanding what truly constitutes a wise choice. It is a time for us to consider if we are truly placing people, relationships, love, and peace as being at least as important as money and material things; if not more important. This is a time to ask ourselves what choices have we made in the past that have nourished and inhibited our peace and well-being in life. It will be valuable for us to ask where we have operated with unconditional love, and where we have not (get real with yourself – just because you intend to, doesn’t mean that you might not have hidden aspects of manipulation).

This is a time where we will do best to really understand what does and doesn’t provide us with peace; and what does or doesn’t allow us to love unconditionally. When we use this as a guideline for making decisions, we will be choosing wisely. If you are uncertain, take some time to reflect on the trials and tribulations you have experienced; what was your priority when you made the decisions that created those experiences? What were you chasing after, instead of trying to live?

From February 18th – February 29th is a time for us to really consider how responsibly we are acting in life. There is nothing wrong with having some fun; but we don’t need to be reckless or over extend ourselves in that process. The greatest fun often comes through things that are free. Take the time to reflect on what feels turbulent or unsettled in your life; because this will be where you will be operating irresponsibly. Remember that acting responsibly is not always just about finances, boring, and practical; sometimes it is also about providing for our inner well-being, realizing that our health and emotional state greatly influence our ability to meet physical demands, pay bills, or handle other obligations that we have made in life.

During this time our thinking or thoughts can greatly influence our ability to be successful in the world. Conversations with mentors or those that know about the things that we are still learning can play a big part in this. That makes this a great time to connect with others that have the wisdom and influence to help you create your own successes. If you put the effort in, others will take note and be willing to help you.

During this time we are asked to consider the thoughts that lead us into freedom and those that lead us into lies. The mind is not clear with major logical decisions and processes at this time, so using the more abstract and creative thinking to decide things or to gain clarity is what will help us through right now. Do not force yourself or others into practical thinking and heavy communication. Make certain to follow up with the information that you receive from others to both reduce any confusion; and to make certain that you are getting accurate information.

I welcome you to keep any rebellious, vindictive, jealous, or revenge based thoughts in check. Find ways to re-direct them into getting creative in making shifts in your life.

I welcome you to understand what a truly wise choice is. What does that mean for you?

I welcome you to consider what choices you have made in your past that contributed or inhibited your peace; and how can that help you choose wisely now?

I welcome you to consider how responsible you are truly being. How do the turbulent parts of your life (if any) connect with how responsible or irresponsible you are being? Are you focusing on true responsibilities, or only earthly or material ones?

I welcome you to consider how you can put your thoughts and mind to work creating success for you. Which thoughts will lead you into greater freedom?

Nourishing The Soul

From February 1st – February 7th we can nourish our soul by doing those things that create greater freedom from material things. This can be implementing a simpler or more peaceful lifestyle, it can be doing some spring cleaning and getting rid of things that you no longer are using, it can be taking steps to release heavy obligations and allow more flexibility in your schedule. It is important that we don’t have every minute of our day accounted for with tasks, chores, and doing things. This is not just about allowing us to rest; but opening the door to allow in spontaneity. Leaving time open to do what you feel like in the moment, or to accept an invitation to connect with someone or meet with a friend on a whim. The more we book our schedule, the more stress that we add into our lives.

In codes, spontaneity is a way of honoring our own self through protecting and nurturing our abundant energy and our inner resources. It gives us a chance to handle what is needed and to be victorious in the moment; which gives us an opportunity to connect with our own wisdom, and open to tending to what needs to be handled right away without having to be scheduled in. This process allows us to develop trust in ourselves, and what shows up as being what is necessary for us to focus on whether that is rest or activity. It brings a stillness within us that allows us to focus our energy in a way to create successes in the moment, and to nourish greater joy in our heart. Spontaneity feeds our ability to be responsible, and to increase our independence and ability to act on our own.

From February 8th – February 29th our soul self is seeking relationship and partnership. While we tended to ourselves more in the first week of the month, now it is time for connection. During this time we have the potential to develop strong and loving partnerships in our lives, no matter what capacity or form they come in. While at times they may be stressful or tense they have the potential to yield some favorable results in many ways.

During this time we really want to pay attention to how much we are caring about people in the process of working with them. Are we only focused on a goal, result, or accomplishment? Or, are we enjoying the time we have with others; really getting to know them, considering their needs, and appreciating the connection with have with them and the position they hold in our life?

I welcome you to give yourself greater freedom from material things.

I welcome you to embrace being spontaneous.

I welcome you to nurture strong and loving partnerships and relationships.

I welcome you to really enjoy the time you have with others and get to know them, instead of only focusing on a result or accomplishment with them.

The Code Journey ~ Jesse An Nichols George

#Jesse An Nichols George #The Code Journey #compassion #enlightenment #practical spirituality #personal development #consciousness #conscious living

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