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ddarker-dreams · 3 years

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Buds of Marigold. Yan Childe x Reader x Yan Scaramouche

Warnings: Implied forced marriage, unhealthy relationships, depictions of anxiety, darling threatening violence against someone, mild not SFW implications. Word count: 2.5k.

“I never thought the day would come where I’d be so stumped,” Ying’er runs her fingers over glass bottles of essential oils and varying plant nectars. “For such an important customer too… everything needs to be perfect.”

You don’t lift your eyes from the task in your hands, scrubbing valiantly at a stain blemishing an incense pot. To affirm you have been listening, even if you won’t spare her a glance until you’ve finished cleaning, you hum with a rising intonation. Ying’er sinks to the ground with all the grace of a drunken sailor, sniffling in a final attempt to pry out your sympathy.

She hobbles over to where you’re sitting and places her head on your lap. Your body tenses at the sudden touch, but you steady your breathing before it can get noticeable.

“Oh, almighty Yun, the lost Archon of fragrances, have thee no pity for thy devout follower,” Ying’er lifts the back of her hand and presses it against her forehead in a show of unparalleled theatrics. The sight does as she intended, a light giggle leaving your lips at the impromptu melodrama. Her timing lines up well as the stubborn grime you were fighting finally concedes.

You place the incense pot aside and sheepishly pat her head. “Ying’er, how are you going to learn if I give you the answers every time?”

“By your ingenious example!” She exclaims, jutting out her lower lip into a pout. “I’ve already picked out the base, I just need a little nudging in the right direction for the top and mid notes.”

Your eyes soften and your heart is strum with conviction. You soothe your grumbling friend by stroking her hair, humming a soft tune, all the while feeling somewhat baffled by your growth thus far. A few moons ago, you couldn’t have pictured allowing yourself to be touched like this by anyone. It wouldn’t matter how innocent the contact was. The moment someone got too close for comfort, you were willing to reduce them to nothing but a pile of cinders.

You pause your ministrations and sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll help you compose your perfume. This is the last time though, okay?”

Ying’er ailments seemingly vaporize into the air at your begrudging assistance. She shoots up from her kneeling position like her feet were coiled springs, an overflow of gratitude fumbling past her lips.

“You’re the best, Yun,” she praises and pinches your cheek, much to your chagrin. “Now that I’ve won you over with my charms, how about—”

The front door’s chimes ring, alerting you both of someone entering. You two exchange a look of confusion, as Scent of Spring is closed for the day, the oil lanterns extinguished and doors locked. Your finger twitches by your side in anticipation. Ying’er is blissfully ignorant to your Vision and subsequent ability to command forward a blade, a façade you wish to sustain.

“I’ll handle it,” Ying’er says before you can contemplate your options another second. You nod, an unspoken appreciation etched onto your countenance. The details of your circumstances were purposefully murky and she never presses. Whatever conclusions Ying’er has come to, you prefer it stays that way, not wanting to upset the delicate balance that is your current life.

You straighten out her collar which had wrinkled. “Call me if anything’s wrong.”

Ying’er winks reassuringly and presses her hands over yours, the touch featherlight. “I’m a fearsome opponent, no one would dare cross me.”

Let’s hope that’s true, you think. Frowning, you observe her retreating figure, taking caution to remain out of sight. Ying’er steps out of the backroom, the thick wooden door closing loudly behind her. You keen your ears to listen, cursing internally over how the thick walls muffle their voices. Her voice is one you instantly recognize, but the other belongs to someone with a deeper timbre. Your boss is an elderly woman, so that rules her out. A Millieth, perhaps?

You’re not left waiting for long, much to your relief. Ying’er pops her head back in a few minutes later.

“It was just a returning customer who was pleased with his latest commission, the one you helped me with no less. He had nothing but high praises for it!”

Waves of relief crash over you, but your senses remain on high alert.

“I’m happy to hear that. Still, how did he manage to get in? Didn’t you lock up for the night?” You inquire, hoping you don’t sound overly paranoid. In the back of your mind, you can’t fully discount the idea that it’s him, the thought alone enough to have you shaking in place.

“Must’ve forgotten or something,” she shrugs. You let out a breath you were holding in at her nonchalance, it seems plausible given her airheaded nature. “By the way, Yun, can we work on the perfume in the morning? I just realized how tired I am.”

“Of course. It has been a long day... I’ll finish things up here, go home and get some rest.”

Ying’er waves and wishes you a good night.

It’s now your turn to slump onto the ground, grasping your chest when your knees hit the floor. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you tell yourself. Everything is going to be okay.

This peaceful existence that you’ve fought tooth and nail to build for yourself… the only way it could ever get be stolen from your hands is if air no longer filled your lungs. Your fingers travel underneath the foreign fabric of your Liyue garments, the warmth of your pulsating Vision giving you solace. Tending to the last few chores, your subconscious drifts elsewhere, to an island beyond the sea. What is it you would be doing this time of day again? Ironically enough, you realize you’d be working with incense as you are now, but for different reasons. The reason you excel with curating incense to produce the best aroma is because you were trained to do so.

Your work now is your lifeblood, giving you enough to scrape by undetected. Those days, however, were a different story. It constituted survival like now, but to a far more humiliating degree. It was expected of you to perform your duties with grace and discipline. You would retire early to your shared chambers, prepare and burn your husband’s favorite incense, and fuss over your appearance in the vanity. Then you would loosen the sash of your obi, just enough so that if it had been a frustrating day, he could lose himself in your body for a momentary escape. Those customs had been ingrained into your mind. Had you needed to, you’re certain you could’ve done everything with your eyes closed from memory.

You head for the back exit. Surely, your past self would be thrilled to know your meticulous plans had come to fruition. All those smiles through gritted teeth, submissive language, and patience that could rival that of a god… everything was worth it.

Now you’re no longer the number Six of the Fatui's Eleven Harbingers’ spouse. You’ve taken the identity of Yun, a Visionless worker for a perfume shop in Liyue, everyday defined by freedom. To do as you please, go where you please, speak to who you please. The little details that were stolen from you by his hands return like tentative buds in spring.

You’ve yet to fully assimilate with Liyue’s cuisine, but it’s steadily growing on you. Maybe you’ll make an Inazuma-inspired dish tonight? In the months that have passed, you’ve found a taste for your nation’s food coming back. So as not to repeat Ying’er’s mistake, you double-check the backdoor’s locks, finding it is as it should be. Behind the humble shop is an alley which you use to creep back home. It’s best not to risk traveling out in the open if you can avoid it, you never know what eyes might be hiding in plain sight.

“Liyue apparel compliments you very well.”

With the speed of a descending phoenix, you pivot on your heel, summoning your weapon and pressing it to the jugular of whoever spoke just now. Squinting, your eyes take a few long seconds to adjust. Once they do, your body feels like it’s being drug into the underworld, the air in your lungs forced out. This man… you’ve seen him before. He gives you an all teeth grin, azure eyes swirling with delight and face contorting in amusement.

You remain steadfast through your bewilderment. “Try and scream and I’ll slit your throat.”

“I’m not much of a screamer,” Childe replies, laughing as if the situation was comical. “It’s good to see you too, [First]. Never thought I’d happen upon an old face in Liyue. I knew I recognized that unique combination of perfume, looks like I was right.”

It hits you that this is the first time you’ve heard your actual name in months. How Childe says it doesn’t feel right, he utters it with familiarity. Though, from what you remember, he’s never been known for having boundaries. Scaramouche would complain about his conduct for hours if given the opportunity. This would be the first time you’ve spoken with him, not from a lack of trying on his behalf. When Childe paid a visit to your husband’s estate, you were expected to be present at the start of their meetings. They would discuss business together while you stood there and looked easy on the eyes. Occasionally, you would refill their tea, but that was all you were permitted to do.

The look Scaramouche shot Childe when the latter tried speaking with you was enough to give you nightmares for days.

“What… what are you going to do now?” You murmur, anticipating the worst. This isn’t going to end well no matter what. If Fatui are in Liyue, that means Childe’s likely told someone where he was going; meaning that him going missing would be suspicious and warrant an investigation. On the other hand, who is to say he won’t just return you to Scaramouche if you let him live? You doubt your tears and pleading would have any effect on the youngest Harbinger. He’s similar to your husband — acting altruistic and kind — only to show their true colors when it suits them best.

“Right now? I’m trying not to get my throat slit,” he raises an eyebrow like that was the most obvious answer.

You bite your lower lip. “We both know you could get out of this hold if you wanted to.”

“Emphasis on the ‘if I wanted to’ part. As of right now, I don’t believe I do, being held by you is rather enjoyable,” Childe tests the waters by moving forward, humming in contentment when you lessen your grip as not to slice through his skin. “See? You’ve never even killed someone before. Call it intuition, but I don’t think you could.”

He reconsiders the proposition for a second. “Well, maybe if it was him...”

“You’re as insufferable as I remember,” you hiss, imbuing heat into your blade. Childe barely backs off and the unspoken threat. “Everyone who refuses to take me seriously comes to regret it.”

“Don’t worry, I fully agree with that. The Balladeer reduced you to nothing but a pretty little ornament. He underestimated you and this is the consequence.” Childe has an easier time maintaining eye contact than you do. It’s another minute detail that expresses the gap in your experience. You may be adequately trained in combat, but that pales in comparison when faced with a trained killer. This sorry charade will end the moment he wants it to.

Hate floods through your veins like venom. He’s looking down on you, just in a different way than how your husband would. Where Scaramouche was condescending and sadistic, Childe is brutally honest and teasing. It’s a split-second decision on your behalf, one motivated by the desire to prove this smug bastard wrong more than self-preservation. You loosen your grip on him and jump back. It’s not a lot of space, however, it should be enough to allow you room to react when he strikes.

He goes silent. It’s painfully obvious that he’s trying to get a read on you, now that you’re veering into unexpected territory.

“You were waiting for an opening, weren’t you?” Your words come out with more strength than you thought possible, deep from the chest and guttural. “Well, here you go. It’s the best you’re going to get.”

Childe blinks. Once, twice. His shoulders start to tremble, his chest following soon after, and he lifts his gloved hand to cover his mouth. Hearty laughter leaves his lips and pierces your self-esteem. You don’t understand what’s so humorous to him — though you’re well aware these Harbingers hold no humanity — repulsion flooding your system. This feels nostalgic in the worst ways possible. Early on in your marriage, Scaramouche would regard your resistance with a similar air of blatant dismissal, like your protests were nothing but a tantrum.

“You were wasted with him,” Childe’s loathsome cackling dies down, a maniacal grin splitting his face ear to ear. “Now I understand… the way you’re looking at me now is chilling. Exciting. In what ways have you evolved to survive? I love the fight in you, unlike him. Your adaptability is remarkable, like that of the most cunning prey. ”

Prey. The dehumanizing word makes you frown, yet you remain firm in your stance. This is the best chance, you think, now that you’ve managed to surprise him once. There’s plenty more where that came from. Tendrils of molten flames, like they were stolen from the sun itself, would make for a considerable challenge. Harbinger or not, he should know better than to charge in without thinking twice when you hold a Pyro Vision.

His face returns to a more casual visage and he waves his hand. “I never had any intention of bringing you back to Inazuma. You think a Mora reward would be a good enough motivator for me to do that?”

“T-then why are you here?” You challenge, ever the skeptic. Childe can weave a tale of lies as much as he wants. That doesn’t mean you’ll allow yourself to be ensnared in it.

“I wanted to see how you’d react,” his nonchalant admission leaves you speechless. “Needless to say, you didn’t disappoint. A pretty face with the feist to match. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Oh, fuck off with that,” you snarl, your vision almost going red from the fury holding you hostage. Now that you no longer need to play the subservient partner, vulgarities come to you with ease, and you have no shortage of them for this blight in the flesh.

Childe’s smile widens. “No can do, I’m afraid. My curiosity has gotten the better of me this time. Could I tame you? Break your spirit better than he did? So show me your resolve to be free, sweet [First].”

He readies himself and you do as well. It’s in the dull illumination of the overhead lanterns that you realize there is no light in his eyes. How fitting, you think. That even his body has come to accept his lack of humanity.

“Go on. I’ll give you a ten second head start. After that... well, you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

#childe #childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #scaramouche x reader #tartaglia #scaramouche genshin impact #yandere scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #my stuff

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kyogre-blue · 3 years

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Act 3, complete

........but was anything of worth achieved.

Speaking directly, Ayaka, Kokomi and their groups were functionally pointless. Sara was largely meaningless as well, since she got knocked out off screen after charging off. We didn’t even see her interact with the Shogun. Sayu’s presence is even more of a pointless cameo.

The entire Fatui subplot was that they somehow convinced the Shogun to start the Vision Hunt, which they wanted in order to drive up demand for Delusions among the resistance forces. What they wanted to achieve with this is completely unclear. They weren’t getting paid.

They also struck up a deal with the Tenryou and Kanjou Commissions, but this is irrelevant. Sara never even gets to confront the shogun about the tampered reports to her, and Ei herself is apparently fully aware of what’s going on. She just doesn’t care until the souls of everyone who had their visions taken gave us the power to beat her up.

Signora went out on a whimper. I can now say with certainty that knowing Genshin lore outright makes experiencing the story worse lol

In fact, the gnosis wasn’t even with the Shogun. Ei couldn’t keep it in the puppet body, so she gave it to Yae, who just directly handed it over to Scaramouche to make him leave.

Kazuha’s scene...... I mean, I can see the premise, but this would require developing anything at all regarding Kazuha first, like his connection to the Traveler, even his emotions about his friend’s passing. Kazuha hasn’t managed to emote anything this whole time, so this really doesn’t do anything as far as emotional payoff goes. Story-wise, the scene has no purpose. It’s also the ONLY time he appears in this act.

So that just leaves the... “main” storyline in regard to Ei, the Raiden Shogun.

It is even more shockingly slapdash than Liyue. Liyue’s weird political intrigue that Mihoyo didn’t bother actually writing out was annoying to go through, but the basic plot is kind of... something, at least. The details are nonsensical, but the premise can be understood.

Inazuma? lol

So to put it plainly, the Electro Archon Ei lost too many people and decide she didn’t want deal with life anymore. So she sealed herself away inside her mind and left behind a puppet body to do her duties. She was aware of the Fatui manipulating her puppet’s single-minded focus on eternity and of the damage being done to Inazuma’s people, but she decided it was acceptable. People are better off without ambitions, and everyone who dies in the civil war... well, sucks for them.

Yae, a fox envoy and her old friend, came up with the plan to use the Traveler to confront Ei inside her mindscape. This is because Ei previously dragged the Traveler in due to... them being somehow contradictory to eternity? This part is nonsense, but MC super powers, I guess.

Reasoning with Ei is useless, and fighting her is impossible. However, all the ambitions collected within the statue channel through the Traveler, giving them the power to defeat Ei. After being beaten up, she listens to Yae’s word salad about how an eternally unchanging nation is pointless and how people sometimes don’t even want a god anymore. She opens up her heart again (???) and rescinds the Vision Hunt Decree.

Everyone is happy :)

So to summarize, we got played by the locals again. The Fatui plans were useless but still somehow got what they wanted. Humans can simultaneously surpass the expectations of god but also won’t be living without gods because that wouldn’t be cool anymore and also the human characters accomplish nothing of meaning.

Some scattered notes, most of which come from the traditional Q&A of all the things the writing team couldn’t fit into the actual storyline:

The Sangonomiya army have had their Visions taken. That... sure is a thing, considering none of them seem to be suffering from the effects of that, and Gorou and Kokomi certainly still have their Visions.

Lumine TALKS???

Scaramouche is superior in strength to Signora. And we’re treating fighting Signora as some big scary thing, but like... we already supposedly beat Childe. We bragged about it. More than once.

The Shogun puppet body was built with knowledge lost to time. There was a prototype created before the current body. This is Scaramouche...

The OG Baal, who won the Archn War, was named Makoto. She was Ei’s twin sister. Ei originally acted as her kagemusha. Her other name is Beelzebub. They ruled jointly, and few were aware that there were two of them.

Makoto died several hundred years ago in a war that Yae didn’t participate in. This is implied to be Khaenri’ah’s destruction....? Ei changed after losing her sister. This entire storyline hinges on a character we don’t even find out about until the very last scene.

Why does Yae say she’s going to use her resources and Ayato’s Shuumatsubun to search for our sibling? They’re with the Abyss Order. We already know this.

Lesser Lord Kusanali is the deity whom the people of Sumeru worship. She is female. Wait, weren’t we previously told that the Dendro Archon is male???

If you had expectations about any of the below points, joke is on you:

who the Omnipresent God statue is supposed to depict

why Electro Visions stopped being given out

Signora’s identity being relevant in any way

Scaramouche’s identity being relevant in any way

Scaramouche and Baal having any interaction or connection

Yae’s identity in any detail

any of the lore characters appearing

the puppet’s will or existence mattering except as a placeholder

Watatsumi and Seirai lore mattering

etc

#playing genshin #genshin spoilers

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abyssruler · 1 year

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Skrunkly really is the best word to describe his drip marketing expression. He's just so???? Idk, I don't think anyone's vocabulary can ever truly capture the scara experience.

-teacup anon

when i tell you i was so relieved to see his smirk, his lil bastard face,, that is a face that wouldn’t hesitate to spit on me and call me a worm. scara is unprecedented, i don’t think any other non-playable character would ever have as much hype as he had — dainsleif and the harbingers, probably, but that’s still years to come (and no one will ever be as iconic as him in my heart). it’s the yearning!! 2 years of waiting for that grumpy man, of wondering whether he’ll be playable or if he’ll get the signora treatment, and all of it has paid off because!!! he!!! has!!! drip!!! marketing!!! scara literally owns the entire sumeru patch and i love that for him!! ueueue i wish i could hug him and tell him how many people love him bc he deserves it so much

#war crimes?? he has never done anything wrong in his entire life 😁#2022 is scara nation’s year #WE’VE WON Y’ALL #WE BEAT THE NON-PLAYABLE ALLEGATIONS #asks #anon #scaramouche

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enjolrasesque · 3 years

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Letters of Starsea

posting my Violet Evergarden AU fic here because why not?

word count: 6.4k

also in ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32894488/chapters/81632011

Chapter 1: From the Bottom of my Heart

The darkened skies over the horizon casted a gloomy gaze upon the world and the bustling Liyue Harbor seems to be livelier than it was in the morning. The streetlights and gaudy paper lanterns flickered to life on the busy streets. Guiding the people to their destinations, illuminating the roadside stalls and small shops and their products and wares up for bargaining.

Ajax always liked the atmosphere in Liyue no matter how humid it is compared to Snezhnaya; he always found himself coming back to the city. And now, he’s not alone as he traversed through the busy streets, trailing behind him is a lady of small stature with golden hair and golden doe eyes who never strayed and always followed him.

Tonight of course was no exception.

He could feel her presence, how she could never be bothered by things nor care for the noise and high spirits of her surroundings. The way she followed him like a lost puppy was adorable at an extent, but the more she sticked, the more it tore his heart to see her like that. So innocent yet…

Her presence waned, and he stopped his tracks to look back at her. She was standing in front of a little stall, finding her too enamored with whatever caught her eyes along the numerous precious gems and delightful trinkets the shop was selling.

“What’s the matter Lumine?”

She looked at him with those big golden eyes, “I see your eyes. It’s the same color as your eyes.”

He felt a lump grow on his throat and furrowed his brows in a mix of emotions too complicated to sort. Walking closer he looked upon the item she was eyeing. It was a lovely brooch a little smaller than the size of her small fists. Oval shaped sapphire framed on ornate gold, sparkling like the deep blue sea, so blue it drowned her. Pulled her until it swallowed her whole.

Lumine turned her eyes again to the brooch, clutching her chest, “When I saw it, I felt something. I wonder…”

“What is that feeling called?”

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

It may not seem like it, but Scaramouche like taking walks to appreciate nature, but never in his life did he appreciate walking long distances, especially as the sun beats down on the earth like a madman. He really wanted to appreciate the healthy marsh of Dihua—vast skies and clear waters, graceful cranes flocking with one another—but it bothers him how his black shirt clung on his chest as sweat trickled from his forehead; his large hat didn’t help with repelling the heat flaring from the ground.

Unfortunately, as much of a prick he is said to be, he owed his dear friend a promise. Now here he was unable to take a leisurely stroll before going to work and instead in front of a quaint hospital far away from the capital city of another nation, ready to fetch the Battle Doll of Snezhnaya as per his friend’s request.

The Battle Doll’s existence is kept under the wraps. Those who knew of her were her comrades during the war and the enemies who saw her unmatched prowess, either way, both parties who knew her took her as a blade who would cut anyone’s throat... A gun who would shoot your enemies on the temple. A girl barely with human qualities (whatever makes a human) who will fight and win battles as she was ordered to. A mindless bomb that would kill without second thoughts once detonated.

The large Cuihua door of the small hospital opened, revealing a nurse who bowed to him with respect, “Master Harbinger, please, follow me.”

The interior of the hospital wasn’t that bad for a hospital far from the city, the wooden walls were painted beige, unlit seashell lamps on the wall as the sun beamed happily through the numerous windows along the building.

BANG! A loud clatter was heard along the corridors, snapping Scaramouche’s appraisal as he took off his hat. The nurse hurriedly excused herself as she followed the sound, Scaramouche jogging along with her.

“Ah! Miss Lumine!” the nurse gasped at the scene they arrived to, the girl was on the floor bandages on her arms and patches on her head, papers and a quill littering around her.

The Battle Doll looked vulnerable at this state. Ah, no. Scaramouche corrected himself, that was not the word appropriate to use... although it held truth. She did not look vulnerable. Rather she looked normal. Not unlike what she was painted as, a heartless tool who only knows to follow the orders she’s directed to do.

He crouched and decided to help the nurse raise her up with the nurse inquiring: “Are you hurt?”

The Battle Doll of Snezhnaya… No… Lumine, Scaramouche found correcting himself again, did not answer the question. Her lips were pursed as she started looking around for more. Fliting her pupils around and to the door wide open before finally speaking. “Where is he? Where’s Master Ajax?”

The mauve haired man anticipated this of course and answered in an even tone: “He’s not here.”

“Where is he? Is he back at home? Is he on leave? How about his injuries?” the girl’s question and tone did not falter, and Scaramouche could only listen. “He had grave injuries! How is he? He’s alive right?”

Scaramouche was taken aback by the girl’s actions, he already knew of the clear attachment and perhaps even reverence that she held for his coworker, but he was certainly shocked to see it first-hand.

“Ah good news Miss Lumine,” the nurse decided to chime in. “You can be discharged now. Master Harbinger Scaramouche came all the way here to pick you up.

“Ah,” he got up, taking a few pieces of paper from the floor in the process, “Yes.”

Lumine hastily got up and offered a salutation, “Pardon me, Master Harbinger Scaramouche.”

“At ease, Lumine.”

“I am terribly sorry to report that I could not remember your name and rank, my lord.”

“That matters little. Now take a seat. Do you remember me?”

“Yes. We met twice. First at the training barracks and second at the night before the final battle.”

“What were you doing?” he glanced at the remaining papers and quill set down by the nurse to the overhead table. A piece of paper, clearly meant to be a letter, caught his eyes.

“I am writing a report for Master Ajax. I was told that putting pen to paper would also help in my recovery. What happened to him?”

Seems there really was no stopping this girl from inquiring about the red headed dumbass, the short man sighed, “That idiot Childe asked me to come here and fetch you."

“I see, he’s alive and well. The doctors and nurses said we won the war. When will I rendezvous with him?”

He did not answer, waving his hands to dismiss her thoughts, “Get dressed. I’ll call us a ride.”

The vehicle arrived a little longer than anticipated, some moments later after lunch. Perhaps it was because of how far Dihua is from the capitol, and the tides washing the roads made it a little hard for to pass through that vehicles had to take a detour through the forest.

“Here are your belongings,” the nurse smiled at Lumine, handing her a brown suitcase, “The courier said that it came a little later as it was mistakenly shipped off to another camp.”

Lumine hurriedly opened the suitcase, inspecting all her items with hastiness, “My brooch…” she murmured. Her aloof face paired with her fiery golden eyes looked at the nurse, her voice raised. “Where’s my sapphire brooch?”

“Ah, but they said that’s the only items found on your headquarters and by your side.”

Lumine locked her swiftly, standing up so fast that Scaramouche felt he would be dizzy if he did the same. “I see. Then I must look for it if it’s not here.” Dragging her still recovering body with her tiny feet as fast as she could, she jogged down the road, causing the purple haired Harbinger to sigh, feeling a migraine forming from the heat, with a dash of forcing himself to be cordial, and a sprinkle of the girl’s stubbornness in relation to Ajax. He yanked her arm to stop her, looking at her eyes with impasse.

“It’s important! It’s a gift from Master Ajax!”

With a sigh, Scaramouche let her arm go and rubbed his temples, “Fine. I’ll find it for you. I promise.”

“Then make a pinkie promise!” she said, holding out a pinkie.

He indulged the girl holding out his pinky the girl quickly latching hers with his. “You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice. The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off, so you never lie again.” They said synchronously both with detachment, but with Lumine doing it anyway as her Master Ajax taught her, though Scaramouche’s compliance bordered to annoyance.

‘Ah, yes’, he thought after hearing those rhymes again. Snezhnayans and their vodka, and their pinkie promises and morbid nursery rhymes as intense as the cold winters of the nation. Scaramouche was thankful that even though he grew up in the said country he didn’t adapt all those nonentities, but one will say, a certain blockhead with ginger haired called Childe, maybe those macabre nursery rhymes are suitable for Scaramouche’s height and his violent nature. The ginger idiot even passed his idiocy on to Lumine, how charming.

“Alright, now that we’re done let’s get moving… As Childe's order.”

There was hesitance on her being but nonetheless after a few heart beats passed, “Roger that.”

The silence as they traversed the roads on the thicket didn’t last long, as once again, Lumine asked about the Harbinger she serves. “Master Scaramouche, when will Master Ajax give me my next assignment? Some missions may be beyond me while I am at this state, but...”

“Lumine,” he cut her off. Perhaps it was time for him to heed Mona’s advice. Scaramouche lifted his hat from across the car, grabbing four, small stuffed animals: a lemon-colored bunny, a cat as black as soot, a red fox, and a gray owl. “Let’s celebrate your discharge, choose one. I don’t know your preferences, so I bought all of it.”

“I don’t need them.”

Scaramouche hid his crestfallen look— ‘So much for this to cheer people up huh? Thanks to nothing Mona!’ he thought. But of course, he won’t falter, he knew that in some ways he can coax the girl to choose one. Maybe tell her its an order, but again, upon request, he can’t treat the Battle Doll of Snezhnaya as a Battle Doll but rather as a normal girl.

“Let’s say the sun will fall upon the world if you don’t choose one… Pick!”

“One… Two…”

“The fox then.”

“Great!” he sighed inwardly. While he did have money for that luxury, he has more important things to put his money on. And now that he thought of it, perhaps Mona just wanted some stuffed animals and somehow with her weird hydromancy knows that he’ll not give all the toys to the girl.

Lumine gingerly took the item, squishing the soft material, pulling it closer to her face.

“Why did you choose the fox?”

“It’s the closest to a dog and Master Harbinger’s older sister said I am Ajax’s dog.”

Scaramouche choked on nothing at her answer. The girl really has no awareness about society, and as for Childe’s older sister… that woman really doesn’t know how to bite her tongue, and here he thought he was the most heartless of all the Harbingers. “Ahem. This journey will take a little while as the railroads are useless. Have you ever been to Snezhnaya?”

Lumine shook her head, “No.”

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

Lumine’s moments during the final battle was marked with blood. So much blood that it soaked her and Childe’s military uniform like a heavy downpour of rain. The corridor they were staying on was dark and the deep night skies made the chambers darker. For Lumine, her Master Harbinger is her light. A beacon glowing beautifully despite all the blood seeping on his garb and his bleeding left eye.

“Lumine.” His boyish voice drew her in like a moth to a light. “You must live and be free.”

Her chest tightened, tears beginning to well upon her eyes. The feeling she couldn’t comprehend put a chokehold on her heart. There was too much going on in her mind and her heart is giving out too with just those thoughts and the scene in front of her. Her Master Harbinger covered in his own blood; blue eyes with tears threatening to spill.

“From the bottom of my heart…”

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

Snezhnaya is known for its long, severe winters, white blanketing the whole nation, but none talked much about its beauty during the spring, when the ice and snow thawed out giving way to grass patches littered with chamomile and golden root, a cool spring breeze whispering on the land. This is the kind of walks Scaramouche likes, not the blazing sun beating down in Dihua.

“Ajax was worried about your life after the war. He told me he wanted to leave you in the care of the Gunnhildr Family, a faraway relative that he trusts enough to care for you.” Scaramouche informed her once they were in front of the Gunnhildr manor. “The current master of the Gunnhildr agreed to take you in.”

The manor wasn’t too large but that made it look prettier in a sense. The house was made of gray and brownish bricks and blue green tiled roof, the walls had philameno mushrooms sticking from it as if it hasn’t been cleaned. The garden had firmly cut hedges and little pine trees, shrubs of different colors and sizes, but unlike the other gardens, instead of chamomile and tulips, there were a few rose bushes and seemingly a thousand of dandelions instead.

The pine door of the mansion opened before Lumine could speak, revealing a taller lady with blonde hair tied with a black bow in a ponytail and blue eyes the same color as her dress. She smiled, “Welcome.”

“Come, Lumine.” Scaramouche gestured for her to come closer to the stranger who will take her in. “This is Jean Gunnhildr, she was once the Acting Grandmaster of the academy we went in, although she’s not too far from our age, she’s also the next head of the Gunnhildr family.”

Lumine straightened her back and saluted, a serious look on her doll-like face. Jean smiled a little in shock and perhaps adoration at the girl’s antics while Scaramouche looked like he just tasted the worst chamomile tea in his life after that one time (when Childe gave him a chamomile tea that tasted like the man’s bullshit). Quickly regaining his composure, “Just a simple bow would be enough.”

The Gunnhildr’s sitting room had the atmosphere of something classic, ornate furniture of red pine wood, a soft, large, red carpet with the pattern of dandelions and wings, related to the Gunnhildr’s tight relation with the Nation of Freedom, tall but thin windows with red curtains parting to let light pass through. Glass lamps on the walls and pots and paintings of different flowers ranging from irises to violets and dandelions. The table was set with a cake stand filled with tiny desserts and steaming rose tea, the room smelled of ripe sunsettias and rose perfume.

Jean was the first to talk once they were seated comfortably, addressing how long the 6th of the 11 Harbingers came along with the girl. “I did not know that travelling from Dihua Marsh would take up to a week now.”

Scaramouche nodded, “Yes. Normally it would take only a couple of days or four at most, but the railways on Stone Gate had collapsed and it will take time to get it back on track.”

Jean looked at the other blonde who was silently listening and patiently seated, though her golden eyes were far off from the reality she’s currently on. “Lumine, drink up.” She offered with a smile.

The girl of course, nodded at the order, her bandaged hands grasping the clear glass cup of rose tea. The lady of the Gunnhildr gasped as she saw the unstable rocking of the teacup on her hands, “Lumine, oh, Archons, pardon me! Do not push yourself!”

But what was done is done. The teacup fell back on its saucer the rose tea and petals spilling on the table, drenching one of her bandaged hands.

“Oh!” Jean stood up, not wanting to make the injuries of the girl worse, “You’ll get burned!”

“Please do not worry. I do not feel heat.”

“But we must use another bandage after that! Noelle, bring us some ice!”

The maid behind them nodded and followed up to the directions quickly. “Yes ma’am.” Lumine acted first before anything, her other hand started taking off the bandages doused with hot tea, pulling the eyes of everyone on the room. Her bandages fell to her lap, revealing that instead of warm porcelain skin the same color of her face, the supposed gentle arms of a young lady were made of cold and hard metal.

“My arms are made of adamantine. They may seem clumsy, but they are very sturdy. I’m just not used to them,” she raised her bandaged arms as she looked at Jean’s concerned face, the joints and all the spaces glittering in metallic sheen. “But I believe they will act just like another part of my body.”

Jean’s look was now etched with a serene smile after a few moments, she admires this girl, that’s what she decided from then on. “Please come with me for a moment.”

Following Jean was Lumine and Scaramouche to a room just a little away from the sitting room, filled with pictures of Jean herself, and perhaps her parents, and one portrait of Jean and a young girl with two curly pigtails that Lumine thinks she remembers.

“Here,” Jean turned and offered Lumine a pair of black gloves with a purple rose embroidered on each, “I used to wear them when I was still in the academy.”

Scaramouche nodded, remembering the times Jean did her rounds at the academy in her signature gloves with embroidered roses, always holding one cane on her hand to whack students almost of her age to go forth to their respective classes. “Try them on.”

The smaller blonde took the gloves from Jean’s hands, and with the help of her teeth, she managed to put them on her hands thoroughly.

“It fits you perfectly.”

“Truly.”

“Alright, I’m taking my leave then. I must get back to the office.” Scaramouche spoke as Lumine glanced at the gloves covering her hand. “Lumine. Be good and listen to Jean, understood?”

“It’s alright, I’m sure Lumine is a wonderful girl, Barbara told me so.” Jean looked at Lumine, “Think of us as your real family, okay? You can talk to me with whatever concerns you.”

“I never had a family. I do not need a new one,” spoke Lumine’s monotonous voice.

“A family makes one’s life better at most,” Jean spoke, “Me and my late sister only have our father left but then Barbara died when helping during the war.”

“I cannot be a replacement for Miss Barbara.”

“Lumine,” Scaramouche started sternly, his authoritative aura slipping through. “Childe wants you to live a happy and fulfilled life in this household. I’m sure you understand that… Right?”

Scaramouche already knows it, but the Battle Doll of Snezhnaya was very persistent with anything related to the 11th Harbinger. So, when the door of the Gunnhildr’s mansion opened revealing Lumine, it wasn’t much a shock either.

“Why is Master Ajax putting me here? Is it because I lost my arms and my value as a weapon?” She asked him, slowly walking towards him with those ever fire in her eyes, the only thing constant in her nonetheless emotionless face, “I know that if I train again, I can fight like before!”

“Lumine, the war is over.”

“I’m the 11th Harbinger’s tool,” she declared. “But if I am no longer needed, then dispose of me. Please cast me aside and throw me somewhere else.”

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

He is a dick. That much was evident, but as for the few days he had spent with Childe’s little lady, he found out he too can be civil. He is a dick but that doesn’t mean he had the heart to snap to the girl who carried herself like a soldier, looked like a doll, but is just a little girl deep inside. And hearing those pitiful words from her, it took Scaramouche’s brain to thinking that maybe he can convince Mona to adopt this girl instead. Fuck making babies, Lumine will be their child.

Besides, despite treating her as a normal person, he still understands that the girl lived off Childe’s orders and leaving her in the Gunnhildr’s without a direction would leave a bad taste on his mouth… and if Mona hears it, it will lead to the raven-haired girl telling him to square up.

“Master Harbinger.”

“While I do like the title, there’s no need to call me that anymore, I’ve quit military.” He told her as they walked to his office.

“Then how should I address you?”

“Boss.” He answered once they stopped on a large building of orange and red bricks. “I own this company here.” Opening the large double doors of the building gave sight to the charming workplace. It was bright and cheery, a little calm despite the hustle and bustle of the workers and customers on the area. The windows were big enough that sunlight passed through despite the birch desks and shelves lined up perfectly against it, women and men in black and purple uniform with pretty impressions accompanied with amiable voices. “The first floor has the office and the ghostwriting department.”

“Ghostwriting?”

“Not everyone can write you know,” he explained, “Thus we write letters as per client’s requests.”

“I couldn’t either.” Lumine answered, “Not until Master Ajax taught me.”

Scaramouche hummed in response, continuing to walk to his office and talked more about the company, explaining how he used his money to buy an old mansion after retiring from the war and all that, “I always thought of opening up a business once the war ended, preferably just to not hear the other Harbinger’s bitching and all that, I had no idea what business though. Then Mona pointed out that the government’s postal services is not available to civilians, so she suggested this line of business.”

“Anyway, Lumine Gunnhildr, since Childe… no, Tartaglia left you on my hands, I will be the one giving out your orders instead. You serve a purpose, and my order for you is to work… Here.”

That was probably the longest while Scaramouche’s mouth didn’t spout any insults, however now that he can sense Thoma was somewhere hidden on the shelves, he decided to fuck with it, the girl met him as a vulgar higherup during their servitude to military anyway. “Thoma!”

“What do you want you midget?”

Lumine turned her attention to the direction of the voice while Scaramouche’s head ticked at the tone and choice of words, “You mean, ‘What can I do for you, boss’?”

The man named Thoma showed himself, he was tall, like her Master Ajax, with long, dark blond hair and friendly green orbs, he sighed, his voice as severe as the emerald of his eyes, “Well, what the hell do you want?”

As swift as he is on the battlefield, Scaramouche grabbed a nearby book and slapped it on Thoma’s chin, the sound of a book meeting flesh and bones resonating the area.

“Ow! What was that for?”

Scaramouche didn’t bother to answer, and instead formally introduced the taller man to Lumine. “This is Thoma, he’s one of the postmen. We’ve been joined by the hip ever since and unfortunately for me a little closer when this company was founded. Thoma, this is Lumine, she’ll be joining you as a postman starting today.”

Lumine almost saluted again but quickly caught herself and instead opted to a simple bow.

“She’s a kid.”

“Well, are you telling me I look like one?”

“Well, you’re tiny and have that teenage angst so yes.”

Scaramouche knocked on Thoma’s stomach, now with his fist, earning a groan of pain from the taller man and started explaining, “Besides her ability to finish a mission is unmatched even if she is. I need to do other things so show her the way.”

Thoma sighed rubbing his reddening chin, signaling Lumine to follow him.

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

As Thoma showed the new girl around, he noticed how she wouldn’t react and how little she talked. Only speaking when spoken to and sporting an ever-inexpressive look on her face, saying “Understood” the way a soldier would. She was like a doll: silky sunshine hair, deep golden eyes, porcelain skin… and maybe an invisible control bar and strings that helps her do her limited actions.

“Here’s your uniform, go get changed.”

But if the girl wasn’t already like a doll, she seems to also have little knowledge of what can be seen as normal as she lifted her blouse in front of him ready to change her outfit as ordered. “Wait!” But Lumine didn’t wait so he decided to turn around and wait for her to finish.

Once she was done, Thoma reviewed how she looked on the uniform. And obviously, it was too baggy on her small frame, “It’s kinda too big on you.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

“Don’t you want to take of your gloves?”

And she did, pulling away the dark fabric from her metallic hands with her teeth. The metallic luster glimmered on Thoma’s face, but he wasn't detered, he wondered more about this girl’s ability to perform as a mailman than her prosthetics. “Would sorting mail be hard for you?”

“No, it shouldn’t pose a major problem.”

“Alright,” he took a letter from the table beside them, pointing at the address at the envelope, “Sort them by the street names written here and put them in that shelf.” He turned his finger to the nearby birch shelf where he was once preoccupied before Scaramouche’s and Lumine’s arrival. “We always have a ton of packages and mails, but you don’t have to rush your work. If you want to take a break, there’s a room on the second floor.”

Thoma gathered his bag and items, preparing to leave, and Lumine saluted, “Roger.”

“Later then,” the blond male smiled, excusing himself.

The sun has started setting when Thoma finished all his assigned deliveries due for the day. Much to his shock when came back, Lumine was till there, arranging and stacking the mails on the shelf as she was told to do so. The sunset that filtered through the windows offered little light needed but she didn’t stop.

“I’ll be finished with my assignment shortly,” Lumine spoke once she noticed his arrival.

“Did you take a break?”

“I’m used to operating in long hours.”

Thoma sighed, the girl didn’t answer his question directly, but it was enough confirmation that she indeed did not even stop once she started. “Make sure to take a break sometimes…, Would you like to try delivering next time?”

“Delivering?”

“Taking the mail to the address written on the envelope,” the girl glanced at the map of the Snezhnayan capital, Zapolyarny, on the wall, and Thoma continued, “Alright, I’m going home now. You should take a rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

When the clock ticked seven at night, Scaramouche found himself sitting on a bus, his shoulder tense from weariness after a meeting. “’We’ll consider an investment depending on your results’, what kind of bullshit is that? Hmm, but I guess that makes sense too.”

His purple gaze turned to the dim sky and then to the lantern lit streets of the city, there he could see from the bus’s window, a mailman with a cart filled with mail stood, “Huh? Night deliveries? I wonder when we’ll be able to do that.”

Fuck.

It was Lumine.

Oh dear Archons it was Lumine! He knew that golden hair that peeked on the mailman’s cap—as he's literally now her father—even without sufficient light to confirm it, he knew that it was the said girl, specially as he saw his company’s insignia on the cart.

Scaramouche quickly took off from the bus, following the little lady’s tracks, “Lumine!”

The girl turned to the man who looked as if he lost three years of his lifespan from stress, “What are you doing?” he asked once he caught up.

“A delivery run.”

“When I said try delivering next time, I meant tomorrow,” Thoma sighed, looking at the blonde girl who have yet to eat her meal.

Scaramouche shook his head, taking some sushi from the platter, “Also, take a break from work, you just got out of the hospital.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“It is a problem!” Thoma countered the girl, taking his own fill of food.

Their boss noticed Lumine’s untouched plate and added, “Lumine, you may eat.”

And only when she was ordered did the girl pick up the chopsticks in front of her, “I will. Thank you.”

“Once we’re done, I’ll walk you back to the office. The attic is the only available room but its already set up for you to stay there.” Gulping down his shot of sake, he continued, “The Gunnhildr also said that they’re still willing to support you until you find your track and if you are willing enough, maybe even work in their line of business, but as for living with them…”

Scaramouche and Lumine walked back to the office after parting ways with Thoma, basking under the night sky and nearly empty streets. He was late, maybe Mona will get angry with him, but he’s pretty sure her weird divinations will tell her that he is taking care of the girl Ajax has entrusted to him… to them.

“What were the last orders Childe gave you?”

“Run. Live free. Also… he said, ‘I’…” but the words did not slip away from Lumine’s mouth. Scaramouche didn't pay it any mind.

“Ever since your existence was revealed, you’ve spent your days with focusing on missions and completing them… Correct? That is done now, a new horizon awaits you where you can learn new things.” He stopped his tracks, pondering which words he should use to not sound offensive, although he is a naturally offensive person. “Though, I think it’s easier to live a life of blissful ignorance. I’m sure you have not realized it yet but everything you’ve done so far has caused a storm, and you are drowning deep into its flood.”

The girl looked at him curiously, then at her clothing and herself, “But I’m not even soaked.”

“Oh, but you are.”

“I am not. You do not make sense.”

“You are. As I said, you may have yet to realize it, but you definitely are.” Snippets of Lumine’s performance in the training camp a few years ago flashed on Scaramouche’s eyes, a little lady older than she looked, yet was innocent all the same. A little girl with red dripping on her ledger. “I pretended not to see it; I had a reputation to keep after all. But now that Childe has left you in my care, I think this is my chance to make amends.”

“You’ll understand me one day. Only then will you realize that the storms you’ve caused have drowned your lungs and you can barely breath.”

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

A knock on the company’s door came first thing in the early morning while Lumine was cleaning the windows, a man came in and greeted her with a polite smile.

“Are you a Doll?”

“No. I’m Lumine.”

The man observed the evident uniqueness of the girl before continuing. A girl who wasn’t a doll, yet most certainly looks like one, “Well, Miss Lumine, I’d like to request a ghostwriting.”

“A ghostwriting?”

“Yes, I can’t write, but I want to. So, I’d like you to write a letter for me.”

“What would you want me to write?”

“You want to talk about that here and now?”

“Will that pose a problem?”

“Umm…” the man tottered but continued after, “It’s for a friend. I heard that she’s planning to get married with another man. So… I want you to tell her that—”

“Ah, good morning sir. May I ask what service you require here?” Another presence at the door came, revealing a gorgeous woman: tall, with wavy, honey brown hair, emerald eyes, fair skin, and a gentle velvety voice wearing a purple and white dress with open slits at the sides lined with gold, black lace stockings, black high heels, and a gold necklace with roses on her being.

“I-I’m here for a ghostwriting request.”

“Perfect!” she smiled sweetly, as sweet as the rose perfume that wafts around her. “Come.” She took a glance to Lumine, “You too sweetie.”

Once they settled in on the brunette lady’s desk, she quickly started typing, deciphering the words written deep inside the man’s heart. For Lumine, it felt like a walk to remember, every line the lady spoke that she was writing struck a lightning on her heart. Memories of her and her Master spiraling back to her.

She remembered the way he first wrapped his arms around her in their first meeting. His arms were warm and inviting, a cradle that tells her she is safe and sound as long as he was there.

She remembered how she always followed his steps, on training or in the battlefield. A mop of ginger hair became too familiar, and it made her feel like she’s truly there and existing… With him. And those battles they spent with one another, striking enemies down to ensure they would stay alive and see each other again.

The times where he would look at her with such intense emotions on his eyes—one she could only dream to decipher, before they go to the battlefield. Before he orders his men to charge into a bloodbath.

“We may be far away from one another now but I… I love you.” Those words from the beautiful Doll snapped Lumine back to the reality in front of her. She kept working and asked the man. “Is that alright?”

“Yes!” the man nodded fervently, completely satisfied with the woman’s work.

The violet rose lady smiled and spoke again, “I love you” as if testing how the words would sound from her voice. She heated up a red wax, using it to seal the letter she had just finished writing. Gently pushing the seal on the envelope. “Please take this to the ground floor and complete the mailing paperwork.” She stood up, showing her beautiful figure and elegance, a gentle smile on her lips. “Thank you very much for using our Auto Memoir Doll service, sir.”

The man left after returning a bow to the beautiful brunette who turned to Lumine who was standing in front of her work stall, “And who are you cutie?”

“How could you tell?”

“Huh?”

“How could you tell that man wanted to say ‘I love you’?”

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

Later after that encounter, Scaramouche found Lumine in front of his desk, asking for a new job description.

“You want to work in the Auto Memoir Dolls?”

Yes. I’m still having a hard time when holding a pen, but I am able to use the typewriter.”

“No,” Scaramouche cut her off before she could get into more details, “I’m asking why you want to be a Doll.”

“I want to know what I love you means!” she declared, she felt herself gripping on her long, blue skirt. “After giving me his final orders, Master Harbinger Tartaglia spoke those words to me.”

Scaramouche already knew at some deepest depths of his heart that his dear friend held those feelings for the girl he took in but hearing it from a girl who is literally unable to lie was something else. And one with little understanding to emotions too.

“That was the first time I heard him say it. I can’t understand it, but I want to.” The grip on her skirt tightened as she spoke, and Scaramouche noticed that his hands were balled into fists and unclasped it.

“To understand those words is what makes an Auto Memoir Doll. But I’ll give you a pass.”

After doing nothing but following Ajax’s orders for so long, for the first time, the girl made a step for herself.

The girl they called a tool without a mind of her own, wanted to know what 'I love you' means.

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

Her other arm fell like it was nothing as bullet passed through it making Ajax’s face contort with more horror than when he realized they were both drenched in blood of their own and their enemies.

“I swear! I swear I won’t let you die Master Harbinger!” she declared so fervently once she turned to him, tears welling on the corner of her eyes as she tried to carry him with her bare teeth as both arms already severed.

“Stop.”

Lumine dragged him as much as her teeth could pull, Ajax knew it was hopeless for him. But for her, she could. She can live and taste what being a normal girl is like. As she should. As she deserved. Not a life of blood and killing, and bombs and guns. None of that.

“That’s enough!” he managed to muster his authoritative voice to the girl, and she did what he wanted. “You must live. Lumine… You must live and be free.”

She just looked at him, her mouth pursed, and her eyes glazed. But he knew, oh he knew the girl would not come to understand it that moment why she was feeling it. Why her body shook as she cried so viciously. That it was not just the injuries that seared through them like flames and poison.

“From the bottom of my heart,” he looked at her angelic face golden eyes glossed with tears, she looked so young… so young compared to her age and the things she was ordered to do, and the things she was willing to do. A tear fell from his eye as he spoke. “I love you.”

#chilumi #childe x lumine #am still engrossed with them bye-

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disaster-fruit · 3 years

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SCARAMOUCHE NATION WE FINALLY WON!!!!!!!

#HES HEREEEEE IM GONNA CRY #HES REAL #I ALWYAS BELIEVED HE EXISTED

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morkaischosen · 7 years

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Freddie Mercury predicted the Trump presidency.

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality (Here Mercury sets the scene with the disbelief and dismissal many people initially felt towards the prospect of Trump becoming POTUS, juxtaposed with the crushing fear felt by those in vulnerable communities Trump’s campaign targetted.) Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy Because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low (The ‘small loan of a million dollars’ and Trump’s purported business success; his wealth allowed him to consider mistakes that would crush most people a ‘little low’.) Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me (A motif, repeated at the end, noting the inconsistency of Trump’s professed opinions; consider the many examples of supposedly long-held positions contradicted by earlier tweets, from the last decade or even during the campaign.)

Mama, just killed a man Put a gun against his head Pulled my trigger, now he's dead (A clear judgement of culpability: Mercury here presents the prejudicially-motivated violence of those emboldened by Trump’s victory, as well as those policy decisions and breaches of protocol that result in death, as acts of violence on Trump’s part, giving him the same responsibility as if he personally held a gun.) Mama, life had just begun But now I've gone and thrown it all away Mama, ooh, didn't mean to make you cry (Life here represents the Affordable Care Act; hence, Trump’s attempts to repeal it. ‘Didn’t mean to make you cry’ may refer to opposition from some quarter he expected to support his plans?) If I'm not back again this time tomorrow Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters (Trump continues to act without understanding of the magnitude of the role he’s currently filling.) Too late, my time has come Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time (The fatigue of the role - note his frequent holidays.) Goodbye, everybody, I've got to go Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth (An impeachment? A resignation to avoid one? Unclear at this time.) Mama, ooh, I don't want to die I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all (A characteristically excessive Trump fear of failure, conflating impeachment and death? Birth then represents winning the Presidency; Trump expected another simple feather in his cap, the kudos of being POTUS without the responsibility, but instead found a new and unfamiliar life.)

I see a little silhouetto of a man Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango (Scaramucci; the fandango is a mocking presentation of his ten-day stint in the role as a dance, existing only in memory the moment the music ends.) Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very fright'ning me (Likely a reference to Trump’s failure to provide leadership in natural disasters?) (Galileo) Galileo, (Galileo) Galileo, Galileo figaro magnifico (The issues around NASA (and hence other US scientific organisations) publishing their data.) (I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me) (The oft-apparent position that any disagreement with Trump is a personal attack on him.) He's just a poor boy from a poor family Spare him his life from this monstrosity (Media coverage - choral voices echo Trump’s claims despite their flagrant inaccuracy. Monstrosity is *likely* a reference to the expectations, responsibilities and restrictions placed upon him in his current role, though a more straightforward reading might consider it another echoing of his unfounded claims - this time his hyperbolic demonisation of Clinton during the campaign.) Easy come, easy go, will you let me go? Bismillah! No, we will not let you go (Let him go) Bismillah! We will not let you go (Let him go) Bismillah! We will not let you go (Let me go) Will not let you go (Let me go) Will not let you go (Let me go) Ah, no, no, no, no, no, no, no (Oh mamma mia, mamma mia) Mama mia, let me go (Trump’s continuing attempts to exert himself without regard for law or Presidential convention, and to escape the office itself, contrasted with the constant demands on him here characterised as the massed voices of his nation.) Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me (Either a continuation of the previous motif or an even stronger condemnation of Trump - if the latter, the fact that it uses the first-person single-singer Trump voice has subtle implications I have yet to unpick.)

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye? So you think you can love me and leave me to die? Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby! (Twitter rants.) Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here! (Trump again expressing a desire to escape the position he has put himself in.)

Nothing really matters, anyone can see Nothing really matters Nothing really matters to me Any way the wind blows (A final reiteration of the emptiness of Trump’s beliefs - he proclaims whatever will let him feel he has won, without care for consistency or any form of self-awareness. ‘Anyone can see’ is worth particular note - even at the end, to save face, he will always act as if his actions are the clear, reasonable path; with those three words, Mercury lays bare the almost plaintive demand for agreement, for validation, that underlies much of Trump’s behaviour.)

#trump #politics #bohemian rhapsody #freddie mercury #this tag has absolutely no significance or meaning #this tag means something

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londontheatre · 6 years

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Bananaman The Musical – Matthew McKenna (Bananaman) Photo by Pamela Raith

Bananaman is flying to London to save the world! The most brainless superhero ever to grace the skies is going to make his live action debut in an all-singing, all-flying must-see new British musical.

Bananaman, the Man-of-Peel, is a unique member of the superhero ranks. Our handsome hero may have a jaw line you can see from space and sport the snazziest of tight lycra outfits, but this superhero has ‘the muscles of 20 men and the brain of 20 mussels.’ Which isn’t much.

With supervillains Doctor Gloom and General Blight attempting world domination who can we call? Superman’s on holiday, Spiderman’s not picking up – our only option, our very very last option is – Bananaman.

For the first time ever, Bananaman will be live on stage in Bananaman the Musical.

Bananaman the Musical, written and composed by Leon Parris, directed by Mark Perry, will run at Southwark Playhouse from December 15th 2017 to January 20th 2018. Press night is Thursday January 4, 2018 at 7.30pm

Bananaman began life in the Nutty comic in 1980, and was a flyaway success, transferring to The Dandy before joining the world’s longest-running comic, The Beano in 2012 and he is now one of The Beano’s flagship characters. A send-up of the likes of Superman and Batman, he was the subject of the hugely popular TV cartoon that ran between 1983 and 1986 for three series and 40 episodes on the BBC and featured the voices of Tim Brooke-Taylor, Graeme Garden and Bill Oddie from The Goodies.

Fans of the the TV series will remember the iconic opening sequence, “This is 29 Acacia Road. And this is Eric Wimp. He’s a schoolboy who leads an amazing double life. For when Eric eats a banana an amazing transformation occurs. Eric is Bananaman. Ever alert for the call to action.”

[See image gallery at http://ift.tt/1FpwFUw]

With a useless hero and some equally clueless villains, Bananaman’s winkingly clever, delightfully silly humour has been sealed into the memories of those who saw him first, and will now spark the imagination of a new bunch of Bananafans.

It won’t be long before we all ‘Peel the Power’ of Bananaman. Matthew McKenna is unmasked today as the star and “handsome hero” of Bananaman the Musical. Matthew has appeared in many major West End musicals, including The Phantom of the Opera, Sunset Boulevard, Legally Blonde the Musical, We Will Rock You, Starlight Express (as Elektra), and The Rocky Horror Show (Riff Raff) and both Singing in the Rain and 42nd Street at the Theatre Du Chatelet, Paris.

Also starring, as Bananaman’s arch nemesis Doctor Gloom, the super villain seeking world domination, will be Marc Pickering. Marc Pickering returns to Southwark Playhouse where he appeared in the European premiere of Toxic Avenger The Musical. He recently starred as Finch in the musical How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (Wiltons Music Hall), Joseph Merrick in The Elephant Man (Trafalgar Studios), Merchant of Venice (Arcola) and The Glee Club (Hull Truck). His film work includes Sleepy Hollow, Calendar Girls, Kill Keith, I Want Candy, The Darkest Day and Montparnasse in Tom Hooper’s 2012 film of the celebrated musical Les Misérables. On TV he has appeared in the new series of Josh and Homeboys & Dalziel & Pascoe (BBC), played R Wayne in Peter Kay’s talent show parody Britain’s Got the Pop Factor, Ippolito D’este in Borgia III (for Netflix), and the young Enoch “Nucky” Thompson in the fifth and final season of the HBO series Boardwalk Empire.

Bringing the rest of the residents of Acacia Road to life are a stellar West End cast.

Jodie Jacobs (Broadway World Award Best Supporting Actress for Rock Of Ages) is Eric’s loyal sidekick, Crow. Jodie Jacobs has played Fantine in Les Misérables, Grizabella in Cats, Florence in Chess, Serena Katz in Fame and she understudied the lead roles of Scaramouche & Meatloaf in We Will Rock You (Dominion), Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors (Duke of York’s) and Eva Peron in Evita (Adelphi Theatre). Jodie has most recently been seen in The Lionel Bart Story as Judy Garland and Georgia Brown. She received an Off West End Award and a West End Wilma nomination for Lizzie (Greenwich Theatre and Denmark transfer), she won a Broadway World award for Best Supporting Actress for Rock Of Ages (West End). She was recently nominated Best Actress in a Musical as Atropos in the brand new musical 27 (Cockpit).

Mark Newnham (Eric Wimp) recently played Dave Davies in the Kinks musical Sunny Afternoon and the young Steve Marriott in the new musical All Or Nothing. His other roles include Cookie in Return to the Forbidden Planet, John Lennon in Lennon at Liverpool Royal Court Theatre, Jamie in The Last 5 Years, and Hot Stuff.

Carl Mullaney (General Blight) has appeared in Les Misérables, (West End), Chicago (West End & international tour as Mary Sunshine), Saucy Jack and the Space Vixens (Booby Shevalle), West Side Story, Jest End and Fashion Victim The Musical.

CHIEF O’REILLY – TJ Lloyd T J Lloyd’s previous musicals include playing Nicely Nicely Johnson in Guys & Dolls, The Baker in Into The Woods, Charley Kringas in Merrily We Roll Along and Ray in Elegies for Angels, Punks & Raging Queens.

MRS WIMP – Lizzii Hills Lizzii Hills is returning to Southwark Playhouse after starring there as Mayor Babs Belgoody & Ma Ferd in the European premiere of The Toxic Avenger The Musical. Her other musicals include Hedy LaRue in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (Wilton’s) Sarah Brown in Guys & Dolls, The Rat Pack Live from Las Vegas, Chicago, High Society, Me and My Girl,and Crazy for You.

MAD MAGICIAN – Brian Gilligan Brian Gilligan starred as Guy in Once (Dublin), Deco in The Commitments (UK and Irish Tour), Cornelius/1st Cover Faustus, Doctor Faustus (West End), Bruno in Piaf (Charing Cross Theatre), and Michael Collins in Michael Collins: A Musical Drama, (Tivoli Theatre, Dublin).

FIONA – Emma Ralston Emma Ralston was Pluto in the UK premiere of Sondheim’s The Frogs (Jermyn Street Theatre), Little Red Riding Hood, Into the Woods (Ye Olde Rose & Crown), and Eve Meet Me In St. Louis (Landor Theatre).

Chris McGuigan (Ensemble) Chris McGuigan was in Candide (Cadogan Hall), Norman Jewison in JUDY! (Arts Theatre), Herakles, Sondheim’s The Frogs (UK premiere, Jermyn Street), All My Sons (Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre), Marcel Dusoleil (the lead), Amour (European premiere, Royal Academy of Music).

Amy Perry (Ensemble) Amy Perry was Millie Dillmount in Thoroughly Modern Millie (Adelphi Theatre), Myra Yerkes, Road Show (Union Theatre), Ursula March, Sweet Charity (Cadogan Hall).

Bananaman the Musical is produced by Sightline Entertainment in association with Cahoots Theatre Company and Beano Studios.

Leon Parris (Writer and Composer) Leon Parris is an award winning writer and composer for musicals including Wolfboy, Enid Blyton’s The Famous Five, Stig of the Dump and Monte Cristo. He was winner of the Vivian Ellis Best Musical Award and The Really Useful Group Award for Most Promising Writer.

Mark Perry (Director) Founder of Sightline Entertainment, Mark’s production credits include The Famous Five, Honk, The Country, The Picture of Dorian Gray, You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown, Just So, Bent and Stiffed. Directing credits include A Comedy of Arias, The Caretaker, Little Shop of Horrors, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Sleuth, Cinderella Boom or Bust, A Slice of Saturday Night. As an actor, Mark has worked extensively in TV and theatre both in the West End and on national tour.

Alan Berry (Musical Supervisor) Alan is currently the Musical Director for The Girl From The North Country at The Old Vic. Previous shows include Groundhog Day, Matilda The Musical, The Commitments, Ghost The Musical, Avenue Q, Shrek, Hairspray and Spamalot. Future projects include Big Fish at The Other Palace.

Mike Leopold (Set and Costume Designer) Michael’s recent credits include, Thoroughly Modern Millie 48 Hour (Adelphi Theatre), King Lear (The Cockpit), and The Wasp (Jermyn Street Theatre), Journey’s End (Charles Cryer Theatre). He designed Proof (Tabard Theatre) and Chummy (The White Bear Theatre) which both received Off West End nominations for Best Design in 2015 and 2017. Associate credits include Love Me Tender, The Last Tango, Death Trap, Tango Moderne, Son of a Preacher Man (All UK Tours), Top Hat (Kilworth House).

Grant Murphy (Assistant Director/Choreographer) Creative credits include: Joseph (Jersey Opera House); Yas Jungle Cirque (Yas Island Abu Dhabi); Legally Blonde (Stanwix Theatre); Forever Plaid (St James Theatre London); Guys and Dolls (Cadogan Hall); Aladdin (Salisbury Playhouse); Pinocchio (Greenwich Theatre); Rags (Lyric Theatre); Avenue Q (Ovation Productions); 18 Stone of Idiot – The Johnny Vegas Show (UMTV); He assisted Baayork Lee on A Chorus Line (London Palladium); and was tap coach to the Billy Elliot boys.

Sightline Entertainment – Producer Sightline Entertainment is an independently owned production company based in London Sightline produces commercial new work and revivals of both plays and musical theatre productions.

Beano Studios – Original Producer Beano Studios is a new global multimedia company established to create, curate and deliver mischievous entertainment for kids aged 6-106, all over the world. They produce diverse entertainment across multiple platforms including TV, digital, theatrical projects, consumer and the much-loved comic and annual.

LISTINGS INFORMATION BANANAMAN THE MUSICAL Southwark Playhouse THE LARGE 77-85 Newington Causeway London SE1 6BD

Friday December 15th 2017 to Saturday 20th January 2018

http://ift.tt/2C3Ofo9 London Theatre 1

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